Suchergebnisse

Issue 52.4 of the Review for Religious, July/August 1993. ; for r elig ious Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living JULY-AUGUST 1993 ¯VOLUME 52 ¯ NUMBER 4 Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Telephone: 314-535-3048 ¯ FAX: 314-535-0601 Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ° 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP ° 5001 Eastern Avenue ° P.O. Box 29260 Washington, D.C. 20017. POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. SUBSCRIPTION RATES Single copy $5 includes surface mailing costs. One-year subscription $15 plus mailing costs. Two-year subscription $28 plus mailing costs. See inside back cover for more subscription information and mailing costs. ©1993 Review for Religious for religious Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Assistant Editors Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Michael G. Harter SJ Elizabeth McDonough OP J~an Read Mary Ann Foppe Joann Wolski Conn PhD Mary Margaret Johanning SSND Iris Ann Ledden SSND Edmundo Rodriguez SJ Se~in Sammon FMS Suzanne Zuercher OSB Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living JULY-AUGUST 1993 ¯ VOLUME 52 ¯ NUMBER4 contents 486 feature The Most Adventurous of Nuns: Ursulines and the Future Mary.Jo Weaver gives contemporary meaning to the legacy of Angela Merici and the Ursulines. prayer 503 Hermitage, a Metaphor of Life Eileen P. O'Hea CSJ shares the struggle of a desert-day experience. 507 Christian Zen-cum-Ignatian Meditation Robert McCown SJ explains how Christian Zen, or centering prayer, as an ancillary to the Spiritual Exercises offers spiritual repose. 519 God's Human Face Revealed: A Retreat in Wales Mary Corona FMDM shares her experience of God's working in a thirty-day retreat. 532 541 548 spiritual life What Trouble Is Tad Dunne ponders how coping with trouble allows us to find energies that produce growth. Prayer, Memories, and God Theresa Mancuso suggests a fascinating relationship between recalling joyful and painful memories and praying to God. Adding Up 75 Years Vera Gallagher RGS adds up the balance sheet of God's love in her own life history. 482 Review for Religious 553 566 574 apostolate Prayer and Work, Mostly in South Africa Timothy Stanton CR believes that intercession is the main respon-sibility of the church in the painful process of bringing a new South Africa to birth. Religious Life in West Africa 1966-1990 Martin O'Reilly CFC offers an outline of the development of reli-gious life from foreign-born to local-born in West Africa. The Sanctification of Their Neighbor Thaddeus J. Kazanecki CO examines some characteristics of the Italian confraternal life within which St. Philip Neri founded the Congregation of the Oratory. 584 596 6O2 610 religious life Culture and Contemplative Community Marie Beha OSC reflects on how living the Franciscan charism in the United States can be ddngerous both for U.S. Poor Clares and U.S. culture. Canonical Room for Charisms William F. Hogan CSC emphasizes the uniqueness to be fostered by each particular religious institute for the good of the church's mission. Journal of a Novice Director Melannie Svoboda SND explores the mind and heart of a novice director through excerpts that could be found in a journal. A Family Business: Management in Religious Congregations Dennis Newton SVD spells out some practical directives for deal-ing with complications arising from interaction between religious-congregation members and nonmembers in the workplace. departments 484 Prisms 616 Canonical Counsel: The Synod on Consecrated Life 622 Book Reviews 37-uly-Aug~st 1993 483 prisms A seminarian recently told me, in a certain exasperated way, of his frustration about political label-ing in the church. Informally representing others of sim-ilar age, he pointed out that he has known no other church than the post-Vatican II church. An English-language liturgy, a catechetical training distinguished more by ques-tions than by answers, parish organizations still in devel-oping stages, a school faculty composed mostly of lay teachers, along with a few religious women and men not appearing all that different in dress or in lifestyle from their lay counterparts--these are the only memories of church that he has. He has no more nostalgia for the prac-tices of the church of earlier years than he has for the cel-ebrated golden age of radio before the advent of television. His complaint is that any expressed desires for con-nectives to a pre-Vatican II church immediately raise the likelihood of himself and other people his age being called "neoconservatives." These thirtysomething people and younger want rather to explore more fully their heritages of Catholic .faith and practice. They have no battles to fight over the rigidities and meaninglessness that were part of some Catholic devotions and regulations of the recent, past. They are gra,teful for the freedom and respon-sibility which "older" church members have not always felt comfortable with. They appreciate the maturing fits-and- starts of an American hierarchy in providing leader-ship in their letters on peace and justice and on economics and even in the failed .attempt to address the role of women in society and the church. They see as well-mean-ing but fearful the attempts at control and centralization made by what they might want to label as a "conserva- 484 Review for Religious tive" Vatican bureaucracy. But they are nevertheless looking, sometimes toward the past, for something more in their church than they have at present. They would want, in Jesus' imagery, to be like the "head of a household who can bring from his store-room both the new and the old" (Mt 13:52). If I have rather faithfully understood and presented a major concern of significant numbers of younger members in the church, I believe that their complaint is legitimate. The necessity for an in-depth contact with and study of our rich heritages has never been more apparent. We are all-too-aware of the old truism that unless we know our past we are condemned to keep repeating it. We in the church are also well aware that the danger of being prisoners of the past is all-too-real, with the embarrassing irrel-evance of various "churchy" issues in the face of modern world problems and technology. So for us to know our heritages is to have the strength of consistency with our past but also the stim-ulus to move into a creative future where our faith is a light for appropriate decision and action. Our feature article, "The Most Adventurous of Nuns: Ursulines and the Future" by Mary Jo Weaver, is one attempt to make contact with a heritage in this kind of significant way. I hope that this article will serve as a model for people to study and write engagingly about other heritages, with implications for the present and future opportunities of those very heritages. The women and men who lived our heritages before they were heritages make vivid the values necessary for today's Christian living and the courage it takes to live these values in the face of difficulties, including at times the opposition of good people. This journal has a privileged role to play in bringing people into greater contact with the good-ness within so many spiritual families that live together in our church. In coming to know more fully the relevance of our spiri-tual heritages, we dan expect that our liturgical and prayer practices will be more life-giving, our ministries inspired by gospel beati-tudes will be more clearly focused, and our lives supported in Christian community will be more vigorous. Vatican II and the subsequent years have given the church the occasion for straightening out the gospel storeroom. Now we, the church members, need to enrich our faith lives by com-ing to know and use its treasures, both new and old. David L. Fleming SJ yuly-A1lgust 1993 485 feature MARY JO WEAVER The Most Adventurous of Nuns: Ursulines and the Future I found the title of my talk in the first sentence of Agnes Repplier's biography of M~re Marie: "Of course," she says, "the Ursulines were the most adventurous of nuns." As I skimmed the book, I found phrases like "the most adven-turous of patronesses," the "robust intelligence and fear-less imagination" of the founder, and the "constitutional fearlessness and valorous spirit" of the first missionary to North America. The women most often mentioned in Ursuline history--St. Ursula, Angela Merici, and Mhre Marie--were all formidable figures, and as I read about them I was wafted back into a romantic past when pio-neering women were intrepid and when everything worked out all right in the end. Although the women associated with Ursuline history were not feminists in any modern sense of the word, I wondered what it would mean to attempt a feminist reading of their lives. I was drawn most powerfully into Angela's life, but not before the other two made me stop and take notice. The medieval legend of Ursula as a graceful, beauti-ful, wise, cultured scholar whose learning amazed the doc- Mary Jo Weaver is professor of religious studies and women's studies at Indiana University in Bloomington. Author of Springs of Water in a Dry Land: Catholic I, Vomen and Spiritual Survival (Beacon Press, 1993) and other works, she spent ten years explor-ing feminist issues in the American Catholic Church and has recently begun a long-term research project on traditionalist Catholics in the United States. Her address is 1030 S. Mitchell; Bloomington, Indiana 47401. 486 Review for Religiot~s tors of the church explains why she inspired so many paintings and poems. The bare outlines of her mythical life--martyred along with eleven .thousand virgins with whom she was wandering around barbarian Europe--are fanciful, to say the least, but I do not think it troublesome that the historical facts about her are rather dim. True or false, her legends shaped part of the Catholic tradition and tell us something about the roles women were able to play in the medieval imagination. That she was a virgin, the patron of innocent girls, and a charismatic figure and leader even though she was single--neither married nor in a convent--was obviously attractive to Angela. When I moved to the stories surrounding M~re Marie, leader of the first Ursuline mission in North America, I found genuine historical material used by her biographer in a skilled portrait. Repplier's biography can be summarized in this sentence: "She had escaped every groove in which she had been imprisoned by circumstances." It is a marvelous summary of the life of an ordi-nary woman responding to extraordinary demands, and that seems to be an Ursuline theme, at least in the North American context, where Ursulines were on the scene early and seemed to thrive in the most desperate of situations. Male historians, who typically pay little attention to women, unite in praise for the teaching charism of the Ursulines and their civilizing power on the frontier. There is more, of course, but the bottom line from the his-torians is a witness to dedicated purpose: "The development most distinctively American was the role in educating the young assumed so largely by a myriad of women's communities, begin-ning with the Ursulines in New Orleans in 1727." These same historians do not make much of the fact that the founder of the Ursulines was an independent and rather remarkable woman sur-rounded by strong, inventive women. Those attributes attracted me, however, and it became clear to me that the best way to think about Ursulines was to get to know their founder. Besides, there seemed to be excellent sources of information: well-researched critical biographies, spiritual reflections, historical notes, and modern symposium notes say something about the kind of energy Angela Merici has inspired in her followers. About Angela Merici, there seems to be solid historical ground for an interpretation, but as with the stories of other founders and other times, the pious imagination has sometimes filtered the facts. For example, Angela is remembered ih connection with the July-Aug'ust 1993 487 Weaver ¯ The Most Adventurous of Nuns education of girls and is sometimes pictured as energetically open-ing schools; but she neither spent her time founding academies, nor was she drawn primarily to an apostolate of education. Her pioneering spirit was directed towards the moral support of young girls and the regeneration of society as it could be accomplished through a formation program within family settings. Still, because she established a company of independent women at a time when things were astonishingly bad for women, Angela is an example of the "theoretical feminism" that some critics believe has always existed even though it was seldom successful. Theoretical femi-nism means the dedication of women to the abolition of hie(ar-chics, especially those that put women under the direction of men. That description appears to fit Angela's context, and the fact that she tried her experiment during the Renaissance makes her case even stronger. One of the salient points made by feminist historians for the last twenty-five years has to do with periodization. The ways we mark historical periods have been set by men and often mark the realities of women's lives. The late Joan Kelly ~nade this argu-ment with specific reference to Renaissance Italy, Angela's time and place. According to Kelly,.there were no gains for women during the Renaissance. In fact, the age was marked by a restric-tion of the scope of women's powers. Female sexuality, women's economic and political roles, their cultural power in shaping the outlook of their societies, and the ideology about women all underwent profound changes, mostly to the diminishment of women. Yet Angela acted as if the subordination of women was not an issue for her. The "new subordination of women to the inter-ests of husbands and male-dominated groups" that went hand in hand with Renaissance "progress" did not seem to touch her per-sonally though it may account for the rather quick enclosure of the women Angela hoped could live a more autonomous existence. Like fascinating women everywhere, Angela regularly over-turns predictable assmnptions about her. The woman who gath-ered the company later valorized as "the most adventurous of nuns" seems to have been the most reluctant of founders. The founder who has gone into history as one of the world's great pioneers of education seems not to have been that at all, and the visionary who heard a voice from heaven in her teens finally got around to acting on it when she was an old woman. Angela's life fits no .pattern that I can find unless it might be 488 Review for Religious that of Dorothy Day, who summarized her own life's work by say-ing that she never planned to do very much at all. "Opportunities presented themselves and we responded," she used to say, refus-ing to be relegated to the musty shelves of sainthood, out of ordi-nary reach. Dorothy Day is not a perfect parallel figure for understanding Angela, but can help us to perceive the more or less prosaic ways in which ordinary people can be propelled into extraordinary activity. Almost everything we know about Angela Merici happened in Brescia, a small but very volatile city. In 1401 it had been dubbed "the little Rome" because it had 70 churches and 50 monasteries for a population of 16,000, yet sixty years later the apocalyptic reformer Savanarola preached sermons there evoking visions of hellfire and damnation to inspire a change of heart in a morally bankrupt population. Perhaps Brescia was simply unlucky in terms of episcopal leadership. Paulo Zane, absentee bishop there for fifty years (1481-1531), seemed to be in a contest with corrupt popes, cardinals, and priests to see who could lead the most lav-ish and egocentric life. Perhaps Brescia was simply unlucky in terms of its geographical location; it was used, stomped on, and overrun by various armies during the complex territorial wars that dominated the region in the late 15th and early 16th cen-turies. When the French sacked the city in 1512, four years before Angela arrived, the torture and killing of local citizens was so ferocious that all of Europe was shocked by it. If we think of mod-ern- day Somalia, or parts of Latin America or the Middle East, we would not be far off in our analogy. The context for Angela's life, therefore, was collapse and tran-sition. The medieval models for politics and religion were not working, but nothing better was yet in place--a time, in other words, not entirely unlike our own. It was also a time of rampant corruption and moral gridlock, in which those "in charge" appeared uninterested in the daily spiritual li;¢es of ordinary peo-ple. Outside of the 10th century, it is hard to imagine a worse set of popes, one after another, than those who occupied the Holy See then; nearly half of the men who~e stories make up Chamberlain's The Bad Popes ruled during Angela's lifetime. Religious life, although abundantly present, was scandalous rather than edifying, creating a kind of spiritual vacuum for a scream of protest to fill. And, of course, someone did produce such a scream. A young Augustinian monk teaching Scripture at Wittenberg protested .~uly-Aug'ust 1993 4.89 Weaver ¯ The Most Adventurous of Nuns Charlotte Lichtblau vehemently, but that is a different story. It is not clear how sharply the Lutheran remonstrances touched Angela herself. Many of the reformers of the 16th century--Teresa of Avila, for example-- were so taken up with their own missions that they appear to belong to a climate of religious reform that has very little to do with the great Protestant revolt that began a year after Angela arrived in her new home. Still, ten years later, in 1527, a major anti-Catholic demonstration in Brescia signified, among other things, that people there were in a state of spiritual uproar. 490 Review for Religious To understand Angela's context, therefore, we have to imag-ine a situation that felt generally hopeless and beyond control. The northern Italian borders were not secure, and towns like Brescia were a kind of permanent war zone, not always the scene of bloodshed, but sufficiently precarious to raise the disease rate, encourage prostitution, destabilize families, and generally scuttle normal life. Religious leaders were nowhere to be seen unless one happened to be in Rome attending the theater. The streets of Brescia in 1532 probably resembled Times Square in 1993. They were full of con men sensing opportunities, young women selling themselves for their next meal, old men with diseases or old war wounds and no place to go, and ragged children darting from one bad situation to the next. Acting courageously in this little scene were some dedicated young men operating hospitals for "incur-ables" and a steadfast group of young women whose desire to help young girls led them to imagine themselves working together in a new way. What did these young idealists have in common besides a lively conscience and a desire for spirituality in action? They were all friends of or drawn to Angela Merici, an efficient, maternal woman who, by all accounts, had a magnetic personal-ity shaped by personal sanctity. She had even, so it was said, once had some kind of "vision." As I noted earlier, whatever the facts of her life, Angela Merici is not typical in any way. The outline of her visionary experience-- adolescent orphan girl sees something and claims to be instructed by it--is a standard story; but what Angela did with it is not. Her modesty in claiming very little for herself because of her experi-ence reminds me of Dame Julian of Norwich, who after a series of remarkable visions went on with a modest, reclusive life, recounting them to a scribe only much later. As an adolescent, Angela apparently had a profound religious experience--a dream or a vision--which she believed gave shape and direction to her life; but she did not immediately run to a bishop to disclose its contents, nor did she speculate about the concrete terms into which it might eventually be cast. She simply went about her life as a third-order Franciscan, te.aching catechism in her own village and willing to go wherever she was needed--to Brescia, as it turns out, when she was in her forties. Unless we count a pious life as extraordinary, she did not do anything out of the ordinary there. Perhaps the very routineness of her life calmed people: At the same time, the little things she .~uly-August 1993 491 Weaver ¯ The Most Adventurous of Nuns Like any normal prophet, she was reluctant to believe that God was directly calling her. did made an impressibn on those around her. She lived a selfless life in the company of rich people and brought the attractive wis-dom of common sense to a besieged.situation. She apparently felt secure enough to pursue her lifestyle choice of virginity in the home of a wealthy young merchant, living in his house for more than a dozen years. She was an ascetic who was surrounded by friends, many of them men. She was a good organizer and pitched in to do what needed to be done--nursing, counseling, pro-tecting children, consoling the bereaved--but also apparently felt free enough to go galli-vanting off to Jerusalem, to Rome, and to Varolla, a kind of Holy Land theme park in the Alps. How it became clear to her that it was time to act upon her early vision and gather "a company of consecrated virgins" around her is not Clear to me, especially since I see her vari-ous trips as flights from that call. Every time someone called a meeting, she disappeared! In 1522, when she was in her early fifties, Angela went on a pilgrimage to Mantua, to the tomb of Blessed Osanna Andreasi, a third-order Dominican. Why? Did she simply want to honor this holy woman, or was she begin-ning to suspect that she herself was gifted beyond what she had up to now felt to be ordinary abilities? Did she hope by honoring Osanna, a new and popular cult figure, that she could elude her own fate, like Moses telling God that, in comparison with the articulate Aaron, he was simply not the man for the job? It seems reasonable to assume that she experienced some kind of inner turmoil and was seeking refuge from it. In that way--like any normal prophet, with the exception of Isaiah--she was reluctant to believe that God was directly calling bet. Whether at Mantua she was seeking refuge or confirmation, however, she did not quit running away. Her next pilgrimage, in 1524 to Jerusalem, is what we might expect from such a woman in those times, and having an on-site episode of hysterical illness was not untypical. People in the highly charged atmosphere of a major place of pilgrimage often have unex-pected or frightening physical experiences, but let us examine this moment more closely. She did not, like Margery Kempe, faint or have visions of herself assisting at the birth of Jesus; she did not, like 492 Review for Religious Felix Fabri, feel as if her whole life had been turned upside down. She went blind and so could not see some of the holy places. When I read that story, I wonder what she did not want to see. On her way back from Jerusalem, she stopped awhile in Venice, where city officials begged her to stay and administer a hospital for incurables there, an honor and a challenge to which she responded by fleeing quickly and returning to Brescia. Running away from this opportunity would have made sense if she returned to Brescia to take on similar responsibilities there, but she did not. She was scarcely unpacked when she booked pas-sage on another pilgrimage, this time to Rome and the celebration of the jubilee year (1525). I read this activity as a voyage of internal discovery. Those attuned to their inner voices know that "you can run, but you can-not hide," something An\gela was trying to do in ever more press- xng ways. Whatever her reasons for going to Rome, once there she managed to get an audience with Pope Clement VII. It is hard to imagine this event without the kind of bribery required by most Renaissance popes, so if she managed to see the pope without such machinations, I daresay he already knew about her and saw how she might be useful to him. In any case, if she wanted the solace of a papal blessing, she received another scare instead: he begged her to stay in Rome and administer a hospital there. Here the story gets even more dramatic because, in the face of a papal request, Angela fled lest she be compelled by obedience. Other popes might have pursued her, but Clement was not a man of swift decision. His nickname--"I will and I won't"--was given to him because be was a notorious temporizer, agonizingly slow to make any decision. His disadvantage was her victory. She got herself back to Brescia and away from Rome. Perhaps she imagined she was now safe and sound. ¯ What can one make of all this flight? I see a woman who probably knew she had led a useful life, who was self-assured and willing to help out where she was needed, but not eager to fit into a role she could not yet imagine for herself. The idea that she might be more than a reasonably pious and useful woman and the fact that young people involved in arduous and creative cor-poral works of mercy gathered around her as if around a mother hen may have strained her .self-understanding. Maybe she was just tired--she was in her late fifties--maybe she was just stub-born. I find her self-possessed, unwilling to act until she herself j~uly-August 1993 493 Weaver ¯ The Most Adventurous of Nuns was clear about what she might do and how she might act to con-trol her own future. In "running away" she found the time and space to begin to come to terms with it. It is fascinating to see this middle-aged woman struggle with the logical implications of her own life. She had been in Brescia for nearly fifteen years, living a prayerful life and doing good works. People thought her so wise and caring that they called her madre (a tide reserved for holy women and nuns), and from morn-ing to night she was called on by people seeking her advice or drawn to her sensible simplicity, A group of courageous young people who had their own ideas about how to live the gospel in a forlorn world were drawn to her spiritual power. And an increas-ingly clear apostolate, dedicated to the care and protection of young women, had been staring beseechingly at her since Elizabeth Prato, a friend young enough and devoted enough to be her daughter, started working with lost girls in 1522. Vv'hy, then, the reluctance? And why do I find it comforting? Without intending to be cryptic, I think it is middle age, Angela's and my own. Had she been in her twenties, perhaps she would have dived right into the creative community she founded, as many of today's middle-aged sisters, in their youth, were drawn into the irresistible energy of religious life with its sacrifices and promises. But, like many of us today, she was in her fifties, not so quick to act, distracted by alternatives and the cautions that come with age. Maybe she just wanted to live out her days in the mod-est way she had been doing. After all, it is reasonable at this age to be tending the gardens of one's own soul and unreasonable to be launching a major life project. Maybe the call which had come with such clarity many years earlier now seemed distant or unreal, impractical in the present situation. VVhen we are young, the idea that God wants us for something specific seems only natural. All the scary choices--marriage, motherhood, convent life, profes-sional training--are made with the blessed ignorance of youth. But when we are older, the same idea can make us wonder if we are imagining things; we see all the reasons not to believe what we are hearing. In such cases the mysterious ways that God is famous for often manifest themselves in some dramatic way. For Angela, not unlike many of the saints, illness was a factor. Fleeing again in 1529 to Cremona in order to get away from political intrigue and an active war zone, she became gravely ill. And here, I think, she 494 Review for Religio~ts encountered an interesting temptation that may have looked like the answer to her problems. Illness and death beckoned as an option, the last flight, the final escape. She apparently thought that she might really die there and--whether with drama or res-ignation I cannot say--took to her deathbed. Yet, when one of her young supporters composed her epi-taph and read it to her, she bounced back, not as ready to go to heaven as she imagined. Again, I think, she shows the wisdom of age, for it is only when we are very young that we find a "longing for death" something to nurture in our-selves. Angela, hearing her epitaph, dis-covered new energy in herself. She still may not have been ready to lead a new movement, but neither was she ready to be led into eternity to the strains of In Paradisum. Whatever happened to her during those days in Cremona, she was resolved, at the end of this exile, to put down her traveling staff and follow the spirit she had been running from. She made one more short trip to Varolla that winter, to renew her memories of the Holy Land-- a symbol for her sense of purpose--then returned to Brescia and moved into a small room in Elizabeth Prato's house near the church of St. Afra. Now nearly sixty, Angela tucked into this new stage of her life with determination. She lived even more austerely, spent more time in prayer, and began to instruct her spiritual daughters. It is probably only a geographical coincidence that Prato's house was near the church of St. Afra, a 4th-century prostitute who achieved sainthood through martyrdom; but it is interesting that the early work of Angela's group was partly directed at.opening possibili-ties for "penitent women," a euphemism .for prostitutes. By 1532 Angela had gathered a small group around her and developed a rather extraordinary and yet quite simple idea: all the women would engage in an exterior apostolate and lead vir-ginal and virtuous lives, but would take no vows. In its broad out-lines this plan is reminiscent of the Beguines, religious associations of women begun in the 12th century in Belgium and the All the scary choices-- marriage, motherhood, convent life, professional training-- are made with the blessed ignorance of youth. July-Augt~t 1993 495 Weaver ¯ The Most Adventurous of Nuns Netherlands. Their success in the 14th century did not impress itself upon the clerical mind so much as the fact that they took no vows and were not subject to the rules of any order. Did Angela know about them? Was she attracted by their relative autonomy? Did she think their exp+riment was worth another try? Her idea was so simple and so revolutionary that it boggled the minds of the authorities: women would commit themselves to an apostolate--the care, protection, and education of girls--and they would promise lifelong fidelity to consecrated virginity. We may consider how her plan might have threatened men. Pious men would see women able to lead useful virtuous lives without their advice, and "men of the world," accustomed to pursuing an occasional dalliance, might now have to sneak into the house late at night, only to be met with the soulful glances of an at-home daughter vowed to virginity. Angela's notion of governance was also disturbing. However much she said about obedience to authorities, the Holy Spirit was her real teacher, and so she stipulated for her daughters. Her desire to trust the activity of the Holy Spirit in the individual heart, however, did not appeal to male authorities. On the con-trary, it frightened them profoundly. Charles Borromeo--still in diapers when Angela died--found the idea of an unmediated Holy Spirit speaking directly to the heart and conscience of individual women wildly dangerous. The changes made by this young arch-bishop of Milan in Angela's Rule are not surprising to anyone with even a minimalist feminist consciousness. Borromeo was a man of his times; Angela was a woman ahead of hers. I find it fascinating that, unlike some other reformers and founders such as Teresa of Avila, Angela did not invoke the com-mands of Christ to carry out her purpose or to solidify her sense of authority. She was sure that what she was doing was made pos-sible by and would be sustained by God, but she exhibited no need to couch her ideas in the language of mystical certainty. Perhaps because she was single and surrounded by eager disci-ples she had no need to talk about divine directives. Perhaps she did not have any. Her ideas about community seem to follow directly from her own experience, an extension of her practical holiness. The memory of her vision--by now no more than a vague request to a bereaved girl--and a st.eady relationship with God were enough for her. The practicality and ordinariness of her plans made her an 496 Review for Religious inspired leader with amazing insight into the needs of women. The frescoes she commissioned for her oratory--the meeting space and prayer room for her young group--constitute a kind of "womanspace" in which her young followers could imagine new possibilities for themselves. Angela's frescoes gave her fol-lowers examples of spiritual heroism. Looking around in that room, young women saw Angela's models. Ursula, Elizabeth, Paula, Eustochium, and, by some accounts, Catherine of Alexandria make exquisite sense and testify to the power of Angela's self-concept. She did not choose prepubescent martyrs or women noted for fasting and silence; she selected strong, bright, self-confident women. It is worth lingering on this point. Although the Catholic tra-dition has a long list of impressive women saints, women whose sanctity rests on suffering, self-effacement, and masochistic penances often predominate. That Angela did not choose such models for her girls speaks eloquently, not only to Angela's time, but also to our own. The women in her murals are all.mature, educated, learned, single, undaunted by male threats or violence, and autonomous in their fashion. Like Angela herself, these women exhibit an inner certainty and independence, making no great claims for themselves, but creating atmospheres of respect by their clearheaded, fearless lives. Even if we look at the under-side of their stories--Elizabeth's sick relationship with her spiri-tual director, for example--the last line of the story is one of strength rather than brokenness. All these women are virgins-- some belatedly, some, like Ursula, spectacularly--and all com-bine devotion to learning with lives of Christlike action. Within two years of the setting up of the oratory, Angela and twenty-eight of the young women who regularly visited that col-orful space signed a book promising to serve faithfully as members of the company of St. Ursula. Within five years that number more than quintupled, and Angela died, leaving behind a growing group, three small documents, and a legacy of self-reliance. How does one survive in a world where, in Yeats's descrip-tion, "the centre cannot hold"? Angela's writings suggest that she endured by reliance on the Holy Spirit, self-confidence, adapt-ability, and kindness. She assumed that her daughters would sur-vive and that God would somehow take care of them, but I see no evidence that she had much stake in gathering a group that would last forever. She does not appear to have been much of a worrier, 3%dy-~lugust 1993 497 Weaver ¯ The Most Adventurous of Nuns perhaps because she thought of herself as a mother and had such a fearless concept of motherhood. Angela's model of mothering was dominated neither by the medieval bias that considered women to be morally and intellec-tually inferior nor by Renaissance romanticizing. In her reckon-ing, a mother is loving, but also demanding; tough as well as flexible; able to embody both divine mercy and divine judgment. As CarolynWalker Bynum has shown, these qualities are partic-ularly important in contrast to concepts of divine motherhood that we find in the writings of medieval monks. For them, moth-ers are eternally nurturing, never critical, always available, in other words, stereotypical in the worst ways. Angela's concept of motherhood is the best indicator of her independent spirit. Like the great female mystics of Helfta-- Gertrude the Great, Mechtild--she was able to look into the mir-ror and see herself and her daughters as powerful even as they committed themselves to lives of service. She managed for much of her life to be what many of us hope eventually to become, self-accepting, aware of life's bleak realities without being defeated by them, and so quietly self-confident that it seems not to have occurred to her that she would not be able to do what needed to be done. In managing to live without marrying or entering a convent, and seeing no reason why other women could not do the same, she may have failed to recognize the extraordinary qualities of her own personality, but in that, too, I see modest ambitions con-cealing a powerful sense of purpose. If I can do this, she seems to say, so can you. Little Wonder that young women were attracted to her. She looks out from the past, not with directives, but with encouragement. "Take heart," she says, "I have confidence in you." The word that dominates her writings is kindness, the notion that people can teach more effectively, pray more openly, and act in the world more compellingly insofar as they remember to be tender, encouraging, loving. The ability of hers to enable her fol-lowers by encouraging them to trust themselves is no small thing to emulate in these times of confusion and anxiety about the future of religious life. Because I find Angela's life a statement about women's oppor-tunities, I think she is something of a feminist hero. Among other things, feminism is a countercultural movement related to the ways women are taught to act and to imagine themselves. As 498 Review for Religiozts someone deeply committed to women in an age that was deter-mined to keep women in lives of subservience, Angela was coun-tercultural. Her relationships, attitudes, and actions did not fit the norm for Renaissance women, nor did they fit into the accepted molds for "pious" laywomen. She did not take up residence with a man in order to have an overseer, for example, nor did she count it a danger to faith to be living outside the control of a husband or a bishop. When she says, in Counsel number 7, to follow the old Law but lead a new Life, she makes a countercultural statement. In the ways she used her own expe-rience to make her life and the lives of other women better, she did then what feminists urge women to do now. Like women in most times, she knew that she could not operate as men do, by domi-nating a situation, and so learned to lead by other means. She was a madre, a mother and leader whose "gov-ernance" was more by example than by decree. At the same time, she was not afraid of provocative images of power, urging her fol-lowers to be "like Judith," the Israelite woman who saved her peo-ple by beheading the enemy leader, Holofernes. In her Counsels Angela suggests that her followers serve oth-ers; practice gentleness; not be anxious if they do their best; build community anywhere; teach by example; find refuge in Jesus; nur-ture those entrusted to them; honor authority in the community; and live in harmony. People can, of course, read those bits of guidance in profoundly conservative ways to suggest that Ursuline women simply comply with rightful authority and define them-selves in terms of old-fashioned virtues of maternal charity. Compassion, prayer, solidarity, and a creative imagination, they might say, have been the tools women have used for centuries to shape life toward their purposes, find they work well in traditional models. But I think it is also possible to read them as directions from a self-possessed, powerful woman to those she expected to follow her lead. The bottom line is Angela herself: she trusted her friends and counted on them to be able to make use of their own experience as she had done. As I see her legacy, she was more Because I find Angela's life a statement about women's opportunities, I think she is something of a feminist hero. Weaver ¯ The Most Adventurous of Nuns interested in encouraging women to trust themselves than she was in providing them with a set of rules and regulations. However one interprets her life, the things Angela did can still be done. Women today--laywomen and religious women--have moved beyond passivity and found new ways to make innovations and to ameliorate social ills, as she did. She knew how to read and respond to the sigris of the times in creative ways and assumed that her followers would, too. She was able to read the gospel in prag-matic terms, as a demand to respond to the human demands of everyday life, and left that as part of her legacy. She looked for a new form of religiou~ life within her own experience and com-bined it with the tried-and-true formulae of work and prayer and fasting to come up with something so ahead of its time that it scared the men in charge of things. That can still be done, too. Whatever happens to "religious life" over the next few years-- and there is no end of controversy about it--I believe that at least three things need to be combined with your own reading of Angela's life. These general recommendations apply to all of us. First, we need to know the Catholic tradition: to be literate about revelation, creation, redemption, Christology, grace, and the rest, not in order to hold on in an obdurate or triumphal way, but to have a solid appreciation of what Catholicism is and is not. With Angela as a model, be assured that I am not talking about the truncated tradition handed on by men, the one that excluded women. I am talking about the full, richly embodied, woman-rich tradition of Roman Catholicism. Those who teach young people know that we now stand in a stream of Catholic tradition that very few people really know or understand. Those whose lives are focused on education might be both scandalized and galva-nized by that fact. Second, we need to have a firm grasp of the sacramentality of Catholicism since it both strengthens the spirit and informs the imagination. If we understand that the things of the world are sacred, that God is often present in the most unlikely of places, then we might see new possibilities in the universe. We need, in other words, as Angela did, to cultivate our religious sensibili-ties: to paint frescoes, create new holy cards, celebrate life. Finally, I think we should read Scripture and its commentaries and make that a part of our prayer. Angela may have done good works and taught her "daughters". all afternoon, but only, I think, because she spent the mornings in St. Afra's in front of the altar, sometimes 500 Review for Religious deeply connected, sometimes wildly distracted, but always, rou-tinely, there. I was attracted to Angela Merici originally because she was a powerful woman and, in my reading, a reluctant founder. As I read and thought more about her, I was drawn to her sense of adventure, her willingness' to risk what may have looked like an idiotic experiment at a time when she may have been mostly tempted to retire. So how can Ursulines combine their founding charism--tied to Angela Merici--with tradition, sacramentality, and Scripture? The hard part of that question for me has to do with the Ursuline charism. What is it? Education? Virginity? Working with young women? The possible answers sometimes seem as multivalent as the life of the founder and perhaps, like all life forms, reflect some facet of divinity back to God in their par-ticularities. Ursulines together embody the varieties of Ursuline life in a way that highlights the many aspects of Angela that are worth emulating. The bottom line for me is confident innovation. I do not know if that constitutes a "charism," but it seems to me that it could. Seeing what needs to be done and doing it with an embracing charity, while refusing to capitulate to fears about the future, is a rather astounding legacy, as useful today as it was then. Bibliographical Notes Many of the ideas for a feminist reading come from the work I have done over the last decade on women in the Catholic Church. My New Catholic Women: A Contemporary Challenge to Traditional Religious Authority (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1985) is the best state-ment of that interest (see especially chapters 1 and 3). Joan Kelly's Women, History and Theory (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1984) is still the best place to start when considering the problems raised by feminist historiography. Because Kelly's work is often set within the context of Renaissance history, her essays were particu-larly useful in interpreting the context for Angela. Also, Carolyn Walker Bynum's books, especially Jesus as Mother: Studies in the Spirituality of the High Middle Ages (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1982) are outstanding resources for thinking about the ways late medieval women actually thought and acted in the face of various religious and social changes. To learn about Ursulines, I began with Agnes Repplier's Mbre Marie of the Ursulines: A Study in Adventure (New York: Grosset and Dunlap, 1932), which gave me some amusing and provocative insights into Angela and Ursula along with the f~scinating story of M~re Marie herself. I am most indebted, however, to Teresa. Led6chowska's marvelous two- .l~uly-Augus* 1993 501 Weaver ¯ The Most Adventurous of Nuns volume critical biography, Angela Merici and the Company of St. Ursula: According to the Historical Documents (translated from the French by Teresa Nylan and published in Rome: Ancora, 1969). I used this amaz-ing resource to reconstruct the events of Angela's life. The interpre-tation of Angela as "fleeing" from the voice of God and as a "reluctant" founder are my own. I was also instructed by various works of Ursuline historian Irene Mahoney, whose Portraits of Angela (privately printed, 1985) and St. Angela Merici: Foundress of the Ursulines (privately printed, 1985) are excellent books, full of detail and insight. Martha Bucer's Also in Your Midst: Reflections on the Spirituality of St. Angela Merici (Green Bay, Wisconsin: Alt Publishing Co., 1990) was also helpful. Friends provided me with various notes from Ursuline conferences, especially with a very large set of materials from an international conference in Rome in 1991. I read them with great appreciation and have bor-rowed from them here. Other books cited or alluded to in this paper include E.R. Chamberlain, The Bad Popes (New York: New American Library, 1969); Louise Collins, Memoirs of a Medieval Woman: The Life and Times of Margery Kempe (New York: Thomas Crowell, 1964); Dorothy Day, Loaves and Fishes (New York: Curtis Books, 1963); James Hennesey, American Catholicism: A Histo~bv of the Catholic Community in the United States (New York: Oxford University Press, 1981); H.EM. Prescott, Friar Felix at Large: A 15th-Century Pilgrimage to the Holy Land (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1950); William Butler Yeats, "The Second Coming," in The Collected Poems of W.B~ Yeats (New York: Macmillan, 1959); and the Penguin Dictionary of the Saints (London: Penguin Books, 1965). Progeny Imagination gives birth to a new offspring with its own world of wonder. From a procreator's seed comes a poem or a painting, a sonata Or a cathedral. each pulsing with th~ heartbeat of Progenitor-God, Giver of beauty to beauty's ministers anointed with the rite of co-creation. Anna Marie Mack SSJ 502 Review for Religious EILEEN P. O'HEA Hermitage, a Metaphor of Life I am in a hermitage. It is, again, not what I expected. The brochure made it seem inviting, a way to satisfy the desire of my heart. I wanted a place to be--to just be, be an empty vessel in God's presence. I wanted to symbolize my response to God at this point in my life and to make sure I am open, attentive to any desire or whisper of the Divine. This hermitage looks out on woods that are covered with ten inches of pure white snow. As one walks, there is no sound but the crunch of rubber boots on a would-be path and the rusde of some frozen leaves that still hang on to bare branches like icicles. To be empty before the Beloved is my desire. And so I sit cross-legged on my saffron pillow before a large wooden cross, flanked by two small icons, and a vigil light. At last, I think, desire meets fulfillment in this quiet, undistracted place. But I am distracted; I am cold. I push the thermostat knob on the small gas heater behind me to its highest set-ring. The heater begins to ci'ackle and bang continuously and make little explosive noises every six minutes or so. It robs me of silence. As darkness absorbs the light of day, I get colder and colder. I have already layered myself in all the clothes I brought with me, and I have squeezed my Eileen P. O'Hea CSJ is a psychotherapist and spiritual director. Her address is 2311 Woodbridge Street; Suite 210; St. Paul, Minnesota 55113. prayer 1993 503 O'Hea ¯ Hermitage, a Metaphor of Life I want God's truth to be straightforward-- no glitches. ice-cold feet with their two pair of socks into my new "Thinsulate" mittens. As my feet flop around on the cold wood floor, I remind myself of Emmett Kelly, the circus clown. It is not quite funny, however. I force myself to persevere for one half hour of quiet prayer, but the clanging radiator, my clanging mind, and my freez-ing body do not lead me to a place of rest. I decide it is time for the bread and cheese, the orange, and the cup of tea that are to be my supper. I watch the night as I eat. Each piece of food, each sip of tea, carries its own taste when one is so concentrated. The orange is succulent and sweet, the cheese substantial and rich, the bread mealy and nourishing, the tea satisfying. I am grateful for each. Fortified, I read the Scripture that lies open as if ready for me. I read Psalm 139 out loud and slowly, wondering as I do so if this is the place God will choose to cast some direct light and move my spirit to new understanding. I want to be awake. If I am supposed to be getting a message, if that is why I am here, I do not want to miss it. Toward the end of the psalm my spirit is thwarted by the words: "Do I not hate those who hate you, O Lord?" I cannot say these words; I check my own revised version of the text. It is the same. I close the book, wanting to feel glad that God knit me in my mother's womb, but put off by the dualistic image. This glitch prevents me from totally giving myself to this experience. I want God's truth to be straightforward--no glitches. After wrestling around a litde, I decide to again attempt some contemplative sitting. I drape the blanket around my head, shoul-ders, and feet. I set the timer for thirty minutes and wonder if I should. Perhaps this will be the time when I will just want to linger in God's presence unrestricted. So often when I experi-ence this desire some duty calls me away. This is partly why I am here in this hermitage--so I can linger in the sweet and loving presence of God or be carried beyond my own self-consciousness to a very deep and still place. I do not set the timer. I do not rest. I am very cold. I stay in this prayer position, waiting for the time to be over. I want to be comfortable. I am not. After twenty minutes I give up. I think of going to bed. I am tired and everything has taken too much 504 Review for Religious energy. The outhouse is the least of inconveniences, I think, as I stare blankly toward a small wooden washstand. Eight plastic gal-lon containers of water, icy cold, flank it. They are for washing, cleaning, and drinking. I do not like them. I decide it is too early to go to bed. It is only 6:45. I sit in the rocker, my glasses and I peeking out through the draped blan-kets, and begin to read about "unity." The cynical part of me wonders if Ruusbroec (or Ruysbroeck) could have written or known these things if he were as cold as I am. Another level of me intuits the abiding truth he is trying to articulate. I want to sip his words like fine wine and, like the effect of wine, feel them in all the cells of my body. But the resistance of my body and psyche to the frigid Minnesota weather that is penetrating this north-woods hermitage will not forsake its stance. Although I have only one page left to end the chapter, I do not continue. My heart is moved again by Ruusbroec's words when he writes about Christ's prayer for unity (Jn 17:21-23) and says it is the most loving prayer which Christ ever prayed for our salva-tion. I am touched that Christ was praying, that Christ too was filled with desire. Stay with this, I think; do not read further. I close the book. I go to bed. I am warmer. My mind goes back to Ruusbroec's words. I wonder: Is this the truth I am meant to penetrate? It has not quite caught hold of me deeply enough, I ruminate, but perhaps during the night my enlightenment will come. My mind casts about as my body begins to settle into the comfort of warmth. Perhaps Sharon, the woman running this retreat house, is a mystic who can read my soul and tell me things that God wants me to know. I fall asleep. I dream of Sharon. Morning comes. I hesitate to get up, to begin the ordeal of being cold again. I pray, eat breakfast (I do not have to dress because I am already wearing all my clothes), and go for a walk. The atmo-sphere is frigid; the sky is gray" and overcast. Ithink of leaving early. I do not need bodily hardship, I muse; things have been phys-ically hard enough this past year. I need solace and nurturing. However, I counter this thought by reminding myself that I am old enough in hermitage experiences to know one must let them be what they are, not impose oneself or one's desires on them. Let God be God, I remind myself, and you be an open space. As I reenter the hermitage, I realize I dreamt of Sharon, but can only remember her saying it is about change. I wonder if this 3~uly-A~t 1993 505 O'Hea ¯ Hermitage, a Metaphor of Life My time here has taught me how hard it is to contemplate when one is reduced to survival. is significant and a message from God or if it is a matter of my own projections and happenstance. Rather than get caught in this distraction, I reassert the pact I have secretly made with Divine Love and say: "You know my great love for you, you know I desire only you and your will; then, if you want me to move in a certain direction or to know something about you or me, you must let me know it in a way that is not obscure and leaves me free of doubt. I am open to you, but you must remove the obstacles that prevent me from knowing or seeing your will clearly. I am totally dependent on you for this and feel it is not too much to ask of one who is in a relationship of mutual love. In a word, do your stuff and I'll do mine." Inside I sit in the rocker that I have moved as close to the gas heater as possible. I pick up my pen and yellow pad and begin to write: My time here has taught me how hard it is to con-template when one is reduced to survival. Survival sets one's consciousness at the level of basic and immediate, human needs and so occupies it with food, clothing, and shelter that it gives no attention to deeper lev-els of reality. Consequently, these deeper levels of consciousness-- places where intimacy with Divine Being is realized and expressed--are, practically speaking, obliterated. The heinousness of human sin, its death-dealing power, is many-leveled. Starving peoples in Africa and war-torn countries come to mind. I put my pen down and pray: Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison, Kyrie eleison. It is afternoon.I am still cold. In a few hours my time here will be over. I do not want to leave. As I begin to gather my things I think: This hermitage time was neither "lights on" or "lights off," as Ruth Burrows describes moments of the spiritual journey. I console myself with the thought that I came to be an empty ves-sel before God. Before leaving I sit one last time on my saffron pillow to pray. As I do so, I see outside my window a brown oak leaf surrender to a current of air, then glide gently down to the waiting snow. It is sitting there now, very still, ready in due season to become one with the earth. I sit too, quietly waiting, attentive, attuned to Love. ~06 Review for Religious ROBERT MCCOWN Christian Zen-cum-Ignatian Meditation Or What You Always Wanted to Know About Being a Mystic But Were Afraid to Ask pmeople of the ancient world strove in many ways to com-unicate with whoever they believed to be out there, with whoeveg made the world and somehow controlled their lives and destinies. They offered in sacrifice choice things: grain or wine poured out, sheep or oxen slaughtered then immolated with fire. The smoke, they thought, would rise before the gods with a pleas-ing odor. Th.ey played flutes, used prayer wheels, painted their bodies, stamped their feet, and babbled. They hoped to get the gods' attention, to bring down favors from them. Human nature has not changed with the New Dispensation, nor have the ways men and women try to pray, except these are now purified and made gentle by revelation. Christ invited us to intimacy with his Father, and we respond by lifting our hearts to him: in the Eucharist (above ~11, the true and ultimate sacrifice), in vocal prayer (such as the Rosary), and in private prayer. We address God with words often chosen from the Psalms or given us by Christ himself or by his saints. These same words, as we use them, enrich our hearts and minds with wisdom. Robert McCown SJ has traveled widely in Japan, Thailand, India, and China. He has for the past two years been teaching literature in the University of Hangzhou, on China's eastern coast. His current address is: The Shrine of the Holy Cross; EO. Box 1497; Daphne, Alabama 36526. aTuly-dugust 1993 507 McCown ¯ Christian Zen-cum-Ignatian Meditation Zen has been used for decades by Christian contemplatives who came under the influence of ascetics of the East. But there are problems with using words in prayer--even God's words. Over time we tend to multiply them and to load onto them our own intellectual and emotional baggage, allowing our selfishness to co-opt their meaning. So in some prayers we might even want to dispense with words, to use body language only, which can sometimes be for us clearer, deeper, more pow-erful than spoken words. This, I think, is the prayer Christ meant when he said, "When you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret." In such private and largely nonvocal prayer we offer God ourselves in our silent presence, and God responds to us, creatively, in our lives. This kind of prayer goes under a variety of descriptive names: meditation, contem-plation, and mental prayer. There is a long history of it in the church, going back to her earliest years, but it flourished especially in Europe in the fourteenth through the six-teenth centuries with a succession of great spiritual directors. St. Ignatius Loyola taught his followers in his Spiritual Exercises to meditate upon structured concepts and upon chiseled images--both anchored in powerful words--to explore the destructiveness of their sins, to accept forgiveness for them, and then, centering their lives in Christ, to redirect them to God in service of the church. But he reserved a choice place at the end of these Exercises for his largely wordless, though still rich in imagery, Contemplation for Obtaining Divine Love. Others led their fol-lowers to shun in their meditations activities of both the intelli-gence and the imagination and, instead, to go beneath these, down to the marrow of the soul, to encounter the Father in that secret "room" they felt Jesus was speaking of. Zen as practiced by Christians is, in many ways, like this lat-ter form of prayer. It is not new, for it has been used for decades by Christian contemplatives who came under the influence of ascetics of the East. Although in recent years Zen has experienced in the West a growth in popularity, many devout people, unfor-tunately, have misconceptions of it, bringing mistrust. 508 Review for Religious Zen masters themselves often give little help in understand-ing their elusive discipline. When one puts questions to them about it, they often smile and remain silent. I believe this is because they see Zen not as a doctrine but as an activity--and thus an experience--so simple and immediate that, when one attempts to conceptualize it, he only obscures it, as when one tries to define the experience of love or of life. But I feel once people see what Zen is not--certainly not a rival to Christian spirituality--they may wish to try to do Zen themselves and thus to experience the extraordinary benefits claimed to derive from it. Let us consider first--lacking a better term--traditional Zen. Rather than enter the question of the historical origins of it, let it suffice to say it has been practiced for more than 1400 years. Concerning the question of its place of origin--whether India, Tibet, China, or Japan--let us concede simply that it developed in the East, probably in a pantheistic culture. But this should not influence Zen's practical value to us as a mode of meditation any more than the lack of faith of a philosopher should keep us from benefiting from his thinking. After all, a key foundation of scholas-tic philosophy and theology is a series of clear concepts St. Thomas found in the writings of the pagan Aristotle that first came to Europe through the works of Islamic thinkers. Of grea~er importance for our purpose are the reasons Zen developed into the form it ultimately took. These we hope we can intuit as we consider the practice of Zen itself; from these, perhaps, we can gain an insight into why Zen has been found by Christian con-templatives of former times and today to be useful in their prayer life. To do Zen one follows a series of seven conventions. So that our efforts remain not an exercise in looking only but translate into a creative experience, let the gentle reader observe successively these conven-tions as we set them forth: 1. Having chosen carefully the place for our meditation--as free as possible from distrac-tions, harsh lights, sounds, and drafts--we assume the Zen position, as shown in the illus-tration on this page. In this position we join our hands and bow from the waist in the tra-ditional oriental gesture of courtesy which here means, "Now I begin my meditation." A July-Aug~wt 1993 509 McCown ¯ Christian Zen-cum-Ignatian Meditation similar bow at the end will mean, "Now I end my meditation." If we must stand to attend to something--best disconnect the tele-phone beforehand--or we have an itch or a cramp we simply can-not ignore, we bow as we break off meditating, then again as we resume it. This puts parentheses around each session of our med-itation, separating it from interruptions coming from us and from our world around us. 2. We try to keep our backs as erect as comfortably possible: the base of the spine is the key. We do not worry if at first it tires quickly. After a couple of weeks of daily meditation, it will surprise us by its new toughness, even during longer sessions of Zen. 3. Our legs should be crossed as well as possible, but com-fortably, making allowances for bad knees and general decrepi-tude. We strive to keep faithful to the time we agree with ourselves to meditate daily. Twenty-minute sessions are good to begin with. As we go longer, circulato .ry pain in our legs can force us to take a break. For this, we bow, stand, join hands before us, pace the room for two minutes; then, taking again the Zen position, we bow, and resume meditating. 4. Our hands and wrists should rest comfortably on the insides of our thighs--left four fingers on top of right four fingers, the fingers underneath press up dynamically against those above, while the tips of the thumbs touch together ever so lighdy and del-icately. Here we aim to combine a relaxed and stable dynamism of our fingers with an alert delicacy in the touch of our thumbs. 5. Our head should be erect, tilted slightly forwar.d comfort-ably, and with chin in. Our tongue should rest relaxed in the base of our mouth, and we avoid all nervous movement of tongue and jaw. Lips should be relaxed and slighdy parted to permit exhaling through the mouth. 6. Our eyes should remain half closed and out of focus. If we close our eyes, we will go to sleep;, if we focus them on anything, that thing will become a distraction. 7. Our breathing should be not from the chest but from the diaphragm. We loosen our belts, allowing our lower abdomen full freedom to expand and contract. We inhale, knowing the air we take in through our nostrils will heal and give peace, and the air we exhale through our mouth will carry out those things that rob us of peace. This breathing is indeed the key to both tradi-tional and Christian Zen because, once we are in observance of these conventions, the conscious listening to the sound of our 510 Review for Religious breathing becomes the central continuous deliberate activity dur-ing the entire time we are meditating. W.e strive to make this breathing more and more regular, more deeply from the diaphragm. We seek to become increasingly absorbed in repose-fully listening to and centering ourselves in its sound. As we descend deeper into this centering, the thoughts, desires, and images that our mind naturally gener-ates will diminish to nil. If some persist, we do not fight against them, but, by continuously renewing this reposeful centering, we ignore them. If they con-tinue aggressively, it is probably because we are not observing certain of the conventions above. Perhaps our hands have slipped away from the position of dynamism and delicacy, or we are permitting nervous activity in our mouth. But most often the reason will be found in our breathing being not from the diaphragm, or our not centering ourselves in its sound. Striving meticulously to maintain these conventions, in spite of the turmoil our daily lives may be subjected to at the time, and striving, as well, to pass the whole period with a mini-mum of surrenders to needs to scratch or to shift our body's mem-bers, make for steady progress over the months, over the years. Indeed this striving for perfection in every detail--in posture and in centering in our breathing--becomes the daily bread and but-ter of Zen meditation. Even the pain we will feel in our legs after thirty or so min-utes of continuous meditation can be turned to our advantage. As this pain grows, we seek to enter it, to center within it, and, as it were, to find in it a certain rest. Thus our concentration upon our breathing will become more complete and more central, and foreign thoughts will be more completely excluded. The above conventions are, curiously, the essentials of Zen as it has developed over the past millefinium. Being in essence non-verbal, nonconceptual, and nonimaginative, Zen does not lend itself to being systematized. To those practicing Zen, it is the experience that matters, whereas the conflicting ways one tries to describe or analyze this experience are to them secondary at best. But for us Westerners, who look for reasons to be persuaded, let us ask what we are doing when we do Zen, and why. Simply stated, following these conventions meticulously permits us a Zen does not lend itself to being systematized. j~ldy-August 1993 511 McCown ¯ Christian Zen-cum-Ignatian Meditation maximum control of both our physical and mental activities, and from this we are able to suspend them partially. Thus, during meditation, the Zen position encompasses and brings under con-trol in appropriate ways every member and organ of our body-- even our heart--which, we will find, will beat slower as we descend deeper into the centering. While consciously listening to the sound of our breathing itself, we can make it more regular, more from the diaphragm, and it will further become the key to controlling and emptying the activities of our mind: memory, intelligence, will, and imagination, including especially emotions. Thus, in doing Zen we strive to make each session of medi-tation both as dynamic and as empty as possible. As far as I know there is no better way than this to disengage our physical and mental powers over an extended period of time while still con-tinuing awake and alert. Anyone attempting to observe self-imposed silence and recollection during a conventional retreat knows how recalcitrant our bodies and our minds are to this kind of discipline. Not even in sleep itself, which we now know is filled with both physical and mental .activity, is there such a diminish-ment of these as there is in Zen meditation. This partial suspension of our bodily and mental activities for a set period of time daily is the objective of Zen, and from this derive its singular benefits. As we strive for this disengage-ment, and achieve it in a growing degree, we are actually induc-ing our physical and mental powers into a daily, deep repose. Not only are each member of our bodies, but also the thoughts of our hearts, put to rest during our meditation: our conflicting values competing for dominance; our desires, inordinate or not; our ambitions and passionate longings; and our memories, both joy-ful and painful, with ruminations of past grievances. Thus we turn over, to our own mysterious powers of healing within us, our bodies, minds, and hearts; and from this daily repose and renewing of the whole person, a peace is given. We speak, of course, of daily meditation-Z-not over weeks, but over months, over years. If we do Zen faithfully, we will become aware of certain gifts that mysteriously enter our lives. We are surprised by new insights that fall out of nowhere into our minds, perhaps not during the time of meditation, but at other times dur-ing the day or night. We acquire a deeper understanding of our own best values, of how to bring to bear our nobler motivations. We acquire a deeper understanding of our own weaknesses, and we 512 Review for Religious see ways which perhaps we did not see before to put to rest inor-dinate desires. We become less afflicted by painful images of griefs or disappointments; and we are less obsessed by regrets, by per-sonal defeats and shames. Even memories of hurts from deep in our childhood, of which we are perhaps only barely aware but which still send poisonous tentacles up into our present relationships, can be uncovered and healed. We are mystified by how our own recuperative powers can now work within us. Just as, for exam-ple, when one morning we awake and realize happily that at last we are he~iled of a drawn-out bout with the flu, so in practicing Zen we might one day realize that now--but not before--we are able to turn with sincere affection toward a friend who has deeply hurt us. In short, what we experience in ourselves is a self-rehabilitat-ing human being, perhaps with long-immobilized personal gifts now renewed. From this, then, our own creative energies can emerge unencumbered, with a new freedom. This healing will often spread to others around us in our family, in our community and work place, even when they are not aware we meditate. As described thus far, traditional Zen is not intrinsically a religious action; it is, thus, neither theistic nor atheistic. Hence the curious smiles coming from Zen masters when one asks if, as practitioners of Zen, they believe in God. Somewhere further on in this direction lies the experience of enlightenment. Zen masters describe enlightenment as a percep-tion totally beyond reason, beyond imagining; intuitive, yet at the core of our life itself. All of Zen teaching, they add, is but an effort to take the disciple beyond concepts and images that stand for reality, and put him or her in intimate contact with that real-ity itself. It is in vain, they maintain, to pursue intellectually this stage, since all ratiocination on this point is useless, futile, and confusing. Thomas Merton calls this "the Zen fact" and com, pares it to an alarm clock. When it goes off, the sleeper 1) does not hear and just keeps on sleeping; or 2) making a misguided response, in effect turns the alarm off, permitting him to go back to sleep; or 3) he jumps out of bed with a shout of astonishment that it is so late. Zen is the alarm clock, it merely enables us to wake up and become aware. It teaches nothing. It points. Merton continues: "But we in the West, in ego-centered practicality and ¯ . . manipulation of everything, always pass from one thing to another, from cause to effect, from the first to the next to the last and then back to the first. Everything always points to something 3~dy-August 1993 513 McCown ¯ Christian Zen-cum-Ignatian Meditation else and hence we never stop anywhere because we cannot; as soon as we pause, the escalator reaches the end of the ride and we have to get off and find another one. Nothing is allowed just to be and to mean itself; everything has to signify something else. Zen is designed to frustrate the mind thinking in such terms. 'The Zen fact,' whatever it may be, always lands across our road like a fallen tree beyond which we cannot pass. Nor are such 'facts' lacking in Christianity--the Cross for example . . . which gives Christians a radically new consciousness." The way some Zen masters describe enlightenment, as an experience of the unity of all being, reflects the monistic, cos-motheistic, philosophical climate of Zen's origins; and it can be disconcerting to a Christian. Yet, if one takes seriously one of the central teachings of Zen itself~namely, that it is the experience and not the concept of it that matters--then one may judge pan-theistic doctrine as the above to be not central to Zen. Indeed such might be for us the "misguidance" that prompts us to turn off the alarm clock, to go back to sleep and miss the experience. The "fact" of Zen is simply the experience that puts us in touch with this ultimate personal reality itself, and that, I believe, must at last come down to be our own individual living soul--the con-crete reality, not a concept of it. We cannot think our way to our soul's living presence, or analyze or visualize it; but in doing Zen we are brought to the experience .of the soul's availing itself of space to renew itself, and then of its mysterious healing powers in renewing our body, mind, and heart. Being in Zen an apprentice of only some twenty-five years, a full-blown experience of enlightenment, with 'its sudden flash of intuition, is still unknown to me. Nor do I seek it as such; as Christian, I try to keep my heart open to whatever grace the Lord sends and to whatever form he wants it to take. But before we dismiss Zen and turn off the alarm clock, I suggest we take seriously stated opinions of respected specialists, not only of such as Thomas Merton or Dom Aelred Graham, but also of Dr. John C. H, Wu, an eminent jurist and diplomat, a Chinese convert to Catholicism, and a scholar, who is able to write of Zen not from hearsay or study alone, but from within. He is not afraid to write that he brought Zen and Confucianism with him into Christianity. Looking further back, I have been assured by Carmelites who are specialists in both their tradition of con-templation and in Christian Zen that these two traditions are 514 Review for Religious essentially the same: what Teresa of Avila, in her own inimitable way, and what John of the Cross--and what Meister Eckhart 200 years before them--practiced, perhaps unknown to them, was essentially Christian Zen. But what is Christian Zen, which we will now call centering prayer, and how is it prayer if traditional Zen is not? Will an attempt to use Zen in prayer, contrary to what Zen masters main-rain-- that one cannot accommodate true Zen to any ulterior pur-pose- render it ineffectual? To answer, let me offer an analogy. Consider a ballet apprentice who works daily on her technique. She may give little thought to what ballet grammar--the body language she is learning--might be saying or to whom; she metic-ulously strives only to perfect every move, every step of it. For the present, the immediate benefits of her efforts--pride in pleasing a respected teacher, satisfaction in mastering an art--are suffi-cient reasons for striving for self-discipline; and she grows daily in poise and beauty. But one day a certain impresario discovers her and offers her a part in a new production. Now she has two things she lacked before: a role, a dramatispersona to live within, and an envisioned audience. These give form and finality to her efforts. Just as this ballerina can adapt her previously acquired skills to this new orientation, so also, as many Christian contemplatives have found, the skills and the strengths of traditional Zen, with little change in its dynamics, can be fitted into the larger synthesis of Christian prayer. Neither our ballerina above, nor a person doing Zen medi-tations daily, acts without a certain basic desire, or even a pas-sion, which drives their actions, enabling them to keep a daily commitment. One must first wish to do what is necessary to become, to be--whether in ballet, in Zen, or in Christian prayer. Satisfaction found therein will, in turn, sustain and nourish the motivation. When the prophet Samuel was a small boy sleeping in the temple, he was awakened repeatedly by a voice calling, "Samuel, Samuel!" Each time he got up and went to his master, the elderly priest Eli, and asked what he wanted. Each time Eli replied, "I didn't call, my son; go and lie down again." Again Samuel heard the voice calling, and again he went to the old priest. But this time Eli, perceiving it was thd Lord calling, instructed him, "The next time he calls, you must respond, 'Speak, Lord, for your ser-vant is listening.'" Whether that night Samuel really heard the 3~uly-August 1993 515 McCown ¯ Christian Zen-cum-Ignatian Meditation voice of God, or whether he heard only, as he had many times before, the wind blowing through the porticos of the temple, his listening and then giving response is the same. It is the reality from which the call came that makes the difference between an obedient child and the prophet-to-be. We must listen continu-ously to the voice of the Lord who speaks to us when and how he chooses. If we find traditional Zen apt for putting us in contact with the healing and peace-giving powers of our human spirit within, how much more will we find centering prayer apt for opening our beings to the Spirit of God within us, to surrendering ourselves to this Healer, this Comforter? It will be this Spirit's voice we listen for within the sound of our breathing, as she leads us into that silence within, where, using utterances beyond human words, with ineffable groaning, she cries, "Abba, Father!" Far from taking from Zen its dignity, thi~ carries it to its fulfillment. What a grace it is that Christian contemplatives discovered Zen and were able to enrich Christian asdeticism with it. The Christ-centered dynamics of the Ignatian Spiritual Exercises, especially when renewed yearly, give peace and build motivations to service, but they were not meant to be used daily over a long period of time when they can become exhausting. Centering prayer, on the other hand, not in contrast to the Exercises but ancillary to them, offers spiritual repose. Many of Ignatius's instructions can be applied with profit to Zen.medita-tion: making preparation before meditation by spiritual reading and acts of self-denial; cultivating honesty and sincerity in eval-uating our efforts at praying; making from time to time reviews of moments of joy or of sadness; and, with the retreat master's help, using carefully Ignatius's instructions on the discernment of spirits. In sessions of centering prayer, unlike in other forms of med-itation, one does not pray the words of any pious text, nor even of Holy Scripture. Words, whether we want them to or not, will bloom into images, and images invite concepts which multiply, and thus we are on the way to taking our bodies and minds out of that total surrender to the Spirit, the true mode of centering prayer. Rather, we should see each session of this prayer as that time when the Bridegroom is present before us, looking into our eyes, speaking into our hearts, so we put aside during this qual-ity time his love-letters from times past, no matter how treasured 516 Review for Religious they are. With no more than a bow of adoration and a word to greet him by name, such as, "Jesus, have mercy on me, a sinner," we surrender ourselves with total passivity to his Spirit within us, who will shape our minds and hearts according to his holy will. In this action of the Spirit, one is reminded of a great, silent, mov-ing body of water, imperceptibly and with ease, carrying all obstacles before it. We will look forward to this daily prayer as the best moment of our day, and find in it an anchor for the rest of our lives. Let me mention now one special blessing I have received through centering prayer. When I was a very small child, I once heard my older brothers, one six, the other seven years old, talking about how hell is "for ever and ever--for eternity, which never, ever ends." My mind became beset with fearful images of this eternity, like "the void of infin-ity" that so terrified Pascal. These were most acute when I was ill, which I often was, with high fever, and with accompanying nightmares. During these I often dreamed I was looking up and saw the ceiling above me (and all reality with it) recede up and up and up, for ever and ever. My sight was forced to go with it, on and on, and I could never, ever make it stop; and that was eternity. And I felt desperately alone and forsaken. I could not turn off the nightmare, until my screams brought my father or mother who would awake me and comfort me. This terror remained with me even into later life. When I discovered Zen meditation, which then became for me centering prayer, I took up the custom, after meditating and during the brief prickly feeling as my legs recovered circulation, of lying back on the rug and looking straight up at the ceiling, never forgetting that this was the way I had so fearfully felt I was look-ing into the face of eternity. But over the years, gradually, imper-ceptibly, the terror departed. In its place has grown a trust in God's mercy and, even, flashes--ever so brief and fleeting--of joy in looking forward to my death, which now is approaching apace. These graces I consider among the most precious of my life. Remembering how the ancients strove to get the gods' atten-tion, we know we have already the Father's attention in his son, Jesus, who taught us to pray to his father by offering, not per- We must listen continuously to the voice of the Lord who speaks to us when and how he chooses. 3~ly-Aug'ust 1993 517 McCown ¯ Christian Zen-cum-Ignatian Meditation ishable gifts of animals slaughtered or wine or grain poured out, but one infinitely more desirable: our total selves. This same Jesus promised, moreover, "whatever you ask the Father in my name, he will give it to you." Jesus must have meant precisely that, unless we ask for something that is not good for us, then he will give us something else--something far better for us. Centering prayer, as an ancilla to the Spiritual Exercises, more than any other prayer method I know, enables us to put ourselves into this total trust-ing frame of mind, not stating what we think we want, or need, or when, but silently taking Jesus at his word and waiting. The Father, who knows our needs far better than we do, will respond; and why wouldn't he, since Jesus said he would? Night Prayer The saints have left for the day, their stained-glass coves Are dark. The night, that deep iconoclast, Obscures the panes with his breath, as a prayer revolves Inside me, calling to the blackened east. I close my eyes and linger there, in the glow Of a bleak and fallen image of the outcast world, And wander through remembered brambles that grow Where squandered immortalities should. When young I crossed an ocean. Nearing land Candescent seeds arose from the water's rim As if sown in the sky by a hopeful, graceful hand To mingle with a tide of stars, to bloom unseen. From the altar candles' final gasp of light Two tendrils of smoke vanish into night. Kevin McCaffrey OP 518 Revie~v for Religious MARY CORONA God's Human Face Revealed: A Retreat in Wales Iyhad been living and working in Amman, Jordan, for eight ears when in 1989 I began reading The Journeying Self, by Diarmuid McGann. Becoming deeply involved with it, I came across these words: "The journey of faith begins at the Lord's invitation. He finds us in our places of marginal existence, where we hunger for liberation." I did not go further than that for sev-eral months, but those lines I read over and over again. I could wrest no personal meaning from them, and yet somehow they riveted me. At the same time I was picking my way through a book by Karl Rahner. Being no scholar, "picking" is how I cope with Rahner, and yet I am hugely attracted by him. Of the many sentences I jotted down knowing that I would return to them, here are a few: In contemplation the pray-er is intent on hearing an utter-ance of God never given before . We need the courage to believe that God will say some-thing permanent. It will happen when God is ready. God places me in complete freedom. He deals with me leaving intact my autonomy and self-direction. God is Love and in the face of that--I decide. There were many more, and while I went about my life in community and my teaching duties, these thoughts floated in and out of my mind whenever my interior screen was empty, setting up such a longing that I knew I would need to respond sooner or later. Mary Corona FMDM lives at 6, St. Anthony's Road; Forest Gate; London E7 9QA; England. .~uly-Auguxt 1993 519 Corona ¯ God's Human Face Revealed Remote PreparationmI Go to Anjara The time to plan my annual retreat came round. I thought of Jerusalem, where I had made retreats before, but I had little heart for going there because of the heavy military presence at the time. Though Jordan itself has no retreat facilities, I knew that Father Joseph Na'maat, a diocesan priest in the north of Jordan, had spare rooms in a separate building which anyone was welcome to use on a self-catering basis. He said if I came during July I would have the entire building to myself. With typical Jordanian courtesy he also told me that his house and his table would be mine anytime I felt lonely. Josephine, his housekeeper, would, he assured me, keep an eye on things and make sure I was all right. The fee was so small it was a joke. So eight days on my own loomed. How would I work it out? I went along the shelves of our library and found Rahner's Eight Day Retreat and a paperback copy of the Ignatian Exercises. From my room I picked up my Bible and missal and that was all. I think the journey of faith McGann discusses began for me that day. I felt quite naked going off with what seemed so little in the way of resources. Anjara is a village in the northern Jordanian countryside. Feeling at home in the Arab world and having enough Arabic to do my own shopping, talk with people, and get by generally, I had no fears along those lines. On my arrival I was given a warm welcome by Father Joseph and the redoubtable Josephine. Then, after being shown "my" building and handed the keys, I heard the oft-repeated words "If it gets too lonely, you know where we are!" That first evening I worked out a program for the eight days, allotting time for the breviary, rosary, and Scripture reading. I then marked out three separate hours daily for prayer, leaving time for rest and recreation which, during the eight days, would take the form of walks, sitting on the roof in the sun absorbing the view, and wandering in my host's extensive orchard followed by his floppy old dog. Knowing nothing previously about the Exercises, I soon aban-doned the paperback because it made no sense to me.I stuck to the Bible and the missal and continued to read over the sentences from McGann and Rahner which had so affected me. For the full eight days I spoke to no one, except the dog. I waved to Father Joseph each morning after Mass and that was the excitement over 520 Review for Religious for the day. Through the grace of God, I remained faithful to all to which I had committed myself. On my final evening Josephine came to bring me over to sup-per and, like the hedgerow and byways folk of the gospel, I was compelled to attend. If you have never experienced an Arab sup-per or indeed Arab hospitality, you have missed one of life's love-lier moments. We sat on the verandah eating, talking, and--I must admit--drinking slightly too much of Father Joseph's homemade wine. The sun slowly sank behind the brown hills. Lamps were lit, creating a soft pool of light in the velvet darkness, and the night insects began their con-cert. We sat on. Eventually, however, and with real reluctance I rose, to a duet from Father Joseph and Josephine of "So soon?" I went to bed that night heavy with good food and wine and quite drunk--no, not from wine, but from the heady smell of honeysuckle and jasmine coupled with the heart-swell that comes from having spent a long summer evening with friends. The following day I returned to Amman knowing that I must do the long retreat. This is where the invitation mentioned by McGann and previously so dimly perceived was pointing. What a Franciscan was doing being so convinced that a Jesuit approach to life and prayer was the right one, I cannot say. But convinced I was. I waved to Father Joseph each morning after Mass and that was the excitement over for the day. To Wales I set about obtaining permissions for the following year and began to look for a place. Almost everyone I spoke to suggested looking for a Jesuit-run center, saying this w6uld be right for what I had in mind. But I prefer retreat houses run by women: they are cozier, and I like my creature comforts. After a few blanks I got a positive answer from a small guest-cum-retreat house, Coleg y Groes, in North Wales. Yes, they could take me. Yes, one of them could direct me. Yes, they were in the heart of the coun-try, and to all my other questions yes . . . yes . . . yes. I booked, hesitant to share with some of my more conservative friends that all was not as they might expect. I would be alone without the support of a group; I would be directed by a deacon, not a priest; 3~uly-Aug~tst 199.t 521 Corona ¯ God's Human Face Revealed worse still, an Anglican deacon; worse again, a woman Anglican deacon! What would Ignatius have said? In August 1990 I returned to England, and in July 1991 I traveled to Wales. Arriving in time for supper, I found the small 18th-century house nestled behind the Anglican parish church in the village of Corwen. My room was very nice, with the promise of quiet. My quick eye noticed the electric kettle, tea bags, and coffee. It all augured well. I began to get the sinking feeling that comes from having made a big decision and then eeing the signs going wrong. I Meet My Directress Margaret, who was to direct me, suggested I join the other guests for supper that first evening; after that I would dine alone. Supper was served in a delightful low-beamed room with a huge fireplace cut from Welsh stone. Flowers were in the deeply set window alcoves, and the whole place exuded security and good living. I began, however, to get the sinking feeling that comes from having made a big decision and then seeing the signs going wrong. To my Roman mind the conversation became so Anglican, cen-tered on the ordination of women. Most of the women present, and indeed Margaret her-self, were ordained deacons. It was the last thing I wanted to get involved in. Intermingled with that were fairly long dis-sertations on the three resident cats. I drained my coffee cup as I tried to quell the rising panic within me. Relief came when Margaret suggested we go to my room for a first talk. In five minutes my fears evaporated. I knew instinctively that in her I was on to a winner. That night I slept well, waking totally refreshed. I made coffee, and one glance at the Welsh weather put me into warm trousers and a thick sweater. In the still sleeping village I found the small Catholic church. Inside, in a back pew, was a very still figure. I knelt down near the door, ready to escape if this man were not the sort I ought to seek out for company. After some minutes he looked up and said "Welcome." This was Father Joseph (I seemed destined to be mixed up with Josephs and 522 Revie'w for Religious Josephines). In answer to my question he said that so seldom did anyone come for daily Mass that we could arrange it any time suited to the two of us. Father became a true friend to me during my thirty days. He watched over me with such care and was always available for counsel or confession. That first morning he arranged for me to have a key to the church so that I could come and go at will. He knew Margaret and felt I was safe in her hands. The Thirty Days Begin And so the routine for the thirty days began. Margaret sug-gested that for the first three days I just browse over my own favorite passages of Scripture, go for walks, and take on an atmo-sphere of quiet. That first morning I took my Bible and went out. I sat overlooking a sweeping green valley and read slowly through some of my favorites: "Widen the spaces of your tent." (Is 55:2); "Behold the Bridegroom is coming." (Mt 25:7); "May He give you the power., to grow strong . " (Ep 3:16-21). And through it all I wondered just what I was doing, alone in Wales, on the threshold of this experience. Those first three days went in very gently. Sleep, walks, quiet reading, and three one-hour prayer periods a day. The kettle, tea, and coffee played their part. On the fourth day we started in earnest into the pattern of the retreat. We moved into four one hour periods of prayer a day. Each "day" would begin at 5 p.m. The four "weeks" were to be flexible as regards length. Margaret spent considerable time giving me the background to the Exercises. As she spoke, words from Robert Gleeson's intro-duction to Anthony Mottola's translation of the Exercises came back to me: "Ignatius intended to stay in Manresa for a few days. These days stretched into ten months with results that are still reverberating around the world." Yes, I thought, even to Corwen. Something of Margaret's own love for Ignatius overflowed into me. Here was no mere competent guide, but rather one who was imbued with the spirit of Ignatius. I felt very secure, but real-ized Margaret was no soft touch as she explained the conditions: no reading, other than that prescribed; no music, news, corre-spondence, conversation, and so forth. She spoke of the neces-sity of being utterly faithful to the full one-hour prayer periods, and she warned me off interior conversation which could easily become the little foxes destroying the vineyard. When she had July-Auffust 1993 523 Corona ¯ God's Human Face Revealed finished, my snug feeling of security had drastically slipped, to he replaced by a sense of vulnerable nakedness. Thus stripped I entered the first "week" of the retreat. The First Week (Seven Days) Sin, in its hideousness, was the focus of this first week. Powerful meditations on words previously heard but never fully absorbed came back to influence my prayer. The First Principle and Foundation offered at the beginning of this week presented such a challenge thai it almost unseated me. Could I, in complete sincerity, make such a prayer? Part of my background reading said, "This law which I enjoin on you this day is not beyond your strength" (Dr 30:11-14). These words stood, like a kind mother, beside the demands of the First Principle and Foundation, urging me to compliance. Yet I hesitated. I moved on into the sin of Adam and Eve; the Angels; the Prodigal Son--all meditated on against a background of Philippians 2:1-11, Baruch 1:13-22 and 63, and Ephesians 1:13- 14 and all deepening in me an appreciation of the heinousness of sin. Karl Rahner says (I quote from memory), "I need to see sin, not so much as an offence against God, but rather as a rebuff against Jesus personally," and "I see him wasting there on the cross--for us--and ~eeing him in such plight, I make my deci-sion." It is difficult to take a detached view of sin with words like that running round one's mind. As the first week was coming to a close, the next commit-ment point was drawing near, the Kingdom meditation with its inbuilt self-offering; and yet I had still not made the First Principle and Foundation my own. I felt discouraged. If I could not per-sonalize the sentiments of the First Principle and Foundation, was there any point in going on? I told Margaret of my difficulty. She suggested rewriting it in language I would feel at home with. And that proved to be the answer. It was the stiff, masculine lan-guage that was getting in the way. After rewriting it in my own words, I could accept what Deuteronomy had been trying to tell me. On the seventh evening Margaret said that tomorrow would be a repose day. She explained what this meant: one prayer period this evening, a good night's sleep, then, after morning Mass, out for the day; on my return in the evening, one more prayer period 524 Review for Religious before she came to see me. She gave me a few ideas as to where I could go. I chose Llangollen: it seemed a place where I could continue to be quiet while doing something different. The Kingdom Meditation-- and Some Sort of Disturbance The meditation given me for the eve of the repose day was the Kingdom, so after supper, and with my inner eye on my day out, I settled down to this period of reflective prayer--and it all went wrong. The whole hour tumbled around in a confusion of despon-dency and misery. I saw myself as a hypocrite and a fool and felt sick with disappointment and embar-rassment. I was not being called as Rahner sug-gested; this was all totally beyond me regardless of Deuteronomy; there was nothing here for me. Some of us are destined for mediocrity; I was obviously one such. Illusion would get me nowhere, and get-ting nowhere was costing a lot of money and time. Leaving my room, I went out into the garden. The moon was riding high, swiftly brushing aside the small clouds which, busy about their own affairs, were trotting along in the opposite direc-tion. Shadows flitted about the garden, and some-where nearby an owl hooted. Further away a dog was barking, but it soon trailed off into a lazy yawn--his heart just was not in it. And here, under the canopy of deep sky, my thought slowly came together and clarified; I began to see what was going on. I returned to my room and found my crucifix and holding it firmly commanded, in the name and power of the crucified and resur-rected Christ, everything not of God to depart. I repeated the command twice. The result: "The storm abated and there was a great calm" (Mk 4:39). Without further ado I made my Kingdom offering as given by Ignatius, went to bed, and slept. Some of US are destined for mediocrity; I was obviously one such. The First Repose Day A glorious day of sunshine and Welsh mountains. A ride on the Railway Enthusiasts' railway from Llangollen along the moun-tainside to Deeside Halt; a leisurely walk by the canal where later I sat and ate my sandwiches while watching boys--up to the age ~uly-Aug'ust 1993 525 Corona ¯ God's Human Face Revealed of forty plus--playing with their boats. Full of fresh air and peace, I returned to Corwen on an early evening bus. Each turn in the road presented a different scene to delight the heart, and I found myself silently singing the word of St. Francis's Canticle of the Sun: "All praise be yours, my Lord, through all that you have made., and first for Brother Sun. how beautiful he is! How radiant!., and Brothers Wind and Air. and all the weathers' moods . " It seemed so appropriate. (Something I discovered during these thirty days was that Francis and Ignatius have much in common.) After supper Margaret came, and I told her of the previous night's upset. She said it was to be expected and then referred me to the description of discernment of spirits in the Exercises, where it was all clearly set out. The important thing, she said, was that I had made the Kingdom offering. Much was gained and nothing at all lost. The Second Week (Eleven Days) And so into the second week. I traveled far in that week. Journeying with Jesus through his life in the given meditations, I became aware of another journey I was making, toward a deeper commitment--and yet my previous fear of.fidl commitment reared up again and again. The demand was too clear, too total, too final. There was no space for maneuver. I stalled badly and frequently during that week. Margaret advised me to use the First Principle and Foundation offering and also the Kingdom offering as ways into the given meditations. She also gave me some salutary advice: "Don't try to give today what properly belongs to tomorrow." "The grace for the future is not yet being offered." I remembered similar advice given me in the past. As a young sister I had made a group retreat under a Carmelite friar. In one of his talks he said that many people fail to advance because they quail before what they fear may be asked of them if they say an unreserved yes. They forget that God is totally to be trusted and would never take unfair advantage of a generous yes. A superior, at a later date, took up the same theme with me (it seems I have had this lack-of-trust problem forever!) and said: "The Lord is total courtesy. He doesn't grab. He looks at what you have and asks 'May I take this?' If you refuse, he will not insist--for the time being any-way." Urn--for the time being. 526 Review for Religious The Two Standards and the Three Classes of Men These meditations caused the same problem that the First Principle and Foundation and the Kingdom had caused; as I saw it, all called for total and irrevocable commitment. Again I had to remind myself of what Margaret had said and what the Carmelite friar and my own superior had said when I was just knee high in my religious life. I spent long hours beg-ging the grace of trust. I tried to reset my focus and not waste precious time looking at abstract problems and missing the grace of reality. I turned to St. Francis at this stage and found his presence a great comfort. On the twentieth day, after lots of struggle but also tremendous peaks of joy and achievement, Margaret suggested I spend one day drawing the experience of the entire two weeks together and then summarize it in a truth-ful prayer of offering. As I set about doing this, I found it amaz-ing how I could look back along the road I had traveled and see so clearly the efforts, frustrations, joys, hopes, gains, losses, and desires and the loneliness and--running in and out of it all like a flame in dry grass--the'fear. And yet ~omehow it all came together with a marvelous coherence: everything fitted. I could see, with a rare clarity, that God was with me. I had moved. I had definitely moved. I had moved light years from where I had been two weeks previously. For better or for worse, I had moved. The agonizing lack of trust, the fears, the anxieties were all part of this pattern of walking. The Lord had supplied where I had been weak. Together we had made it through these two weeks. He had blessed me beyond all imagining and had accepted my desire as though it were something of substance. I was content. On the twenty-second day, a repose day, I went to Ruthin and presume I had a relaxed day, but I have no memory of it. Without the brief note in my journal saying I had been there, I would not know I had. What that says about me I have no idea. I could see, with a rare clarity, that God was with me. I had moved. The Third Week (Five Days) Margaret moved me into the last earthly days of Jesus. Over the next days, spread over five one-hour meditation periods, which j~¢O-dugust1993 527 Corona ¯ God's Human Face Revealed included a midnight hour, I contemplated the Lord at the Last Supper, Gethsemane, and Calvary and right through to the postresurrecfion period. Having visited the Holy Land many times while living in the Middle East, I found it very easy to situate these meditations, but somehow the depths eluded me. On the twenty-fourth day Margaret suggested that I spend four of my five one-hour prayer periods reading through the four different accounts of the Passion. Anyone who has done this in one day will know it does not come easy. Physically it is draining to read something of that nature and length with concentration. By the evening it had quite taken me over, and after supper I went for a long walk, but somehow I could not shake off (was I even meant to?) the felt heaviness of trudging the Calvary road four times. Another Disturbance It is not easy to stay with someone in agony while knowing you are part responsible. During the night I woke in the grip of a strange tension, feel-ing physically cold and frightened. I have never been especially brave, but I am not given to irrational fear, and this sense of men-ace was wholly irrational; yet it made me feel that, if I did not give up this retreat, it would break me. For several minutes I did nothing beyond switching on the light and allowing the fear to swamp me. Fear of what? I could put no name to it. Then I remembered Margaret's words, based on those of Ignatius: "It is common for the evil spirit to cause sad-ness, fear, discouragement, and acute anxiety and to place all sorts of obstacles in the way of right reason. The good spirit gives courage, strength, inspiration, light, and peace so that right reason will prevail. Learn to distin-guish." Once again I reached for my crucifix and holy water and followed my previous routine. All returned to normal, but it took some time. The twenty-sixth day I spent quietly looking back over the entire Passion. It proved to be a very hard day. It is not easy to stay with someone in agony while knowing you are part responsible. On the twenty-seventh day, another repose day, I went to Lake Bala. It was a beautiful day, but too hot. Tourists and pic-nickers were all over the place--not helpful. I found the Catholic 528 Review for Religious church, a small converted stable. It was very peaceful, and I stayed quietly there for some time before boarding the bus for the ride home through heart-lifting scenery. The Fourth Week--Coming to the End I was now coming to the end of this whole experience, and Margaret suggested moving back from five to four periods of prayer, 6mitring the night one. She also brought me a tape recorder and some classical-music tapes. Winning some grand prize could not have brought me more joy. I was ecstatic. On the twenty-eighth day I meditated on John 20:11-18, Mary Magdalen's encounter with Jesus in the garden, with Isaiah 30:18- 26 and 35:1-10 as background. I also used Luke 24:13-35, the Emmaus story, with Psalm 62 as background. I became quite filled with the quiet. Jesus' sufferings were over. His pain was finished. I was able to walk calmly in the garden with Mary Magdalen--you see, I knew the answer to her question. The Emmaus road also was peaceful. Again I had the advantage: I knew who he was. All this was leading me quite naturally into the Contemplation to Attain Divine Love. From the twenty-ninth day onward I used this con-templation for one period each day, the other three periods cov-ering postresurrection Scripture. I continued my daily walks in the serene countryside, which for me became Galilee, where Jesus said he wo~ld meet his friends again and where I myself have walked many times. A Final Disturbance One meditation, on the thirtieth day, was given over to the events that include Jesus cooking breakfast for his hungry disci-ples. As I moved further into the scene, it all changed and became blasphemous; but I did not recognize it as such. My discerning powers were, it seemed, in suspension. During Mass the follow-ing morning I became aware that something had been very wrong with that meditation. I looked back at it and saw immediately the gross irreverence of the scenes which had been presented to my view. I was aghast and marveled that I had not realized at the time what was going on. I went hotfoot to Father Joseph after Mass and poured out my sorry story. He took it all very calmly--as con-fessors are apt to do--and explained how the devil will use every July-August 1993 529 Corona ¯ God's Human Face Revealed possible means to stop a person pursuing a course that has as its aim a closer union with God. Margaret, of course, said the same thing. The experience left me with a profound disgust of the one who works such evil things. The Final Days The thirty-first and final day arrived. I drew together the ele-ments of the four key meditations--the Kingdom, the Two Standards, the Three Classes of Men, the Three Modes of Humility. I then moved them into a prayer of offering that I tried to make utterly truthful and realistic for me. Later that day I had a final few words with Father Joseph and returned the keys of the church. Back at the house I had a last talk with Margaret and my retreat was over. The following day I left Corwen and--via Wrexham, Chester, Crewe, Euston, and Plaistow, changing train or bus at each one--I arrived home in London. Eighteen Months Later Days have built on days, and a year and a half has passed since my long retreat. By now it should have gone the way of all the others. It has not done so. Father Joseph's words during our final talk, "You will never be the same again, this experience has changed you," have stayed with me; I know them to be true. That retreat has changed many things. It has set sin in its right context, one which makes scant distinction between small and big offenses. It has cleared away any number of secondary purposes and under-lined the one purpose for which I was born. It has filled my store-rooms with kindling, that I may not perish when my winter fires burn low. It has increased my recovery rate, so that sin and repen-tance are almost simultaneous. It has brought a staying power I never thought to possess; a strength to stay with prayer even when, apparently, there is nothing in it to stay for. It has brought an acceptance that I am as I am and, as far as performance goes, the future will not be much different; progress will still be wob-bly, with backward steps, with fears and sin. But this acceptance of my situation has brought a new dependence; I know I will make it through to the end if I cling like a limpet to Christ. There is, quite simply, no other way. 530 ' Re~ie~ for Religious The Human Face of God But overriding and underpinning all this is the greatest change of all. I am aware that, through all the contemplations of that month, even those during which I was distracted, irritated, fidgety, or just plain bored, God was working. He was working as one whose work it is to take an old manuscript, mosaic, or fresco and restore it to its original beauty; he was etching and bringing into relief, for me personally, the lines of his own human face. I can no longer think of God without, at the same time, seeing Christ; I see him, in some small measure, as Francis of Assisi saw him in great, in the people, however seemingly insignificant, and in the events, however trivial, that form th~ fabric of my everyday life. This new vision is the greatest grace to accompany me into these, the afterdays. The word "Wales" will never again mean for me just a geo-graphical place, hut rather will set a pause for remembering: remembering that revelation did not end with the Apocalypse; remembering how God revealed his face to me in Wales; remem-bering how something of beauty was planted within me and has, in spite of me, continued to grow. My life has become perma-nently divided into "before Wales" and "after Wales." And it all started way back in Jordan, where I "hungered for liberation" and knew myself "intent on hearing an utterance of God never given before" (in the words of McGann and Rahner) and felt strongly impelled, Franciscan and all that I am, to take up the invitation to an Ignatian experience. That, and so much more, is what my long retreat was all about. Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distri-bution, advertising, or institutional promotion or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will be consid-ered only on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. July-August 1993 531 TAD DUNNE What Trouble Is spiritual life Most of us, at some lull in the cacophony of life, think to ourselves, "I really should be a person who . " And we take some stand on avoiding trouble. Of course, trouble wears many hats. There is the regular trouble of having to learn through our mistakes. There is our unwitting igno-rance of the times when our behavior makes others roll their eyes. Or maybe the trouble is our own doing, like the lies we lay on others and the follow-up work we lay on ourselves just to keep our stories straight. Or like the legacy of emotional trouble callous parents bequeath to their children that continues long after they have died and the children have grown up. The stand we take to avoid trouble is usually rather elemental. We hope a simple strategy can meet every kind of trouble coming our way. Not that we succeed. Indeed, the reason we do not succeed may well be that the way we defined our troubles was a big mistake. This is why, for many of us, our images of God are shaped less by our experience of divine help or by the Scriptures and more by how we conceptualized our getting into trouble in the first place. When people describe their spiritual journeys to me, they usually divide the chapters according to this or that difficulty from which God delivered them, but the difficulties were defined very often by simple earthly sym-bols, not by any measures drawn from revelation. Tad Dunne writes on contemporary spirituality. His address is 2923 Woodslee; Royal Oak, Michigan 48073. 532 Review for Religious We get most of the symbols of our troubles from the drama of everyday life--a vacillating boss, a domineering spouse, hard work with no reward, bad weather, and so on. But where people draw the line on what is unacceptable to them will vary nation to nation, old to young, woman to man, race to race. So, before we assume that our view of trouble is totally objective, we need to look instead at the experiences of trouble common to everyone. Then we can look at what the gospel says about trouble and make comparisons about what we have observed. Our universally common experiences of trouble lie not in the dramatic but in the practical patterns in our experiences--expe-riences like carrying burdens, feeling slowed down, running into roadblocks, taking chances and missing, setting schedules and failing to meet them, planting seeds that produce puny fruit, arranging our surroundings carefully and finding that the sur-roundings have trapped us. Everyone, in any culture, grows up with these practical troubles and looks for ways to overcome them. The Example of Physics For the sake of talking about these analogs of our miseries, it will help to classify them. One simple way follows the example of physics. In physics we expect events to occur either in a natural relationship to other events or just coincidentally. While physicists talk about the naturally related events by using terms like elec-tromagnetism, gravity, or inertia, children simply notice that when A happens, then B usually happens. Behind the merely coinci-dental events lie no laws at all, so physicists talk about probabil-ities and norms while ordinary people talk about taking chances and seizing once-in-a-lifetime opportunities. Each of these two kinds of expectations, of regularity and of chance, gets frustrated in its own way. Regularity is frustrated when a routine is broken or a law is not followed. Chance is frus-trated when overcontrol eliminates the lucky chance or when exceptions to the rule are somehow ruled out of court. But each kind excludes the other, and so, pressured as we ar.e by this intrin-sic antinomy to Choose only one as our fundamental code for translating experience into meaning, some of us worship a God of Law and others a God of Freedom. The Broken Routine. The God of Law is incarnated in our ear- 3~uly-August 1993 533 Dunne ¯ What Trouble Is God brings salvation by giving laws to maintain order and by raising up saints to serve as our examples. liest teacher of regularity: the sun. It gives us as children a sym-bol of what it means to be faithful, kindly, and dependable. We learn at an early age what our race took eons to formulate in a principle: that bodies in motion keep going and bodies at rest stay where they are. If only people could be that orderly! So we experience the trouble of broken routine. Things are going smoothly and something interrupts. Interruptions and contradictions are our enemies, though we can never fully avoid them. Better calm down and do what God expects and all shall be well. Pity those who live in chaos, who seem never to settle down, who spend their lives searching for they know not what. They could well learn a lesson from nature that life lies in regu-larity and dependability. This elemental experience of day alter-nating with night has a remarkable influence on the loftiest and most religious levels of our psyches. We imagine the kingdom of God as a smooth meshing of generation upon generation of peo-ple, as if the oiling of divine grace was meant to eliminate all fric-tion between people. God is an implacable and consistent Trinity, a perfect community, an example which every human family and nation is called to imitate as far as possible. God brings salvation by giving laws to maintain order and by raising up saints to serve as our examples. Life is essentially a struggle of law and order over anarchy and extreme independence. OvercontroL The second kind of trouble is practically the oppo-site of the first. As the first kind loves controls, the second hates them. At some time in our growing up, when we discover that we have taken too many of our parents' controls to heart, we start to wriggle free of them. We take a chance. When governments lay such heavy controls on people that hardly anything is left to chance, we condemn them. The worst kind of control, of course, is self-imposed--when I make more resolutions than I could pos-sibly keep or when I forbid myself to ever try anything daring or maturing. Trouble is anything that impedes probabilities. These elemental experiences tell us that God is a God of free-dom, calling us to a radical trust in all we do. The voice is per- 534 Review for Religious vasive: Let go of trying to control everything and everyone; you are ruining yourself in the process and will never succeed in any case. God will never lay a load on your back without also giving you a strohg back with which to carry it. "Look at the birds of the air . " Human planning is largely a waste of time. The goals of our endeavors so seldom match their outcomes that it is a won-der we keep on setting goals. God will intervene at the oppor-tune moment; divinity cannot be pinned down to laws and predictability. And so on. The Example of Biology Notice how these first two kinds of order and trouble are dis-tinguished by whether or not individual events are either part of some repeating cycle or the result of mere chance. We can also look at sequences of events or stages in something undergoing development. Again, to keep this simple, we can distinguish two fundamental kinds of development, those driven by a single law or principle and those driven by forces only coincidentally related to each other. The single-law kind can be illustrated by seeds. Tulip bulbs develop tulips, not dandelions, and, within quite narrow ranges of development, tulips everywhere look alike. Multiple-principle development can be represented by human relation-ships. People's values differ from each other across the face of the earth far more than tulips do. The reason is that the genetic coding in the fertilized egg that each of us once was does not confine the range of our potential development anywhere near as tightly as the tulip's coding does. Growing up, we continually "recode" ourselves by our choices. By interacting with others we develop in dialectical fashion, making something unrepeatable of both ourselves and our surroundings. If both the genetic (single-law) and the dialectical (multiple-principle) kinds of development are elemental,-then we can expect them to precondition what we mean by trouble and, by exten-sion, what we mean by God's saving grace. Again, the dichotomy between these two kinds of development tends to force a reli-gious choice between a God of Success and what I shall call a God of Exchange. The Weeds among the Wheat. One kind of trouble is caused by bad beginnings. It concerns anyone anxious to make continual July-August 1993 535 Dunne ¯ 14/-bat Trouble Is growth and progress, anyone who worships the God of Success. Long before people study genetics in biology, they experience built-in potentials and patterns of growth everywhere, in flow-ers, birds, and house pets. But some elements interfere with nat-ural fulfillment and choke the natural process of growth. These elements may be people, who themselves have been affected by their own upbringing. The notion here is that people are basi-cally good and that, given rich soil and hearty fertilizer, every person and every project will turn out a success. The worst form of this kind of trouble shows when a person feels predestined to fail because of some original and irreparable personality flaw. If we develop sheerly by genetic laws, then it would follow that God calls us to be creators, to overcome obstacles, and to keep a positive spirit. There is no doubt that the kingdom will come; the inner workings of grace in history guarantee it, sure as an acorn will become an oak. Our job is simply to help it come more quickly. It will be a kingdom of exciting new discoveries, increasing cooperation among all people, and continual improve-ment in people's health and happiness. The Good News is simply the announcement that Jesus loves you and that you have the germ of grace within you. Sin is ignorance, not malice. Evangelization is chiefly education; moral reform will follow auto-matically. In the meantime, we are called to grow in holiness, to grow closer and closer to God like a blossoming flower. Hoarding Energy. This fourth kind of trouble is also about growth, but the pattern of development is determined by a series of events related to each other only by chance. We notice how living things are determined not only by origins or seeds but through a continual exchange with their environments. Here biol-ogy studies how living things give and take within their ,sur-roundings. Flowers give honey to bees while the bees ensure progeny for the flowers. While genetic coding strictly limits any one bee's behavior, the location of beehives and the proliferation of flowers are interdependent. Should a storm wipe out one, the other soon disappears. So nature's contentious personality gives us a symbol of a God of give-and-take, a historical God, an engaged God. Farmers plow their fields and their fields return corn. The better the plowing the better the corn and the better the farmer. The quality of the exchange has a dialectical effect on both sides. 536 Revieva for Religious The same goes for the growth and decay of our friendships. Eventually the friendship is either good for both of us or good for neither one. Trouble comes when things cost more than they return. If a boy exasperates his friends by compulsive chatter, he does not feel energized. He wears everyone out, including himself. Then there is the trouble we cause when we take more from the phys-ical environment than we contribute to it, as is evident in oil spills, acid rains, and fluorocarbon-charged spray cans. Whatever the case, there is trouble eithe

Issue 47.3 of the Review for Religious, May/June 1988. ; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The edito-rial offices are located at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO. 63108-3393. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS iS owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. ©1988 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Single copies $3.00. Subscriptions: U.S.A. $12.00 a year; $22.00 for two years. Other countries: for surface mail, add $5.00 per year; for airmail, add $20.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address, write: REVtEW FOR RELIGIOUS; P.O. BOX 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Philip C. Fischer, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read M. Anne Maskey, O.S.F. Acting Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editors May/June 1988 Volume 47 Number 3 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Rich-ard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave., Berkeley, CA 94709. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. A major portion of each issue is also available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually impaired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. Effective, Nondefensive Communication Between Clergy and Religious Women Robert J. Wicks, Psy.D. This article is adapted from an invited address presented at the 1986 Annual Vicars for Religious Eastern Regional Conference on November 7, 1986, at the St. Raphaela Retreat House, Haverford, Pennsylvania. Dr. Wicks, author of Availability. the Problem and the Gift, is Professor of Pastoral Counseling and Director of Program Development in the Loyola College Pastoral Counseling Department; 7135 Minstrel Way, Suite 101; Columbia, Maryland 21045. Good communication cannot solve every problem; to think so is naive. However, good communication can set the stage for metanoia (conver-sion). Therefore, in light of this all must be done to take advantage of the opportunity it offers-~even though, as one might expect, the cost of this conversion (in terms of openness, patience, and persistent assertive-ness) may be quite substantial. Considering this cost, from a psychological point of view there must be a real effort taken to remove all of the unnecessary interpersonal stress involved through the employment of good communication techniques; whereas, from a spiritual vantage point we must see the goal of effec-tive communication and relationship formation between male and female leaders of the Church as a positive challenge which inspires further steps toward openness rather than one that is threatening and discouraging, caus-ing avoidable anxiety. The movement toward Christian intimacy and interdependence must then be based on a hope that is very much tied to our faith; for with a strong faith--even when we are in the midst of an interaction that seems 321 399 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 to be pulling us apart or are in an apparently complete impasse--we will never lose sight of the key biblical injunction "Be not afraid." In the simple words of Paul to the Philippians: In the name of the encouragement you owe me in Christ, in the name of solace that love can give, of fellowship in spirit, compassion and pity, I beg you: make my joy complete by your unanimity, possessing the one love, united in spirit and ideals. Never act out of rivalry or conceit; rather, let all parties think humbly of others as superior to themselves, each of you looking to others' interests rather than his [her] own (Ph 2:1- 4). His call must be one that all men and women in Christ must heed. And clergy and religious women (the term "religious women" is used instead of "women religious" because it is more inclusive) need to lead the way in continuing to model this struggle for partnership in ministry. One of the realities that I believe many of us do not realize about com-munication between clergy and religious women in this age of occasional ministerial conflict between women and men is that communication is better now between these two groups than ever before in the modern Church. In the past the dissemination of information may have been easier and the discussions more comfortable, but if we are to look at commu-nication as a two-way communication where self-disclosure and the un-covering of agendas are involved, communication between clergy and re-ligious women is, in a real sense, a recent post-Vatican II phenomenon. Prior to this, in many instances because of structures and roles, the in-formation flowed primarily in one direction; this was not only unfair to all concerned but it also held back the Christian community because com-munication is a mainstay of interpersonal vitality. With these points as a backdrop then, we must enter into the topic of effective, nondefensive communication between clergy and religious women with a sense of reality and a deep attitude of hope. If we want, psychology can provide practical information to help, but we must also recognize that this is a spiritual movement; tht~s, in this light we have a responsibility to guide it but an equal mandate not to try to control it. To do so would only prove both frustrating and disastrous. In an effort to place sound psychology at the service of this move-ment, three questions will be addressed: I. How do people respond to communication?This question is im-portant because we often have the assumption that communication is nor- Effective, Nondefensive Communication / 323 mally received with welcome arms and are surprised when this does not happen. II. Who is receiving the message? This question is helpful to address because of the dramatic way a message can be affected, accepted, or re-jected when there is little reflection on whom we are addressing in terms of a number of variables. III. How is effective communication an element in an overall trans-formation of one's attitude and response to God? Good communication is only important if it serves to build up the Kingdom--the Kingdom within ourselves and the Kingdom among ourselves, that "Sacred Space" within which we make the spiritual journey. I. What Are Some of the Ways People May Respond to Communica-tion? Communication can be greeted in a number of ways including: with suspicion or paranoia, with unrealistic expectations, or with hope and chal-lenge. Understanding a bit about each of these types of responses is help-ful when preparing for or involved in communicating with others. Suspicion or Paranoia: Alan Paton once said that some persons "fear social change more than they fear God." Communication often leads to change, and in the institutional Church there sometimes is a sense of suspicion or even paranoia about where the current movements will lead. Nowhere is this more evident than with respect to the move-ment toward full partnership on the part of women. Quite honestly, al-though the suspicion and paranoia are not warranted if we have real trust in the Lord and are healthy psychologically, there is still a reality aspect to the whole issue which is senseless to bury or deny. Communication, real communication--which has at its heart the burning desire for inclu-siveness- is a Trojan horse in the institutional Church today. Inside the horse is true Christian equality--something that will, as it develops and grows, bring with it confusion and concern, just as Christ did in his times to his religious structure. So, although we really must not turn back and hide ourselves behind former types of organizational breakdowns (to do so, I think, would be a futile and sinful exercise in misplaced nostalgia for past structures), th.e question we must not hide through Christian de-nial or behind "chronic niceness" is whether, in envisioning unity, we are also prepared to face many systemic questions which may shake us as a body to the core? Unrealistic Expectations: Among the unrealistic expectations of com-munications we sometime~ hold on to are that good communications will almost always produce comfortable agreement, or somehow if it is done 324 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 correctly will always be pleasant. Agreement does not occur all of the time; this is natural. However, some people erroneously believe that if there is not agreement, it means the communications involved are not good. This is false because there could be a meeting of the minds but the minds may not agree. This is an important point to realize in the Church today. The Church takes time to change; those who have had time to see the institutional manifestations of the Church around the world and have reviewed Church history know that the structures often take time to catch up to the reality of the movement of the Spirit in the People of God. So, while communications and respect between clergy and religious women must be at the top of our agenda, to expect that this will lead to immediate change of certain laws, traditions, and systems is to court unnecessary frustration. Another unrealistic expectation is to expect that if communications are good the results will be pleasant. This is obviously also not true. To see injustice-~either in our own behavior or others--is certainly not a joy. As a matter of fact, good communication may bring us closer-- truth has a special power to do this--but we may not feel it because the issues that divide us may become clearer and we may feel more alien-ated because we are starting to honestly confront them. Using the terminology of Merton, in communications our "true selves" may well see each other and be attracted but at the same time our "false selves" will probably turn and run for their lives! For in-stance, let us take the case of a clergyman who is a firstborn male with an eastern European background. For him to have to face as a result of communication the possibility that he has been acculturated to see him-self as the "worthy one," someone to be waited on hand-and-foot, and that he must somehow in the Spirit of the servant Jesus move away from this learned style is not going to be easy. Likewise, for a religious woman to own the fact that she has been displacing some anger she rightly feels about injustice in the Church onto a particular priest who has not shown any evidence of sexism but has happened to be nearby when she was feeling her justified frustration is also not pleasant. Hope and Challenge: However, thankfully, communication can also be greeted in a positive way. It can be greeted with a sense of hope and challenge; and that is the attitude we must all seek to "put on" as we would seek to put on Christ. Yet this positive Christlike attitude does not deny that communication takes effort, is easily affected, and often gets distorted because of past experiences. Effective, Nondefensive Communication / 325 Gestures never substitute for actions; this all of us probably would admit to knowing. Yet one of the burdens of the human condition is that we often make a gesture when we think we are taking an action. This is especially so in communication. Real communication requires that agen-das be cleared. We must risk speaking our minds and our hearts, but often we shy away from this because we can lose face, uncover unpleas-ant anxieties, or lose our position in the relationship (even though this position is a matter of self-protection rather than of Christian friendship). The "bottom line" then is that, even with a sense of hope and challenge, good communication takes real effort. II. Who Is Receiving the Message? Age, socio-economic background, race/ethnic origin, intelligence, and any number of other determinants will affect how our message is re-ceived. This is especially important in terms of personality and sociali-zation as a result of gender. With respect to personality and communication, given the focus of this paper, the specific factors which we will treat here are domination and avoidance. Domination: Some people have a great fear of being dominated or influenced while others are themselves dominators. In both cases, the per-son will receive communications in line with these personality determi-nants. Sometimes very bad past ministerial experiences will cause this kind of issue to be at the forefront. An example of this is the person in ministry who has been--in the name of "Christian service"--pulled into doing all kinds of work and has filled all kinds of inappropriate roles. He or she may then respond to communication in what I call a "pseudojustice" mode. Trying to communicate with such persons about involvement can be like pulling teeth because of their fear that their own space will be intruded upon as it has been in the past. With them you may feel exasperated and feel like yelling: "I'm not trying to control you. All I'm trying to do is to find out how you would like to serve as part of the team." The hidden agenda such people have and their past feeling of being dominated and forced into too many unwanted, possi-bly unsuitable roles need to surface and be dealt with so communication and involvement can proceed. On the other hand, for persons receiving the message who are them-selves dominators, the problem will be somewhat different. In this case they show constant concern that if they agree or open up they might lose necessary control of the situation. In communicating with them, the situ-ation is also frustrating because if you are not careful you may begin to 326/Review for Religious, May-June 1988 feel that you are in fact gUilty of trying to wrestle control or get away with something. To such persons, nevertheless, you must express the idea clearly and question their hesitation so that they can get in touch with the domination problem they are experiencing. (Th.e more uncon-scious the problem is, howex;er, the more defensive the person will be because of a lack of awareness about it and a resistance to looking at it on his or her part.) Avoidance: Avoidance of involvement with another person may be due to a number of reasons. When we are speaking about communica-tions between clergy and religious women, though, one of the primary concerns could be the fear of heterosexual intimacy. As we learn from the psychological literature (for example, Daniel Levinson: The Seasons of a Man's Life), this may especially be a problem with males because of a confusion between genital relationships and nongenital heterosexual relationships. In Levinson's words: A man may have a wide social network in which he has amicable, "friendly" relationships with many men and perhaps a few women. In general, however, most men do not have an intimate male friend of the kind that they recall fondly from boyhood or y.outh. Many men have had casual dating relationships with women, and perhaps a few complex love-sex relationships, but most men have not had an intimate nonsexual friendship with a woman. We need to understand why friendship is so rare, and what consequences this deprivation has for adult life (p. 335). For the religious woman, the case may be a failure to have had enough heterosexual opportunities herself to feel at ease in the situation; another reason could be a negative history early in life or in ministry (for example, steps at healthy intimacy either rebuffed or responded to in a genital way thus producing confusion, anger, or possibly unwarranted guilt). Now that we have looked at the above two elements in understand-ing whom we are communicating with--since the "who" very much de-termines how a message will be received, let us briefly look at the dif-ferences communication takes on from the socialization a person receives because of gender. Gender, along with the socialization and human development that oc-cur in line with it, is a very crucial variable in how someone receives communication. Carol Gilligan (In A Different Voice: Visions in Matur-ity, Harvard University Press, 1982), Robert Kegan (The Evolving Self, Harvard University Press, 1982), and Jean Miller (Toward a New Psy-chology of Women, Beacon, 1976) b.ave shown that recent studies on Effective, Nondefensive Communication women's psychological development characterize them as more open to, and interested in, affiliation than men. However, of more import is that these findings, rather than being evidence of regressive dependence, are reflective of a high level of development that should be integrated with (male-oriented) differentiation at each level of maturity. Joann Wolski Conn, in her work Women's Spirituality (Paulist, 1986), points to this: ¯ . . o.ne should notice the similarities between the Christian goal of un-ion with God demonstrated by loving care for all persons, and the ideal of human maturity promoted in essays by Miller, Gilligan, and Kegan. Gilligan rejects autonomy as the only appropriate goal for human ma-turity in moral decisions and presents instead a goal which equally val-ues relationships . [Kegan] explicitly intends to present a model which listens as carefully to women's experience as it does to men's. As a result, his model demonstrates how the qualities which have come to characterize men and women stereotypically--autonomy and relation-ship-- are the focus of life span tasks at every stage of everyone's de-velopment . Miller explains that autonomy as the goal of maturity is a carry-over from men's experience and implies that one should be able to give up affiliations in order to become separate and self-directed. Women seek more than autonomy as was defined for men; in-deed, they seek a fuller ability to encompass relationships simultane-ously with the fullest development of themselves. Too often women are misinterpreted or penalized for affirming to men a basic truth: every-one's individual development proceeds through affiliation as well as dif-ferentiation. And this development involves conflict which is an inevi-table fact of life and is not necessarily harmful (60, 61). The above is particularly relevant for us here because it is the devel-opment of the female "gender" (as opposed to biological sex), with its emphasis on affiliation,versus the male "gender," which focuses on sepa-ration, that determines whether communication will be sought to build up the Kingdom via an emphasis on relationships or via an attempt to foster "God's will" by furthering a truth or cause at the possible ex-pense of excluding intimacy in the process. ¯ This is not said to disparage men. Jesus in his communication mod-eled both the male and the female gender (that is, he stood for the truth but saw charity and relationship as the greatest law). On the other hand, in an effort to attain equality, it is equally possible for some women to mistake "machismo" for the masculine gender and seek aggressive power in their communication rather than an assertive appropriate de-fense of the truth that will in turn bring us together as brothers and sis- ~i98 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 ters. Consequently, gender is an important issue when reflecting on the person with whom we are trying to communicate. III. Effective Communications as an Element of Overall Transforma-tion Changes in one's attitude and approach to life are areas in which thera-pists have had a long-standing interest. Because of this they are aware of the resistance to change that people have-~even when there is an ex-pressed conscious desire to progress. One way of dealing with such re-sistance, bad habits, or unwanted yet seemingly ingrained negative pat-terns is to address one or all of the following: behavior, cognition, af-fect, and imagery. (I am indebted in this section to my colleague Rich-ard Parsons for his model for therapeutic intervention based on the first three of the factors just listed.) This information is important with respect to what we have already discussed because unless communication is seen as an element of one's overall need to be transformed in approaching God, it will not be suffi-ciently integrated into one's life to have significant impact on one's daily outlook. For instance, when a depressed person comes in for treatment, the problem during the course of therapy can be dealt with in each of the ar-eas listed above; the following is a sample: Behavior: The person is helped to develop a strategy to get out of bed and move about since activity and depression do not coexist well to-gether. Cognition: The person is assisted in recognizing negative thinking, seeing the link between it and depression, and learning how to correct for this thinking as a way of dealing ultimately with a negative belief sys-tem. Affect (emotions): The person is encouraged to express negative emo-tion (anger) so it is not directed against the self in a destructive fashion. Imagery: The person is given exercises in positive imagery as a means of correcting the inordinate negative images that the person fre-quently has and erroneously believes. In this way, the person is able to enter upon a process of self-reeducation, in terms of which, rather than behaving, perceiving, feel-ing, and imaging negatively, he or she realistically and positively takes greater and greater hold. In our openness to grace (using the above model including behav-ior, cognition, affect, and imagery), similar moves must be taken with respect to.ensuring the presence and growth of effective, nondefensive Effective, Nondefensive Communication communication between clergy and religious women. As a way of en-suring this, in each of the four categories, a series of sample questions is offered. They are not so much a comprehensive list as a way of ap-proaching what we have covered in this paper on a broader scale. How they are addressed initially and every day will help determine how the clergy and religious women feel about and act upon their stated desire to open up clear lines of communication between them--regarding, that is, what they do, perceive, affectively experience, and envision. Since emotions are hard to impact directly (except with drug therapy or via ex-ercises in catharsis--that is, ventilating emotions when relating an event to a friend so that the emotions do not come out in an inordinate way in an encounter with someone else), the three we will focus on in terms of a listing of reflective questions are: behavior, cognition, and imagery. (Naturally, there will be some overlap between categories.) Behavior: 1. When someone treats me with disrespect/anger, do I inquire about it or do I withdraw and absorb the negativity or retaliate against the per-son? (Am I able to say: "You seem angry. Is it me that you are angry with or someone/thing else?") 2. Do I time sensitive interactions correctly, or do I bring up things at a time when the person will feel on the spot, rushed, or unable to re-spond? (The "attack-in-the-open" or "hit-on-the-run" techniques.) 3. Do I let other people's behavior (defensive, angry, rigid.) de-termine (excuse) a like negative response on my part? 4. When I have a confrontation, do I employ empathy and respect? 5. Do I group people (sexes, roles . . .) together, or do I take the trouble to appreciate each person individually? 6. Do I treat my partner in ministry like a child or parent or assume one of these roles myself in communication? 7. Do I demand that people agree or have a constantly pleasant de-meanor as a price of interacting with me? 8. When I communicate, am I trying to be myself, or am I trying to project an image so as to keep people controlled, at a distance, or in awe of me? 9. Do I hide behind the rules--be they correct or not--as a way of ending a conversation or cutting off a person's desire to brainstorm or be an adult with me? 10. Do I give in--in the name of "charity"--because I want to be liked? 330 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 11. Am I difficult to deal with and .overly exacting about a job de-scription- not merely to ensure justice is done, but as displaced revenge for past injustices, hurts, or inordinate demands? In other words, am I willing to be assertive enough to set limits for people when I am being asked to do things I should not do, and, on the other hand, am I gener-ous enough to go the extra mile when it is called for rather than hide be-hind a "union-type" contract which may destroy ministerial morale? (This question is material for an article in itself, given the undeclared psy-chological war that is often taking place between some manipulative, con-trolling, dominant ministers in the Church and the obsessive-compulsive persons who report to them.) 12. Do I use emotional words or parental actions (pedantic tones, sar-o casm . . .) as a way of controlling or attacking other persons? 13. Do I use indirect or passive aggressive/dependent behavior as a way of getting back at someone because I cannot or will not face my own anxiety about being directly assertive? 14. Do I catch myself when I am not taking someone seriously or am making a premature judgment about him or her? 15. Do I tie people up in specifics, rules, or implications rather than allowing them to share their hopes, ideals, and visions with me? 16. Do I look for defensiveness in the other person as a help to moni-tor how I am presenting my view? (Am I using evaluative rather than de-scriptive language, which then sets the other person up to respond nega-tively?) 17. Am I being specific and recent, rather than vague, general, or historical? That is, am I dragging in what I perceive to be the person's whole negative history with me? 18. Am I falling into the trap of employing a communication de-stroyer such as: ordering, directing, commanding, warning, admonish-ing, threatening, exhorting, moralizing, preaching, lecturing, giving so-lutions, .judging, criticizing, blaming, flattering, name-calling, shaming, withdrawing, humoring, or diverting? i9. Am I acting the way I am because of the person's "church cre-dentials" or because of who they are as persons . . . my brothers and sisters in Christ? 20. Am I giving other persons enough distance, or am I moving ahead in the communication and relationship because of my own needs, my own sense of where relationships should be after a given period of time? Effective, Nondefensive Communication 21. Am I able to not "take the whole stage" or "hide behind the curtain" but instead find an appropriate verbal place in the communica-tion? 22. Am I self-disclosing enough without inappropriately or too rap-idly overwhelming the other person with my personal life? 23. Do I use anger, pouting, tears, tantrums, or seduction to get my way? 24. Do I look for the other person's point in communication so it re-ally can become a two-way process of exchanging information? 25. Am I looking for those signs in myself which would help me see when in my interactions and thoughts I may be setting myself up for un-necessary failure? (Do I expect that the reality of the diocese or present partner in ministry will meet my ideals and, when it does not, see it as a total failure?) Cognition: I. Do I try to be as clear as possible in the way I express myself--in other words, do I try to look at all my motivations and agendas? 2. Do I catch myself when I feel either angry, anxious, or guilty so I can try to understand the source of it rather than merely blaming my-self or someone else? 3. Am I sensitive to the times I personalize things? For instance, do I quickly take the blame for some external negative event that I was not primarily responsible for and as a result feel unnecessarily angry/guilty? 4. Do I hold on to the biblical quotation "Be not afraid" at a real belief/trust level to the extent that I can move forward in communica-tion even during those times when I feel pain, rejection, threat, or panic? 5. In my communication of the expectations I have of people, am I presenting them in a way which puts them on the spot, or do I really try to call them to be all they can be without embarrassing them because they are where they are? 6. Do I predict failure or put the other person down in my mind even before the communication has had time to develop? 7. Do I pick up my feelings of annoyance or frustration and catch the underlying thought which is causing it and thus avoid lessening my motivation to continue the communication and work through the prob-lem? 8. Do I fearlessly try to separate my motivations and agendas so I can see what mature/immature elements are involved in my thinking when I prepare for an important discussion, confrontation, or meeting? 332 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 9. When I am at an intimate level with a person, am I checking all the thoughts going through my mind---even the negative or unrealistic ones--as a way of picking up my unfulfilled preconscious desires or needs so they do not interfere with the communication or lead me to act out some immature behavior that would be detrimental to the relation-ship? I0. Am I thinking that, if this person does not like me, it means am not likable in general? Or do I believe that when I am on a ministry team everyone must get along equally well? 1 i. Do I see disagreement as tantamount to disloyalty or start to be-lieve such an attitude if I am given that message by the person with whom I am communicating? 12. Am I willing and able to recall past supportive adult situations I have had with other partners in ministry so I do not generalize when I have a bad experience in the present? Imagery: 1. Am I imaging myself as an assertive sister/brother of Christ, or do I perceive a non-Christlike negative image of myself? 2. Am I truly imaging the opposite sex as being in the image of God? (Am I able to image her/him as being my superior even if I am now her/ his superior in the apostolate?) 3. Do I image myself as loved so I can behave as a healthy person rather than a "good/nice" person who retreats, placates, etc., because of a desperate need for acceptance? 4. Do I try to cut through all of the past culturally determined im-ages I have had of the Lord in order to reenvision the masculinity (as op-posed to the "machismo," power, superiority . . .) of Christ, and am I also able to see Jesus as mother? Or, do I really believe this area is silly and avoid it? 5. Do I take the "Abba" image of God as my guide and meditate on it as an assertive yet tender role model? Or do I still have a "superego-oriented," patriarchal image of God? These are just some of the questions that must be faced with respect to behavior, cognition, and imagery if communication is to change and become effective, if our attitude is to be truly transformed. Epilogue Abraham Heschel once said: [A person's] plight is not due to the fear of nonbeing, to the fear of death, but to the fear of living . The fear of living arises most corn- Effective, Nondefensive Communication monly out of the experiences of failure or insult, or having gone astray or having been rebuffed. It is rooted in the encounter with other human beings, in not knowing how to be with other beings, in the inability or refusal to communicate, but above all in the failure to live in complete involvement with what transcends bur living. I think that, in discussing effective, nondefensive communication be-tween clergy and religious women and in looking at our behavior, cog-nition, and imagery, we are being asked whether we will fear living or whether we will live in complete involvement. We are being asked whether we will follow "Holy Mother the institutional Church" in such a strict way that we are not open to "Holy Mother our God" to the ex-tent that we allow her to carry us where she will. The questions being asked here, then, are not easy ones. Neither are the answers so immediate and accessible. Psychology can help, and we should employ it wherever we can. But, in the last analysis, it is prayer and spirituality that will turn the tide. James Fenhagen said at one point in his book Invitation to Holiness (Harper & Row, 1985, p. 57): "People live cautiously because they pray cautiously." I think this is so, and I think St. Peter felt it when he was confronted at Rome's gate after being asked the question: "Quo vadis?" Accordingly, I wonder, in this whole issue of communications and rela-tionships between clergy and religious women (as might also possibly be the case with respect to the modern movement toward a lay-centered Church), whether it would be too dramatic for us to see that the whole Church is at the gate being questioned again by the Lord as to our cour-age, fortitude, and faith? I wonder. I wonder. Leading People into Prayer Paul Wachdorf Father Wachdorf, a priest of the Archdiocese of Chicago, is an associate dean of for-mation and a spiritual director at Mundelein Seminary. His address is: University of Saint Mary of the Lake; Mundelein, Illinois 60060. For the past six years I have served as a spiritual director for the theologi-ans at Mundelein Seminary, the graduate school of theology of the Arch-diocese of Chicago. An increasing number of our incoming students have never been in a seminary. Frequently their knowledge of the history and teachings of the Church and of the various prayer traditions of the Church is at a very basic level. Some come with no prayer life at all. For others, their experience of prayer is limited to saying prayers, occasionally read-ing from the Bible, or talking to God. One of the challenges I have faced as a director in working with these students is to lead them into a deeper experience of prayer. Out of my experience of the last six years, I would like to share some of the insights and practical wisdom that I have found helpful in work-ing with these students. Although I have worked primarily with semi-nary students, I believe that what I have to say can be helpful to anyone working with beginners in prayer: spiritual directors, RCIA facilitators, pastoral-care ministers, homilists, prayer-group leaders, and many oth-ers. It is very important to be aware of the special issues and concerns that beginners in prayer face as they seek to come before God. The Foundational Conviction The most important insight that I have come to is this: God leads peo-ple into prayer. Through God's own invitations, people come to prayer in their own good time and way. As a director I can invite people to a life of prayer. I can walk with them in their attempts to pray. I can help 334 Leading People into Prayer / 335 to facilitate their movement into prayer. But I cannot make them pray, and I cannot control the movement or the experience of God in their prayer. As a director I have had to face my own impatience and desire to have someone become a person of prayer overnight. I have come to see that there are many starts and stops; but, over time, people are given the gift of prayer. Prayer cannot be forced. It is a conversion experience. When people come to experience firsthand the power of God at work in their lives and prayer, then prayer becomes something that they want to do and not something I expect them to do or something they are obli-gated to do by the Church. Until this happens for them, I try as much as possible to affirm their fledgling efforts to pray and to be understand-ing and accepting of them in their failures, their discouragement, and their resistances as they attempt to pray. Beginning by Doing When I meet.with prospective spiritual directees, I tell them that one expectation I have of them is that they commit themselves to developing a regular prayer life. Furthermore, within the context of spiritual direc-tion, I want them to talk about what happens to them when they do pray. I also tell them that I am not going to dictate to them how, when, or how often they should pray, nor am I going to scold them in their failures or difficulties with prayer. I am not indifferent about their prayer life. Within the framework of God's gift and their freedom, I try to be an accountability factor. What is a value to me, I want to be a value for them. In addition, I tell them that their commitment to prayer insures that what we do within the con-text of spiritual direction becomes more than just guidance and counsel-ing. Some of those I direct have told me that my invitation to prayer has been an important stimulus in their attempts to develop their own prayer life. In Solidarity and With Support At Mundelein Seminary, the full-time members of the formation team commit themselves to an hour of personal prayer every morning in our house chapel. We invite the students to join us in our time of prayer, and many of them do. In this hour of quiet time with God, there is a soli-darity that develops among us. Many of our students have said that this daily commitment of the formation team to prayer has been an impor-tant witness and invitation to them in their own prayer life. 33t5 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 Related to this, on occasion I have invited a student I am directing to join me for this time of quiet prayer. We have used a common prayer form or passage from Scripture as the basis of our prayer. Afterwards we spent some time talking about what we experienced in our prayer. Within the context of direction, I try to share on a limited basis, and when-ever I feel it is appropriate, some of the content of my own prayer life and what happens to me when I pray. These two things have helped some of my beginners in prayer to come to an experiential insight into what can happen when they open themselves up to God in prayer and to understand what prayer in gen-eral and what specific prayer forms can be like for them. The Spiritual Dialogue About Prayer When I first meet with new spiritual directees, I ask them to spend some time telling me their life history. Among other things, I ask them to tell me about their prayer life and their experiences and images of God. In particular, I ask them if they have ever had what they consider to be a religious experience or a powerful experience of God at work in their lives. What I have found is not only that many of those I direct have had such experiences but also that these experiences have played an impor-tant part in their own vocational discernment and their understanding of God. I have also found that people feel very shy or embarrassed about hav-ing had such an experience, have never told anyone about it before, and have a difficult time articulating just what the experience was like. As a director I find that it is very important for me to listen carefully to what they have to say, to reassure them that they are not weird or crazy, to invite them to explore further what they have experienced, and to give them permission to talk about such experiences as they might occur in the future. During the course of direction, I ask people to talk about their prayer life in terms of consistency, method, content, and inner feelings associ-ated with praying. Initially they find this difficult since they frequently lack the language to talk about what happens interiorly when they pray. Very often they have not developed the ability to sit quietly for any ex-tended period of time, to notice what they are feeling, and to distinguish the difference between distractions and movements of God. As we begin, I encourage people to talk about whatever they thought or felt or experienced in their prayer, whether they considered it to be significant or not. I find it important for me to move slowly and to be Leading People into Prayer patient with their attempts not only to pray but also to notice and talk about their experience of prayer. I also find that I need to be sensitive to their desire to please me, to do well in their prayer, or to have some-thing significant to say. I need to reassure them that whatever happens in their attempts to pray is fine with me and is pleasing to God. Related to these considerations is another question we examine early on: For whom is prayer intended? Is it primarily for my benefit, for what I get out of it? Or is it primarily for God? If prayer is just for my benefit and if nothing seems to be happening, I will feel it is a waste of time and will be tempted to give it up. On the other hand, if prayer is for God, it does not make any differ-ence if anything "productive" seems to be happening. Even if it feels like a waste of time to me, I am praying because I am giving my time to God in a way that says that my relationship with God is primary. The fact that I am consistently present to God in my prayer is initially far more important than what ! do or what happens when I pray. When peo-ple come to a different understanding of what prayer is and for whom it is intended, they relax and are more open as they approach prayer. Resistances, Difficulties, and Dryness Beginners in prayer are usually eager and enthusiastic as they begin to develop and deepen their prayer lives and to experiment with new prayer forms. They may experience in new and surprising ways the power of God at work in their prayer. As time passes, however, and they run into resistances, difficulties, and dryness in their prayer, they may become discouraged and disheart-ened with their prayer life. They may feel as if God has abandoned them. It is important to help them understand the dynamics of what is going on in their prayer. A list of some of the common difficulties that tend to make prayer difficult for beginners follows: a) Called to a Different Prayer Frequently the difficulties encountered by beginners in prayer are con-nected to being called by God to a different way of praying, to a deeper level of prayer. Although this is true for all pray-ers, it is especially true for beginners. My experience with beginners in prayer is that they soon discover that the ways of prayer taught them as children and carried with them into adolescence and young adulthood are no longer satisfying to them. It is important to let them explore their dissatisfactions and new yearn-ings and to help them see that perhaps God is calling them to a differ- Review for Religious, May-June 1988 ent, deeper way of praying. b) Wondering What to Do Exploring different ways of praying, however, often brings begin-ners to another difficulty: They do not know how to begin or what to do in their time of prayer. They are intimidated by silence and fear that noth-ing is going to happen or that they will be plagued by distractions. When they are unfocused as they come to prayer, when they have no sense of how to open themselves up to God so that God can enter into their lives, prayer will be extremely difficult for them. I find it is important to explore with beginners what prayer is, what attitudes to bring to prayer, how to interpret and deal with distractions, and what prayer techniques may suit them and open them up to God. If they know their Myers-Briggs type indicator, I offer to go over with them some of the research that has been done on prayer and tem-perament. One resource I would suggest is the book Prayer and Tem-perament by Chester Michael and Marie Norrisey (Charlottesville, Va. : The Open Door, 1984). The Myers-Briggs type indicator seems to be a limited but useful tool in helping people to understand how they ap-proach the world. This understanding can put them in touch with a fa-vored and a shadow side of prayer, an insight that can open them to a sense of God at work in their lives. c) Unworthiness Another difficulty beginners face is the feeling that they are not wor-thy to pray. More specifically, they feel unworthy to come before God, that they have nothing worthwhile to offer to God, and that .they are not worthy to receive anything from God in their time of prayer. These feel-ings are often connected with earlier lifestyles which now cause shame. Sometimes they are connected with images of God which portray God as a perfectionist or as a harsh, impersonal, unforgiving judge who pun-ishes wrongdoing. I find that it is important to let people freely explore their life histories, their images of God, and their own sense of unwor-thiness. d) Looking at All Facets of Life I encourage those I direct to get in touch with their feelings and to tell God in their prayer what they are feeling, thinking, and experienc-ing. This tends to bring into focus several related difficulties for begin-ners in prayer. Leading People into Prayer / 339 The first is their image of God as all-knowing. If God is all-knowing, why should they bother to express what God already knows? A second is that they are often not in touch with what they are feel-ing or with inner movements which might or might not be of God. They have never cultivated the reflective side of their lives. A third is that they are frequently suspicious of emotions, especially those they consider to be negative or sinful, such as anger, lust, or de-spair. They have a difficult time admitting to themselves that they have such emotions. And even when they do, how, for example, could they possibly express to God their angry feelings? Such feelings can be very threatening to them and can reinforce their sense of unworthiness before God. It is important to help beginners get in touch with their feelings and thoughts, to claim them in a non judgmental way, and to begin to express them to God in their prayer. As they do this, God is able to be with them as they are and as he wants to be with them. e) The Right Time and Place Difficulties in prayer can also be related to lifestyle and environment. A poor environment, such as the clutter of their rooms where there are many distractions, can make prayer difficult. I encourage beginners to explore various prayer environments to help them discover a place where they can be with God in peace. The time of day for prayer is important. "Morning" people or "night" people need to adjust prayer times according to their natural biological rhythms. I encourage people to find a time of day when they can give quality prayer time to God, a time of alertness and concentra-tion. The general rhythm of life affects prayer. A scattered life or a life out of balance will not help prayer. One needs a regular and rhythmic balance of work, play, and attending to relationships. I encourage peo-ple to examine their life patterns because a healthy life is related to healthy prayer. t') Consistent Commitment Inconsistency or not enough time given to prayer can make prayer difficult. The development of a healthy, loving, life-giving relationship between any two people requires that they spend sufficient, consistent, quality time together. Our relationship with God is no different. If God is to be present to us as God truly desires, we have to make time for this relationship to develop. It is important to explore with beginners the dis- ~140 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 cipline of consistent prayer. g) Wasting Time with God In the midst of the hectic pace of modern life, it is difficult to find time to pray. Often, for pragmatic, production-oriented Americans, prayer seems like a waste of time. People can always think of "better" ways to spend their time. The need that beginners have for productive prayer is one that needs to be carefully explored. I encourage them to see prayer as an opportunity to waste time gracefully with God. h) Dealing with Setbacks When people miss prayer for a day or two or three, they become dis-couraged. They may want to give up on prayer. My response is encour-agement. When they miss, they do not need to get upset or give up on prayer as a lost cause. I tell them to come back. Prayer is a decision that continually needs to be renewed. If they fall, they should simply get up and start over again. God, I believe, is not all that interested in how many times they have fallen. God is more interested in how many times they got back up and started over again. i) Desolation In his Rules for the Discernment of Spirits, Week I [322], St. Igna-tius suggests three important reasons why we suffer desolation or diffi-culty in prayer. David Fleming, S.J., in The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius: A Literal Translation and a Contemporary Reading (St. Louis: The Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1978, pp. 210-211), "reads" the text of St. Ignatius as follows: I. It is our own fault because we have not lived our life of faith with any effort. We have become tepid and slothful and our very shallow-ness in the spiritual life has brought about the experience of desolation; 2. it is a trial period allowed by God. We find ourselves tested as to whether we love God or just love his gifts, whether we continue to fol-low his call in darkness and dryness as well as in light and consolation; 3. it is a time when God lets us experience our own poverty and need. We see more clearly that the free gift of consolation is not something we can control, buy, or make our own. These Ignatian guidelines are geared for beginning Christians. When explained properly, they can be helpful in giving beginning pray-ers some insight into what might be happening in their prayer. Leading People into Prayer / 341 Prayer in Direction I invite those I direct to take time, if they are comfortable in doing so, to join me in prayer at the beginning and/or at the end of our ses-sions together. My/our prayer might be spontaneous or more formal. As we begin, the prayer is a simple petition inviting God to be a part of our time together and asking for the guidance of the Holy Spirit. As we end, the prayer might be a moment of thanksgiving or praise to God for the ways in which the Spirit works in our lives and in the process of spiri-tual direction. It is important not to force this. Beginners in prayer are not usually very comfortable praying out loud or spontaneously. At the same time, such prayer does sensitize beginning pray-ers to the importance of con-tinually inviting God to enter into their lives and of noticing and acknowl-edging the ways in which God can and does act in their lives. Conclusion My experience is that leading people to prayer is an art and not a sci-ence. There is no one textbook approach that works for everyone. Prayer is something very personal and unique. It is a special relationship that develops over time between God and the pray-er. People come to prayer in their own good time and way. As a spiritual director, I cannot make prayer happen; but I can help to facilitate this loving relationship. In work-ing with beginners in prayer, I do not apply the suggestions I have of-fered in this article in any structured or systematic way; but I have found that there are certain common themes and experiences that it is good for me as a spiritual director to be aware of as I seek to lead people under the influence and guidance of the Holy Spirit into a life of prayer. Marian Year: A Prolonged, Ardent Pentecost Gene Barrette, M.S. Father Barrette last wrote for us in the November/December 1987 issue. The pre-sent article has been adapted from a letter of his to the La Salette Missionaries, of whom he is the superior general. His address: Missionari di N. S. de la Salette; Pi-z, zza Madonna della Salette, 3; 00152 Roma, Italy. I'leturning to Rome from Argentina on June 6, 1987, after nearly twenty-four hours of travel, I was only hazily aware of the events of that day. I noticed some members of my community in front of the TV joining the Holy Father as he prayed the rosary at St. Mary Major's Basilica. A Veri-table prayer chain around the world was formed as simultaneous trans-mission linked groups of the faithful praying in some of the major Marian shrines on five continents. Later in the evening a group from the house went to the Pentecost vigil celebrated in St. Peter's Square, a ceremony full of splendor and evocative images of fire and flowers. These were festivities marking the pope's official opening of the second Marian Year in the history of the Church. This special year, which will close on the feast of the Assumption, 1988, was launched with media fanfare, receiv-ing extensive TV and newspaper coverage here in Rome for a couple of days. And yet, I must humbly admit, in my own jet-lagged heart I felt little excitement or response. In fact, when the Marian Year was first announced, a little demon voice in me had muttered: "What is this man doing? Here the world is facing enormous problems: war, possible nuclear annihilation, the col-lapse of social structures, massive oppression and injustices, and moral confusion; and what does he hold out to the world? A Marian Year!" My 342 Marian Year / 343 initial reaction was not only less than enthusiastic, it was even slightly embarrassed. How shallow that reaction was! For what has Pope John Paul done? I believe he has done something very prophetic, prophetic in the same sense that La Salette is so pro-phetic. At La Salette Mary described a world suffering from famine, dis-ease, and turmoil. And yet what did she propose as a solution? Prayer, attendance at Mass, fasting--in a word, conversion. She proposed solu-tions that in the eyes of the world certainly could only appear "foolish." And so too, perhaps in the eyes of the world or, even worse, in our own worldly eyes, the pope's proclamation of a Marian Year as an important way to prepare for the Third Millennium may seem foolish. But it is the kind of foolishness that in the eyes of God is, in fact, wisdom. In proclaiming a Marian Year, the pope is saying to all of us: "Be-hold your mother!" Yes, this is a year that can help us behold and relate to this maternal reality which is life-giving and life-nurturing; and the life that Mary gives and nurtures is precisely the Christ-life so desper-ately needed in the famine of our days. Yes, behold our mother; behold the woman who is our privileged doorway to Christ, Christ who in fact is the only true answer to the fragmentations, oppressions, and forces of nonlife and darkness threatening our today and shadowing our tomorrow. Any word or act that leads us to this heart of our reality is prophetic. Bringing Mary Out Of Eclipse It is no e×aggeration to say that Marian devotion suffered a diminu-tion during the past twenty-five years or so. Some blame the Vatican Council, others hold theologians at fault. And yet no council has ever spoken so beautifully of Mary as does Lumen Gentium, nos. 52-69. Promi-nent theologians such as Karl Rahner, Schillebeeckx, and even the non- Catholic Max Thurian have written exquisitely on Mary. Bishops' con-ferences have issued pastoral letters on Mary, such as the American bish-ops' beautiful letter Behold Your Mother. The eclipse came as an over-reaction to excesses that at times existed in some Marian devotions; the eclipse also came because our attention was focused on other essential aspects of our Christian, ecclesial life. But Mary is so integral a part of the fabric of our faith that she can-not remain in eclipse. In fact, in Argentina Cardinal Primatesta, in a con-ference to the members of the Council of the Congregation, went on at great length to emphasize that it is Marian devotion that has preserved the Christian faith of the Latin American people over the centuries. This great gift cannot remain in eclipse. :344/Review for Religious, May-June 1988 Through the Marian Year, Pope John Paul wants to put dramatically before our eyes and our hearts this life-giving reality that is Mary, Mother of Christ, Mother of the Church; your mother and mine. We are not dealing with pious images or metaphors nor with devotional projec-tions; we are dealing with a reality present to us. Do we recognize this presence? Is it vital for us? Permit me to use an analogy to help me get my point across. Walk outside and look up into the air. Do you hear music or voices and see images? Of course not. And yet that seemingly clear air is full of sounds and images. All you need is a radio or TV and click--you capture them. You hear the music and the voices, you see the pictures. All you need is the proper instrument, properly tuned and with a power source. It is the same thing with the presence of God, the Lord, the Spirit--and yes, of Mary. They are real presences. But unless we have our minds and hearts empowered by the Spirit, attuned in faith, then there is no way that we can be aware of these presences; no way that we can respond to them; no way that we can be touched and transformed by them. In a cer-tain sense the Marian Year is a "tuning time" for us; tuning in to the presence of Mary to her people. How sad it would be not to take advan-tage of this gift. This Spirit-inspired invitation of the Holy Father to give Mary her rightful place in our lives is not intended to lead us simply to a superfi-cial polishing-up of Marian devotion. It is actually a call to enter into the richness and the profound meaning of a Marian spirituality. As John Paul's recent encyclical Redemptoris Mater suggests, it is a question of seeing Mary not simply as part of our "doctrine of faith," but much more of Mary as part of our "life of faith." Mary is the prototype for our own stance before God and the world. Mary has led and continues to lead the way on our pilgrimage of faith. Recognizing that and actively drawing strength from that reality is one way of insuring that Mary will no longer live in a sort of eclipse. This is not the place for a treatise on the fundamentals of a Marian theology. I simply encourage you all to give Redemptoris Mater a prayer-ful, meditative reading. The encyclical, plus chapter VIII in Lumen Gen-tium, gives an excellent summary of Mariology. In these pages I simply want to point out some aspects of Mary that can touch our life of faith; points that may.be light and food for our own journey. Mary: Model for Our Pilgrimage of Faith A recurring phrase in the pope's encyclical is Mary's place in the "pilgrimage of faith" (6, 14, 25, and 26 especially). The whole image Marian Year / 345 of the pilgrimage of faith is a dynamic one capturing the movement, the evolution, the story of a people, of individuals. What is this "pilgrimage of faith" that the Church has lived out through space and time in her individual members? The pope says that its essential character is interior, a "question of a pilgrimage through faith, by the 'power of the Risen Lord,' a pilgrimage in the Holy Spirit" (RM 25). The essential element of this interior pilgrimage is the response that each person gives to the encounter with the Holy Spirit. The faith-response of yes-~offiat, a total "obedience of faith" to the Spirit invit-ing into God's plan-~creates a receptive space for the conception and birthing of Jesus. This pilgrimage of faith is of crucial importance not only because of what it accomplishes in the individual, but more because of what is accomplished through the individual: making Christ present in the world. And Mary, in a unique and special way, is present to and part of this ongoing pilgrimage. "Mary is present, as the one who is 'blessed be-cause she believed,' as the one who advanced on the pilgrimage of faith, sharing unlike any other creature in the mystery of Christ . Among all believers she is like a 'mirror' in which are reflected in the most pro-found and limpid way 'the mighty works of God' " (RM 25). Mary is the prototype and model for all faith-pilgrims. And what can we learn when we look at her response? We discover that "to believe means 'to abandon oneself' to the truth of the word of the living God ¯ . . accepting fully and with a ready heart everything that is decreed in the divine plan., a complete openness to the person of Christ, to his whole work, to his whole mission" (RM 14, 39). This total acceptance, this total giving oneself to God's plan, is evi-dent throughout Mary's life: in thefiat of the annunciation moment, in the journey to Bethlehem and the birth in such humble surroundings, in the flight to Egypt, in the "ponderings in her heart" during the early years, in the intercession at Cana, in the years of remaining in the back-ground during the preaching, teaching, and healing and on the fringe of the crowds adulating or condemning, at the foot of the cross, and then in the midst of the apostles for the empowering on Pentecost. Certainly it is not difficult to see in Mary the total gift of her person to serving the saving plan of the Father. Unique? Yes, Mary is. And yet we share in the same call, the same mission. As the American bishops stated in their pastoral letter: "Mary conceived in her heart with her whole being, before she conceived in her :346 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 womb. First came Mary's faith, then her motherhood. Faith is the key . All who truly follow Christ become 'mothers' of Christ, for by their faith they bring Him to birth" (Behold Your Mother, 71). This radical response of faith, as Cardinal Ratzinger effectively stated in a homily at St. Mary Major's on June 10, 1987, shows that Mary is "above all the sign of the fecundity of faith in history." The fecundity of faith is that it brought forth Life itself, which is Jesus. Je-sus is God's supreme entrance into history. It is in Jesus that God once and for all puts history on the road of salvation, of liberation, of com-pletion. Jesus is the ever present Life that transforms history. What bet-ter way, therefore, to move towards the third millennium than to look at Mary, the supreme example and model of the power of faith to bring Jesus into the world? The Marian Year is an invitation to do this. Mary: A Maternal Presence Mary is model for our pilgrimage of faith, but she is more. She is an accompanying maternal presence--guiding, interceding, helping with the sensitivity that only a mother can have. And that is also a reality-- she is truly a mother to each of as. Mary as mother of the human race, again, is not just poetry. It is clearly stated and established at the foot of the cross. "Woman, behold your son. Son, behold your mother." Mary as model is a great gift of the Father to us; but even more, Mary as mother is the great gift of the Father and the Son to us. Again, in the words of Pope John Paul, "Mary's motherhood which becomes man's inheritance is a gift; a gift which Christ himself makes personally to every individual . Of the essence of motherhood is the fact that it concerns the person. Motherhood always establishes a unique and unrepeatable relationship between two people: between mother and child and between child and mother" (RM 45). Mary is not "out there" somewhere; she is intimately linked with you and me, whether we pay attention to that link or not. This relationship is part of our reality. Turning and relating to Mary as our mother is not an appeal to senti-mentalism. Rather it is turning to a source of life. Again Cardinal Ratz-inger had a beautiful and suggestive image in his homily: "If the Church in its everyday life does not want to be reduced merely to an arid institu-tion or to an activism that burns itself out, it must look to Mary. Life can grow and develop only under the warmth of a maternal heart." It is there under the warmth of the mother's heart that life first begins and grows in the womb; and it is in the light and warmth of the love of a mother's heart that life continues to grow and be strengthened and made whole years and years after leaving the womb. This immense maternal Marian Year / 347 love Mary has for us has a transforming power. Why do we hesitate or simply neglect to reach out for and seize this maternal love? It may be just the thing that many of us and our people need to turn our lives around and become spaces open to the Spirit and be Christ-bearers. The picture of Mary as our mother certainly is central in Mary's ap-parition at La Salette. She began with the words "Come near, my chil-dren . . . I have great news to tell you." In these very opening words there is already great news: the news that we are her children, and there-fore she is our mother. While Cardinal of Cracow, the Holy Father gave a very insightful observation on the motherhood of Mary during a homily he preached on the occasion of the seventy-fifth anniversary of the presence of the La Salette Missionaries in Poland. Speaking of Mary as mother of the hu-man family, mother of the Church, he said, "We know well that a mother who loves cries more than once . . . and if among the Church-approved private apparitions of Mary there was lacking this Mary in tears, our image of maternal love would somehow be incomplete. The mother who loves, sometimes weeps. Even more when a grave danger menaces her child . Her maternal tears are a special proof of love, necessary for humanity, necessary for our people today." How often do we ourselves draw near to those tears of love? How often do we lead our people to those tears of love? ¯ The tears that Mary's love produces are shed in response to our own pain, our own suffering, our own danger, our own brokenness, our own sinfulness. Towards the end of Redemptoris Mater (51-52), the Holy Fa-ther refers to the lines from one of the Marian hymns after compline: "Loving mother of the Redeemer, gate of heaven, star of the sea, assist your people who have fallen, yet strive to rise again." He speaks of the great advances of recent times in human history. And yet, throughout the marvels of our journey in time and space with all the transformations we have witnessed, there remains a fundamental transformation, and that is the ongoing transformation from falling to rising, from death to life. As the Holy Father points out, "the Church sees Mary maternally present and sharing in the many complicated problems which today beset the lives of individuals, families, and nations, and she sees her helping the Christian people in the constant struggle between good and evil, to en-sure that it does not fall or, if it has fallen, that it rises again." This should resonate in each of us if we are sensitive to our own pil-grimage of faith with its rhythms of falling and rising, with its experi-ence of our fragilities and infidelities, with our failings and beginnings 341~/Review for Religious, May-June 1988 anew. Such is our experience as individuals; such is our experience as a community, as a congregation, as a Church, as God's people. Mary's appeal at La Salette certainly relates to our need for conver-sion. (Is the same thing perhaps happening today at Medjugorje?) Yet why do we shy away from this gift offered to us? Why are we so often indifferent, blas6 about these obvious signs of maternal love rushing to us, children in danger, children in pain, children needing help? Is it that we feel that we are big boys now, grown up, ~tnd therefore no longer need-ing this consolation, this warmth, this encouragement, this drying of our own tears, and this loving embrace that helps us believe in our own good-ness and the Spirit's action sending us onwards in new beginnings again and again? The Marian Year can be the privileged occasion for us to re-discover this great gift if we have been neglecting it, or to deepen our love for it if we have not forgotten it. Mary: Continued Presence in Mission to Us Mary, model for us on the pilgrimage of faith; Mary, continued pres-ence as mother. Let us now look at Mary and her own mission, which continues today. As Redemptoris Mater (21) reminds us, Mary's own sense of mis-sion began to be felt at Cana. There we see Mary's solicitude, her com-ing to people in the wide variety of their wants and needs. This solici-tude has certainly been manifested during this last century and a half in her apparitions, especially at La Salette, where her caring wrung tears from her heart. Mary's mission has a twofold movement. She comes to the aid of human needs, but this means that she brings those needs within the ra-dius of Christ's salvific power, as she shows at Cana. At La Salette this is seen in the image we have of the two children, representing our bro-kenness and neediness, being drawn into the radiance that streamed from the crucifix, the ultimate symbol of Christ's saving love. "Thus there is a mediation: Mary places herself between her son and mankind in the reality of their wants, needs, and sufferings . Her mediation is in the nature of intercession: Mary intercedes for mankind" (RM 21), a truth echoing Mary's own words at La Salette, "How long a time have I suf-fered for you . " Lumen Gentium (62) described this same reality: "Taken up to heaven, she did not lay aside this saving role, but by her manifold acts of intercession continues to win for us gifts of eternal sal-vation." This mediation, this mission, this divine pastoral, we might say, continues in the history of the Church and the world. Marian Year / 349 Karl Rahner describes Mary's life as "the archetypal apostolic event . What the apostolate is can be read from her and what she did; she is a productive pattern for the apostolate, not a mere ideal instance of its abstract essence" ("Mary and the Apostolate," Mission and Grace, vol. 1, p. 181). He then outlines some of the characteristics ob-servable in Mary's apostolate. They can serve for reflection on our own apostolate during this Marian Year. In the apostolate of Mary: a) There is a consciousness of its being a mission given from above. (How vivid is this conviction for our own life and ministry?) b) She shows a capacity to wait for the right moment, to know that the mission is to be fulfilled in God's time and manner. (Does not much of our own discouragement at times come from relying too exclusively on our own power, our own schedule, our own programs?) c) There is self-withdrawal behind the person she serves; most of her life is hidden, it is Christ who is brought to the fore. d) There is loyal perseverance. Mary did not merely say yes once, in one great moment. She sustained that yes patiently, silently, con-stantly in the serene assurance of the true believer, in the mature sim-plicity of real greatness, throughout a whole lifetime. (How strongly do we strive for this in our age of easily abandoned commitments? How con-scious are we of deepening this yes every day?) e) There is the cross, a heart stabbed through with the sword of suf-fering together with her Son; there is even the noncomprehension of the decrees of God and of the actions of the Lord himself whom she served. It is an apostolate of hope against hope, of faith before victory is won, of a venture whose reward is not paid in advance, of a loyalty that gives all. (To what extent can we find this spirit of sacrifice, of trust, during our darkest and driest moments in our own lives?) These are foundations for a ~olid Marian spirituality inserted into the very fabric of our apostolic call and going way beyond simple devotion. Yes, Mary is there for us as model for our apostolate. But even more, she is there as a source of the help that we need. Not help with this or that small favor, but help for our deepest need--help in being effective Christ-bearers. Mary's Magnificat Finally, Mary serves as a powerful example and model of the capac-ity to recognize what God has done and is doing in our lives. Her Mag-nificat is precisely this: Mary's personal experience of God's action in herself and in her people. This consciousness compels her to break out 350 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 into simple and wholly inspired praise, boldly proclaiming the undimmed truth about God, who "has done great things" in her as well as in the whole universe (RM 37). Mary was truly attuned to what God was accomplishing. Could we not write our own Magnificat---on a personal level and on a community level? I recall how touched I was in Angola upon hearing of a mission community having its yearly meeting with its satellite communities. The celebration began with the recounting of their history: how the commu-nity had started, the first ones involved, the failure of the first commu-nity, the second effort, the people involved, the priests who served them. And this was not simply read, but was corrected and added to by the mem-bers themselves. They were recounting the Lord's deeds, the great things he had done for them. And in this regular exercise they were keeping this reality vividly before them. What a beautiful way to attune one's heart and mind to the reality to which we can so often become blinded! The Magnificat is also used extensively as a solid Marian light which makes us vividly aware of God's love of preference for the poor, the hum-ble, and how this is intimately connected with the Christian meaning of freedom and liberation--of redemption. Here again Mary has her place. She can serve as an inspiration in this aspect of the Christian mission be-cause, as stated in the Instruction on Christian Freedom and Liberation published in 1986, "Mary is totally dependent upon God and completely directed towards him, and at the side of her Son she is the most perfect image of freedom and of the liberation of humanity and of the universe" (97). Mary helps us understand that the most radical source of true lib-eration of individuals and even structures is precisely this total surren-der or, as she reminds us at La Salette, this submission to God and his plan for us. Without a revolution of the heart, merely political and so-cial revolutions only lay the foundations for the.next revolution in an end-less chain of humanly oppressive and destructive revolts. Mary proclaims the great things that God does, but these are done for those "who fear him," those who not only are poor and lowly, but have surrendered to him. Mary calls, in a variety of ways, to this radical revolution, which is first and foremost conversion. There is much richness to. draw from here and in other truths about Mary, such as her role in the growing appreciation of the feminine as-pect of the divine presence and the Church. Mary truly offers a seem-ingly inexhaustible source of faith reflection. And again, the Marian Year is an invitation to do such reflection. Marian Year / 351 How Celebrate the Marian Year? Concretely, what are some of the things we can do to benefit from this year of grace? First of all, spend time with Mary. It is as plain and as simple as that. If we are not already doing so, we should make time for her in our day. Let us do like the apostle John and welcome Mary, take her into our own home. Let us bring her into everything that makes up our inner life; that is to say, let us take her into our human and Christian "I," as the pope beautifully expressed it (RM 45). This is the first step: profess our faith in Mary's great love and presence by simply spending time with her and opening our hearts, our lives, as wide as possible to her maternal love. Prayerfully read Redemptoris Mater and other texts on Mary. Again, do this to feed the heart more than the head. Avoid reading only the kinds of works that foster such a strong analytical, critical spirit that one ends up with slices and splices, theological abstractions about Mary, but not with a living presence. Read not to try to dispel the mystery that natu-rally accompanies any great truth of our faith, but read to encounter this mystery with ever greater love. Read and pray to move from professing to living a deep love for Mary, Mother of Christ and of the Church. If some of us have left the rosary aside, let us explore ways to begin to re-discover its possibilities for reflection, for rhythmic, simple centering on Jesus and Mary. If you have a good imagination, use it. St. Ignatius in his Spiritual Exercises does not neglect this tremendous power that we have. In re-cent. years we have easily dismissed using the imagination in prayer and meditation, often because of our climate of high intellectualization, often from a desire to quickly arrive at more advanced levels of prayer. My own suggestion is to try imaging as you spend time with Mary. The re-sults may surprise you. Visualize Mary with you in every situation of your life and of her life. Talk to her, let her talk to you. Let her hold what is still the child in you that may be trembling with fear, doubt, an-ger, confusion, fatigue. Hear her call you by name; hear her invite you to come near; hear her send you forth. Write your own Magnificat. Spend time tracing the great things God has done both in your own life and in the congregation. Recognize God's action in the flesh and blood of your own history: when and how he looked with favor on his lowly servant; when and how he smashed and scattered you in your pride, cast you down from any little thrones you had set up for yourself, or sent you away aware of how empty you re-ally were when you thought you were so rich; how and when he lifted 352 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 you up even as you experienced most forcefully your own lowliness. Put all that into concrete, vivid terms. And then give praise. Then write your own fiat. Look into the depths of your present and look out towards the possible future and with conviction spell out the fiat, the yes, even though you are not sure of the cost, the possible ex-iles, the shape or duration of the cross you may have to carry, to climb upon. "Yes--be it done to me according to your word." Yes, I let go of my plans, my conditions. I surrender, I submit. Fiat! Again, spell that out in the concrete terms of your own life. At the same time, offer a prayer to Mary asking for her assistance to live out thisfiat as fully and as deeply as possible. And let us not fail the people we serve. Invite them to Mary. Let us attract and lead them to what the pope calls the "specific geography of faith and Marian devotion., these special places of pilgrimage where the People of God seek to meet the Mother of God in order to find, within the radius of the maternal presence of her 'who believes,' a strengthening of their own faith" (RM 28). Our shrines, our programs of devotion, all these can be sources of grace through Mary for the con-tinuing pilgrimage of faith. Be creative in bringing Mary to people and people to Mary. I close with words from our Holy Father's prayer for the Marian Year: "Mary, you received Jesus with ready obedience and undivided heart. You allowed yourself to be led by the Holy Spirit's hidden and powerful action. Sustain us, O Virgin Mary, on our journey of faith." My own prayer for all of us echoes the pope's prayer at a Mass re-cently in Foggia: "May this Marian Year be for individual souls and for the entire community a prolonged, ardent Pentecost." Personal Responsibility in .Initial Formation Melannie Svoboda, S.N.D. Sister Melannie's most recent contribution to this journal is her "Quotations for Com-munity" in the January/February 1988 issue. She may be addressed at Notre Dame Educational Center; 13000 Auburn Road; Chardon, Ohio 44024. For most formation directors, one thing is clear: One of our main con-cerns in the initial formation process is to encourage personal responsi-bility in the persons we direct. What is less clear is the answers to these questions: What exactly is personal responsibility? Why is it so impor-tant in initial formation? How can we encourage it in our directees? What are some signs that a person is, indeed, growing in personal responsibil-ity? And what are some of the obstacles to our encouraging of personal responsibility? This article attempts to explore some answers to these questions. It is based on a series of discussions that our initial-formation team had this past year. I am indebted to our candidate director, Sister Annete Adams, and our director of temporary professed, Sister Mary Catherine Caine, for their valuable input on this topic. Although we were primarily inter-ested in personal responsibility in initial formation, much of what is said here can also apply to the ongoing formation process as well. What is personal responsibility? It is perhaps easier to describe personal responsibility than it is to define it. We saw personal responsibility as a person's ability to make good decisions and to accept the consequences of his or her decisions. Such decisions are made freely; they are not made out of fear or guilt or coercion. The decisions or choices are basically good; that is, they are 353 354 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 based on Gospel ~alues and they are motivated by love. They take into consideration factors other than the person's own feelings and prefer-ences. And, finally, the decisions are open to the Spirit and open to change as life presents the individual with more knowledge, more expe-riences, and more insights. Why is personal responsibility so important? There are a number of reasons why personal responsibility is so im-portant in initial formation. One reason concerns one of the goals of the initial-formation process: the making of a life commitment. Such a com-mitment is valid only if it is made freely, with adequate knowledge and understanding, and if it proceeds from love. In other words, the very mak-ing of valid vows presupposes personal responsibility. But personal responsibility extends beyond the making of a commit-ment; it is essential for the living of such a commitment in a healthy and happy way. Once a person "graduates" from the "schoo| of initial for-mation," he or she is expected to assume responsibility for his or her own growth and development. It is crucial, then, that formation direc-tors see and encourage personal responsibility throughout the initial-formation process. A third reason why personal responsibility is so vital concerns the nature of religious life today. The many changes in the structures of re-ligious life since Vatican II call for far more personal responsibility than in the past. Changes in our understanding of the vows and community also put far greater emphasis on an individual's ability to make good de-cisions and choices. How can we encourage personal responsibility? If personal responsibility is so important in initial formation, what are some of the ways we can encourage it in the persons we direct? One way we can encourage it is to talk about it. We do this not once and for all, but over and over again, in a variety of ways, from different per-spectives as the person grows and matures in the initial-formation proc-ess. We should talk about personal responsibility in both a general way and a specific way. In a general way we discuss with them the nature and importance of personal responsibility. In a specific way we talk with them one on one about how responsible they are. This means we have to ask some probing questions such as these: When and where are you praying? How do you see yourself carrying out your duties such as study, housework, your involvement in community? What are your responsi-bilities in your current ministry and how are you handling them? What Personal Responsibility in Formation / 355 personal decisions or choices have you made recently? Do you see these decisions or choices as good? Why or why not? How are you getting along with the people you live with and work with? Do they see you as a responsible person or not? A second way to encourage personal responsibility is to allow the per-son in formation the freedom to make choices--both good choices and not-so-good choices. This means that as directors we allow an individ-ual to make mistakes. It has been my experience as novice director that some of the worst choices my novices made were some of the most bene-ficial for their growth. Thirdly, we encourage personal responsibility by affirming a person when we see him or her assuming personal responsibility. We can also encourage it by allowing our directees to live with and work side by side with professed members of the community who have achieved a healthy level of personal responsibility. Nothing teaches better than example. What are some signs of personal responsibility in a person? What are some tangible signs that a person in formation is assuming personal responsibility? For brevity's sake, I will merely list some of those signs as we saw them: The person: --gives evidence of self-knowledge and self-esteem --is basically happy and at ease with life --is able to learn from experience --is able to do things he or she does not like to do --gives evidence of being essentially self-directed ~isplays a consistency between stated beliefs and choices --is able to draw from a variety of sources when making serious deci-sions --gives evidence that he or she has thought through and prayed over the more serious decisions he or she has to make --is open to suggestions and direction --is able to deal with irresponsibility in others; this means he or she can accept it when necessary, but also is able to confront it when this would be the more appropriate option --is consistent in behavior no matter who is or is not present --gives evidence of a healthy interdependence with others --assumes initiative ---can deal with boredom or routine 356 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 --- can handle both failure and success What are some obstacles to encouraging personal responsibility? As formation directors, what are some of the obstacles we face in trying to encourage persona.I responsibility in the persons we direct? I think the main obstacles come from three different sources: our directees, the wider community, and ourselves. Sometimes the persons we have in initial formation make it difficult for us to encourage personal responsibility. Some individuals come to religious life desiring to hand over all personal responsibility in the name of holiness. They come to us with a tell-me-what-to-do-and-I-will-do-it attitude. In sharp contrast, others enter religious life equating personal responsibility with let-me-do-whatever-I-want-to-do. Both types make it difficult for formation directors to encourage a healthy personal respon-sibility. Other times one of our obstacles may be members of the wider com-munity. Some professed members may possess an obsolete understand-ing of initial formation which says, "Tell the novice what to do. If she does it, fine. If she doesn't, tell her to leave." When a formation direc-tor, in the name of freedom, allows a person in formation to make a poor choice, other members might cry out: "You're letting her get away with murder!" At times like these, formation directors must be convinced that there is much more to formation than having a directee make what ap-pear to be "the right choices all the time." But the greatest obstacle to encouraging personal responsibility usu-ally lies within ourselves as formation directors. We can fall into two "camps" depending on our personalities. If I, as a director, am a per-son who likes to be in control, then I might want to control my directees too much. This means I might not allow them the real freedom to make their own decisions and thus to grow through them. Perhaps I might con-trol their choices through force or even charm. Perhaps, in the name of saving them the pain of a poor choice, I might tell them what to do. Or maybe I control their decisions for fear of what the next director or the wider community will think of me. On the other hand, if I am fearful of my authority as a formation di-rector, I might adopt a laissez-faire style of direction. This means I might let anything and everything go. I might not challenge the persons in for-mation. I may be afraid to question the choices I see them making. Be-cause most communities have so few in initial formation, I might be tempted to "keep" everyone no matter how much irresponsibility I see. Personal Responsibility in Formation / 357 In conclusion, then, we have seen that growth in personal responsi-bility is an integral part of the initial-formation process. But more than that, it is an intrinsic component of lifelong happiness. Someone has said, "There can be no happiness if the things we believe in are differ-ent from the things we do." Through the encouragement of personal re-sponsibility, formation directors can help individuals achieve greater har-mony between belief and behavior. Your World is Your World, mythirst. Love, will all these as beautiful earthly treasures as the one stillbemine? You give me orshall I each day? lose forever will I see thesmell the changing of burning leaves, of the sky., noreveragain will I watch see the trees the birds fly ofmy autumn days beyond my horizon., change their dress? will I feel wherewill the touch all these be, of warm water Love. ? as it caresses oh! surely, my flesh, I'll have or its cold them all coolness in having You! as it slakes Claire Mahaney, R.S.C.J. Valparaiso Community 140 Valparaiso Avenue Menlo Park, California 94025 Refounding Through Values Barbara D. Ledig Ms. Ledig is president of Omega Associates, Inc., in Santa Clara, California. With others from Omega, she has for almost ten years helped religious orders and congre-gations to adjust, with value-based systemic discernment, to the significant changes of the post-Vatican II world. This paper explains the theory and practice of Omega's methods, methods that will be used in the August 1988 workshop for religious lead-ership personnel to be held at Santa Clara University and sponsored by that university and by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. She may be addressed at 410 Pinehurst Avenue; Los Gatos, CA 95030. What is happening in our institutions today? This question is being fre-quently asked by religious congregations, educational institutions, health-care facilities, and,~more recently, sectors of business and industry. It seems that the guidelines and structures that characterized these systems since their first formal beginnings have become increasingly unfocused. This is unsettling not only for those who administer and lead these institutions but for those affected by them. A major portion of society, therefore, is dealing with a shift that is little understood, a shift accom-panied by anxiety and indecision. Solutions that once worked have be-come obsolete and there are no models for new ones. Our religious institutions are experiencing this shift more profoundly than many others in that they have been around for a longer time. They are, therefore, further away from their beginnings, beginnings rooted an historical reality very different from the one in which we are currently living. Members of these institutions are finding that the ideas on which they were built and the type of management that enabled them to sur-vive and flourish are no longer working. The population of religious per-sonnel who drive these institutions is diminishing; as a result people who do not necessarily share the original values that gave birth to them are 358 Refounding Through Values / 359 the ones responsible for making decisions regarding the way they func-tion and how they will be carried into the future. An Historical Perspective The extreme change in the Western world resulting from the French and American Revolutions and the Industrial Revolution in England led to the birth of the great teaching and mission orders of the 1800s. These orders, especially those of women, generally came to operate on a basis of uniformity in dress, behavior, and prayer, with detailed rules and con-stitutions regulating daily life. It was through Vatican II in the 1960s that these issues were readdressed and the Church began to return to a more flexible, collegial orientation and urged religious congregations to re-study and return to their founding charism. Communal life in the convents, and seminaries, where often a hun-dred or more people shared living quarters, began to take the form of small communities for the purpose of increasing the quality of life through relationships in which personal growth could more readily be en-couraged and nurtured. The ultimate goal was increased unity in the Church for the purpose of common mission. The vision was a good one but did not anticipate sufficiently the wide range of skills needed to cope with a radically changed environment and more complex interpersonal relationships. The old hierarchical structures and lines of authority were removed or became unclear, and participative decision making was en-couraged. The effects of these changes increased dramatically over the years and are now being experienced in their extreme. The Dynamics of Transition The removal of clear lines of authority has created multiple handi-caps for those in leadership positions. When clear rules dictate what is right and wrong and when authority is vested in one person, as was the case before Vatican II, decisions can be made on objective criteria that are commonly understood and accepted. When these lines of authority become hazy, when the guidelines are unclear, decision making becomes a more complex issue. Personal and communal discernment, methods that have replaced the more authoritarian ones for decision making, re-spect the integrity of the individual on the one hand but require a more complex level of skills on the other. There has been a shift from a rigid structure to a more flexible one. During the last seven years our work with numerous national and inter-national congregations has, however, shown that this shift is incomplete. Most religious institutions are resting somewhere between a hierarchi- 360/Review for Religious, May-June 1988 cal, rule-oriented structure and a flexible, collegial one. The result is con-fusion, internal conflict, and tremendous stress on leadership. It is a time of difficult transition. Older sisters and priests who have given their lives to build these in-stitutions in order to provide relief to the suffering through their minis-tries feel unappreciated and confused about changing a way that was once so strongly validated. Younger sisters and priests are also experiencing confusion about the past as well as the uncertain futures into which their congregations are moving. The dynamics of such a transition are two-fold. There is a pull back to the old, secure model on the one hand and an equally strong pull to move quickly to a new model on the other. Mem-bers of a congregation caught in the first dynamic may become rigid, an-gry, and controlling while those in the second are prone to overly inde-pendent behaviors. In both cases there is a loss of meaning. These dy-namics are not necessarily related to the different age groups within the congregation but appear to be more dependent on the personalities of the individuals. Going back is not possible, nor desirable. What once worked was ap-propriate for the times. Society has changed, our institutions have changed, and people have changed. How do we bring clarity, unity, and efficiency into our institutions so that they can serve the function for which they were created and at the same time enable them to respect and dignify the growth and well-being of the individuals they serve? The hi-erarchical structures that once worked so well must change in form to meet the demands of this new age and become flexible structures that fa-cilitate caring for individual members and releasing the original energy of the charism of the congregation. The values that gave birth to the in-stitution must be renewed and preserved so they 'can flow through its mem-bers and be expressed in mission, but the way in which those values are expressed must change. The structures that have been removed must be replaced by value-oriented ones. In order to effect this change the insti-tution must first become clear about what values lie at the heart of its system. The core center of values, the faith center, must be identified and clarified. Once this is accomplished the clarified core values, imple-mented by historically congruent means, provide the new structures which enable appropriate adaptation to the future. The Nature of Values Values are not a new phenomenon in our society. Aristotle and Plato spoke of them in the light of ideals, or virtues. They were dealt with mainly in the abstract in terms of states of being to be strived for. Refounding Through Values / 36"1 St. Paul spoke of values in his letter to the Galatians: "Anyone can see the kind of behavior that belongs to the lower nature: fornication, im-purity, and indecency; idolatry and sorcery; quarrels, a contentious tem-per, envy, fits of rage, selfish ambitions, dissensions, party bouts, or-gies, and the like . But the harvest of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, fidelity, gentleness, and self-control" (Ga 5:19-23 NEB). In this case values were seen as signs that differentiated behaviors guided by the Spirit from those that were not. In more recent history we have the value-clarification movement of the 1960s and in the 1980s the high point of value consciousness in busi-ness and industrial settings brought forth largely by such books as In Search of Excellence by Peters and Waterman, Theory Z: How Ameri-can Business Can Meet the Japanese Challenge by Ouchi, and Corpo-rate Cultures: The Rites and Rituals of Corporate Life by Deal and Ken-nedy. However, the reality is that it has been difficult to work with values because they tend to elude the possibility for practical application and measurement. The work of Omega Associates, Inc., of Santa Clara, Cali-fornia has been focused on value research for the past twenty years. Dur-ing this period of time we have worked on discovering ways to identify and measure values so that they can be used more creatively to enhance the quality of human life. The first step in this ongoing process was the identification of 125 value words in the written and spoken language. We found that these val-ues appear consistently throughout the life span of individuals and or-ganizations and appear to be stable and evident across all social strata, languages, and cultures. They constitute one segment of a values theory developed by Brian Hall, Benjamin Tonna, and more recently Barbara Ledig which is the basis for an understanding of how values on the indi-vidual and corporate level work. The values theory holds as a basic assumption that language influ-ences behavior, whether it is written language, spoken language, or the language of art and architecture. Some words and groups of words have a greater effect on behavior than others, and we call these words values. The value words we identified form the basis for computerized programs which analyze values in individuals, groups, institutions, and documents and serve as a framework through which we can look at all sections of a system through a common denominator. The basis of the framework is the 125 values. The principles which guide the understanding of how 362 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 the values work are found in the values theory. Values Theory and the Genesis Effect The basic concept underlying the values theory is taken from an an-cient idea that has only recently been confirmed by modern science. That is, each thought, feeling, and action is preceded by an internal image. That image is transformed into action through language, the language of values. Value words are conveyers of energy and form configurations that reflect the internal imaging process through human or organizational behavior. That is, they identify clusters of human experience and act as a bridge between the inner world of thoughts, feelings, sensations, and intuitions and the outer world of concrete reality. Values are understood in this context as behavioral priorities that an individual acts on. This proc-ess has been defined by Hall as the "genesis effect" in a book by the same name and is based on the biblical concept that it was through, the spoken word that God transformed an inner image of creation into real-ity. In the beginning, when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless wasteland, and darkness covered the abyss, while a mighty wind swept over the waters. Then God said, "Let there be !ight," and there was light. God saw how good the light was . Then God said: "Let us make man in our image, after our likeness. Let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, the birds of the air, and the cat-tle, and over all the wild animals and all the creatures that crawl on the ground." God created man in his image; in the divine image he created him; male and female he created them (Gn 1:1-4, 26-27 NAB). Values and Their Patterns To identify and clarify our values is a step in the right direction, but what do we do with them after that? Our research has shown us that it is not so much values in themselves that are important, but the way in which they combine with other values in one's life and the priority these combinations take at a given time. We have long been aware of some of the value combinations and the way they can be grouped into clusters and patterns. However, a significant point was reached in our work just six years ago due to new advances in computer technology. Brian Hall and associates of Omega in cooperation with students in the Graduate Di-vision of Counseling Psychology and Education at Santa Clara Univer-sity in Santa Clara, California, discovered new ways to measure and ap-ply values and new ways to break them into patterns and clusters so that they could be compared and contrasted more extensively. This gave us Refounding Through Values more comprehensive information regarding their meaning in the life of persons and institutions. Since that time we have validated our meth-odologies and applied them extensively in religious, educational, and health-care systems involving several international cultures and over 6,000 individuals. The information we obtain from the identification and comparison of value priorities and clusters is used to do a value analysis for the pur-pose of understanding the qualitative nature of the values and their rela-tionship to the meaning system of the individual or the institution. Once this is clear, rigid rule-oriented structures can be replaced by new life-giving ones based on the energy and purpose inherent in the individual or system rather than on external, objective criteria that may be histori-cally biased. Value Pattern I: Phases and Stages In this value pattern we see the 125 values placed along a progres-sive developmental scale divided into phases and stages. The range of the phases is from I to IV with those most basic to human life and devel-opment falling into Phase I. These values progressively become more com-plex as the human being grows and develops, with Phase IV reflecting values of maximum complexity requiring high levels of intellectual, spiri-tual, and emotional development and an environment that supports their expression. This developmental scale does not assume a positive or negative value but rather places emphasis on the integration of the values in the life journey of the individual or the institution in terms of the skill de-velopment needed in order to live them out behaviorally. It is the com-bination of the values and how they fall against the backdrop of the four phases in relationship to one another that determines the quality of life expression. Each of the four phases is divided into two stages, an A stage and a B stage. Values in the A stages are personal values, and values in the B stages are those lived out primarily through institutional interaction. These institutions include the family, place of work, church or syna-gogue, government structures, and religious congregation. Because a per-son's value choices are always limited and influenced by the institutions in which he or she lives and works, the degree to which this interaction can be measured and understood influences the degree to which the per-son can have clarity about the environment's effect on the quality of his or her life. The end result is heightened insight and the ability to make more focused choices. Likewise, an institution can become aware of the 3611 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 impact it is having on its members. Value Pattern II: Act, Choice, and Vision The value combinations in their phases and stages can also be pat-terned according to the priority they take in one's life in terms of pre-sent choices, past development, and emerging futures. Choice values are those that are the present focus of one's life in terms of time and energy expenditure. These choices are not always made freely but are condi-tioned by one's life circumstances. For example, a person may value his or her family a great deal, but if a crisis in the work place occurs he or she may have to work twelve hours a day until the crisis is resolved. In this case, the value of family would of necessity become secondary in terms of the time and energy available to be dedicated to it. Act values are those values that are foundational to human life. They are the basic values which enable survival and security in the world. When these values are threatened by a change in one's environment, such as a move to a new culture or the loss of a job, priority energy must be diverted from the areas of choice in order to deal with the change. Vision values are those values which energize us and pull us toward hopeful futures. They motivate us in the present by giving meaning our day-to-day experience and enabling us to see beyond ourselves and our present reality. In an institution, Act values serve as the foundation in terms of poli-cies, procedures, benefits, and so on. The Choice values are those which guide day-to-day direction and define the management structure. Vision values provide the purpose of the institution and affect the way in which Choice values are operationalized. Value Pattern III: Cycles A third value pattern emerges when the combinations of values in their personal and institutional dimensions form cycles of development. There are seven such cycles, and each has its own unique worldview. Information around the values in each of these cycles helps in the inter-pretation of an individual's or group's leadership and management style, ethical orientation, faith stance, management of time, and behavior pat-terns under stress. Of particular significance to professional religious per-sonnel are the different ways in which the vows can be understood at each of these cycles. The first cycle is called the Primal Cycle. At this cycle the individ-ual experiences the world as a hostile and alien place in which primary needs are those centered on security and survival. He or she emphasizes Refounding Through Values / 365 material possession because it is through material structures that survival is made possible. This is primarily the world of young children or aged adults who must depend on others to care for them and provide them with basic security. However, through the life journey most people will ex-perience values in this cycle from time to time, for we never lose our need for safety and security. The ethical stance of this cycle is one of self-interest which insures survival. A leader who operates primarily out of Cycle I values will have an autocratic and authoritarian style with his or her subordinates for the purpose of maintaining total control. Delegation comes with difficulty because it is perceived as a diminishment of personal power. God is ex-perienced as a savior who heals one's pain but who is distant and imper-sonal. The task at this cycle is to learn the skills needed to survive in an alien environment and to develop a creative and positive imagination that will facilitate healthy movement into other cycles. The second cycle is the Familial Cycle. As the world becomes less alien and new skills are learned, there is an emphasis placed on values related to belonging to a family, a particular group, or a respected insti-tution. It is important to learn skills that enable one to be accepted by and to contribute to the group. The ethical stance at this cycle is based on fairness and mutual re-spect. Laws and rules are expected to be followed so as to maintain an ordered environment. A leader operating out of this cycle will tend to be benevolent to those who work for him or her but will expect them to obey the rules. The attitude is best described as maternal or paternal in that followers are cared for but are not given any authority. This becomes problematic when the follower wants more autonomy and responsibility. At this cycle God is experienced as a parental master and teacher, through one's parents and through the ministerial figures in the church or synagogue. The primary task at this cycle is to learn skills through formal edu-cation and to begin to understand the world more broadly. Sound relig-ious education in the Faith and in Scripture are important. The third cycle is called the Institutional Cycle. It is here that the world begins to be experienced as less alien than before, and increased emphasis is placed on education as a means to achievement and success. There is often tension between the time spent with one's family and the time spent doing things necessary to enable the family to survive. 366/Review for Religious, May-June 1988 Ethical choices are most likely to be based on what the law and re-spected institutions say is right. A leader operating with priority values in this cycle will have a bureaucratic style and will place high value on efficient and orderly management. Loyalty to the company will be ex-pected and rewarded and disloyalty considered a serious offense. The bu-reaucratic leader may delegate to others but only to those who are most skilled and who have proven their loyalty. God is experienced as master and teacher and is often represented through the ministers and priests of the church. The sacramental life and personal prayer are considered important, as are institutional religion and commitment to a local church or synagogue. The primary task at this cycle is to learn interpersonal and social skills and the skills of one's profession. It is also a time to begin under-standing the difference between one's own values and the values held by one's family. It is a time of preparation for conversion to special service related to God's call. The fourth cycle is the Intrapersonal Cycle. At this time the world begins to be experienced as less certain than before, and new questions arise regarding previously held beliefs and attitudes. A search for new personal meaning and values may be embarked upon and the teachings of formerly respected institutions looked upon more critically. Profes-sional successes may become less important as the individual strives to discover his or her unique skills and abilities. There is a pull between a strong need for independence and meeting the demands of the institu-tions of which one is a part. Issues around social justice may take on new interest and lead to increased involvement in political or social arenas. The ethical orientation at the Intrapersonal Cycle becomes confused as one pulls away from old ways of making decisions and strives to put into action values that are beginning to create a new, more individual-ized way of assessing reality. A leader with priority values at this cycle will struggle between meeting the needs of the institution and being sen-sitive to the more personal needs of his or her employees. It is a time of confusion and of search for the balance between these two, often op-posing, factors. Hence, it may also be a time of inaction because it is simply too difficult to make decisions. This is a transitional stage of lead-ership, sometimes referred to as laissez-faire, for things are very often left to happen as they will. It is critical for persons operating at this cy-cle to learn the skills that enable them to make decisive decisions which meet both institutional needs and the needs of the individuals in the in- Refounding Through Values stitution; otherwise there is the risk of returning to a more bureaucratic and controlling management or leadership style. God is now becoming internal and personal as a friend and lover in-stead of master and teacher. For many, this period is marked by conver-sion to a new commitment to the Faith. The development of skills in the imaginal area is needed in order to see the world more wholistically and creatively. Meditation and spiritual exercises as well as attention to one's physical health are important for growth into a world that is experienced as more complex. It is important to find a p~rticular life-sustaining value system that enables a new com-mitment to faith. The fifth cycle is the Communal/Collaborative Cycle. Individuals functioning at this cycle will experience the world as a place in which they feel they can participate by using their unique skills in a productive way, The search is now concentrated on discovering new ways to inte-grate individual abilities with the needs of society. Because of the high level of interaction at which the individual is now functioning, issues of time management become critical. Persons at this cycle begin to see the world more clearly, resulting, in an increased awareness of issues around justice and oppression. It becomes impera-tive that they have support structures such as a group of respected peers and trusted friends as well as people of the same professional status and ability with whom ideas and problems can be shared regularly. Ethical choices at this cycle are based on the personally meaningful set of values that have developed, and actions are guided by an inner con-science. Laws are respected but not considered infallible. A charismatic and democratic leadership style becomes possible, for the individual has a new sense of personal creative energy and a renewed vision of an in-stitution that can be efficient and can dignify its members as well. Be-cause leaders of this type are in high demand, issues of time manage-ment, stress, and personal health are more important than ever. God now is experienced as a personal friend and companion sharing in the new ex-pression of the gifts that are becoming a part of the individual's life ex-perience. The sixth cycle is the Mystical Cycle. When individuals are able to acquire the skills, maturity, life experience, and integrated personal de-velopment which characterize this cycle, they begin to experience the world as a revered gift they must be responsible for and with which they must creatively interact. 3611/Review for Religious, May-June 1988 Ethical choices are based on an awareness of the rights of all human beings. Activities include doing those things necessary to diminish in-justices in institutions and organizations. A leader operating with the val-ues and skills of this cycle is called a Servant leader. Servant leadership is characterized by interdependence, mutual responsibility, collegiality, and creativity. Group decision making becomes a natural process, and authority is always used corporately. God is now lover, friend, and Lord of creation. Persons at this cycle experience humanity in a new, more complete way through God's eyes. Intimacy with others is a condition for intimacy with the divine and re-quires radical commitment to service and the contemplative side of one-self. This means balancing the personal experience of intimacy with con-templative solitude and obligations to work and service. Those persons who are able to achieve this high level of functioning must learn new skills, the most critical being the skills that will help them to balance their involvement in the development of just and humane in-stitutions with ample time for solitude and intimacy. It is this balance that will enable them to maintain the level of emotional, physical, men-tal, and spiritual integration necessary for being a powerful and yet posi-tive influence in the world. The seventh and last cycle is the Prophetic Cycle. The world here is viewed as a mystery for which "we" must care. "We" is used in this case as Prophetic leadership primarily expressed at a global level. It requires the collaboration of all institutions concerned with human dig-nity and justice. It is also expressed through being a member of a sup-portive community of peers who appreciate a global level of involve-ment. Global involvement assumes equal attention to local levels. Ethical choices at this cycle lead to involvement in activities de-signed to improve the balance between the world of material goods and the needs of each human being. Prophetic leadership is characterized by interdependence at an interinstitutional and global level and is concerned with global ethical issues centered in ecology, human rights, and tech-nological advancement. God is now experienced as the Lord of creation calling all people to cooperate in establishing a more just and ecologically balanced order in the world. A critical skill component of this high level of development is an awareness of the field of consciousness of all of the preceding cycles and the ability to interact with persons at each level. Spiritually, there is a new appreciation of God's Lordship over the whole creation and a reali- Refounding Through Values / 369 zation that all people are being called to cooperate with God in estab-lishing a more just and ecologically balanced order in the world. Value patterns I, II, and III are based on the perspective of the Hall value theory that holds that life is developmental. In this case time is ex-perienced as linear, moving from the past into the future. This is a help-ful way to view the values in their connection to skills as skills are learned step by step in the developmental process. In reality, however, our past and future can only be experienced in the present. Past devel-opment affects the quality of our lives in the present as do our envisioned futures. This brings us to value pattern IV, which sees life as wholistic, with past, present, and future forming the present reality. Value Pattern IV: Goals and Means Values The fourth value pattern is the combinations of Goals, which are long-term values, with Means, or short-term values. A large part of the analysis of values is concerned with this interactive, or dialectical, rela-tionship between Goals and Means. The significance of these combina-tions can be realized when one looks at the difference in the quality of the behavioral expression of different combinations of Goals and Means values. For example, when the value of Worship, a Goal value, is ex-pressed through the Means value of Institution, the behavioral conse-quence would be personal worship through institutionalized expressions such as attending Eucharist or praying the Liturgy of the Hours. When the same Goal value of Worship is expressed through the Means value of Expressiveness/Flexibility, the result may be worship through faith sharing, dance, or creative liturgy. Two people sharing the same Goal value may be at odds about how this Goal value is expressed. Likewise, persons in religious congregations, united by the same goals, may be di-vided in their opinions about the way in which these goals should be ex-pressed. Frequently, institutions have Goal values that are in keeping with the original vision on which they were founded, but have outdated Means values for reaching those goals. Understanding the Value Patterns: The Discernment Process The methodology for working with value information must be con-sistent with the nature of the values themselves. For that reason, unlike most methodologies that were designed to give reports based on factual findings, the methodology for collecting value information and analyz-ing value patterns is based on a process of discernment, a reflective proc-ess that raises questions rather than gives answers. There are several steps in the discernment process. 370 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 The first step is the collection of information. The information (I) must be high-quality information as well as statistical/financial informa-tion and (2) must be collected in a consistent manner. High-quality information is information that comes close to the pulse and heartbeat of all parts of the system. It is, in this case, value infor-mation. It is collected consistently by specialized instrumentation that uses an underlying algorithm based on the 125 values and the values the-ory. All of the information is processed by the use of the methodology of Convergence, Congruence, and Confirmation. ConVergence occurs when particular value patterns repeat themselves. The information is then checked for Congruency with what the person or persons in the institu-tion know to be true about themselves and for Confirmation in the lived reality. The Instrumentation is as follows. HT-Doc This abbreviation refers to the HalI-Tonna method of collecting in-formation from the formal documents of the institution. This may be the philosophy of the person or persons who founded the institution in which its purpose, mission, and charism are delineated as well as information contained in the rules, constitutions, or directives. By analyzing the val-ues in each paragraph of the documents, a values.profile can be obtained on the paragraphs, on each part, section, and chapter, and on the docu-ments as a whole. In addition, identified areas of interest throughout the documents--such as those dealing with leadership, charism, vows, and mission---can also be analyzed for their value content. These value pro-files are then reflected on and analyzed in terms of congruences and dis-crepancies and the significance they may have in light of internal con-sistency. The information derived from these profiles can be translated into practical applications. For example, by looking at the value patterns in the Act, Choice, and Vision areas, it is possible to see what the docu-ments are saying in terms of the Act area as related to policies and pro-cedures, the Choice area as related to management structures, and the Vision area as related to long-term goals. In a religious congregation the Vision values would define the expression of mission. The Hall-Tonna Inventory of Values The Hall-Tonna Inventory of Values is a 77-item forced-choice ques-tionnaire which raises questions relative to an individual's preferences and choices. The result of this questionnaire is a 15-to-25 page report which shows the individual's priority value choices on a developmental scale. A set of questions is raised for each cluster of value choices. The Refounding Through Values / 371 recipient of the report is then asked to respond to these questions by read-ing through them and identifying those that reflect issues of priority con-cern based on specified criteria. If desired, the Hall-Tonna Inventory of Values can be combined for specified groups of individuals in order to produce a composite profile. This is often helpful in looking at the com-bined values of a leadership team, local house, or general council for pur-poses of planning, education, or creating a corporate mission-and-philosophy statement within the boundaries of the value information ob-tained from the analysis of the documents. Another way to apply this in-formation is to look at the composite values of the entire institution and compare them with the envisioned values of the institution as expressed through its documents. The Hall-Ledig Interview Format (Interform) This is another method by which information can be collected on in-dividuals through a one-hour personal interview for the purpose of com-paring value information from the Hall-Tonna Inventory of Values with value information from the lived reality. Once the collection of information has been completed, the second step in the discernment process is reflecting on the information. The information which has been collected thr.ough one or more of the above instruments is then reflected on and analyzed. The value pat-terns which have emerged are compared with one another, convergences and discrepancies are noted, and discernment questions are raised from the composite information. It is, once again, through the process of Con-vergence, Congruence, and Confirmation that priority issues can be dis-cerned from the large amount of data collected. If more than one type of instrumentation has been used, the process repeats itself each time with questions being raised based on the internal relationship of the value clusters to one another, the relationship between different sets of value clusters, and the relationship between sets of value clusters gathered with each type of instrumentation. This brings us to the third step of the discernment process, which is acting on the information. The focal issues in the data that has been col-lected up to this point have now been identified. Each issue results in a series of discernment questions. As the questions are responded to, the plan for action begins to unfold based on the discrepancies in the infor-mation gathered with each type of instrumentation as well as discrepan-cies between the information from all of the instrumentation used. The information is then moved to action in the form of value-based policies, procedures and minimal-norm statements, leadership training, education 379/Review for Religious, May-June 1988 focus for initial and ongoing formation, and long-term strategic planning. Conclusions The Church today, like many of our institutions, is experiencing a significant crisis. On the positive side this can be seen as a call, a call to reevaluate the way in which it is moving into the future. History has introduced new concept

Issue 45.1 of the Review for Religious, January/February 1986. ; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd., St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. REVIEW [-'OR REI.IGIOOS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. © 1986 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, MO. Single,copies: $2.50. S(~bscription U.S.A. $ I 1.00 a year; $20.00 for two years. Other countries: add $4.00 per year (postage). Airmail (Book Rate) $18.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address, write REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS: P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editor Jan./Feb., 1986 Volume 45 Number 1 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REVIEW FOR REt.tGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd., St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department ~Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Richard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave.; Berkeley, CA 94709. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindeli Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. ~Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, 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 45, 1986 Editorial Offices 3601 Lindell Boulevard, Room 428 Saint Louis, Missouri 63i08-3393 Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S~M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editor REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is published in January, March, May, July, September, and N6vember on the twentieth of the month. It is indexed in the Catholic Periodical and Literature Index and in Book Review Index. A microfilm edition of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is available from University Microfilms International; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. Copyright © 1986 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. A major portion:of each issue of REVIEW FOR REEIGIOOS is also regularly available on cassette.recordings as a service for the visually impaired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. The Price of Poverty Donald Macdonald, S.M.M. Father Macdonald is well known to our readers for.his frequent contributions. He continues to reside, and may be addressed at ,.St."Jo,seph's; Wellington,Road; Tod-morderi, Lanc.; OLI4 5HP; England. /~ n elderl~ lady came to the sacristy after Mass and gave (f9r her) quite a large sum of money to the priest "for shoes.for that poor man whoread at Mass,today." The reader was in fact a Unive.rsity lecturer with an income, way beyond anything the lady .hadever known, who chose .to" dress shab-bily with down-at-heel sandals. He had more choices ,as ,to lifestyle than the lady who pitied him. Similarly, one has heard a religious conducting a seminar on poverty, forcibly arguing that if one is to be true to the Gospel and the founder's charism, rootlessness i~ really what is meant. The word poverty is too weak to enshrine the concept. He himself wasoenjoying a prbfessional salary with his own bank-account, not one penny of which ever went to his congregation. ~ It is not just .or even,chiefly a matter of human fallibility, but of unreality which is an ever present risk in discussing evangelical poverty. So often the appearance bears no relation to the fact. Even the possibility of discussing poverty argues a degree,of unreality, as most people are either born into or forced into the poverty trap by. circumstances. One can see this in. a third-world context where, paradoxically, evangelical.poverty is almost impossi-bly difficult to live since the blistering reality is so obvious, and the main thrust of.society is to .race away from it. Perhaps G. K. Cheste_rton offers a way into the discussion in suggesting that humanity is the basis for under-standing poverty. He believed that a man ought to know something of th~ embtions of an ihsulted maff, not 4 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1986 by being insulted but simply by being a man. And he o.ught to know something of the emotions of a poor man not by being poor, but simply by being a man. Therefo~'e in any writer who is describing poverty, my first objection to him will be that he has studied his subject. A democrat would have imagined it.~ Statistics obviously have their place, but are no substitute for fellow-feeling. Religious,_ asked "to be poor both in fact and spirit" (Perfectae Caritatis 13) can, therefore, consider a genuinely poor person in the con-temporary world as a touchstone of reality. Contemporary Poverty A young woman, a soldier's wife was counting the hours until her husband came home on leave. He did come. He had a woman with him whom he sat-.on a settee while he went upstairs and packed a suitcase. He came down and said to his wife: "Well, that's that then; I am off." Such w~is the end of her married life. The biblical type of weakness, vulnerability and poverty is often seen in a woman on her own. 1 cannot see that.the pattern is fundamentally different today. The religious who wants the feel of poverty could do worse than examine her experience. Ratherothan spend days and dollars in meetings discussing th~ topic, much better siarely to visit such people who, regrettably, are to be found within walking distance 6f so °many religious houses. Why talk when we can walk and meet the reality in person?-Poverty is first felt, not discussed. ; That woman is truly poor. She loved her husband and wanted his childre~n i~n a lifetime together, but she was told in the crudestpossible way that her love was worth nothing. She was .nobody to him. "In practical terms she had ceased to exist. She did not even rate,.a letter.or word of understanding or explanation. Yet he was everything to her. One can glimpse'~the emotional-poverty in a person with an immense capacity for love who is unable to express it as she is unwanted and rejected. She is, therefore~, porr in her very identity as her love, which is essentially herself, is apparently woi-thless. ~ As a married woman growing into the ~role, she ~knew who she-was. It was no part-time occupation she had chosen, but a full-time:life to which she had given herself. In view of her particular rejection, inevitably ques-tions must surface as:to her personal worth. Who amq now?Is the best I liave to give worth nothing? Failure. of any kind c~in bring humiliation. Here is a woman who could not keep her husband'. Friends who 6nee welcomed her into their homes as a married woman are now less keen as she is on her own. People will talk about her, scarcely handicapped .by knowing tittle of the true situation. The , ~e Price of Poverty self she once saw and recognized is now seriously shattered, and it will take more than cosmetics to put the pieces together again.-Could she~be worth less? Clearly emotionally impoverished., she is, too, almost 9ertainly econom-ically poor.:.Can she continue living in her ,house? Once budgeting with her husband's income as together~, they tried to build a home, now the home which she helped furnish~ and in which she may have expreSsed her own ta,ste, has ,to beobroken up. Perhaps even the physical fabric in which, to a degree, she~had invested herself will have to go too. She has been literally .uprooted. Her future is a lottery. Have her career or work prospects been handicappedin marrying? How ~nd where is she to five? What is she to do? C~ntemporary Questio.ns _ For anyone seriously wishing to understand poverty with~a, view-to .living it, inevitably the q,u, estion must arise, if this is poverty what am I living? Arriving at that woman's house what would I say to her? Is~the level of religious poverty such that, without ~iving a personal history, one can communicate with her at quite a deep level? Does the religious have expe-rience of rejection and failure? Has the ~reoligious ever felt worthless? Ever lived inca loveless house? Ever been~unable to express love? Has the religious ever been lost in the pre,sent and afraid of the future? By the same token, has one received such warmth, love, affection and security that one can ,,only feel for someone ,who quite ol~viously has not? " Self-respect might suggest that.if she is a poor woman What am I? On the deeper level of~emotion where all of us fu, nction, does religious p, overty sugges, t.that ! came from Sinai with a tract or from life.with fellow-feeling? The religious who has attempted to live "poor both in fact and spirit" will speak the POOr w.oman's language owit.h an immediacy which is first felt rather than~expressed. Poverty means limitation. In aworld where destitution is rampant the meaning of poverty may be obscured. De~stitution means absolutely no choice, and is indefensible as a wa~y of life. Poverty implies limited oppor-tunity. The former has no choice, the latter hasAittle. ~o Chesterton, in the essay mentioned earlier, felt it necessary to say that -"a poor man is a man who has not go~ much money." This seems self-evi-dent to the point of banality, butJif it is su.ch a truism why does it appear to have escaped the lifestyle of so many religious? If that was taken as a rule of thumb, possibly much of the rat!onalizing of evangelical poverty might go. "If a poor persbn can afford it I can consider, it. If not, I can't." It may be that a limited budget with a need to count the pennies should be built into any realistic framework of poverty as a way of life, which, of cours.e, is not 6,/ Review for Religious, Jan:Feb., 1986 .the same.as penny-p.inching. If'circumstances'don't dictate it,.those who freely chorse such'a life should. -.- With whom does one identify? Whatever "evangelical" means, it cannot mean otinreal. The link between religious life imd poverty should be pro-gressively instinctive fo~ the mature person. It was a young married woman caught in the poverty trap who 'summed it all up! "You get to the point that you" doh't.think about things you can't afford." Horizons inevitably narrow. °A poor person with limited opportunity has presumably little choice as to the people be4ives among. He cannot choos~ his neighb0rh~0od, as many testify ~ho would give heaven and .earth to get out of a district if only to give the,children a better chance, "but cannot. For those who find work it is often a dead-end job. Educational and culiural opportunities, vacations and recreations are .similarly limited. If such is not bifilt irito the fabric of evangelieal~poverty we geem to have missed much of the point. Poor people tend to be marginal people in terms of statm, influence 'and opportunity. One bf the gt:eatest tragedies of poverty, it has been noted, is the'inability of'so many people to make afy contribution to society since so m.u.ch potential ig never given the chance to develop. This does not just disqualify many from co.mpeting in whatis called "the rat race," Where the prizes, however won, are strictly personal,-but limits their contribution to life in general and their family and neighborhood iia partic-ular. "Why, therefore, should the religious gibe at being subject to'such limitations, perhaps iffbeing i/~nored, used or patronized? Poverty feels like" that. The very insecurity of contemporary religirus life could be a chance to identify with such marginal people. There are so mar~y marginiil people even in the affluent sqcieties of Western Europe and theUnited Sta'trs, and surely the religious should not leave them behind. InSecurity is in the air. Li~,ing within such limits; the religious will be treated as such. In any case he can do no other. He has no choice. If his place in the pecking order determines how he is treated, in choosing poverty hr'ha~ chosen (o be last. Wh3~ should anyone choose such a~qife? To play at it is one thing, but to choose to live permanently within such limits is something else:~ After all anyone who has ever lived in India, for ekam~le, will have se~n there many "MotherTe'resas," as no doubt they'are to be found all over the globe, but. it can still be puzzling as to why the average ~:eligious might choose that road. Most people,,sensibly, want to widen their horizons, so whychoose limitation in t~rms 'of relationships, lifestyle, dress, travell OlS~orttinity? When poor people used to say that "pove'rty's no disgrace, but 'tis a great inconvenience," someone wh'o grew up as one of them thought the com-ment too rriild for what was ih'fact "a hampering drag upon them.''2 Most resist being pushed to'thb mai-gin so why. would anyone want to live there? 1he Price of Poverty It is hard to see a.nyone choosing this, oti~er than as'a voluntary, short-term contract, yet, apparently, religious have chosen this frr life. Unless this choice is und~rpinned by an integrating vision which can give it worthwhile meaning, any such lifestyle wilLsurely fragment under the age-old tension of catering to champagne tastes on a beer income. It is not in unredeemed human nature to choose less arid be content. There is in much of religious poverty as lived today a close analogy with Parkinson's Law,3 ih as much as affluence expands and is seen to be necessary,as goods and money, become available. Yet if one lives on a figed income in an economic climate of inflation, one cannot spend money.as if there is no tomorrow. I cannot entertain as perhaps I .would like. Not can the°main consideration of "tra'Jel abroad" be a valid .passport. Limitation will be Written into whatever I do. Basically the choice of this lifestyle is made because the.religious choose Christ who chose a stable in preference to a palace and consistently l~eld to that even in death.-It is said that the best fighter.is the hungry fighter, and whoever really wants 'God in Christ must train.to sacrifice anything that gets in the way. The point of poverty, then, is to remove the clutter and tension which would tend to crowd God out. The Methodist sbholar Gor-don Rupp underlined this in a general point: "Never had so many men so" many great possessions as in our modern affluent societies, and what Jesus said about these things no Bultmann has ever been able t0 demythologize. If these things blind the spirit, and if the pure of heai-tsee, then I should find a thousand within the Church on the road.to perfection for every hundred outside."4 The outlook of the consumer society can suffocate feeling for God. The point of evangelical poverty is made more'specific in-an instructive misprint in my copy of the breviary, where St. Paul is m.ade to say of, Christ that "rich as he was, he made himself poor for your: sake in order to make you rich by means of his property (sic)" (2 Co 8:9). This is undoubtedly the logic which appeals to the printer andthe rest,ofus;.but what St. Paul said, of, course, was that it,was in his total poverty that Christ enriched us. "Here everything has been lost in translation. ,In an at.tempt to make sense of the text, nonsense has been made of the Gospel. To see the influence, of this insight on St. Paulqn that same second letter to the Corinthians can be of immense practical help in assimilating, the reason for evangelical poverty and~so nourishing its continuing dynamic. First Put On Christ Invariably Paul~ begins with Christ. Seeing him in his conversion, bap-tism and daily life--"even if we did once .know Christ in the flesh, that~ is I! / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1986 not how w6knox~.him'now" (2 Coo5:16) he isso enthralled by what he sees that he can only, compare its effect on,him to the creation of light: "For it is the God ~who said, "Let light .shine out Of darkness,'~vho has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of:God on the face of Christ" (2 Co 4:6). He knew his world and himselLto be literally re-created anewin Christ:~ Reality,- no matter how it presents itself, now comes to him in the face ooLChrist, _so he comes to see what God is like in a sacramental world and,progressively, becomes lik~ what he sees. Whatever happens to ,Paul is always in Christ. So illumined, life is shot' through with Christ as he sees God giving himself in the happenings of every day. The more he reflected on God giving .himself to us in Christ the more he was possessed .by what he saw: "For the love 6f Christ overwhelms us when we reflect." (2 Co 5:14). To think that Christ had givenhis life for Paul.in the absolute poverty of crucifixion and death! He,could refuse;Paul nothir~g. Living in such a world, helogically believed that the response of Christians.should be "to. live no longer for themselves but for ,him who for their sake died and was raised" (2 Co 5:15): In other words, the selfish, self-centered core in all of us, which can imprison us in self as cruelly as a child in a ~chbol playground without an adult present, has now been broken up. In Christ, one moves from self to selflessness: Onelives now for Christ as the wholeness of his sacrifice registers, and one comes to realize what an enthralling discovery one has in this unprecedented gift. Even atomic calculations cannot quantify this: So seismic ig the effect on one who.glimpses the reality that Paul can only see .the person given that insight as a wholly new type of being, since, "for an~,one who is in Christ, there is a new creation; the old creation has gone, and now the new .one is here" (2 Co 5:17). One's outlook, value-sys-tem and life itself are now a response to God giving himself.in Christ. That this can take place in the ordinary, everyday world of pagan-Corinth Paul is assured, since.~'for our sake God made the sinless one into~sin, so that in him we mi.'ghi become the goodness of God" (2.Co 5:21). In human nature at~lts worst seen in the,cruclfix~on and death of the s~nless Christ, our-Lord plumbed the depths of human evil and weakness insofar~as one person could, and so enables Paul to see that everything is redeemable in the death and resurrection_of Christ. Nothing can hold .us in Christ. CruCified as his° Mother stood and watched, and buried in ,another man's grave, this it is~ that roots the experience of Christ in the humanity of every age, not least our own. What of course was h.appening was "God in Christ was reconciling the world to himself, not holding men's faults against them. : ." (2 Co 5:20). Glimpsing this, Christians like Paul become "ambassadors for Christ :. as The Price of Poverty / 9 though God were appealin~ through us" (2 Co 5:20). The message, of course, is,simply to "be r~conciled to God" (2 Co 5:20). Ideally the Christian reaches the point of so assimilating Paul's o]nsight that he/she can do no other 'than share it. For the religious, poverty is part ofth6 price paid t,o'preserve that insight. AllLelse gradually falls'away, no longer seen as having any real claim on us in'the light of Christ: "And we, with our. :. faces reflecting like mirrors the brightness of th~ Lord, all grow brighter and brighter as we are turned into the image that we reflect" (2 Co 3:18). All of this takes place not in some Gnostic, esoteric enclave, but in the streets of wherever the Christian happens to be, since "this is the work of the Lord.who is Spirit" (2 Co 3:18). The first and continuing step for anyone who would live genuinely evangel-ically poor, therefore, is to ~put on Christ. Contemplation is clearly primary. First recognize what it is to be christened, and poverty for the sake of Christ becomes a logical necessity. Whatever obscures that vision must go. In Everyday Life While it is true that Paul "was caught up into paradise and heard things which must not and cannot be put into human language" (2 Co 12:4), the second letter to the Corinthians makes it all too plain that' he does'not stay there. It is in the present, in the unpredictability of everydaY life that he sees Christ, and this is marvelously encouraging for anyone attempting to.live poor for Christ. Rich as he was in Christ, people and circumstances will so often combine to subject Paul to an experience not unlike that of the contemporary poor woman mentioned earlier. So often he will be stripped of. everything but his faith (see 2 Co 1:8). -For some, Paul's "all would not be enough. He invested not just the Gospel but his self in Corinth "For my own part, I will gladly spend and be spent on your sohls' behalf, though ~you should love me too little for loving you .too well" (2 Co 12:15). The man wh'o brought Christ to them at such physical and emotional cost is i'educed to writing them a letter in an attempt, to-establish himself again (see 2 Co "3:1-3). "Someone said, 'He writes powerful and strongly-worded letters, but when he is with you, you see only half a man and no preacher at all" (2 Co 10:10). It is not just gratuitous rudeness nor personal dislike, but Paul's nonacceptance as a genuine apostle that is at issue, sohe is afraid that "your ideas may get corrupted and turned away from simple devotion to Christ" (2 Co 11:3). Paul and his Christ are not accepted. His very identity, therefore, is questioned. In an attempt to try and reestablish some lost status he is humiliated into having to give something of his own'record to show that he was not in it for himself, as was suggested neither a naive, misguided 11~ / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1986 convert nora "con-man" taking advantage of them: "lashes. beaten. stoned.:., shipwrecked., false brethren., sleepless., hunger, thirst. cold., anxiety for all the churches" (2 Co I 1:23-29). Was all this for nothing? He gave everything, yet had not made first base with an influential, articulate group in the Corinthian church. He has deceived no one, yet if a man's good faith is questioned, as was Paul's, he is really poor, for, without that, he, has no currency left. Corinth and life generally.taught Paul that,.such paradox is of the essence of an apostle's life: "We are treated as imposters, and yet are true; as unknown, and yet well known; as dying, and ~behold weolive; as punished, and yet .not killed; as sorrowful, yet always .rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, and yet possessing everything" (2 Co.7:8-10). Read as experience,and not liter.ature, in these passages 9ne will come close to the mind and life of a poor Christian man. Integrity, reputation, achievement, personality, wealth and so much more that can give a. person self-respect and a worthwhile life are so often taken, and the individual is then dismissed as worthless. Even obvious achievement is seen as a mirhge. To be poor feels like that, seemingly unable to make a contribution though one gives one's all. Paul is so aware of the power of the Gospel and the'powerlessness of the Christian as he tries to communicate it, that it would almost seem a contradiction in terms had not his life followed that pattern since first he gave himself to ~Christ. Perhaps he was never closer to his Lord than in this powerlessness. If the Christ he preached, the faith they received, the life he lived does not suggest integrity, he has ,nothing to offer except an appeal: "Open your hearts to us; we have taken advantage of no one" (2 Co 7:2). . To be reduced to speaking like that, one must be poor indeed. Against that background, too, incidentally, Paul is trying to collect money to help the impoverished Jerusalem church! (see 2 Co chs. 8-9): Part of the cost of becoming a Christian in those da~s may have meant, for ma.ny, broken family and community ties resulting in real poverty at so-many levels. Paul was also economically, poor in Corinth:. "When I was with you and ran out of money I was no burden to °anyone" (2 Co 11:9). For whatever reason he judged it best not to accept help from the Corinthian church. This led. to further misunderstanding, not least.in leading some to assume that his message must .be as ,cheap as its presenter. As so often with the really poor person it seems to be "heads you win, tails I lose," whatever way the coin falls.- Whenever he could ,t~oVmake ends meet, "I robbed other churches by accepting Support from them in.order to serve you" (2 Co. 11:8): These were the other communities in Greece Paul had set up on his way south to ¯ 7he Price of Poverty Corinth, and it must Surely have been an additibnal burden when he was aware of being helped by people who had little enbugh themselves, since "the troubles they have been through have tried them hard, ~,et in all this they h.ave been so exuberantly happy that from the depths of their poverty they .have shown themselves lavishly openhanded" (2 Co 8:2). Evidently poor themselves, they were so eager to help the poor in the Jerusalem church "begging and begging us for thefavor of sharing in this service" that in so doing, "they offered their own selves'first to God and, under God, to us" (2 Co 8:4-5). Such are the people helping Paul; so at one with the mind of their Lord ~that.they, too, from'their poverty, are helping to make others rich. ~' Think ~of the effect oon Paul of such behavior--the bread~he e~its he owes to ~them, ~is also their faith builds up him and so many. They have learned much in a short time. It must be the experience of so many religious across the world that it is largely because of the faith and generosity of such people today that they are able to,live and work. Sucl~ support should.have a marked effect on the way we live. Personal Limitations Emotionally and ecohomically poor in a world in which any religious can. find himself; St. Paul also works within the limits of a ~human frame. The most individual of:men, he is always recognizably himselL Even those who tend to lay all that~is wrong with Christianity at. Paul's feet might acknowledge~that there is something, much or little, in their own characters that they might wish to change, if only to be more effective witnesses to Christ. Paul knows this too. One of the greatest benefits of time spent in Paul's company is to see him operate within the'limitations ~of a genuinely human personality - which is just another expression Of the intrinsic poverty which everyone shares. After each one of us was made they broke the mould. Paul is ever conscious of "a thorn in the flesh" which so bothered him that he pleaded ~;ith God to remove it (see 2 Co 12:7-8). Whatever~ it was, Paul knew he woifld be:.so mhch more effective if only he could b~ rid of it. His .prayer was notanswered. Instead, he was given one of his greatest, most encour-" aging insights, which can help anyone conscious of the poverty of his or her . own resources: "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness" (2 Co 1~2:9). Paul was fine as he was. The fewer his reserves the more must God supply. The~greater his personal inadequacy the ~more pressing his claim on God: So the ultimate paradox for Paul was that when he looked at himself in 12 / Review for-Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1986 the mirror of his apostolate and saw much that he could wish changed, he saw what was really there, a poor individual man with all his limitations, loved by.God in Christ. His obvious weakness was a claim on God's power. So he could relax and learn contentmeht at a very deep level: "and t.hat is wh~ I am quite content with my weaknesses, and with insults, hard~hips, persecuti~ons, and the_ agonies I go through for Ch_rist.'s sake. For it is when I am weak that I am strong" (2 Co. 12:10).~ The religious inevitably oware of some of his limitations would do well to assimilate that insight. As someone yowe.d to. poverty, he can even integrate his own limitations within,the co~mforting simplicity of that Gospel perspective, perhaps coming to see why Paul could s~y "No wonder we do not lose heart~ T]3o~ugh our outward.humanity is in decay, yet day by day we are inwardly ren~ewed" (2 Co 4:16). As ever, the o~,erriding.belief in God gi.'ving himself in Christ in.the present moment is the dynamic of evangelical pove~y. o Repeated experience w.as to teach Pgul this, even when he felt shattered as his identity as a .genuine apostle is queried, pioneering a way for the Gospel, or facing the growing pains of an expanding Church. Often he finds himself as a leader withotit an army, let down by people from whom he had expected support. Because of his fighting polemic Paul ran the risk, not always successfully avoided; of being unfair to others and no doubt had the chance to repent at leisure ,The physical and emotional strain at times must have been severe~ but it is again all part of carrying the treasure of the Gospel withinthe heart of a poor man. So,he saw that "we are r~o better than pots ofearthenware to contain this treasure, and this proves th~it.such transcendent power does not come from us, but is God's alone" (2 Co 4:7). o~What is attractive is that in circumstances which would liave discouraged ¯ many of us, or have us return home to lecture, write our memoirs, or dine. out on our experiences for Christ, Paul never gave up.-He went forward into the situation, and there found God in Christ with a security,given only to those who give up everything for. him. His life as glimpsed in this letter. shows that "human indeed we are, but it is in no human strength we figlit, our battles" (2 Co 10:3). He expresses this superbly when he admits that "we are in difficulties on all sides, but never concerned; we see no answer to our problems, but-never despair;., persecuted, but never deserted; knocked down but never killed" (2 Co 4:8-9). Again, one should not let the literary construction mask the human reality. Paul is not some superman (canonization is invariably posthu-mous), but a man in Christ, which is why problems, mistakes, anxiety and fear never ultimately crush him since they are seen as reflecting Christ. He ~he Price of Poverty / 13 is always in Christ and so in circumstances where our first move might be to the doctor, the bottle, the cotinselor or the return ticket, Paul's is always to Christ. So when he is in trouble, he sees what is happening to him." ~Always, wherever we may be, we carry with us in our body the death of Jesus" (2 Co 4:9). He lives in Christ as Chrisriives in him, not least in suffering and heartbreak. So real is this that "the sufferings of Christ, it is true, overflow into bur li~,es~," and in that.very experience as Christ is there, "there is overflowing comfort, too, which 'Christ brings" (2 Co 1:5). Up against it, seeing no way through, Paul believes Christ to be an indwelfing presence not a distant model. He shares the experience, often nailed to Christ through people and circumstances beyond his control. So a man, who, like his Lord and so many on earth, knew much of failure, tears and poverty, at the same time, in the pow.er and love of the r~sen Christ,'sees that in his suivival~ though so powerless, "the life Of Jesus; too, may al.ways be seen in our body" (2 Co 4:10). The poverty-stricken Paul~is enriched, in Christ, even using suffering and failure to help reconcile him and his world to God. -,; . ~ Nothing in his experience, therefore, is pointless. Successive centuries have no doubt learned more from the failures of Paul and his Lord than from the successes of their commentators. So a poor man, with at times scarcely a hold on life--"we were so utterly, and unbearably crushed that we despaired of life itself" (2 Co 1:8)--learned to rely on the richness of God. He must have found much time for prayer and reflection or he could: never have read so much into the poverty of the human condition, these passages do not read .as emotion recollected in tranquillity so much as the discovery of the presence of God in Christ when all seemed lost in a harsh, uncaring world. Under God, Paul learned that lesson well. And so, from his own experience of poverty, at many levels, he was anxious and able to pass on what he had found, thanking "the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any. affliction, ,with the.comfort with which we ourselves are comforted byGod" (2 Co ! :3-4). Paul seems hypnotized by the word comfort, since the experience was so real in the.middle of his at times frightening poverty~ The religious lookingfor the vision and stamina to be "poor both in fact and spirit," would do well ~to spend time in the company of such a man who found so much of richness in his own poverty: "For what we preach is not ourselves, but J~us Christ as Lord, with ourselves as your servant for Jesus' sake" (2 Co 4:5). In any consideration of the vast topic of evangelical poverty there is both a community and an individual dimension. This article is simply meant 14 / Review for Religious, Jan,-Feb., 1986 as an aid to personal reflection. The Benedictine histbrian David Knowles, in the epilogue to.one of his classic studies of English medieval monasticism, was of the opinibn that property and wealth were contributory factors in its decline. No groups nor individuals could do much about it, as wealth "clUng like pitch." This is surely a human development, not especially a medieval one: If a corrective cannot be found for the individual religious in the Gospel,.a founder's manuscript ru!e, and a contemporary poor person, it is doubtful if le~slation and discussion wiil make it real. It is for the individual to see. , o NOTES -~G. K. ~hesterton, "Slum Novelists and the Slums," in _Heretics LondOn 1905, p. 277. 2Florri' Thompson, Lark Rise to Candleford Penguin Books 1973, p. 31. ~C. Northcote Parkinson, Parkinson's Law: "W0~k e~pan'ds so as to fill the time available for its completion." 4Gordon Rupp, The Old Reformation and the New, Epworth 1967, p. 60. On Silence There is the silence that nurses a sleeping child and the silence that is violence without equal. There is the silence that purifies the notes of birds and the silence that betrays the noise inside our lives¯ There is the silence that comes wrapt in a piece of sky .and the silence that is overcast and threatening. -There is the silence that nourishes our sensitivity to life and the silence that is shattered by soul-destroying work. There is the silence in the dew drop's other world and the silence'thff( is manufactured and pressure packed. ~There is the gilen~ that is tl~e gentlest of friend~ and the silence that is filled with loneliness. There is the silence that takes us by thb hand and: leads us deep into the heart of'Peace. "~ N0el Davis 257 Abercrombie Street Red fern EO. Box 130 Chip~aendale, N.S.W. Australia Harvesting Silence: A Desert Spidtuality Anthony Wi.eczorek, O Praem, ~Father Wieczorek writes: "The very times when life and prayer seem to have fallen apart may well be God's attempt to get our attention and make us face the sort of ~hings we all too easily hide from with our busy and carefully structured lives." His previous article, "Cominitment: Dying and. Ri~ing to S~lf," appeared in the issue of July/August, 1985. Father Wieczorek may be addressed at St. Joseph Priory; 103 Grant Street; De Pere, Wisconsin. 541.15. How does a person go about harvesting silence? The question is an impoflant one to people who find themselves standing amid acres of the stuff. How does a pe~,son gather' together silence," emptiness, and stillness? They creep up.so unobtrusively that their coming is unfioticed until, that is, it is too late. The life that had been so filled with purpose:and people and things to do has .grown distant, separated by a moat of 'silence. But no watery moat is this. It is a moat, rather, of sand and arid wastes, of emptiness and stillness, for silence grows only in desert conditions. What is there, then, to harvest in a desert? . What ,grows there? What value, what purpose can it have? These questions are more pragmatic than they sound: What is. to be: made of life that had been lush with' activity, that has been filled with.purpose when suddenly the activity is gone o seems meaningless and unnecessary? What value has an existence that has lost the art of awareness? What can be made of a life whose dreams and plans and goals have all shriveled up in a blast of desert air so that life seems lost and out of control? The desert, though, is not a punishment to endure. The silence and stillness is a gift that must be received, a crop that must be harvested. 15 16 / Review for" Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1986 I I have never been in a real, geographical desert but the image of one that pictures provide and that emerges in my imaginings is that of an endless expanse of sand and sky. In the desert that I imagine and inwhich I make my anchorage, there is literally nothing to see. Oddly enough, that is its whole point. A desert is a most carefully constructed work of art. Nature, and God, have taken great effort and artistry fo create an empty backdrop, a single sandy sheet. From the looks of it, it was time well spent; for a desert is not only beautiful, it is functional as well. The desert has an anonymous function that is carefully hidden. In the desert's emptiness there is nothing to hide behind, nothing to conceal; there is nothing to distract. By the very fact of its emptiness, the desert is a perfect place for revelation, a perfect place for confrontation. Hosea spoke of God luring Israel back into the wilderness so that it would once again have to deal with God's revelation. What makes a desert is precisely its paucity of distractions. There the silence is both vocal and visual. It was to such an environment that God called Israel. God called Israel to the desert lJecause it is a place of confrontatitn. = A desert is not geographical; it is an attitude, a cond.ition, a state of the soul. Nor are deserts fixed areas of terrain. Deserts-lie waiting beneath the sarface of skin and sou!. They bubble up, from time to time, like springs of sand that rush out and flood into life. Deserts can appear overnight or sometimes in a~single, often climatic, moment. We close our eyes one unsuspecting night to the lush greenness of our lives only to awake., to nothing, to a howling empty expanse of sand and sky. Deserts are works of art, created not without some little effort. They do not appear randomly or-by accident. God creates deserts in our lives whenever God's patience runs dry. God creates deserts out of thelushness of our lives to force an issue we have otherwise avoided. M~ike no mistake, our lives are indeed lush, not with vegetation, but with things to do, thoughts to ponder, problems to solve, people to meet, greet, to make love and war with. Duti.es, tasks, responsibilities, projects are the trees, plants, shrubbery that have been planted within our lives but which have grown and multiplied at a rate and in a density that isall their own. Many of us, however, have allowed them to grow out of control. The lush foliage that .fills our days and lives~is our alibi. There is so much to perceive, so much to do, so much to read and consider and wonder at, can anyone, human, or divine, blame.us for atleast being selective with our attentiveness? For missing,something here and there? We have so many revelations to deal with in even a single day, how are we to know which is the most impOrtant, the most necessary? We have attempted, though, to cover, not only our Harvesting Silence / 17 tra.cks ~with all our foliage,but God's as well. Prepare ye, then for the dr~ught Whereupon God shall create:in and a~ound us,-from the chaos of our lives, a single, simple desert from which shall emerge in bold silhouette the real, the. true, the ,necessary. Dfteo when I am in a. desert there are two passages that frequently come .to mind. One passagd is from Ursal Le Guin's A Wizard of Earthsea. It is a story about a young man struggling to become a wizard. At one point in his training he. is given this sage bit of advice: ¯ ~ You thought, as a boy, that a mage is on6 who can do anything. So I , thought, once: So did we all::And the truth is that as a man's real power . ~grows and his khowledge widens, ever the way he can follow grows nar-or. ower:- until at last he chooses n~thing, but does only find wholly what he must do . ,~ The trick, it would seem, is to find that must do. It is easier said than done. But difficult though it may be, it~ strikes me as being nonetheless true. ~The key to the finding seems to revolve around getting in touch with limitations, the paucity of resources and talents wherein lies our realistic avenue of . growth.-The desert seems a fitting place for recognizing one's limits, the truth about oneself. ." ¯ .The other.passage that comes'to mind treats the same theme, this one from Annie Dillard's Teaching a ~Stone to Talk: I think it would be well, and proper, and obedient, and pure, to grasp your one necessity and not let it go, to dangle from it limp wherever it takes you. W.hat a blessing it would be "to ~asp your one necessity," if only, that is, one knew what-it was. To speak of doing what one "must do" is the same as sp6aking of what is "necessary,"~ and both require the same str~uggle, namely, hacking thr6ugh the jungle of options, choices and aliernatives in ~vhich ~we find ourselves. Times of decision, be they 'great or small, would be so much easier if only we could, perceive the necessary from all the possibiliti.es. There are simply too many choices, too many ways. In such times it is important io disentangle the seemingly necessary from the truly necessary. The de,eft is an excellerit place to do so; the desert is a refuge from the unnecessary. In the.desert one learns quickly what is involved .in returning to riecessity. One of the fi~'st things discovered is l~recisely how necessary the desert is. In the silence and starkness of the desert the unnec-essary has a way of shriveling up a.nd falling away or, in its self-ordained has~tb, of passing usoby. And when it does so, when all is finally quiet and deserted, when we stand surrounded by void, then look and listen well. What emerges from the stillness is that which we seek. I sit in my desert and watch a parade go by. There are clowns and 111 / Review for ,Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1986 bands, important people in convertibles smiling and waving, Each one wants those on the sidklinesto join them, to take up ranks bohind them, It is the parade,of the unneceskary. Right now I am watching it pass by. I am waiting for"the still, small voice I've heard follows, behind." Sometimes amid: all the noise it goes by unnoticed. Clowns, bands, and crowds make almost as mubh~ noise as winds,, earthquakes and fires. T6 hear it, .then, one must wait and listen attentively. : ~ ~ " ~ ~. ~ . While I wait I notice something about the parade; Us~ually parades move along slowly, butnot 'this one. I ~vonder if it doesn't resemble more a race, a marathon,'than a parade. It reminds me of the joke ab6ut the airline, pilot who was hopelbssly lost but making excellent time:° I wonder ¢vhere the parade/race ends? I don't think it does. It looks a little funny but obviously it isn't~ Everyone heems so serious. I'm beginning to feel guilty and irresponsible just sitting here. ~But l haven't heard the yoice yet, the. still, small one. Actually, I'm:rather glad they ~'e rushing on. They all make me nervous., ~ Gradually the parade moves on. And still I sit, silently waiting. I think the voice is also shy. lt figures; small, still things usuallyare. There are two possibilities: one, it's watching me to see whether l'm safe b~efore it,co, mes out; or, two, it doesn't know that I'm here. Either way, I'll.wait. It will be along sooner or lat.er, that is, if it's necessary. A desert is anything but empty; despite all appearances t9 the ontr~ary, it is filled with an i~i~ense silence. It is so silent and Calm and stilithai~every breath, every heartbeat booms. It is incredibly difficult,oif not impossible, to be uhawat~ in a desert. The sparcity of gcen~ry seems somehow to cleanse the senses. The silence that is both vocal and .visual! Washes over the eyes an~l ears and all the'other senses. In fact, so acute does sensing become that, it can assume an alfiaost paranoic nature. The irony is that.';vhile we imagine things that' are not there, we tend to deny whak is. We struggle in the intense desert silence,~struggle with wafiting to believe with all our hearts "it is'only a mirage," yet haunted by the question "Was it real? Is it~iteal'? The desert silence makes~us realize that, havir~g been so dulled by the Sens6ry:"blitz of life, we hav~ 10st the art of l~erception. There is so muchto see and hear and behold that we noqonger.know.how: Either We have learned to sc?eeh so effectiv~ely, the noise and pace of our lives orwe are blinded an~i:deaf~ned by it all: in either event, once in'the'desert' with so little to sye'and hbar we find we really do not know h6w {o do ~either; But then, that is the°poini"of being in the desert. Harvesting Silence / 19 The desert is a place for not. only confronting things divine; it is first, and perhaps primarily, a place for encountering things human. In a desert wh~t first.is confronted is consciousness. What better way to appreciate sight and Sound than to have,them takenaway. In the desert., where there is nothing, to .see, we learn again how~ to see. In the desert, where there is nothing tohear~but the howling of the Wind, we learn how to listen to ~the spirit. But what" we see and .hear first with our rediscovered senses is ourselves. In the°desert~ in becoming Conscious of ourselves, we paradoxi-cally discover that self-consciousness is the antithesis of consciousness. I do not mean by self-corisciousness the knowledge and recognition of the truth ~about~ourselves. The Christian tradition is adamant about self-knowledge as the starting point in-the search for God. Hear, for example, the iestimony of St. Isaac of Syria, a sixth-century desert father: i~' Enter eagerly into the treasure-house that'lies within you, and so you will see the treasure-house of heaven: for the two are the same, and there is but one single entry into ihem both. q'lie lhdder that leads to the kingdom is hidden within you. Dive into yourselfand :in your soul you will discover the rungs by which to ascend. ° Or, for example, ten centuries later,Teresa of Avila writes in a similar vein: It is no small pit~; and'should cause us little shame, that, through bur own fault, we do not .understand ourselves, or know who we ate. Would ~it not ¯be a sign of great ignorance, my daughter, if a person were asked who he o o was and could not say, and had no idea who his fatheror mother.was, or from what country he came? BecOming conscious of ourselves, both for its own sake and as a means to union with God, is indeed well aitested in theChristian~traditi0n. What is not as-well documented, or.at leastnot as talked about; is the adverse effect self-crnsciou~ness has on ou~ i~bility to be conscious and aware, to perceive not 0nly God, but~the world in which we live. It takes great ignorance, great childlikeness to be consciously aware. On the other hand it is quite impos~sible to be both self-crnscious and child-like at the same time; people are'either one or the other. For example, a child does riot care how he or She looks to oth(rs. This unself-cohsciousness so characteristic of children 'we call innocence. 'It is innocence. It is inno-cence that allows a child to be enthralled when an adult's self-conscious concern for propriety and dignity would compel them to be less conspicu-ous, though'also less perceptive. Annie Dillard-calls innocence "the spirit's unself-conscious state at any momenl~°of pure devotion to any object. It is at once a receptiveness .and total concentration." How.many adults have ¯ the freedorri, the unself-co'nsciousness it takes to coricentrate with recep- 20 /~Reviewfor Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1986 tiveness and devotion? Those, to be sure, who are most childlike in attitude and orientation. And is this not the point behind the command to :'die to self" in order to follow Christ? Can Christ live in us if we are filled with our self?. Perhaps, too, only children.can enter-the kingdom because it takes a child's unabaslied ability to see and hear to perceive it. Children are life's tourists. They walk about gaping and gawking at every thing and eve.ry one. We permit:.them to do so, to look foolish because they are, after all, only children, who don't yet know any better. But we_ deprive ourselves of the same ability and freedom to stand and behold the ordinary and extraordi-nary things in our lives and in our selves. We let self-consciousness interfere with satisfying our thirst to be truly conscious and aware of the hidden mysteries of life, hidden because to see them we must get down on our hands and knees with our backsides exposed for all to see and crawl about or simply sit motionless for minutes and hours and wait as life unfolds according to its own whim or inner law. To be ~ruly ~ware, truly, conscious of any thing°or any one, let alone God, we must be willing and able toleave ourselves and enter into the reality of the thing or person we are with. Counselors call it attending, the rest of us call it listening, the ability to truly be with another, to share that person's experience; to enter into that persoi~'s life. To attend, toe listen, like any form of consciousness, takes self-emptiness. The desert,s unself-conscious silence is paradigmatic of the emptiness we~need to emulate in order to be aware. We cannot find the. emptiness to be truly receptive, truly devoted, truly conscious, if all our senses are already filled to overflowing with se/f-consciousness. ~ Outside my window and down a little hillside, used to stand se.veral ~trees and different sorts of unruly shrubs. When the trees had bee~n cut down and .the shrubs cleared away, lo, there all at once appeared the river that had hid behind them. In a similar sort of way, self-cons.ciousness comprises much of the lushness that blocks off our ability to see beyond ourselves, to perceive the almost insanely mysterious world we live in. The desert, though, is much too hot and dry to produce much vegetation. The aridity of the desert similarly bakes away our own self~onsciousness. We sit and sweat in our deserts until our senses open like pores and we once again can perceive the horizons we obscured ~with ourselves. ~ In the desert we learn unself-consciousness through a form of sensory deprivation. ,There is so little to see and hear in ~the desert, so little to do that we become deadly bored, even with ourselves. As a result., we launch out a ravenous hunt for something or,~anything to see or hear. For ex~ample, fa:sting cleanses t.he palate. After even a~day 9f fasting.e.ven~ the simplest broth tastes remarkably good. So in the desert, when our senses fast, we Harvesting Silence rediscover the beauty of the little and unnoticed things of life, thingS otherwise lost in all the lushness; ~ III There is another quality to deserts, they are excellent places to get lost. There are very few land' marks in a desert. Ev6n the sand dunes shift. That is why people who iraverse the desert wastes often do so at night, when they can at least rise the stars as navigational guides. All of' this is quite distressing, especially to those exp~e~'ienced with desert lifel IQlost of us have lives With Paths well worn from da.ily routines, habitg, and regul~roPatterns of behavior. We seldom stray from those paths and so'seldom face the reality of gettirig lost. For all our-fi~eedom of will and actionl most of us are likg trains committed to a given track. BUt at least that way. our lives are fairly stable, regular, an~ predictable. At ~uch and such a time we do this and that, and th6n the next routine is followed-- a.nd God help those who try to disrupt the pattern. And so we mbve quite confidently and assuredly ~tirough our lush little jungle lives. At any given moment we~kno~v where we are and what comes next. One way of knowing that we have b~en spiritually teleported ~nto a d~sert is when ~the old routine no longgr works. The stability has become ihstead sterility. Or we may find ourselv.es ina degert as a resultof_some "derailment," some experience or event that thro~vs-us off the carefully laid pattern of our lives. Our first response to this is¯ frequently anger, then panic. The anger is a response to the realization of how thin the veneer is to the ¯ iJlusion that we are in control of bUt lives, that we indeed are not the masters ~t:bur destiny. Then come~ the ~anic when we find our lives are increasin.gly Without purpose or direction. The former goa!s no longer seem as satisfying or even worth the effort. The sense of aimlessness grows and deepens until we rffust adfiait that we, our lives, are lost. The trumpets have all died nbw. Their ruckus.was only to set the stage, .like the wihd, earthquake, ahd fire, for "what is to follow. Before the duthority of the trumpets all other sounits quail. Before their power all else stands dumb in awe. The silence of the other sounds forms an open fieldo that draws all attention.to a sblemn, solitary figure. Bravely and boldly I shout out, "The ti~e has come! I hi~ve grown up. Now I am¯ ready to go oui in ~earch of my destiny! I am going out in search of myself to myself. I am laundhing'an expedition whose ~oal it is to discover and encounter ~ / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1986 God!? Secretly and equally as silent, the ramparts surrounding the king-dom of heaven make ready for this new assault. But don't mistake the actions, they do not raise new battlement, nor do they send out patrols and war parties. Rather, they assemble and make ready the rescue crews that will search for this new expedition's survivors. Many o~us, at one time Or another, do strike out in search of our lives. Our main goals are past exp~.riences of mastery over earlier tasks and duties. Ultimately, these expeditions, sooassured of success, all wind up in the ~me pla, ce~ h.opelessly lost in some or another desert. Our prey, whether pu.rpose, mea0~ ing, desti ~ny, br God had led us.on unexp~ectedly to a place we never intended to go. We followed it fearlessly into l~he desert and sud.denly find it is too late, too late tO go back, too lost to go ahead. Our careful plans, otir former experience~ had not pl:epared us for this. We are lost, empty, alone; well do we fit into the environment of the desert. At times when we mhy feel this way, lost and empty, without meaning and control, in desperate need of guidance and direction, we should not lament, for the strategy is Working. Th~ strategy of ~ear~hing for God is simple: get yourself so hope.lessly lost that God fias nochoice but to go out and find you~ This much is simple, and most p.eople accomplish it without even trying. Unfortunately, it is only half the str.ategy. The rest is much more 'distas~teful but becomes easier to swallow the longer and more hope-l~ sly we. remain lost. The remainder of the° sti'ategy is this: we must be willing ~0 be found'and (this is the clincher) we m~t agree to being found~i on God's terms. The whole magnific~'nt adventure, whether we entered upon it willingly or found ourselves thrust into it, has this as its purpose: agreeing to God's terms for being found, recognizing and. accepting our dependence upon God. I've wandered around in circles for a longtime ~ithout wanting to be found. It's not that I like being lost, it's just that I'm not ready to accept the terms for being found. Don't forl yourself, God's magnanimity is not without its own sort of conditions. God's conditiOns, however, arise not out of stubbornness; they are mediated by necessity. If, for example, a person wants to become an Olympic athlete, one of the conditions that must be met to fulfill that dream is submitting to the rigors of training and practice. Faced 'with those conditions, that person may opt to observe the games rather than participate in them directly: It's not enough to. wants.to be found; one must need it so m~uch that he or she is wilting to le.t go of other things and embrace willingly. ~he ~necessary conditions. 0.ne of the hardest conditions to accept is letting go of the way I would like to go and follow instead the way ! feel led. The reason mhny peoPle get. Harvesting Silence lost to begin with is because they didn't follow the directions they were given. I want my life to lead in this direction but by following it the feeling of hopelessness and aimlessness only-continues more strongly. My alterna- ¯ tives are two: keep going the way I want even if it means staying lost, or giving in and following with greater commitment the way I feel compelled to go. In my ingenuity I present to God a third plan: "Couldn't we both wander around my path together? That way I could go in the direction I want and you would be with me so I wouldn't feel lost. It may not be the waY home but at least it's easier and more scenic than the way you want to go." No,l don't think so. When we find ourselves in a desert, it may be that we need to reassess the path that led us there to begin with, the routines and habits we so blindly foJlow, that we assume are so necessary. The desert silence and emptiness are not a punishment; they are created as the location for finally confronting the truth about our lives. In the desert, God lives and acts and interacts accord!rig to God's own rules and pace of life. The harvest the desert offers may well be a different,'more spontaneous; a freer and more conscious way of life. It may not be as stable and predictable or as important as one of our own choosing, but it may be more conducive for perceiving clearly the necessary presence of God speaking and poking through our well-~orn paths at unexpected times. The ironic thing about deserts is that they are excellent places to be found. In contrast to our often harried lives, deserts are so bleak and stark that God has no trouble finding us.o ° Waiting for Warmth: A February Poem The water's running cold as 1 stand before the mirror waiting for it to warm before I wash and shave and comb my hair. l'm waiting, too, for something else to flow, for a coldness in me to go, warmed in the light of a love that won~ run out as 1 grow,o.ld. ~Neath my winter stillness something stirred. My eyes pooled with melting fears. A quiet spring cleared my doubts away whi!e.washing "my f~ce with tears. Jerome Schroeder, O.EI~I. Cap. Martin Fraternity 843 West GarfieldBlvd. Chicago, IL 60621 Toward a Theology of Health Care Robert A. Brungs, S.J. Father Brungs is Director of the Institute for Theological Encounter with° Science and Technology; His article is based on an address delivered to a meeting of the Health Care. Province of the Franciscan Sisters of Perpetual Adoration on the occasion of a week-end of prayer and reflection. Father Brungs may be addressed through his office: ITEST: 221 N. Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 63103. There is always a temptatio.n, when speaking about the role of a specific group in a larger group, to become quite general, or even utopian. I am deliberately trying to turn my back on that temptation to.day. I cannot and will not adequately address the "role of women in the Church"; the most significant reason for this incapability is that I am not a woman. What I hope to do is to set up a rough framework really a set of boundaries --that should be determinative in any discussion of the role of anyone in the Chin:oh. There is an easy language now in vogue. We glibly speak about our "role in the Church": the role of men, the role of ttie women, the role of the priest, and so on. I would submit that the language is inexact, blurring the reality and therefore dangerous to, and possibly even subversive of, our service to God. We do not "play" or "fulfill" roles in the Church; we live our lives in the Church. The Church, as we ~would all agree, is the developing kingdom of God~ It is that seed 'of the final, blessed kingdom which as St. Mark tells us "is sprouting andgrowing;how he [we] does not know. Of its own accord the land produces first the shoot, then. the ear, then the full grain in the ear" (Mk. 4:27-28). "Sh6 [the Church] becomes on earth," as Vatican II states, "the initial building fbrth of that kingdom [of Christ and of God]. While she slowly grows, the Church ~trains toward the consum-mation of the kingdom and, with all her strength, hopes and .desires [italics 24 Toward a Theology of Health Care mine] to be urfited in glory with her King" (Lumen Gentium, 5). I am stiggesting here that our relationship in and withthe Church is absolute. "Our life in the Church" is precisely and only that, namely, our life, our only life. The Church. is not an association of people in which we fulfill some function but which we can leave to perform another function in some other association. It is not like a man or a woman working in a business, and aiso living apart in a family. The Church demands as she must demand--total commitment and total dedication. Once we have put our hand to the plow there is no turning back, no alternative except betrayal. "Role-language," I fear, can finaliy obscure that rock-bottom, basic commitment. Our lives as religious are intrinsically apostolic (and therefore "service") lives 'not roles. That is the promise we have made to God and to which we have bound ourselves by'vows. Having said that, let us look again at our world, our universe in Which Church is, in which we live. We live in a real universe that has (God-given) boundaries. The universe, created and redeemed by God, has a structure, and structure impliesdimit. This universe in which we live, of which we are a part, is limited, even though what we see as its limits may not be the true ones. °We live, because of Christ's life, death, and resurrection, in a new creation: "And for anyone who is in Christ,'there is a new creation; the old creation has gone, and now the new one is here. It is all God's work" (2 Co 5: 17-18). That world in which we live is created in and through the 'Word of God, and the world and all mankind finds its end and goal in the fullness of the Word-made-flesh. This first fact offaith°~bsolutely undergirds and specifies our understandir~g of ourselves/as-human as men and women since that meaning is found'in, and founded upon, the meaning of Christ's humanity. ~ ~. To understand the meaning of our lives in 'the° meaning of Christ's lifr, we must also.understand the meaning of the Christian community, of the Church: "Even if we did once know Christ in the flesh, that is not how we-know him now" (2 Co 5:16). We now know Christ~ sacramentally, in the Church which° is his body. Thus, an understanding of the Church is necessary, along with a spirituality that consciously, prayerfully, and lovingly recognizes the communal aspects ofour lives as Christians. In this community of God's people we undergo the transformation frorri self-absorption (doing our own thing for our own ends), through the cross (the painful death to our own desires), to the resurrection (the loving conformity of our wills to that of.the~Father). Our life in the Church is.the uneven, painful.but joyous response to that most fundamental commandment Christ Jesus hasgiven us: "You must therefore be perfect just as y~ur heavenly Father is perfect'~ (Mt 5:48). Jesus Christ as Lord is the goal, the 26 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1986 destiny of the entire race as an interpersonal community. The community of Christ's people of which we each are members .in union--is not merely a sociological grouping; it is the sacrament of Christ.present in the world, a prix;ileged community sacramentally, symbolically, representing, fulfilling, and manifesting the goal to. which .we are all directed, namely, the fully established kingdom of God. "But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a consecrated nation, a people set apart to sing the praises of God who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light" (1 P. 2:9). A second fact of fait.h is our membership in a chosen people, in a community set apart to serve and praise the Lord. There are many w.ays of approaching the mystery of Christ and its meaning for an understanding of.our humanity, and, of course, our sexuality. Since we live in a fallen world redeemed, indeed, but not yet t.otal!y so the best we can do as humans, and that haltingly, is to live sacramentally. The authentic human is integral; and we are not. Much of our search for a meaning of the human is a search for an integrity not given us. here. Our physical reality, as sacramental, as symbolic, points to a reality~that it does not contain. We live not in terms of fruition but in hope. We.cannot now co.reprehend the truth of the fully human; we can only live toward it. To seek a non-fallen expression.of ourselves as human in a yet-to-be-fully-redeemed world is to seek for that which will not be given. This, t~en;js a third fact: we are dis-integral, still seeking our fulfillment as human in the full and final kingdom of God. But, looking ahead.to that final kingdom, there are some things we can say. The~ Scriptures offer us no systematic definition of the human, nor.do they intend to do.so. Full unders~tanding of our humanness is to. be had only in that final kingdom which is still shrouded in mystery. But we can say some things even though their full meaning eludes us. ,.They ca~ at least serve as. guides~. For e.xample, in the fulfilled kingdom of God we shall be integrally human. We don't understand what human integrality is, but we do know some things it is not. We shall not be beasts, nor shall we be angels. The Catholic doctrine is that we shall have bodies, identifiably and recogniz~ably our own and, therefore, specific. We shall remain enfleshed. The imperfections and disabilities that are ours in this world will fall away. We have no detailed knowledge of the risen body, and both Saints Paul and A.ugustine remind us of the futility of speculation in this realm. Biat we know that we are not seeking a return to some "golden age'--back to the Garden of Eden in .order more fully to understand ourselves. Adam and ¯ Eve are not the models of our final humanness. Rather, Christ and.Mary the second Adam and second Eve as integral humans, integrally related and united, contain all the meaning of our authentic humanness. Toward a Theology of Health Care Thus we have a fourth fact: our fullmeaning will be found in Christ.and Mary integrally united with each other. In summary: in any discussion of our lives in the Church, we must remember some facts of faith: (l) our understanding of ourselves is to be found in the meaning of Christ's humanity; (2) that.~neaning includes our membership in a community set apart to serve and praise God, as he wills it; (3) in the present course of salvation history, we are disintegral and seek ¯ our fulfillment elsewhere, in the final Kingdom of God; (4) our full meaning as humans--as individual specific human beings incorporated into God's community' -is to be found in Christ and Mary, in the integral unfallen r~lationship between them. At this point, you might well be asking if I have indeed avoided the tempta~tion I mentioned at the beginning. These are general statements, it is true. But I believe they are necessary to locate our discussion. What they say, essentially, is that we do not live in a vacuum. Our lives, our options, and our meaning are not unlimited. There are precise, significant limita: tions in ourattempted service of God. These limitations are summed up in that term we use so often: "The Will of God." Yet the Will of God most often remains mysterious as it must, Since it is only in fulfillment that we shall know as we are known. But the mystery is not one of total ignorance. The boundaries in which that Will is to be followed have been :revealed to us, and the four facts I have mentioned above are a part of that boundary within which.~ we are:to act. Still, we must get more specific. You are not just women; you are Consecrated women. More, you are not just consecrated women; you are members of" the Franciscan Sisters Of Perpetual Adoration, and then, laboring in their Health Care Province. These facts also act as:bouridaries within which your .service of .Christ and of his Church occur. They are not restrictions in that service; rather they are charismatic delineations of your promiseit service. They represent ybur response to the needs of the community of God's People, a response prompted by the Charism of your foundress. That spirit is a determining factor in how you face the future of your apostolic commitment to ~the growth of God's kingdom qn the Church. But as we all know a charism is given to an individual for the good of the community, for the growth and' strengthening of the Lord's Body. And within that Body ~ there is a variety of gifts but always the same Spirit; there are all sorts of services to be done, but always to the same Lord;oworking in all sorts of different w.ays in different people, it is the same God who is working in all of them. The particular way in which the Spirit is given to each person is ,28 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1986 for a good purpose. One may have th, e gift of preaching with wisdom given him by the Spirit; another may have the gift of preaching instruction given him .by the same S.pirit; and another the gift of faith given b~- the same Spirit; anot ~her again the gift of'healing, through this one Spirit; one, the power of miracles; another, prophecy; another the gift of recognizing spirits; another the gift of tongues and another the ability to iiaterpret them. All these are the work of ofie and the same Spirit, who distributes different gifts to different'people just a'~ he chooses" (1 Co 12:4-11). St. Paul goes on to discuss the Body of Christ, and says: "Now you together are Christ's body; but each of you is a different partof it'(12:27). We are each of us unique, a unique gift of Godto his Church and finally to his fulfilled kingdom. Each of, us I, you, each human .being has a unique, irreplaceable, never-to-be-repeated history with God. Each of us has been given an unrepea~ble set of talents and lack thereof, perfections and lack thereof, strengths and concomikant weaknesses. And each of us .has responded to God out of this being which is ours alone. Each.of us has lived in a perfectly irreproducible history, with relationships to other humans, to other segments of creation and to God. Each, in brief, brings to the Church and to God irreplaceable, unique gifts that cannot be substituted for by anyone else. And it is as individuals that we live in and help make up the commun, ity of God. We live in that community, bear responsibility in it, live out our love in it so deeply that our being a member of that community becomes an irreplaceable part of us and we of it. Although it may seem paradoxical, we are finally "communal individuals." As with each of us as ,individuals, so with those consecrated families of men and women within the Body of Christ. Each religious family--as with each Christian family has its own unique history in the Church, and unique gift to the Church, and unique service to the .People of God. In discussing our role in the Church, we must combine our'individual gifts and history with ~the mission that our religious family has offered to the Body of Christ and which that Body has accepted. We cannot, in brief, deny our gifts nor our history. This weekend you will be praying and Speaking fromoyour own history as a religious comm.unity and from your own gifts particularly your gifts of being women--and there I can be of no help to you. But I believe I can say some things of value with regard to your apostolic charism. And it is to a discussion of this apostolate that I intend to move now. It would be well to consider the place of the healtti care apostolate in the life of the Church. The Health Care Al~ostolate In the ninth chapter of thb Gospel according to St. Luke we. read: Toward a Theology of Health Care / 29 ~He [Jesus] called the Twelve together and ~gave them power and authority over all devils and to cure diseases, and he sent them out to proclaim the kingdom of God and to heal. ~ This gives a clear link between proclaiming the kingdom of God and healing. Thus it is very important for us to articulate and specify the reasons for the Church's institutional presence in and through you and your partners and helpers in the apostolate of health care, or bett~r, of heating and caring. If the Church is going successfully to face decisive changes in health care, and if you are goings,to continue, and deepen, your service to the Church in caring and curing, it is necessary for us to understand as fully as possibie the Catholic dimensions of health care. What are the reasons for the Church's long and deep involvement in health care an involvement that has been so eloquently witnessed by the Work of your community for a century? Is health care--or let us say it better, the care of the sick, the aged, and the weak--is this care something that the Church entered upon historically because no one else was doing it? Or is there something in the very heart of Christian reality that calls forth no, demands such activity? I believe that each one of us here wouldin.stinctively, and rightly, respond that the care of the sick, the weak, and the aged is not peripheral 'to the Gospel. Rather we instinctively know that it is a duty imposed on us by the Lord. There are at least three central reasons for the Church's emphasis on the healing.apostolate that I would like to mention today. They are not exclusive in the sense that there are no others, nor are they cleanly separable from each other. But each of them is very important to our fuller understanding of what the. health care apostolate means to the Church. And each may be helpful as you discern your role of mission in, to, and for the Church. Tl~e ;Great Commandment .First, we have the "second greatest" commandment that our Lord passed on to us: to "love our neighbors as.we love ourselves." This, as we all know, is given a very concrete specification in chapter twenty-five of St. Matthew's gospel:. "For I vbas hungry and you gave.me food; I was thirsty and you gave me drink; I was a stranger and yo.u made me welcome'; naked and you clothed me, sick and'you visited me, in prison and you'came to see me . Insofar as you did this to one of the leasLof these brothers of mine, you did it to me.~ The care of the ~sick, then, is one of the ways in which we Christians ~ / Re?iew for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1986 carry out that new and solemn command of Christ, given to .us on the night before he died to heal us all: "This is my commandment: 'love one ~nother as I have loved you." Before it is anything else, then, the care of the infirm is an immediate, direct response in charity to the love that our Lord has shown to us. In itself, this would be reason~ enough for the Church's presence in health care. But there are at least two other important aspects basic aspects, really to her involvement in this apostolic work as well. Messianic Sign The first of these'other-reasons can be found in the seventh chapte.r of St. Luke's gospel. The pertinent passage is solemn enough to permit a rather long citation: ,~The disciples of John gave him all this news [the healing of the centurion's servant and the raising from the dead of the.son of th~ widow of Nain, which Luke mentions immediately prior], and John, summoning two of his disciples.~, ~ent them to the'Lo'~-d to ask, "Are you the one who is to come, or must we wait° for someone else?" When the men ieached ~Jesus ¯ they said: "John the B~aptist has sent us to you to ask, 'Are you the one °°°who is to come or have we'to wait for someone else?" " It was just then that he cured many people of diseases and afflictions and of evil spirits, and gave the" gift ~of sight to many ~. who were blind. Then he gave the messengers their answer: "Go back and tell John what you have seen and .o heard: the blind see again, the lame walk, lepers are Cleansed, and the deaf hear, the dead are raised to life, the Good News is proclaimedto the poo.r an.d happy is the man who does not lose faith in me." In this passage Jesus is, in effect, telling John the Baptist that he (Jesus) is doing that~work which Isaiah foretold would accompany the presence of the Messiah among his~ people. Thesd acts of healing were the oOnly credentials he would give to the one Who was to go before him. The blind seeing, the lame walking, the deaf hearing, and so on, all these are witnesses to the presence of the Messiah among his people. Th'ey are the living witnesses to the da~vning of. the messianic times--the only witness John would receive. But now the Messiah arid Lord is still present to his people sacramentally in the Eucharist. And the Church~the .Bride in her health~ care apostolate, in her working to heal the sick and care for the infirm, witnesses to that eucharistic presen~ of the Lord. In her work to help~the blind see, the lame walk, the lepers be cleansed in all that-~-she says to us, and to the world, that the Messiah and Lord is still among-us. Thus, caring for: and healing the sick is a quasi-sacramental, witness .to the continuance of the messianic times inaugurated by Jesus Christ and continuing in the Church until he finally returns to us-in glory to make all Toward a Theology of Health Care things fight. The distress in the world illness~ decay, and death--which revelation tells ug is the result of sin, is slbwly being overcome in the Church, and will indeed be overcome completely in heaven. It is the task of the Church to witness to the life of him who is her life. By her existence she witnesseg to'his existence. By her involvement in the care for and healing of the ill, the oppressed, and the poor-:through your commitment and your devoted work--she says both that the Lbrd is still with us sacrfiment~illy, andthat; when he returns to us in all his glory, we shall all be healed of all our infirmities. Your work in hospitals, then, is a profound statement of our belief that the Lord is with rus still. Thus, on this score as well as that of a direct response in charity, the health care apostolate--since it witnesses to the messianic presence of Christ and to the sacramentality of the present age is central"t6 the faith, to Christian living. It is one of the mbst important .~iays we have to say that "ther6 is a new creation, the old creation has gone, and no~ the new one is here." A Church, that did not witness to the presence of the healing Christ through the~'caringfor and°curing the sick, would be radically unfaithful in her proclamation of the Good News of God's saving presence to his people. SO, let no one disturb you as to the importance, to the centrality to the faith, of your ~apostolic commitment. witness to the Last Time , Thirdly, through you who are engaged in health care as well as in other ways, the Church witnesses to her faith that.°ur bodies will rise to glory through God's powerful gift to us. The resurrection of ohr bodies is one of the great truths entrusted to the Church. It is also one of the truths that we h~,i,e great difficulty'~with, as did the Jews and Greeks. The Jewish Sadducees rejected the notion of the resurrection of the body, and the Greeks were content to.snigger and mock it. In the aftermath of St. Paul's speech in the Areopa~gus in Athens (Ac 17:30-33) we see this nonbelief: God overlooked that sort of thing [thinking that the deity looks like anything in gold, silver, or stone that has been carved and designed by a man] when men were ignorant, but now he is telling everyone everywhere that they must repent, because he has fixed a day when the whole world will be judg&d, and judged in righteousness, and he has appointed a man to be the judge. And God 'has publiciy proved this by raising this man from the dead.- At this mention of rising from the dead, some of them burst out ~ laughing; 6thers said; "We. would like to hear you talk about this again." But it is that ill, corruptible, even corrupting body in the doctor's office ¯ or in the hospital bed that will ris6 into glory! It is that body which you ~2 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb:, 1986 wash or soothe or treat that will be with God forever. There is a serious need right now for the Church to make her instincts on the meaning and significanc~e of the human .body !n our salvation and glorificatio.n more But even now, despite our ignorance, there'are still some things we can s.ay, though not as ~well as we should b~ able. We are not, for exam~ple, saved and glorified in g.eneralities, but in our particularities. We shall, be saved~and glorified as men or. women, as white, black, yellow, or red, as persons of a definite time and place and ethnic background. Our glorified bodies will not be some kind of "generalized matter." These bodies of ours mine and each of yours--are the only. way in which our spirits are manifested in created reality. Our bodies are, and will continue to be, the unique material signature 9four spirits in creation. My spirit,.y0ur spirit., cannot manifest themselves in any old body, but only in my body, on.ly in your body. The union of body ~and spirit that is I--that unique harmony that alone is I is very specific, now and in heaven. This conclusion comes directly from the Church~s dogmati~ position that we shall rise phy.sic.ally, and recognizably ourselves. The health care apostolate--the care of specific people with specific problems, real people who.hurt is one of the most impo .r?tant ways that the Church, the Bride of Christ, has of proclaiming the truth that our bodies, in all their particularities, are sig0ificant, are good, are holy, are-to be saved, are to be glorified. We shall return to this ~notion later on, but for now let us merely say that this belief in, and witness to, the resurrection of our own bodies gives a further intrinsic meaning to the (~hurch's institu-tional concern with and commitment to the healing of the body and caring for the sick. You are saying, by your touch, that this body is significant to salvation and glorification. Changes in Mi~dical Practice ~o ~ It needs no stating here that, as in many other areas of Catiaolic life, there are quite severe stresses in the Catholic health apostolate. This should corrie as no surpris~ to any of us. In fact, if these stresses were not present, we could only conclude either that our health institutions were not providing modern health care, or .that these institutions were no longer Catholic. Since neither conclusion is true, stress is inevitable. Tensions and problems arise from many sources: from profound changes in medical practice itself; from a growing shortage of nuns in ~the health care apostolate; from. a.loss of control of hospital administration and policy; from increasing governmental intervention in health care; and, finally, °from some of the same confusion that is present in the rest of Catholic life. Toward a lheology of Health Care Here, I shall consider only some of the profound changes in medical practice that have occurred in the last quarter century, Even within that relatively narrow area I intend to mention only two aspects, hardware and attitudes. We are aware of the growth of technological medicine which has placed so much new hard~vare between the patient and the doctor, and has raised the cost of medicine so much. This does not imply that technological medicine is bad or is inappropriate, merely that it is different. But the new technology does tend to separate the doctor or nurse from the patient. It tends to emphasize "cure" as "care." It can make the practice of medicine seem more .mysterious and less tiuman to the "patient.' Finally, the proliferation of hardware could (although not necessarily Will) lead the health care professional to an unconscious, indeliberate attitude ~that~the patient is some sort of a "thing" to be "repaired." The growth of this kind of attitude toward patients is but a part of the growth of a technological point of view foward human beings that is occurring in almost all phrts' of western societY. A question for health-care professionals, as for all of our society, is whether or not we are beginning to "lo0k oh human beings as some,things, to be manipulated at whim. The increase in medical technology,.of "hardware," between the patient and the health-care professional demands our attention, but it is not the greatest change inthe practice of medicine in the past twenty-five years. ,Up till now, the greatest impact of this increase in medical technology has probably been in the realm of cost. But the attitudes that can be engendered should not be overlooked. We cab leave this for~a moment so as to look ata far more'profound, and far less discussed, change in medical practice. A ,New Def'mition of Health 0 . Several years ago the ~World Health~Organization (WHO) developed ~and promulgated a new definition of health that reflects a significant shift in 'medical practice. To an extent, this shift is the source of much of the stress in the health-care apostolate. I used a relatively, neutral term--~ reflects--to describe the activity of WHO. To say that the WHO definition caused the shift would be an overstatement. Probably it would be more accurate to state that the WHO definition reflected a Change in attitude already well begun. Whatever cause and effect may be, there is a significant difference between the WHO definition and what most of us lay people think medicine (and health care) has been and ought to be. WHO defined "health" as a state of complete physical mental and social well-being. With a new definition of "health" can new definitions of .34 /.Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1986 "health care" be far behind? There are several key words in the WHO definitio~n th.at ought to be looked at carefully since ~hey imply a shift even a radical shift in our understanding of health care. The first word that needs consideration is "complete." "Complete" contains a very c.urious notion indeed. This word would have us believe, against all available evidence, that complete well-being is available in °this life. If one were so inclined, one could find in the concept of complete well-being a.denial of many Christian beliefs, from a denial of original sin to a denial of the existence of heaven. Christianity, through its teachingon original sin, warns us against expecting complete well-being on any level, in this world. It is only in heaven that total human justice and well-being will be achieved. The WHO definition, at this level, becomes a salvational statement, premised on the notion that salvation (complete healing of our ills) is achievable somehow through human knowledge. But let's not pursue this aspect any further here.Just on the pragmatic level, we all live with the knowledge that we are all going to die sometime. That knowledge in itself is incompatible with "complete well-being." Perhaps the word "complete" was thrown, into the definition just to make it look better. Still, in a world where health-care resources are at best gravely limit~ed, and where costs are. extremely high and getting higher, the notion of "complete. well-being" is nonsense. More, it is, as has been stated, anti-Christian if it is taken seriously. Health as Social Well-being Perhaps the most significant concept in the definition, insofar as it impacts on Catholic health care, is the relation of "health'~' to "social well-being." This statement reflects probably the greatest single shift in medical practice over the last thirty years, and the one of most immediate concern to the Catholic understanding of health care. It is centered in ttiose "medical" practices that have most agitated Catholics in health care;. the wide-spread dispensing of contraceptive medications and mood-altering drugs, abortion, and contraceptive sterilizations. They all find their rationale in the phrase "complete. social well-being." Most dispensation of contraceptive pills, IUD's, and so forth, have had very little.to do with the physical state of the women to whom they were given: The same, of course; can be said of abortion, contraceptive sterilization, and of course, the pervasive use of mood-expanding and mood-depressing drugs.¯ More often than not, the contraceptive and abortive technologies are resortedto for socio-economic reasons, or simply because the "patient" (or should we say "client"?.) did not~esire another baby. The use of these technologies, in by° far the largest number of cases, .does not serve the-pursuit of physical Toward a Theology of Health Care health, but rather the woman's (or her consort's) quest for convenience, the absence of distress, material possessions, and so f6rth. In a word, the health care profession has efitered--with seemingly little reflection into the "happiness-business." "This means," as George Will has stated in an article in The Washington Post, "that happiness is a medical commodity; happiness is the doctor's business. That, in turn, means almost everything is the doctor's business, so. medicine becomes a classification that excludes nothing, and hence does not classify." This change of attitiade in medical practice is of enormous implication" and concern for Catholic health care. Is the Catholic health concern to be directed exclusively to the removal of pathological barriers to good health and/or to 'the alleviation'of physical painand distress? or is it to be directed to "happiness," to "complete. social well-being"? This is~an immediate and very seribus question. And it is a questi.6n that is going to grow even more urgent in~,the future. Here, it might be well to look ahead just a bit to get a wider perspective of what these questions imply for Catholics, both individuals and institu-tions, in the rest of this century. . Future Questions There is a very good chance that the notion of"health" as "complete. social well-being': could easily become, within the next twenty-five years, the "complete. :. well-being of society. "This is not atall as farfetched as it may seem at first blush. Letus look at this carefully because it will have an almost unimaginable effect on the Church herself and, hence, on her institutional health care apostolate. We are now facing the greatest technological (as well as cultural and especially religious) challenge we human beings have ever know~f: the growing capacity technologically to master ourselves: For the first time in human history we.face a technological Challenge so powerful that it will have to be met primarily in terms of human ends; not merel3~ in t~rms of' techniques, means, and instrumentalities. These new techniques are so "powerful that any overreliance upon "bioethics," or even medical-moral theology, will be misplaced. The grave problem both for society and for the Church is one of meaning, not one of means. Among other things, any understanding of medical practice--in the light of emerging biotechnologies and bio-industries--must include the contemporary scientific-technological frame of mind out of which value judgments are most likdy to be made. The scientific-technological frame of mind is basically instrumental, since it has grown out of a mathematical worldview. That frame of mind looks on all things, human beings included, as essentially quantifiable and ~16 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1986 manipulable. Michael Zimmerman has stated it most succinctly: "For us [contemporary humanity] to be means to be re-presented, or transformed and rearranged, according to. our desires and projects." As science and technology increasingly turn. toward knowledge of and power over the human., this spirit of transformation, applied to society on a broad scale, will become increasingly worrisome. Will our society feel that these new technologies will achieve their l~otential on an ad hoc, individual level? It seems doubtful. Rather, it seems° more likely that it will be decided that the full potential of biotechnology and bio-industry .can. be achieved only through systematic application across the society, i,e., by a methodical and methodological application. A~ .systematic technological intervention into the human requires some con-trolling ideological consensus of what it means to be human. These new p0we~, to be applie~d systematically on a society-wide basis, must be tied to some dominant notion of the human. It is important to discover which systdm is likely tO be dominant. With biotechnological capability, the dominant notion of medicine will no longer be returning people to some generally accepted norm of health, but rather the creation of new norms of health. That is to say that these new capacities will be directed finally to building new human beings. Th~ principal reason for any society-wide application of biomedichl or biogenetiC technologies is more order, less randomness, in the human situatibn. In consid~ering changes in the human to be passed on to future generations in order to develop new norms of health, one is really talking about eugenics. It is necessary for us to realize that the proposals being made for the use of biotechnological power will be directly aimed at buildi~ng a eugenic, society. Any.s0ciety-wide advance in improving the human stock will inevitably demand new criteria for social (and medical) judgment. As we move from con~ei'n for the physical health of individuals to the well-being of society, br 6f the species, what criteria will be applied to the medical use of bio-scientific discovery? It is most likely one is tempted to say necessary that the criteria for the social applications of, bioscience will be,the basic canons of-experimental science0wedded to the desires and demands.of the dominant cultural system. The three canons of experimental science are simplicity, predictability and reproducibility. In the. technological mode, "simplicity" becrmeso efficiency. Any rational attempt at eugenics demands a "predictable" product. Without such a predictable result, one might as well be content with what we have now. Moreover, if these predictable results are not "reproducible,~' eugenics must remain a fleeting dream, because random- Toward a Theology of Health Care ness will not have been overcome. As the philosopher, Charles Frankel, has stated: The most astonishing question of all po~ed by the advent of biomedicine, . probably, is why adults of high intelligence and considerable education so regularly, give themselves, on slight and doubtful provocation, to unbounded plans for remaking the race . Wight unites the Puritan radicals, the Jacobins, the Bolsheviks, the Nazis, and the Maoists is the deliberate intention to create a "new man," to redo the human creature by design [italics mine] . The partisans of large-scale eugenics plannings, the Nazis aside, have usually .been people of notable humanitarian sentiments. They seem not to hear themselves. It is that other music that they hear, the music that says that there shall be nothing random in the world, nothing independent, nothing moved by its own vitality, nothing out of keeping with some idea: even our own children must not be our progeny but our creation. This "nothing random," "nothing ind.ependent" is the hallmark of experimental science. In the laboratory, the. system under investigation must be as tightly closed as possible. No random variations can be tolerated if the results are to be,reproducible. If the variables cannot be accounted for and controlled, no valid experimentation is possible. The systematic social application of biotechnology based on the canons of experimental science demands the closing ~of the social system and demands that no random, uncontrolled variations take place. In brief, the social system will have to become :the laboratory. Laboratory science is necessarily based on quantification and requires complgte freedom to transform and rearrange the 15asic structure of matter. If such science is to be applied to human beings in any kind 0f a collective fashion, it will demand the unrestricted control of social life. Judging from proposals now being made by many social planners not .to be confused with sociologists these technologies will be used in such a systematic fashion. We,can already see an example of this in the "culling process" in the widespread practice of abortion for :'fetal indications" to remove the burden of the care of such persons from society. The widespread socially orientate°d application of biotechnology~ will not be directed toward individual therapy, as medicine has been in the past. At best such application can be said to be "therapeutic" for society, for the "good of the species," or for some other abstraction. The notion of "nothing random in the world, nothing independent, nothing moved by its own vitality, nothing out of keeping with some idea" should alert us immediately to the source of the dominant social ideal being presented to us as the basis of the social use of these novel technologies. We have here~ ~11 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1986 in fact, a Gnostic salvation scheme that is essentially anti-Christian: "Gnostic" is taken from the Greek word for knowledge and refers to all those heresies that would provide salvation through human knowledge. Here we have anothel in a long list of salvation schemes oriented toward that final state When justice, .achieved solely through human effort, ~ will pervade the eiirth in historical time. It postulates the temporal perfectibility of the human and of creation. Biotechnology ra.ises questions that have to do with ends and purposes,~that depend on a deep understanding of the human. !n recent "advances," the question has always been set by the "innovator." The question has always been posed in favor, of the specific short term goal of the innovator; usually in a sentimental form. Take the three great reproductive ~technologies of the last twenty-five years: contra-ceptibn,~ abortion, and °"test-tube babies." In none of the issues has the question been posed beyohd short-term individual effects. Thes~ questions (with the answer almost~given) have been: "How can you think of denying people the techhology available to regulate and control the number of children they will have?" ',How can you deny a woman the ~right to those technologies.that will guarantee her control over her own body?" "How can you deny a~marfied couple, deeply in love,.a biological child of their own?" There is a thread common to each of these questions. They ignore history. They take for granted that individual acks of people ("between consenting adults, and so forth") are self-contained and have no relevance either for society or history. Nonetheless, the broadei" questions, must posed. The. meaning of the technology involved in things like contraception, abortion, and in vitro fertilization is critical in any approach to Catholic health care. Across the biotechnological spectrum we have moved from "sex without babies" (contraception and abortion) to "babies without sex" (in vitro fertilization and cloning.) ~ ~ The separation of sexual union from procreation (through contracep-tion and abortion) was, and is, necessary to build a social attitude willing to consider a~ human being as a product of technological achievement, as we now have with the successful birth of a "test-tube baby.," We 6annot allow ourselves to look at these new technologie.s only in themselves, without connection either to What has come before and what is most likely coming in the future. To treat them only in-themselves is to forego qiving in history,~ As has been stated several times, the essential question facing us in' the advance of biological science, technology, and industry (along with its implication for rriedicine) is ~-what it means to be human. We must face squarely whatever costs to human freedom and dignity that might be Toward a Theology of Health Care involved in these new technologies. In vitro fertilization, for instance, is not only some benign new technique that' will be used only to help"~ some Unfortunate, infertile couple have its own biological child. It can provide such an opportunity, but it is also the linchpin in the construction of a fully orchestrated eugenics program. We would be naive, even blind, if we ignore the eugenic probabilities thus opened up. o : Our society and this is especially needed in the Catholic approach to medicine--still has the opportunity to decide what description of "the human" it wishes to call its own. A society based on:laboratory models and techniques is not inevitable unless'we choose either the description of the human as essentially malleable, tO be transformed; to be rearranged, to be disposed of at Will, or else choose not to. think about these things at all; There is already sufficient momentum built into biotechnological advance to arouse serious anxiety unless we clearly and cleanly face ~in issue whose outcome is so momentous to our society and especially to the Church. To do nothing in:this matter-is a powerful statement in favor of'this momentum. And the apostolate of health care will be the first to feel this challenge. '~ ~ What Now? :When St., Paul was dragged before the Sanhedrin in Jerusalem, he exclaimed: "It is for our hope in the resurrection of the dead that° I am on trial'~ (Ac 23:6). And it is for our belief in the resurrection of the body that we are .on trial today. And nowhere does this trial have a greater impact than on those religious whose life is dedicated to the care and cure of the sick and the infirm. As was mentioned earlier, one of the faith-bases of our health care apostolate as an institutional involvement of the Church is the witness to ther meaning, the significance and dignity, 6f the human body in our salvation and glorification. We are not spirits using a body that we will some day leave behind, nor bodies merely moved by a spirit. We are the harmonious union of body and spirit. Neither "aspect of that union can be enhanced at the expense of the' other; neither can be mutilated 'for the sake of the other. Much of our .medical. (and social) attitudes toward the body are at least implicitly dualistic. We speak and act as though we were "persons" (somehow really disembodied) using a body. Often enough we seem to consider our personality as purely spiritual. This simply is not true! Our personalit3~ is spiritual-material. We are not,: nor will we ever angels. We cannot treat our bodies merely at whim without inflicting severe damage on ourselves. Many (if not all) of the reasons given for the nontherapeutic practices in medicin are couched in terms expressive of the 40 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1986 dualism of "using my body" or having "control over my body.", This is true, by the way, even of the majority report of the Papal Birth-Control Commission prigr to the issuance of Humanae ~Vitae. Despite its overwhelming concentration on the body, the modern attitude, even the medical attitude, is basically spiritualistic. This is seen even in the use of "person" in. liberation rhetoric. In essence, it is a call for "neuterization.'. There are no "persons"~ in this sense in which the word is so often used. There are rather on.ly womenoand men~ Persons are by nature specifically bodies, as men or women, as black,° yellow, red, or white, with a specific ethnic backgrgund, and so on. We are not,going to be saved and glorified as a "human~_nature.'' We are going to be saved as ourselves and this includes our accidents as well as our substance. The Catholic Premise It is n_ecessary for us as Catholics to develop a deeper,, more explicit u~nderstaiading of our bodies. This burden of enriching the Church falls on cache.of us, but most urgently on theologians (the~ theoreticians) and on those health-care professionals (the practitioners) working together in a communal defense of the Church's very profound instinct about the holiness and sacramentality of our bodied existence. It is in the area of ah explicit doctrinal understanding of that.sacredness and sacramentality that our approach to, such~questions as technologies of contraception, abortion, contraceptive sterilization and laboratory conception must be made. Here especially, male and female, practitioner and theoretician, we must all work together in a fruitful, enlightening, enriching defense of the sacramentality and holiness of bodied life. Together,-we must recognize~ defend, and enrich the Church's instinct that we worship God only as the bodied creatures he made us. Continually the Church i~ accused of "physicalism" in her understanding of sexual morality .--~-~ and, let's face it squarely, most of the complaints raised about the Church's, position on many medical practices are concerned with reproductive technologies of one kind or another. ~VCe hear very few, if any, complaints about the Church's position on the use of prosthetic devices artificial limbs,:pacemakers, or (sometime in the future) the implantation of microprocessing chips in the brain to enhance our calculational ability. No, the .real arena, of struggle is reproductive medicine. And here the Church is.accused--both by doctors and moral theologians, or ethicists as they like.to be called now of physicalism because it defends "the natural.,," But what is really involved in this "defense of the natural" is not a blind anti-technological stance, nor is it prudery, nor is it physicalism, nor.is it some kind of old-fashioned nostalgia. Rather, it is the Church's realization Toward a Theology of Health Care / 41 that, male and female, we are in the image of God, and that our sexuality is absolutely tied to our worship of God. The Church's stance is not anti-technology, but it is pro-worship. This has many :more doctrinal ramifica-tions than we can go into here, but it at least means that we cannot technologically interrupt or short-circuit the woi'shipful communication of life-giving potentiality. This is not some old-fashioned "physicalist" view, as some moralists would have us believe. The Church's view is rather hopeful proclamation that we spiritual-material creatures can escape the narrow-ness and absurdity that comes from the consideration of our bodies as "secularized," without sacramental, life-giving, value. Thus, both on the level of dedication to health care and as women, you have the burden and opportunity of enriching the Church's understanding of our bodied life. This is one very significant aspect of your lives as women in the Church. Your vocation places you at the point of conflict on two whole sets of issues. The first is the true exaltation of the feminine both in the Church and in society. The second is health care: The world is telling us that the prime function of the body--and especially of a woman's body---is pleasure. It is saying equivalently that it is an elegant toy. But as Christian men and women, we must say that it is far more than that. Apart from anything else it is a vehicle of the sacramental imparting of the Holy Spirit. Not even God can affect us without some, bgdily medium--(though perhaps 1 had better be careful about saying what God cannot do!) Mar~ ~s Model In terms of your lives in the Church, I would venture only one suggestion, andl I will cast that in a paraphrase of St. Paul's statement to the Philippians: "Let that heart be in you that w.as in Mary." I believe this is tremendously important. The place of Mary in salvation history has not been as fully developed as it can be; It has not been sufficiently pondered. She has, on the contrary, been treated in a very shallow, even if chivalric fashion--"One just can't say enough nice things about Mary." So much of the writing (and praising) of Mary could .almost be summed up in the words of the song "Oh, look at her; ain't she pretty?" But the Mary I'm suggesting to you is one with a terrible, vocation; to stand at the foot of the cross and accept that horror and pain into,her life, There was nothing sweet or sentimental.about it. She had to accept that her Son, part of her,~ was dying. In a sense, she had to ratify in her life the fulfillment of Christ's life on earth (death and resurrection) as she had ratified his humanity (in the Incarnation). Let us look to Mary. As the Fathers of Vatican II have stated (Lumen Gentium, nn. 55-56): 42 Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1986 She stands out among the poor and humble of the Lord, who confidently await and receive salvation from him. With her, the exalted Daughter of Sio.n, and after a long expectation of the promise, the times were at length fulfilled and.'the new.dispe~nsation established. All this occurred when the Son of. God, took a human nature from her, that he might in th~ mysteries of his flesh free man from sin~ ~ ° The Father of mercies willed that the consent of the predestined mother sliould precede the Incarnation, so that just as a woman contributed to death, so also a woman should contribute tO life. This contrast" w~ verified in.outstanding fashion by the mother of Jesus. She gave to the world that very life which renews all things, and she was enriched by God with gifts befitting such a role. The unity inherent in the "two-in-one flesh" theme (see Gn 2:14 and Ep 5) is the unity of Christ and-his mother at the moment of the Incarnation the unity by which the Holy Trinity is truly present in history. That unity is the creation of the Church at Pentecost in which the Holy Spirit is truly given. The Church is constituted, as Mary is constituted, by the~presence of the Spirit which is the gift of Christ, a creative Spirit. That unity is constituted also in the worship of the Church in. which the Church comes to be by the presence of her Risen Lord in that sacrifice by which he saves. That statement may seem on a first.hearing to be somewhat vague and abstract, so let'stry to make it clearer. Mary's place in'God's saving history was to be asked to accept God's New Covenant with his people. She said "Yes." And that New Covenant that God offered was the Son of God-made-flesh.' Mary's accepta~nce was not merely passive. Her receptivity was creative; the.humanity of Christ was her gift--remember the Council's words "The Son of God tOok a human nature from her. "' At that point Mary and Christ enter into a relationship of the masculine and the feminine that is integral (both are sinless), total, and which will endure forever. It is that relationship (again of masculine and feminine), that "two-in-one-flesh" unity of Christ and Mary, which provides the meaning of the fully redeemed creation. Please note several things here:°we are not putting Maryand Christ on the same level, either as though Mary were divine or Christ"only human; we are not talking about a relationship that we Understand ° it is a union that is integral, i.e., fully redeemed. We don't understaiad this, but we can make some statements. Mary is the ideal and exemplar (see Lumen Gentium, n. 63) of the Church now and of the whole creation ultimately perfected. Mary is the true and full splendor of the created order. She stands in a relationship with Christ in terms of her femininity. Because she is the mother of God, Toward a Theology of Health Care Theotokos, she is understood as the model and archetype of the Church. If creation in Christ (creation fully reestablished and conformed to the Father's will) is the meaning of creation, then Mary is the one complete creature ever created. Her constitution as immaculate expresses the truth not only of the feminine but also of creation and of the Church, a °truth summed up in the term "Mother of God." Or again as Vatican II says (Lumen Gentium, n. 68): In the bodily and spiritual glory which she possesses in heaven, the Mother of jesus contihues in this present world as the image and first flowering of the Church as she is to be perfected in the world to come. Likewise, Mary shines forth on earth, until the day the Lord shall come (see 2 P 3:10), as a sign of sure hope for the pilgrim People of God. Finally, .let us note one more thing. We usualJy associate Mary's virginity with God himself being the Father of Christ; that is to say, the fact of no human male intervention in the birth of Christ accounts for her virginity. But that is merely a factual explanation that does. not even approach the depths of this mystery. It is of enormous importance for us to note that Mary's virginity is fruitful in a child. This is something that we less-than-integral, sinful, creatures cannot yet understand. But if Mary is indeed the exemplar and splendor of creation--and as the mother of the Body of Christ in all its aspects, she is--then somehow fruitful virginity will be the final human posture in the perfected creation. Somehow or other, as fulfilled in Mary, the splendor, the fullness of creation is feminine. Please remember that what I have been talking about is terribly mysterious, and none of us knows any detail, nor, indeed the full reality. In a sense, I have been. discussing poetry rather than a well worked out theology. But that theology has to come; the truth of the feminine depends on it. And it has to come from the prayerful, feminindy devoted lives of women in the Church. Conclusion Well, then, where does all this leave us? Particularly, where does it leave women in the Church who have promised their lives to Christ in the mission of healing? It leaves them precisely where most of us would rather not be, namely, at the intersection of those two lines of severe conflict that I mentioned earlier. They stand with, and in some way as an extension of, Mary, at the foot of the cross. This was her sublime call, to accept within her life first that child whose Incarnation in her was the will of the Father. Then she had to accept within herself the death of that one whose life she had spent her life serving. 44 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1986 I do not believe that it is old-fashioned or wrong-headed to state that women's love is especially creative. It is the life of the woman to accept, and having accepted, to nurture new life. We are waiting for that continuing new life in the Church. All that I have offered here is another invitation to the Cross of the Lord Jesus Christ. All I can say about this is that there is a good precedent for the offer. To fulfill their lives as women in the Church committed to the service and healing of the ill, the aged, the infirm, religious women in the health-care profession witness to the radical importance and significance of womanhood and the healing love of God. On both accounts they will be reviled by the contemporary world. God offered the First Covenant and the Last Covehant to women: to Eve who refused to nurture it and so brought no new life to the world, and to Mary who did accept it and brought forth and nurtured that new life who is the Christ. Adam's ratification of Eve's refusal brought death; Christ's ratification, of Mary's ac~ceptance brought life. (Note that both the male and the female are involved in both covenantaloffers). The cross! I remember vividly one of the.episodes that Fr. Teilhard de Chardin wrote about in one of his books. He was writing of his life as a chaplain in the French army at Verdun in 1916. On one afternoon there was a more than usually brutal battle for a small hill called Froideterre. Shortly afterward in a moment of quiet, Teilhard reflected in his diary on the battle of Froideterre. He mentioned the total absurdity in which all these young men died. Then he thought to himself that someday the French government would erect a monument on that hill and wondered what that monument ought to be. It occurred to him that, in view of the horror and absurdity of that battle, only a cross could memorialize that battlefield; only in the Cross could such absurdity be redeemed. In our own lives, too, the absurdity can be redeemed only in the cross. Only there shall we find any meaning for ourselves. The Lord God never promised us anything in this world save a share in his Cross. I hope I have intimated that there are enormous riches embedded in the Church's demand that we consider our bodied lives as worshipful and worhipping--that we take ourselves, spiritual-material creatures, as seriously as God. Our bodies are not toys; they are temples of the Spirit of the living God. There are no answers presented in these statements. The only real answer we can give is our lived response to God's offers to us. It is here, and only here, although it requires much faith and effort, that we can base the health care apostolate and your womanly lives in the mission of healing this sadly abused world and its people. Unoriginal Sin and the Grace of the Ordinary Rachel Callahan, C.S. C. In the issue of March/April, 1985, Sister Callahan contributed her article, "The Grace of the Ordinary." Now she takes up the theme again. Sister may still be addressed at the C.S.C. Consultation Center; P.O. Box 1521; Adelphi, Maryland 20783. Sin and grace. There is a paradox in how these two separate, not only distinct but apparently contradictory realities are so enmeshed in the human experience. This article is written out of a profound sense of grati-tude that everything, including our sinfulness, can be "grace" because of the transforming touch of a God who calls himself Love. When I was a child growing up in a small New England town which still had its ethnic parishes, one of my Irish aunts always used to go to the Italian parish for confession. I asked her why she did this. She laughed and told me that no matter what she said to the old Italian pastor he always listened and said in his still broken English: "Now for you penance, once the beads--and go and sin some more." The man was legendary in town as a down-to-earth, holy person who reached out to everyone. While his send-off from the sacrament might at first sight :seem a little unorthodox, it was profoundly real. My aunt never thought it was broken English but only good human sense. When we stop to reflect on the human experience, sometimes it's hard to separate sin and grace. My most gracious actions which genuinely further the kingdom are tainted by motives of selfishness or pride. My most secret or frightening sin carries seeds of grace. Human motivation is so complex that to try to sort out categorically all the sin from the grace can sometimes lead to an inward-turning self-absorption so that energy for 45 46 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1986 the-kingdom gets lost. This is in no way meant to deny the reality and efficacy of discernment of spirits but only to suggest that in the complexity of human experience we try not to be too judgmental even witli ourselves. The Lord reminds us that the wheat and the chaff grow together till the harvest. Becoming a grim reaper of the weeds will also damage the wheat. In a splendid little book, What Are They Saying About the Grace of Christ?, Brian McDermott, S.J., offers this observation: we need to acknowledge in our quest for social justice and systemic change that to eradicate sin completely from the social structures would in all probability destroy the structure with whatever limited capacity it might contain for good. This doesn't suggest any less dedicated commitment to social justice but simply the reality that in human experience sin and grace are often embedded together. In order to look at this a little more closely let's examine the notions of grace and sin as developmental phenomena. McDermott looks at grace through five vantage points which might be considered developmental stages, certainly not static events. The first moment is grace as accep-tancemi. e, that bed rock, deliciously wonderful good news that God loves us unconditionally, just as we are, no strings attached. This quite over-whelming good news is from our beginning but often our awareness of this is gradual. The deepening, ongoing realization of this reality is the lifelong gracious project that our faithful God has for us. ¯ The second moment of grace is conversion. When Jesus came to his public ministry, the people that drew his special attention were the sick, the sinners, and the Pharisees. Wonderful news he ate with sinners, with the outcast! McDermott points out two foci of conversion. The conversion that we ordinarily think about is Jesus' offer of gracious liberation to the sinner to be converted from his/her sin and the guilt which weighs down, demeans, focuses in on self in condemnation. McDermott highlights another kind of invitation to conversion,-one quite startling. Jesus offered to the Pharisees the invitation to be converted from their goodness. The Pharisees are portrayed as preoccupied with their own goodness, claiming it as their own, and profoundly self-absorbed in their own righteousness. It is a somewhat jarring notion to consider being converted from our goodness. After all, isn't that precisely what we are called to become: more and more "perfect'--(only Lk 6:36 says "compassionate"). But the point is that our focus needs to be on the good God. We are invited to let God be God, i.e., Love, and not be terribly pre-occupied with our spiritual bank accounts. God's grace can never be overdrawn! Both of the movements, the conversion from sin and the equally important conversion from good-ness move us away from self-absorption towards un-self-focused celebration. Unoriginal Sin / 47 God ,saves us and sets us free from both our sin and our goodness. The next three moments of grace ar6 closely linked--discipleship, community, and service. Being learner, student of Jesus, listening, hearing in n~w ways is never finished. As the gracious God works with me I become a "we" person, ministering to and being nourished by the most ordinary kinds of human interactions so that finally the good news of how much I/we are loved gets fleshed out in service. What is amazing is how patient God is in all of this and how impatient we can be. We often try to "run" in his service before we let ourselves "be held" by his acceptance. Early experience of call and vocation often appeals to the desire to serve at a time in human development when we dream great dreams of doing great deeds. And years later, as we live into our limits and learn more and more that all is grace, we learn that God's love is what counts more than our own generosity. Now how does sin fit into this picture. Do we dare think even meta-phorically about sin as grace? First of all, I am using the word "sin" in the biblical sense. One common biblical notion of sin means essentially "miss-ing the mark." Jesus knows how proficient we are at missing the mark. We are by very reason of our human-ness "missers-of-the-mark." Each of us carries not only the generic woundedness of being sons and daughters of Eve and Adam but we ~lso carry what I observe as a psychologist: our own "personalized original sin"--those deficits or traumas in our back-ground that predispose each of us towards brokenness and missing the mark. Let's look at a few examples. Early deficits in parenting, not because of parental malice but because of parental limitations, .or circumstances such as death, illness, or poverty can leave a person bruised or perpetually "hungry." Ordinary needs for nurturance and attention are experienced more intensely, leaving a person feeling very vulnerable or very entitled. Unconscious wishes to make up for deprivation in this area can lead to difficulties in relationship. Either clinging, "take care of me" behaviors or an "I don't need anybody" stance can create interpersonal~problems. And until a person understands and works through this he or she is somewhat captive to these unconscious pulls. Another example of this personalized original sin is genetic makeup. The longer that I work with individuals in therapy the more respectful I become of genetic realities which impact personal!ty as well as hair color. Some persons are more predisposed towards depression, which is a psy-chobiological reality, not simply an emotional state. Studies show a famil-ial pattern in this which suggests both nature and nurture at work. We know that how we think can influence how we feel, and that persons suffering from depression often have to do some work to correct crooked 411 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1986 thinking, But we also know that this phenomenon is a chemical reality and often needs chemical intervention, much in the same vein that a person with diabetes or malfunctioning thyroid needs medication to balance the system. Anyone who has ever struggled with the day in, day out miasma of a real depression knows that it is not only very painful but also that, despite the fact that many people carry on their lives reasonably effectively, when depressed, one often feels himself or herself to be no good, doing nothing right. Since sometimes we make the mistake of confusing feelings with reality--e.g., "I feel like a bad person, therefore I am a bad person"--these negative feelings about self produce guilt and hopelessness, and it's easy to magnify one's sense of sinfulness in ways that are paralytic. Fortunately combinations of cognitive therapy, exercises and medication, if needed, are very effective in reversing this condition which has a genetic

Issue 43.2 of the Review for Religious, March/April 1984. ; ;,!~ " A ,Call to Collegiality in the Service of Religious Christocentric Celibacy Volume 43 Number 2 March/April, 1984 The Vocation Director's Task of Evaluation REvtit.'w It:or REI.IGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X). published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at Room 428:3601 Lindell Blvd.: St. Louis. MO 63108. REVIEW ~:OR REI.IGIOtJS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus. St. Louis. MO. © 1984 by REVIEW FOR REI.IGIOUS. Composed. printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis. MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription U.S.A. $10.00 a year: $19.00 for two years. Other countries: add $2.00 per year (postage)¯ For subscription orders or change of address, write R~:vlEw yon RF.I.IC.tOUS: P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor ¯ Review Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor March/April, 1984 Volume 43 Number 2 Manuscripts, hooks for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to R~:wr:w for REL~GIOOS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; Jesuit Community; St. Joseph's University; City Avenue at 54th St.; Philadelphia, PA 19131. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from R~:wEw ro~ RELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. L ~uis, MO 63108. "Out of print' issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms Internal. real; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, M! 48106. The Pastoral Service of Bishops to Religious John R. Quinn In August of 1983, Archbishop Quinn, chairman of the pontifical commission on religious life in the United Slates, addressed the Leadership Conference of Religious Women sharing his reflec-tions on religious life. In November, he shared with his fellow bishops his reflections on their pastoral office as this regards religious.This is the text of that address. Lst April, on the feast of the Lord's Resurrection, the Holy Father addressed a letter to each of us. In that letter he enunciated a new and funda-mental concept that gives meaning to everything else in his letter, and which explains the task we bishops are to accomplish: I now turn to you, the bishops of the United Slates, asking you during this Holy Year to render special pastoral service to the religious of your dioceses and your country.~ Before I deal with the meaning of this special pastoral service, I would like to say something about our role as bishops, which is the foundation of this service. The Office of Bishop The Vatican Council and postc0nciliar documents of the magisterium have elaborated in some detail the doctrine of episcopal collegiality. And the Holy Father has emphasized this concept in speaking to us. Christus Dominus puts it this way: "By divine institution and by virtue of their apostolic office, all of [the bishops] are jointly responsible for the Church.2 And in, his address to the bishops of the United States on September 19, the pope, speaking of this special pastoral service, said: I am deeply grateful to our Lord Jesus Christ that this initiative., is seen for what it is, 161 162/ Review for Religious, March-April, 1984 an application--an extremely important application--of the principle of collegiality, a principle so forcefully enunciated by the Second Vatican Council. In proposing this initiative to your pastoral zeal, my first intention has been to affirm collegial responsibil-ity for the state of religious life, which is intimately linked to the mystery of the Church and to the mystery of the episcopate. He then adds: This pastoral endeavor is of such importance that it could be fulfilled only by a full collegial commitment on the part of the bishops of the United States. This special pastoral service, then, is primarily a manifestation of episcopal collegiality: the Successor of Peter, head of the episcopal college, is calling us, his brothers, to this service of religious, which is an aspect of our own office as bishops. Speaking~of the episcopal office, the council teaches: The Spirit dwelled in the Church and in the hearts of the faithful as in a temple. In them he prays and bears witness to the fact that they are adopted sons and daughters. The Spirit guides the Church into the fullness of truth and gives her unity of fellowship and service. He furnishes and directs her with various gifts, both hierarchical and charis-matic, and adorns her with the fruits of his graceP And because the charism and gifts of the Spirit are not dispersed in some random manner, but in a certain ordered relationship, the council states: There is only one Spirit who, according to his own richness and the needs of the ministries, distributes his different gifts for the welfare of the Church. Among these gifts stands out the grace given to the apostles. To their authority the Spirit himself subjected even those who were endowed with charisms.4 Thus, according to Catholic faith, while the apostolic office is indeed a gift or charism of the Spirit, it is not simply one among many co-equal charisms. It is for this reason that the drcument Mutuae Relationes affirms: Bishops, in union with the Roman Pontiff, receive from Christ the head the duty of discerning gifts and competencies, of coordinating multiple energies and of guiding the entire people in living in the world as a sign and instrument of salvation. They therefore are also entrusted with the duty of earing for religious charisms, all the more so because the very indivisibility of their pastoral mihistry makes them responsible for perfecting the entire flock, in this way, by fostering religious life and protecting it in conformity with its own definite characteristics, bishops fulfill a real pastoral duty.~ Perfector totius gr~gis, the bishop, by reason of his office, has pastoral responsibility for the religious in his diocese. This deeper understanding of our role as bishops, however, raises certain questions for us and for religious. One of these is the relationship between our pastoral responsibility and the internal autonomy of religious. In this connec-tion the document on the relationship between bishops and religious affirms: Institutes, then, have an internal organization all their own which has its proper field of competency and a right to autonomy even though in the Church this autonomy can never become independence.6 Likewise, Canon 586 of the new Code of Canon Law states: The Service of Bishops to Religious A true autonomy of life, especially of governance, is recognized for each institute . Local ordinaries have the responsibility of preserving and safeguarding this autonomy. I think it is true to say that in the past at least we have judged that, because most institutes were of pontifical fight, they were the exclusive concern of the Holy See. There was good will, but a large measure of distancing from reli-gious communities in the belief that religious communities were not part of our responsibility. Because of this, both religious and bishops came to assume that there were only two possible relationships: either control by the bishop, or detached good will. It is precisely the adequacy of this dichotomy which the mandate of the Holy Father has called into question. Autonomy or control do not exhaust the possible relationships between religious and the local bishop. There is a third possibility which the pope sees inherent in our episcopal office--beyond con-trol, beyond detachment--it is called "special pastoral service." And so nowhere in his letter or in the document Essential Elements is the canonical autonomy of religious denied or mitigated. Bishops are not consti-tuted major superiors of the religious congregations in their dioceses. In fact Essential Elements deals at some length with ex officio religious authority in religious institutes and conferred on them by the Church. The pope is not abrogating this authority, and he insists that he is only calling the bishops to something which is "in the precise area of episcopal competence."7 Because all of this touches on the fundamental issue of ecclesiology, it seems to me appropriate here to say something about what are called "differ-ing ecclesiologies." I think we all recognize that from the New Testament through the Fathers and the ensuing history of theology there has been a variety of legitimate ecclesiologies. Lumen Gentium itself, especially in Chap-ter l, witnesses to this variety. At the same time, it is important to recognize with equal clarity that all authentically Catholic ecclesiologies are rooted in and are expressions of a single more basic reality--the living Church--which is both trinitarian and incarnational, and whose objective reality always involves the compenetration of the visible and the invisible, the human and the divine, the charismatic and the hierarchical. This legitimate variety becomes defective, however, when the institutional component of the Church is considered separable from the spiritual, or when the apostolic-hierarchical element is considered separable from the chaffs-matic. One can sin against the integrity of the ecclesial mystery by affirming l the hierarchical and rejecting the charismatic, or, equally, by affirming tbel charistmatic and rejecting the hierarchical-apostolic office in the Church. When in the Creed we profess our faith in the one, holy, catholic and apostolic Church, we declare our belief in the total reality of the Church, at once charismatic and hierarchical. We may indeed speak of various models of the Church. But in the final analysis, models are an intellectual construct articulating in limited human terms an objective ecclesial reality, apostolic in structure and doctrine, charis- "1154 /Review for Religious, March-April, 1984 matic and spiritual, which lives and moves through history and which, in all models, is gathered into a single incarnate mystery by the Holy Spirit. Thus, by reason of the apostolic structure of the Church, bishops have a responsibility for religious life in their churches. As a matter of fact, every religious institute comes into existence through the action of the charismatic and hierarchical factors in the Church. The Holy Spirit gives a certain gift to a foundress or founder and only through canonical recognition of that gift does the religious institute as such come into being in the Church. On the other hand, it is this very canonical rec-ognition which guarantees the continuing integrity of the charism of each reli-gious institute, including its "true autonomy of life, especially of governance." Special Pastoral Service In light of this, just what does this special pastoral service mean? Just what is the Holy Father asking of us? In his letter to us, the Holy Father lists six ways we are to carry out this pastoral service: I. Through the preaching of the Gospel and the celebration of the Eucha-rist with them, the bishop is to give a special invitation to religious to walk arm in arm with him "in living fully the mystery of the redemption in union with the whole Church and according to the special charism of their religious life." 2. Catechesis to the entire Church on the Church's teaching on conse-crated life. 3. Special invitation to religious to share with the pastors and the faithful in the Holy Year of Redemption through the path of conversion and penance. 4. Fraternal admonition of individuals or groups who, for whatever reason, have departed from the indispensable norms of religious life or who have adopted positions at variance with the Church's teaching. 5. Appointment of the pontifical delegate and the commission of bishops and the committee of religious. 6. Analysis of the reasons for "the marked decline in the numbers of young people seeking to enter religious life." In his address, which he directed to all the bishops of the United States, on September 19, the pope further elaborated what he is asking of us by this special pastoral service. I will not repeat here the content of that important address, but I would note that the Holy Father describes our task in words such as: call, dialogue, explain, proclaim, remind, help, speak to religious; emphasize the feminine role of women religious, manifest our love to the religious, confirm them in their charism, encourage the religious. In short, our pastoral service is cast in terms of a dialogue of salvation. This is a service which is eminently positive as it is eminently pastoral It cannot be accomplished without our willingness to devote an important The Service of Bishops to Religious amount of quality time to personal contacts with our religious. It cannot be fulfilled as the Holy Father envisions it merely by letters or even exclusively by massive gatherings of our religious for a one-time event. For this reason, it cannot be accomplished in many larger dioceses in the space of a few months. It will take time. And it is to be accomplished in the context of prayer and faith. Thus in his letter the Holy Father urges us to ¯ celebrate the Eucharist and to preach the word of God to our religious. The Meaning of Dialogue And so, what does dialogue mean? As you know, Paul VI conceived the whole of the Church in terms of dialogue. In his first encyclical letter, Ecclesiam Suam, he spoke of his desire "to impress upon the internal relation-ships of the Church the character of a dialogue between members of a body, whose constitutive principle is charity."s Noting that this dialogue is not a denial of the apostolic-hierarchical element of the Church nor a denial of the need for obedience in the Church, he went on to say: "It is our ardent desire that this conversation., should be full of faith~ of charity, of good works, should be intimate and familiar."9 Affirming that "dialogue is a method of accomplishing the apostolic mis-sion . . . an. example of the art of spiritual communication," Pope Paul outlined the characteristics of dialogue in the Church: 1. Clearness: "To review every angle of our language to guarantee that it be understandable, acceptable and well-chosen." 2. Meekness: "The dialogue is not proud, it is not bitter, it is not offensive. Its authority is intrinsic to the truth it explains, to the charity it communicates, to the example it proposes; it is not a command, it is not an imposition. It is peaceful; it avoids violent methods; it is patient; it is generous." 3. Trust: "Trust, not only in the power of one's words, but also in an attitude of welcoming the trust of the interlocutor. Trust promotes confidence and friendship. It binds hearts in mutual adherence to the good, which excludes all self-seeking." 4. Prudence: "Pedagogical. prudence, which esteems highly the psycho-logical and moral circumstances of the other . strives to learn the sensitivi-ties of the hearer and requires that we adapt ourselves and the manner of our presentation in a reasonable way lest we be displeasing and incomprehensible to the other. In the dialogue conducted in this manner, the union of truth and charity, of understanding and love is achieved."~0 Having noted these characteristics which should mark dialogue in the Church, I would like to note two other points of some importance which Paul VI underlines. First he says: "The dialectic of this exercise of thought and patience will make us discover elements of truth also in the opinions of others, it will force us to express our teaching with great fairness."1~ Then he comes to a point of the greatest wisdom, noting: 166 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1984 Before speaking it is necessary to listen, not only to the other's voice, but to the heart. The other must first be understood; and where he merits it, agreed with. In the very act of trying to make ourselves pastors, fathers and teachers., we must make ourselves their brothers. The spirit of dialogue is friendship and, even more, is service. All this we must remember and strive to put into practice according to the example and com-mandment that Christ left us.~2 And so we are to enter upon this dialogue not from some exalted place. Yes, we are to do it in the profound confidence of the sacred, apostolic office we have received from Christ through the Church. But we are also to accom-plish it with apostolic humility and gentleness, recognizing the religious as our partners in the dialogue. Pope John Paul touches on this in his September 19th address: In the very moment in which we bishops recognize our own need for conversion, the Lord asks us to go out to others--humble and repentant, yet courageous and without fear--to communicate with our brothers and sisters. Christ wants to appeal through us, to invite and call his people, especially his religious, to conversion. The document on the relationship of bishops and religious states the same idea: All pastors, mindful of the apostolic admonition never to be a "dictator over any group that is put in [their] charge, but [to] be an example that the whole flock follow~ ( I Pt 5:3) will rightly be at the same time leaders and members; truly fathers, but also brothers; teachers of the faith, but especially fellow disciples of Christ; those indeed responsible for the perfection of the faithful, but also true witnesses of their [own] personal sanctification.13 Dialogue, then, is a manifestation of a fundamental quality of the Church: organic ecclesial communion and mutuality. Our pastoral service, then, is not one in which we give but do not receive, speak but do not listen, teach but do not learn. For this reason Lumen Gentium states: Christ continually distributes in his body, that is, in the Church, gifts of ministries through which, by his own power, we serve each other unto salvation so that, carrying out the truth in love, we may through all things grow up into him who is our head.j4 Essential Elements Our guide in this pastoral service to our religious is the document Essential Elements. I would now like to offer some orientation for interpreting it. Having listened to what I have just said about dialogue, some may expe-rience the concern that there is no clear or binding teaching about religious life, that dialogue means everything is an open question. It is, then, important to recall what Paul VI says in developing his thought on dialogue: The danger remains. The apostle's art is a risky one. The desire to come together as brothers must not lead to a watering down or subtracting from the truth . [lt] will be for the wise, attentive government of the Church to determine, from time to time, the limits and forms and paths to be followed in maintaining a living and fruitful dialogue.~ First of all, then, it is evident that Essential Elements is not a statement of something new. It does not intend to state some new direction or a new policy. The Service of Bishops to Religious / 167 Thus the final sentence of the introduction states: In the present text addressed to institutes dedicated to apostolic works, this sacred con-gregation confines itself to a clarification and restatement of these essential elements.~6 Essential Elements is a compilation from conciliar and other magisterial documents and from the new Code of Canon Law. In order to interpret the meaning of any point in this document, therefore, the source document must be consulted both in its text and context. Essential Elements, therefore, cannot be correctly understood only by a superficial reading or without reference to the source documents which are clearly indicated in the text. Second, the binding force of Essential Elements is derived from two things: from the magisterial and canonical sources from which it derives, but also and importantly from the fact that this compilation has been mandated by the Holy Father and has been sent by him to the bishops following upon his approval of the document. It is also important to keep in mind that this document cannot be applied blindly and without regard for the long-standing principles governing the interpretation of magisterial and canonical documents. Religious life is simply not a univocal reality in the Church. There are many differences, for example, between the religious life of the Daughters of Charity and Maryknoll, between Dominicans and Jesuits. Hence in understanding and applying this document the law of analogy must be operative. Essential Elements itself embodies this sense of analogy when, in treating of community, it states: The style .of community life itself will relate to the form of apostolate for which the members have responsibility and to the culture and society in which this responsibility is accepted. The form of apostolate may well decide the size and location of a community, its particular needs, its standards of living.~7 The document Essential Elements is, then, a binding document, but it cannot be interpreted without recourse to the source documents and without application of the accepted principles of interpretation and without recogni-tion of the principle of analogy. The Need for Discernment Our pastoral service exists in the context of the "dialogue of salvation" and is guided by the document Essential Elements. This pastoral service, then, involves discernment. Every Christian, of course, has the obligation of trying to discern the action of God and the action of the spirit of evil. Our disi:ernment as heirs of the apostolic office in the Church, however, is beyond that personal, individual level. We bishops are charged by our very office to discern in the Church what is and what is not in keeping with the Gospel as it has been handed on in the Church. This discernment is twofold: to hold to what is good, and to reject what is evil. But this is no easy task. And so the document on the relationship of bishops and religious states: 168 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1984 Every authentic charism implies a certain element of genuine originality and of special initiative for the spiritual life of the Church. In'its surroundings it may appear trouble-some and may even cause difficulties since it is not always and immediately easy to recognize it as coming from the Spirit.~s Nor is true discernment a unilateral function. What is authentic discern-ment, after all, but an effort to recognize the true action and voice of the Holy Spirit? No real discernment is possible, then, without listening to the voice of the Spirit, who is superior both to bishops and religious, yet who works in both. Discernment includes careful weighing of and listening to the lived experience of religious, and especially the lived experience of the past twenty years during which the great body of religious have made heroic efforts to respond to the call of the council for reform and renewal.19 In keeping with this function of ecclesial discernment is the apostolic duty of correction or admonition. This is referred to only once in all the documents we have received. Yet we must honestly confront the challenge. In his letter to us the Holy Father puts it this way: In those cases, too, where individuals or groups, for whatever reason, have departed from the indispensable norms of religious life or have even, to the scandal of the faithful, adopted ~ositions at variance with the Church's teaching, ! ask you my brother bishops, sustained by hope in the power of Christ's grace and performing an act of authentic pastoral service, to proclaim once again the Church's universal call to conver-sion, spiritual renewal and holiness.20 We are not asked to condemn. We are asked to invite those relatively few among the larger number of faithful religious who may be living in conflict with the Church's norms or teaching, to walk together with us anew the journey of conversion, spiritual renewal and holiness of which we all stand in need. If bishops are called to show the humility of Christ in the exercise of their office, religious too are called to the same humility in recognizing possible mistakes and internal contradictions. We are called to a special pastoral service involving dialogue and ecclesial discernment. One final aspect of our mandate remains to be considered: the numerical decline of religious life. Of this the Holy Father says: In asking the commission to be of assistance to you in your pastoral ministry and responsibility, I know that it will be very sensitive to the marked decline in recent years in the numbers of young people seeking to enter religious life, particularly in the case of institutes of apostolic life. This decline in numbers is a matter of grave concern to me--a concern which I know that you and the religious also share.2~ One obvious reason for this concern is, of course, that the decline in num-bers of religious places in jeopardy the many indispensable apostolic works through which they have shaped and sustained the Church in the United States. But a far more important reason for concern about the decline in num-bers of those entering religious life is the prospect of losing the public witness of their consecrated life among us. It is their unique, public, ecclesial witness of The Service of Bishops to Religious the poverty, obedience and chastity of Christ which is their first and highest contribution to the Church. If we were not concerned about this decline it would be a statement that to us the religious life is but a trivial or marginal factor in the Church's life. We must, then, with utmost seriousness examine the reasons for this decline. But this will take time and professional assistance. Conclusion As we take up this great work of service to religious life, we do so in the awareness of our communion in faith and charity with the Successor of Peter. It is he who has called us to this service, and he accompanies us with his concern and his prayers. We do so also with a deep-felt sense of gratitude to and love for the religious in our dioceses and in the awareness that we are bishops "for them" but disciples "with them." Thus we have every confidence that rich fruit will attend our work since we believe that the Holy Spirit is at work in this enterprise precisely because it is an action of the Church. To us it may at times seem overwhelming. But we rely not on human strength or cleverness. We rely on Christ, who is ever with us and who strengthens our weakness by his power. NOTES ~Letter of Pope John Paul I1 to the Bishops of the United States, April 3, 1983, no. 3 2Christus Dominus, 7. 3Lumen Gentium, 4. 41bid., 7. ~Mutuae Relationes, 9c. qbid., 13c. 7Pope John Paul I1, Address to American Bishops, September 19, 1983. 8paul V1, Ecclesiam Suam, 14. 91bid., 113. tOlbid., 81. ttlbid., 83. ~21bid., 87. ~3Mutuae Relationes, 9d. ~4Lumen Gentium, 7. ~Ecclesiam Suam, 88. ~rEssential Elements, 4. ~qbid., 21. ~S Mutuae Relationes, 12. ~gSee Letter, 4; Essential Elements, 4. ~° Letter of Pope John Paul 3. , ~qbid., 4. A Call to Collegiality in the Service of Religious Pope John Paul H In his remarks to the bishops reproduced in the previous article, Archbishop Quinn termed this statement of Pope John Paul to American bishops to be "that important address." We have judged it useful, then, even though they have been widely published in newspapers, to present the remarks of the pope anew in their entirety for the convenience of our readers. Dear brothers in our Lord Jesus Christ: I have recently spoken to other groups of American bishops about two important aspects of the great mystery of the Church: the episcopate and the priesthood. I would now like to reflect with you on yet another special gift of God to his Church, and this gift is the religious life. So much is religious life a part of the Church, so intimately does it touch her constitution and her holiness, that it must form an integral part of the pastoral solicitude of the pope and the bishops, who have a unique responsibil-ity for the entire life of the Church, and are meant to be signs of her holiness. In speaking about religious life we are speaking about an ecclesial reality which concerns the bishops by reason of their very office. At every moment, but especially during the Holy Year of the Redemption, the Church offers the call to conversion to all her members, particularly to religious. This call to conversion goes out to religious so that they may acquire the full benefits of the redemption and be ever more faithful witnesses of that redemption; so that they may be ever more authentic channels of the redemp-tion for the people of God through their own spiritual vitality which, in the communion of saints, is a supernaturally effective contact with the redemp-tion; and so that through conversion they may live more faithfully the unity of the Church, which is itself the effect of the redemption and a participation in it. For this reason I wrote to all the bishops asking for their special pastoral 170 A Call to Collegiality / 171 service to the religious of the United States in the context of the Holy Year of the Redemption. In my letter I stated, "It is my earnest hope that the Holy Year of the Redemption will truly be for religious life a year of fruitful renewal in Christ's love. If all the faithful have a right--as they do--to the treasures of grace that a call to renewal in love offers, then religious have a special title to that right~" ~ The whole thrust of my initiative was formulated as an invitation, a call to be extended to religious, to open wide the doors of their hearts to the Redeemer. In this regard I wrote, "I ask you to invite all religious throughout your land, in my name and in your own name as bishops, in the name of the Church and in the name of Jesus, to seize this opportunity of the Holy Year to walk in newness of life, in solidarity with all pastors and faithful, along the path necessary for us all--the way of penance and conversion." This pastoral endeavor is of such importance that it could be fulfilled only by a full collegial commitment on the part of all the bishops of the United States. At that time I promised you my fraternal and prayerful support. I also named a commission headed by Archbishop John Quinn whose task it would be to assist you in the exercise of collegiality and to facilitate your pastoral work of "helping the religious of your country whose institutes are engaged in apostolic works to live their ecclesial vocation to the full." I am deeply grateful to the commission for the generosity and zeal with which they are striving to formulate a suitable program that will effectively assist the body of bishops who have the main responsibility in this matter. As guidelines for both the commission and yourselves in this important work, I approved a summary of the salient points of the Church's teaching on religious life prepared by the Sacred Congregation for Religious and Secular Institutes. Since then I have also had the opportunity, as I had hoped, to speak personally with so many bishops about religious life, hearing their viewpoints and learning about their own devoted pastoral service to religious. I am deeply grateful to our Lord Jesus Christ that this initiative has been so zealously undertaken by the commission and by individual bishops, and that it is seen for what it is, an application--an extremely important application--of the principle of collegiality, ~a principle so forcefully enunciated by the Second Vatican Council. In proposing this initiative to your pastoral zeal, my first intention has been to affirm collegial responsibility for the state of religious life, which is intimately linked to the mystery of the Church and to the mystery of the episcopate. Religious need the support and assistance of the bishops in their lives of consecrated witness to the holiness of Christ and to the primacy of God. Your collegial collaboration is not only a means of giving general support to religious and of assisting them in solving particular problems that inevitably touch their lives, it also signifies an authentic functioning of collegiality, an "authentic and vital relationship between the episcopate and religious. The collegial service that you as bishops are asked to render to religious in the precise area of episcopal competence is, above all, to proclaim a call to 172 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1984 holiness, a call to renewal and a call to penance and conversion. In other words, in the name of the Redeemer to extend the call of the Holy -Year, asking for the greatest possible response of love. In my letter to you I men-tioned that "this call is linked in a particular way with the life and mission of religious . It affects them in a special way; it makes special demands on their lives, reminding them how much they are loved by Christ and his Church." This initiative of pastoral care for religious is one aspect of the great dialogue of salvation, which begins with an awareness of God's love, made visible in the incarnation, and leads to the fullness of salvation effected by this love. The whole dialogue of salvation is directed to the full acceptance, through metanoia, of the person of Jesus Christ. In the case of religious, as in the case of the faithful, the process is the same: In the very moment in which we bishops recognize our own need for conversion, the Lord asks us to go out to others--humble and repentant, yet courageous and without fear--to com-municate with our brothers and sisters. Christ wants to appeal through us, to invite and call his people, especially his religious, to conversion. The aim of all dialogue is conversion of heart. It is not my intention on this occasion to speak about all the essential elements of the Church's teaching on religious life, as described in my letter and in the document of the Sacred Congregation. I am convinced that you will continue to reflect on all of these points, which are taken from authentic sources, so as to be able to explain and promote them all. At this time I would like to emphasize only a few points intimately linked to the theme of conver-sion and holiness of life in the context of religious life and of the pastoral responsibility of the bishops who are "entrusted with the duty of caring for religious charisms, all the more so because the very indivisibility of their pastoral ministry makes them responsible for perfecting the entire flock" (Mutuae Relationes, 9,c). Bishops must proclaim the nature of religious life as teachers of the faith and representatives of the Church that guarantees the charism of religious. This proclamation is both an instruction for the people of God and an encouragement for the religious. In selecting certain aspects of religious life for special reflection, the notion of prayer stands out immediately. The new Code of Canon Law states that the' first and principal duty of all religious is the contemplation of things divine and constant union with God in prayer (see Canon 663, § 1). Th~ question of religious being united with God in prayer precedes the question of what. activity they will perform. The idea of prayer is again underlined as it touches the apostolate. The code insists that the apostolate of all religious consists primarily in the witness of their consecrated life, which they are bound to foster through prayer and penance (see Canon 637). All of this tells us something very profound about religious life. It speaks to us about the value of living for God alone, of witnessing to his kingdom and of. being consecrated to Jesus Christ. Through the vows of chastity, poverty and obedience, religious consecrate themselves to God, personally ratifying and confirming all the commitments of their baptism. But even more important ig the divine action, the fact that God consecrates them to the glory of his Son. And he does this through the mediation of his Church, acting in the power of his Spirit, All of this emphasizes the esteem that we bishops must have for religious and for the immense contribution that they have made to the Church in the United States. And yet this contribution is more a contribution of what they are than of what they have done and are doing. In speaking of religious we must say that their greatest dignity consists in this, that they are persons individually called by God and consecrated by God through the mediation of his Church. The value of their activity is great, but the value of their being religious is greater still. Hence one of the bishop's contributions is to remind religious of their dignity and to proclaim their identity before the People of God. This enables the laity to understand more clearly the mystery of the Church, to which the religious offer so much. The ecclesial dimension is absolutely essential for a proper understanding of religious life. Religious are who they are because the Church mediates their consecration and guarantees their charism to be religious. Although their primary apostolate is to witness, their other apostolates involve a multiplicity of works and activities performed for the Church and coordinated by the bishops (see Canon 680). Since the value of the consecration of religious and the supernatural effi-cacy of their apostolates depend on their being in union with the Church--the entirety of which has been entrusted to the bishops' pastoral care for governing (see Ac 20:28}--it follows that bishops perform a great service to religious by helping them to maintain and deepen their union with the Church, and by assisting them to harmonize all their activities with the life of the Church. The fruitful living of the religious charism presupposes the faithful acceptance of the Church's magisterium, which in fact is an acceptance of the very reality and identity of the episcopal college united with the pope. The college of bishops, as the successor of the apostolic college, continues to enjoy the guidance of the Holy Spirit; the words of Jesus apply still today: "He who hears you hears me, and he who rejects you rejects me, and he who rejects me rejects him who sent me" (Lk I l:16). Venerable and dear brothers, in the dialogue of salvation I would ask you to speak to religious about their ecclesial identity and to explain to the whole People of God how religious are who they are only because the Church is what she is in her sacramental reality. And I would ask you to emphasize the special feminine role of women religious: in the Church, and personifying the Church as the spouse of Christ they are called to live for Christ, faithfully, exclusively, and permanently, in the consciousness of being able to make visible the spousal aspect of the Church's love for Christ. And may everyone, realize that the greatest misunderstanding of the 174 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1984 charism of religious, indeed the greatest offense to their dignity and their persons, would come from those who might try to situate their life or mission outside its ecclesial context. Religious are betrayed by anyone who would attempt to have them embrace teaching against the magisterium of the Church who conceived them by her love and gave them birth in her liberating truth. The acceptance of the reality of the Church by religious and their vital union-- through her and in her--with Christ isan essential condition for the vitality of their prayer, the effectiveness of their service to the poor, the validity of their social witness, the well-being of their community relationships, the measure of the success of their renewal and the guarantee of the authenticity of their poverty and simplicity of life. And only in total union with the Church does their chastity become the full and acceptable gift which will satisfy the craving of their heartsto give themselves to Christ and to receive from him, and to be fruitful in his love. Dear brothers, through our collegial action, especially in the Holy Year of the Redemption, let us manifest our pastoral love in a special way to the religious of the United States. And let us lead the way in the sacrifice and love demanded by conversion. As bishops we must help ensure for this generation and for those to come that the magnificent contribution made by the religious of the United States to the mission of the Church will continue. But, above all, what is at stake in the collegial service of our pastoral love is to confirm the religious of America in their charism to be religious and to be ever more the expression of Christ's holiness in the mystery of the Church. May they live for Christ, as Mary lived for Christ, in renunciation, sacrifice and co-redemptive love, filling up "what is lacking in the sufferings of Christ for his body, the Church" (Col 1:24). The first and principle duty that springs from their being religious will always be "the contemplation of things divine and constant union with Christian prayer" (Canon 663, § 1). Finally, for the benefit of all, let us recall those memorable words of Paul VI that apply to every age of the Church's life: "Do not forget, moreover, the witness of history: faithfulness to prayer or its abandonment is the test of the vitality or decadence of the religious life" (Evangelica Testificatio, 42). All of this is part of the ministry whereby we as bishops live the mystery of the Church, encouraging the religious, whom we love and for whom we live and are willing to die, to strive to become ever more "the very holiness of God" (2 Co 5:21). The Call to the Renewal of Religious Life John R. Sheets, S.J. Father Sheets teaches theology at Creighton University, and has written often on religious life both in these pages and elsewhere. His last article in Review for Religious appeared in the issue of November/December, 1981. Father Sheets may be addressed at the Jesuit Community of Creighton University~ California at 24th Street; Omaha, NE 69178. On June 22, 1983, the text entitled "Essential Elements in Church Teaching on Religious Life," prepared by the Sacred Congregation for Religious and Secular Institutes, was released. Accompanying the text was a letter of Pope John Paul II to the American bishops. In this letter the pope recalled the purpose of the Holy Year of the Redemption as a time devoted to special efforts for the renewal of the whole Church. In this context, he asked that religious, in particular the religious of the United States, review the experience of changes in their religious life over the past twenty years in order to consoli-date the positive developments and to eliminate what was not authentic. As a means to facilitate this process of discernment and renewal, the pope set up a commission of bishops, chaired.by Archbishop John Quinn of San Francisco. Nearly seven months separate the time I am writing from the time of that intervention. The events that have taken place over these months have a significance for the future of religious life in this country (one could in fact say, for the whole Church in the United States) that cannot be overestimated. Before I speak about the significance, it is necessary to review these events so as to get a sense of the process that is at work. The pope's intervention, as well as the text of Essential Elements, directed as they were to religious in the United States, caught them by surprise. It was unexpected, even though some said they sensed it was "in the air." Naturally the action prompted questions as to what lay behind it all. In particular, they. 175 176 / Review for Religious, March-ApriL 1984 asked, why were American religious singled out? The immediate and spon-taneous public reactions were almost universally negative. The negative reactions of some came from their perception that the inter-vention took place without warning and that the text was prepared without proper consultation, ignoring the years of work on religious life that had been done on this side of the ocean. Many found this unilateral way of proceeding inappropriate at a time when the importance of communication is so highly valued. Other reactions stemmed from differences which were more substantial. These touched on understandings that concern the nature of religious life itself, whether and how it differs from lay life, and on the nature of authority within the Church. The contrast of "this-side-of-the-ocean" views was stressed, in contradistinction from "Roman" views, on the nature of law, of authority, of static and dynamic mind-sets. Where these objections were fueled with feminist positions the tone tookon even deeper notes of anger, resentmerit, suspicion and defiance. The press in the United States in general reported the pope's intervention in a critical way, finding it "typical" of his continued practice of "picking on the Church in America." The initial public reaction did not augur well for the plan the pope had in miiad. Ifanything, the situation now seems worse than it was before because it surfa(ed prominently many latent differences (and some not so latent) between American religious and Rome, as well as among religious themselves. The fact that what could have been a catastrophe took a more positive turn in the subsequent weeks and months is due mainly to the tact, wisdom and courage of._A__rchbishop Quinn and the members of his commission, together with their advisors, as well as the openness to dialogue that was demonstrated by rbpre-sentatives of the various religious groups. I would now like to give a brief overview of the work of the commission, then comment on the main thrust of the document Essential Elements, with particular reference to some of the problems facing religious life in the United States today. The Work of the Commission The exact purpose of the pope's intervention, as well as the nature of the commission's task, were not clear at the beginning, either to the members of the commission or to religious leaders. However, as the dialogue began and continued over the subsequent months, a sense of direction emerged. The first step was to meet with the two groups who officially represent religious in the United States.~ It is probably an understatement to say that the tone of both meetings was strained. In August, Archbishop Quinn met with the Leadership Conference of Women Religious. In his talk to them, he spoke of the vision which the Church has of religious life, the sense of the paschal mystery in the history of religious life here over the past twenty years, the appeal that the pope was making to the bishops, and the charge given to the commission. The Call to Renewal [ 177 After his talk the archbishop listened to the reactions of the assembly. They can be summarized under three headings. In the first place, many were highly critical of the document on essentials, finding it static rather than dynamic, monastic rather than apostolic, accenting vows rather than mission, embodying a "dubious ecclesiology," and being out of touch with the uniqueness of the American experience. Others had problems with the intervention itself. What was behind it? Why were Americans singled out? Why was there no consultation? Was it in reality a devious way to get at religious women? How did this affect groups which were international in membership? Finally there were reactions coming out of feminist issues, perceiving the whole affair as another instance of the male Church attempting to control women, a further evidence of paternalism, a continuation of the injustice of asking for service without granting full admission into ministry. In spite of the strained nature of the meeting, it concluded with a loud round of applause as a sign of gratitude and appreciation to Archbishop Quinn. Another member of the bishops' commission, Archbishop Thomas Kelly, O.P., met with the Conference of Major Superiors of Men, which also met in August. The problems voiced there had to do mainly with the manner in which the whole affair took place, its one-sided nature, without previous consulta-tion, seemingly ignoring all of the work that had gone into these various questions, alreadY. There was questioning concerning the purpose and the worthwhileness of what was being asked. In October, Archbishop Kelly met with the assembly of Consortium Per-fectae Caritatis. Their response was overwhelmingly positive. There was a basic hope that steps could be taken to renew religious life and unite the various organizations. At the same time it was feared that the result might be an intensification of division. They felt that the easy categorizing of the differ-ences that divide religious into conservative and liberal overlook the root of division, which comes from radically different notions of religious life, the vows, authority, law, the Church, and in. particular the attitude to the Holy See. These discordant views are found even within one and the same congrega-tion. The lack of unity within carries over then into recruitment of new voca-tions, as well .as into the formation of young religious, compounding the existing divisions, as well as effectively discouraging new vocations. Perhaps the most important step in this seres of stages to implement the mandate given to the commission took place on November 14, when Arch-bishop Quinn gave a report to the bishops at their annual conference. Since his address is reproduced elsewhere in this issue in its entirety, I shall limit myself to its main ideas. Archbishop Quinn brought out that the bishops are not called to something extraordinary. Rather it was a particular concretization of their pastoral responsibility, rooted in their episcopal office as set forth in Vatican II, and as encouraged and fostered in other Vatican documents. He 1711 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1984 stressed the importance of what the Holy Father was asking from the bishops, not only for religious, but for the whole Church in the United Staies. Archbishop Quinn commented on Essential Elements, stressing both its binding force and also the fact that it does not exemp~t those who would be guided by it from interpretation and application in a prudential way according to particular circumstances. The bishops are called to exercise their pastoral responsibility in a spirit of dialogue. This involves listening. It also involves the apostolic duty of correction and admonition when necessary. The particular contribution of the bishops by virtue of their apostolic office is to prbvide the discernment for what is consonant with the life of the Church, and what is not. He called attention to the fact that the main concern is not numerical decline in the membership of religious communities, nor the fact that many worthwhile apostolic works will be lost. "But a far more important reason for concern about the decline in numbers of those entering religious life is the prospect of losing the public witness of the poverty, obedience and chastity of Christ which is their first and highest contribution to the Church." In order to remove the carrying out of the mandate from the level of exhortation to concrete steps, in the course of that same meeting of bishops a packet of material was given out by Archbishop Kelly to the bishops, with suggestions for ways to set this pastoral responsibility into action. A "time-line" was set. The bishops were asked to make a report to the pontifical commission by May 15, .1984. Attention was called also to the letter of Archbishop Mario Schierano, reminding all that February 2, 1984, was to be a Jubilee Day for Religious. On that day there will be a solemn eucharistic liturgy in St. Peter's Basilica, at which the religious who are present will renew their vows. Reviewing, then, the events of the past seven months, we see that one of the most significant-events in the contemporary Church is beginning to take shape. It could turn out to be the most important event for the Church in the United States in our time. What are the prospects for success? The Pontifical Commission has demonstrated an unusual combination of qualities. It has a genuine sense for what the pope is asking. Though there are pressures to tone down the call for genuine renewal, members of the commission have shown theological depth, an openness that is non-threatening, and have transmitted to their brother bishops the importance of the task which the Holy Father is asking of them. Up to the present most of the action has taken place among the religious who represent the various organizations; so far it has not reached down to touch the rank and file. But even on this level, after the initial edginess there has been a turn to a more positive approach. The Pope Calls In his talk to the Consortium Perfectae Caritatis, Archbishop Kelly told of an experience that took place when some of the American bishops made their The Call to Renewal / 179 ad limina visit. Someone, referring to the papal intervention, asked: "What is this all about?" The pope reflected quietly for a few moments, then said: "During the Holy Year every Christian is called to conversion. The bishops of the United States are to call religious to conversion." He paused, then added: "Let me refine this a bit. You are being called to mutual conversion. When two people are mutually converted they turn to one another. There is great pos-sibility here." There is no hidden agenda here. Pope John Paul is not asking for more studies or workshops. He is not asking simply for renewal, nor is he asking simply that the bishops do their job. He is asking that renewal be brought about through the experience of corporateness that is of the very nature of the Church. "There is great possibility here." The intervention really should not come as a surprise. His pontificate has exhibited two main characteristics: an effort to carry out the directives of Vatican II, and a determination to exhort, in season and out, those who have leadership roles in the Church, bishops, priests, religious, to live up to the fullness of their vocation. The words of St. Paul can easily be applied to the pope: "There is the responsibility that weighs on me every day, my anxious concern for the congregations" (2 Co I 1:28). "Even if I did wound you by the ¯ ,tter I sent, I do not now regret it. ! may have been sorry for it when I saw that the letter had caused you pain, even if only for a time; but now I am happy, not that your feelings were wounded but that the wound led to a change of heart" (2 Co 7:8,9). What the pope is looking for, then, is a change of heart. He describes as the occasion for his letter the call to renewal which has gone out to all the faithful during this Holy Year. "In this extraordinary Holy Year which has just begun, the whole Church is seeking to live more intensely the mystery of redemption. She is seeking to respond more faithfully to the immense love of Jesus Christ the Redeemer of the world" (Letter to the Bishops, April, 1983). This is the call to the faithful. Within that universal call, the pope has issued the special call to American bishops and religious to join in the common effort for renewal. On September 5, 1983, at Castelgandolfo the pope spoke to twentyh-three American bishops who were making their ad limina visit. He called the bishops once again to a consciousness of their role: as individuals, to be a living sign of Jesus Christ, and collegially to lead the Church as servant pastors. He returned to the theme of conversion. ~We'bishops experience the need for conversion-- deep conversion, sustained conversion, renewed conversion . And you. must call your people to conversion, especially in this Holy Year of the Redemption . I pointed out its special relevance for religious in the letter thatoI wrote to all the bishops of the United States at Easter." Reviewing these events over the past seven monihs, there is one inescapa-ble conclusion: it is all of one piece. This inherent unity comes from the insight rooted in faith that through all of God's activity in time there is only one call; it is the call to conversion. While it is a call directed to everyone in the Church, 180 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1984 those who have leadership roles have special responsibility to open themselves to this call. These are the bishops, the priests, the religious. In answering this call, we are to help one another, through the various gifts God has given to different members. In particular, the pope is asking bishops and religious to collaborate in this mutual call to conversion. Essential Elements in Church Teaching on Religious Life The call to renewal is situated, as we have seen, within the context of the Holy Year. This call is brought into sharper focus through two other docu-ments: the pope's letter of April 3, 1983, and the text called "Essential Elements in Church Teaching on Religious Life" of May 31, 1983. Both of these were made public on June 22. The call to renewal, however, at this particular point in our history takes the special form of discernment. Tremendous changes have taken place in religious life over the past twenty years. The purpose of Essential Elements is to provide the authentic norms for discerning what is genuine in those changes from what is spurious. There can be no renewal without truth. The document sets down underlying characteristics that by their very nature characterize true religious life. Not everything in the document, however, has the same intrinsic weight. Since it is a compilation of earlier papal and conciliar statements, one has to go to the original sources to determine the relative value of each part. There are, therefore, all sorts of shadings in the very term essentials, ranging from what is intrinsically constitutive of religious life to what is highly appropriate. The total range of meaning from intrinsic necessity to what is highly appropriate i~ thematized in one word, consecration. It is the theme that unites Essential Elements with the pope's letter in which he calls religious to renewal in this Holy Year when we recall the mystery of redemption. "By their very vocation, religious are intimately linked to the redemption. In their consecra-tion to Jesus Christ they are a sign of the redemption that he accomplished." Because of its centrality, then I would like to comment on the scriptural and theological implications of consecration. The word always describes a hallowing that takes place when some person or thing is enveloped by the power of the Holy Spirit to give the person or thing a totally new meaning. The primary meaning of consecration is the change in meaning that takes place in the very heart of reality itself when the unredeemed world is tranformed into the New Creation through Christ's redemptive death. The world may look the same before and after. But the very heart of reality has been changed. The paschal mystery through the power of the Spirit has enveloped the whole of reality to change it in its very roots. In the language of Paul, it is a "metamorphosis," a change of structure. "For anyone who is in Christ, there is a new creation; the old creation has gone, and now the new one is here" (2 Co 4:17). In the first sense, then, consecration means the hallowed transformation at The Call to Renewal/ 11tl the heart of reality itself. "Through him God chose to reconcile the whole universe to himself, making peace through the shedding of his blood upon the cross, to reconcile all things whether on earth or in heaven, through him alone" (Col 1:20). Here we are on the level of ontology, of reality itself, as it undergoes a transformation, when it is enveloped by the New Being of the resurrected Christ through the power of the Holy Spirit. This is the most radical sense of consecration. Reality which has been desecrated through original and personal sin has undergone a radical consecration. The transformation at the heart of reality finds its epiphany in the Church in a visible, tangible way, as the communion of those who have been conse-crated. For this reason, St. Paul addresses members of the Church as "saints." But the Church is not only the manifestation of this mystery. It is the embodi-ment in time and space, in human flesh, of the paschal mystery itself, with its power to continue the mission of consecration. It is not only a hallowed community, but hallowing. There is a second level of consecration, presupposing and flowing from the first. The radical change in the very heart of reality which gives us a share in the very consecration of Christ himself demands a change in the way we live our lives. Strictly speaking Christian conduct is not based on moral or ethical laws but on the implications that flow from the transformation that has taken place in the very being of Christians by the fact of their consecration. Paul speaks of the new way of life as based on their new mind. "Think of God's mercy, my brothers, and worship him, I beg you, in a way that is worthy of thinking beings, by offering your living bodies as a holy sacrifice, truly pleasing to God. Do not model yourselves on the behavior of the world around you, but let your behavior change, molded by your new mind" (Rm 12:1,2). Finally the term consecration is used in Scripture to describe a special kind of vocation. It involves a special call by God to an individual to share in his redemptive design, and a free acceptance on the part of the one called, which can be given only in faith. It involves the recasting of ihe designs one might have for his own life in order to shape his life according to the designs of God. Jeremiah describes his own call as an act of consecration: "The word of Yahweh was addressed to me, saying, 'Before I formed you in the womb I knew you; before you came to birth 1 consecrated you; I have appointed you as a prophet to the nations" (Jr 1:4,5). Paul alludes to this passage when he describes his own call. "Then God, who had specially chosen me while I was still in my mother's womb, called me through his grace and chose to reveal his Son in me, so that I might preach the Good News about him to the pagans" (Ga 1:15,16). Jesus uses the language of consecration to describe his oven role in the Father's redemptive design. He describes himself as the one whom "the Father has consecrated and sent into the world" (Jn 10:36). He prays that his disciples share this consecration through their own role in the redemptive design: "Con-secrate them in the truth. As you sent me into the world, I have sent them into "11~2 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1984 the world, and for their sake 1 consecrate myself, so that they too may be consecrated in truth" (Jn 17:17-!9). Though the full act of consecration will take place at Pentecost, Christ, while still in the redemptive "moment" of his hour, performs the act of consecration through the gift of the Spirit. "He breathed on them and said: 'Receive the Holy Spirit. For those whose sins you forgive, they are ]'orgiven; for those whose sins you retain, they are retained" (Jn 20:22,23). In this last ~ense of the word, consecration exhibits the following character-istics. There is the overall sense of the mysterious counsel God has, his design for salvation. He deliberately chooses some to share in the effective reaiization of his design. In turn, when they respond with openness to God's will for them, their lives take on a meaning and orientation that relativizes their personal desires in order that they°be completely dedicated to their role in God's redemptive design. In our contemporary language, their lives become sym-bolic, that is, weighted with a meaning and power that comes from the Spirit. The word consecration, then, has three interrelated meanings. It refers to the radical reorientation of reality as it undergoes a tranformation through the redemptive death and resurrection of Christ. The community of those who through baptism and faith have been transformed is the Church. In the second place, this consecration at the root of their being overflows into a new mode of behavior, as "becomes the saints." Thirdly, the term also describes what is meant by devotion in its original meaning, that is, a life completely vowed to carry out God's purpose. Christian tradition, has used the term consecration in this last sense.to speak of a life dedicated to God through the evangelical counsels of poverty, chastity, and obedience. This is the sense that the word has in the document Essential Elements. In order to show the centrality of the theme of consecration in the docu-ment it would be necessary to give a summary of the whole text, which is not possible in this short paper, nor does it fit my purpose. "Consecration is the basis of religious life" (n. 5). Everything else in the document flows from that one sentence. Each way of speaking of consecration in some way points to the New Creation brought into being by Christ's redemptive act. No aspect can be taken independently from the others. The mode of consecration which we call religious life presupposes and lives within the transformed, hallowed commu-nity, which is the Church. If it is taken outside the context of the hallowed community, it becomes desacralized, and takes on a secularistic meaning. The consecrated life of the counsels is not of human origin, like other societies. It is called forth through the Spirit to be the symbol, or the epiphany, of a life lived in a redemptive mode, devoted, or vowed, to this redemptive mode. The redemptive mode envelopes the whole of one's being, but it crystal-lizes under the form of the three vows of poverty, chastity, obedience. In each of these, the paradox of the redemptive mystery is symbolized, a paradox of presence and absence, emptiness and fullness, death and resurrection, limita- The Call to Renewal / 1113 tions that are freeing; a paradox of loss of self and finding of oneself, being set apart and being more deeply united. To develop these remarks would entail writing a treatise on the theology of religious life. It is enough for our purposes here to set them down as aspects of the rich meaning of the consecrated religious life. Problems in Renewal In the first part of this paper I described the circumstances surrounding the pope's intervention, and his call to religious to evaluate the experience of the past twenty years in order to benefit by what is genuine, and to abandon what is not. To give this program of renewal a definite shape he appointed a commission which was to animate the other bishops in the assumption of their pastoral responsibility, to foster dialogue of religious among themselves, and to act as general facilitator to oversee the whole process. The norms that form the authentic basis of religious life flow from the nature of consecration itself. The experience of the past twenty years is to be evaluated then against the intrinsic norms that flow from the very nature of consecration. To the degree that they deepen it, they are valid, or on the other side of the coin, to the degree that they evacuate the intrinsic nature of the consecration, they are invalid. Reading the responses to the pope's call, I find there are mainly two points of view. Some stress the fact that the overall experience has been genuine, with minor deviations here and there. They feel that the negative picture comes largely from the media and from ultraconservative groups who have the ear of the Vatican. They feel that beneath the call to renewal is a negative view on the part of Rome of religious life as experienced in this country. As a consequence, they see the whole of the American experience as put on trial; for this reason, they tend to take a defensive and uncritical, even a triumphalistic posture. Others feel that the experience of the past twenty years is very mixed. In fact they see points of view expressed regarding religious life which are incom-patible .with each other. These clashes are to be found in essential points such as authority, relationship to the Church, the nature of the vows, the purpose of religious life itself. For these the future of religious life in this country is beset with problems. Perhaps each of these groups can learn something from the other. The first cannot ignore the obvious fact of destructive pluralism existing within religious life. The second has to make the effort to see the positive developments that have taken place. And boih groups should be mindful of the fact that thousands of religious have already gone through this difficult process of evaluating changes, and have taken the path leading through the narrow gate as they carry out their mission in a redemptive mode of life. In order to get some kind of a handle on the main problems facing the implementation of this call to renewal, I have divided them up into several categories. 11~4 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1984 1. The Nature of the Call to Renewal The main problem of course, is that we are being called to a mode of being, not simply to some kind of program. It is the call on which all the prophets floundered, and which brought Christ to his death. If it were a call that could be easily translated into plans for building a society where peace and justice would reign, it would have a ring to it. But it is a call to "be still and know that I am God." There is the problem of the various audiences to whom the call is addressed. Some will remain indifferent to it, others antagonistic, while still others will offer varying degrees of cooperation. There are the practical problems also to be faced in the actual implementa-tion of the process on the part of the bishops. In his address to the American bishops at their recent meeting in Washington, Archbishop Quinn called upon them to give quality time to this pastoral need. How can they find this ''quality time" when they are already overburdened? How can religious leaders also find the quality time that they will have to devote to the process? 2. The Faith Perspective The realities described as the New Creation, the New Being, Redemption, consecration, the Church herself as consecrated and consecrating commu-nity- these are realities that can only be perceived by faith. Thus the values involved in this call to renewal also belong only to the realm of faith. Imperceptibly in the life of all of us, personally and collectively, norms and values that are based on the social sciences come in to compete with, and even conterfeit those that can be perceived only in faith. The mystery that is the Church is then reduced to social and political categories prevalent at this point in history. The notions of authority and obedience lose the meaning which Paul encompassed in his short phrase, "to obey in the Lord," and take on the pattern of mere social dynamics. The talking at cross-purposes that takes place so often in this area of renewal comes from the fact that basic faith-assumptions are not shared. 3. The lack of Integration of Spiritual Hfe and Mission Some have brought up the objection that the document on essentials is "monastic," and thus not really applicable to apostolic religious. That is sim-plistic. The document, in fact, states that it is addressed specifically to apostolic religious. It stresses that unless mission is rooted in and energized by union with God, it remains sterile and lifeless as far as its ultimate value for the kingdom of God. The interrelatedness of consecration on the three levels we spoke of above is essential: a life that is transformed; its consequence in a transformation in behavior; and the special call to live the consecrated life in a redemptive mode. St. Ignatius, to whom many look as one of the founders of apostolic religious life, was convinced that there was only one source of The Call to Renewal/ 185 apostolic energy: union with God. "The means which unite the human instrument with God and so dispose J.t that it may be wielded dexterously 0y his divine hand are more effective than those which equip it in relation to men" (Constitutions, 813). In recent years mission seems to have been self-consciously directed mainly to concerns of peace and j~ustice. Yet, without using those terms, these have been among the goals of all apostolic work from the beginning of Christianity. In our own American history religious have accomplished a moral miracle in the area of justice. In the course of a hundred years they have been the principle "agents of change" who enabled millions of Catholic immigrants, second-class citizens, to take their place within the mainstream of American life. There is nothing that parallels this marvel in the whole of Catholic history. One cannot help but be struck by the emphasis given in the mission statements of so many revised constitutions in the setting of priorities for the pursuit of prace and justice. When such a pursuit is rooted in faith and animated by charity, it ought to have the highest of priorities. At the same time, do we not actually find here a subtle source of an actual separation of "~mission" from the "spiritual life"? This can take place in two ways, both of which are devices of the infamous Screwtape portrayed by C. S. Lewis. In Ch. 6 of The Screwtape Letters, he points out that virtues grow through being in touch with concrete, particular realities. The effort of the devil, then, is to move the target soul from concreteness to abstractions, to push in the direction of "states of mind," generalities, imaginative constructs which have nothing to do with reality, which are only simulations of virtue and not the real thing. In Ch. 7, Screwtape advises his apprentice devil to lead a person to reli-gious idealism, and then, gradually, lead him to subordinate his religion to "the cause." Then Christianity simply becomes a means to accomplish "the cause." Once the devil can make a movement become the end and faith a means, then he has won. "Provided that meetings, pamphlets, policies, movements, causes, and crusades matter more to him than prayers and sacraments and charity, he is ours." The more noble the cause, the more subtle the counterfeit. It is possible that the spiritual life itself will be dried up, even as there is increased insistence on the mission of peace and justice---especially where these have become abstractions, or where they have become an end and faith a means. 4. The Feminist Movement At our present stage of history in the Western world, we are caught in the strong winds of the feminist movement. It is so complex, has so many ramifi-cations, is so fraught with emotion, so well organized, has such momentum, is so comprehensive in scope that it defies analysis and evaluation. One thing is certain. Its potential for good is matched by its potential to become yet another disastrous polarizing movement in the history of the Church. The movement itself has undergone a transformation over the past two decades) In its initial stages it concerned itself with violation of basic human 1116/ Review for Religious, March-April, 1984 rights. It worked to overcome the economic, social, and cultural injustices suffered by women. In very short order, it moved from those concerns to other demands that were far more radical, such as "control over one's bo~ly," the o~;'erthrow of sex roles in child nurturing, freedom from all coercion, whether biological or physical. Gradually the movement took on the character of an all-embracing philosophy, while still claiming to be a social and political movement. As a philosophy, it pronounces on every aspect of reality: the meaning of God, what it means to be human, the nature of language, the meaning of sexuality. Beginning as a movement aimed at the rectification of economic and social injustices, it assumed in the course of a few years the form of an ideology. While the feminist movement has many repercussions within the Church, most visibly, perhaps, in the matter of language that is perceived as sexist, the most neuralgic area is surely the one concerned with ministry. It is not possible to untangle this problem here. But it is in this area in particular that the philosophical assumptions of the feminist movement come to the fore. Under-lying the agitation for women's ordination, for example, is the assumption that all social f~nctions are interchangeable, coming from a human nature that is, for the most part, undifferentiated according to male or female gender. Once that philosophical assumption is granted, then there is no intrinsic reason why any social role or function should be predicated on differences of gender. The fact that priesthood in the Catholic Church may be the one function that challenges this basic assumption makes the situation to be all the more polariz-ing. The problem, in the eyes of most of the people involved, is seen to be one of justice. In reality, the problem lies in basic philosophical assumptions. Connected with the philosophical assumptions is the sense that difference in function can be changed by the pressure of political, social or economic measures. Yet the fact that priesthood is a sacrament, and as such does not come from human invention but from Christ, challenges the basic assumption that ministry is merely function attached to human nature as such. In fact, the question about ordination is a theological question about the nature of the sacramental sign involved in orders. Specifically, the theological question is whether the sign by its nature is exclusively masculine or not. Like all theologi-cal questions, it has to be resolved through theological method. It is not answered by administrative fiat, nor by increased agitation. We are faced, then, with irreconcilable assumptions which go beyond the possibility of the simple rectification of social injustices. If all social functions are simply functional, and as such interchangeable, then there is no way to resist the image of the power-hungry, threatened, masculine clerics holding on, like beleaguered defenders of the castle, to their traditional status. If, on the other hand, the question hasto do with a sacramental sign, not the product of human creation, then the question is theological, and has to be approached with the method proper to any theological question, and there is no way that the pope or anyone else, can short-circuit this process. The Call to Renewal I have taken the time to comment on the feminist issues because they condition what is heard by so many when they hear this call to renewal. The conditioning is such that, for them, the call to renewal is only an aggravation of already open wounds. Is there any way out of this stormy impasse? Not within the foreseeable future. Chesterton compared certain movements to a fast-moving train~ The faster the train is going, the harder it is to jump off: "The very fact of some social or political or artistic movement going quicker and quicker means that fewer people have the courage to move against it. And at last nobody will make a leap for real intellectual liberty." This is true of the radical feminist movement. It accelerates so rapidly because it is fueled with what the philos-opher Nietzsche has called ressentiraent. This is group-emotion that is the fusion of anger, hurt, envy, resentment, the desire for vengeance. It is fed by the group-memory of a long history of injustice. At the same time, Nietzsche described the inevitable results of ressentiment. It leads to division, hatred, polarization. It desires, not equality, but the power to crush its enemies. Only genuine conversion on the personal and collective level can take the poison out of a movement, can purify it and raise it to become a movement for justice animated by the Holy Spirit. 5. "The Essential" and the "Highly Appropriate" As has been all too evident in media reports following the publication of Essential Elements, the question of religious garb remains one of the most sensitive issues. The term essentials is not to be taken univocally, as if every-thing in the document is equally constitutive of religious life. The range of the term is wide. It goes from the intrinsically constitutive, which belongs to the nature of consecration, to corollaries, which flow more or less from these constitutive principles. Even among the corollaries there are levels--from what is closely related to the intrinsic principles and inseparable from them, to those that are. highly appropriate, but without the same intrinsic inseparability. The matter of religious garb falls under the category of the highly appropriate. There are two extreme positions in this .question. One dismisses the need for an exterior sign such as the religious habit as irrelevant, or even as counter-productive. The other absolutizes religious garb to the point where its necessity is identified as intrinsic to, and inseparable from, religious life itself. Both positions are faulty. When we describe wearing an external sign of consecra-tion as belonging to those aspects of religious life that are highly appropriate, this is not to be looked on as a compromise position. The term is used to point out that there is an inescapable logic in the progression from one level of consecration to another as it seeks its symbolic fullness. The fundamental consecration that lies in the transformation of one's being manifests itself through deeds which are holy. The consecration that describes a special vocation to be the instrument of God's redemptive design 11~1~ / Review for Religious, March-April, 1984 shows itself in the concentration and centering of one's whole life around that role. The prophets, as well as Christ himself, performed symbolic actions to manifest in striking ways the total symbolism of their lives, brought about by their consecration. Those who live consecrated lives may not be called upon to perform such isolated symbolic acts. However, religious garb becomes a sign that all their actions are clothed with a symbolic value. What to the public eye is a secular activity takes on the aspect of a sacred act when it is seen contextualized by a religious sign such as a habit. While this is so, it would be a mistake to put this public sign on the same level as the intrinsic principle.s of religious life. There can be compelling reasons why the inner logic of the sign-value of consecration stops short of the full symbolism of the habit. These reasons can be justified, for example, from particular circumstances of the apostolate, or from personal reasons that have sufficient gravity. However, even those who for legitimate reasons do not wear the religious garb would surely grant that there is a consistency, at least in the abstract, in desiring that consecration manifest its symbolic nature as fully as possible) This issue continues to divide religious, both those belonging to different congregations and those within the same congregation. In responding to the pope's call to renewal, there should be a reassessment of the implications of symbolic fullness, and, at the same time, a willingness to recognize circumstan-ces that can justify exceptions without making an individual to be any less a religious. Toward the Future What does the future hold for religious life in this country? There are some things which are predictable, and others remain in the realm of the unpredictable. Among the predictable elements is a continued decline in numbers, especially in congregations of religious women. This comes from two factors: the present small number of novices entering, and the steady rise of the median age. This decline will carry with it many side effects. Ministry will tend to be less and less corporate, and, at the same time, take on more and more diversity. Community life will also be affected, taking its concrete circumstances from the diversity of ministries. Some religious congregations will surely disappear entirely, not because they have been unfaithful to their call, but because in God's providence they have served their purpose. While this prospect naturally evokes fear and sad-ness, there is also the ground for that joy which comes from the awareness of having been faithful to one's call. At the same time that these predictable developments take place, we also face the unpredictable. With the pope's intervention, the setting up of the The Call to Renewal pontifical commission, and the implementation of renewal through the pas-toral assistance of the bishops, a new process has been set in motion which is unprecedented in the history of religious life. In his own pastoral concern as Shepherd of the Universal Church, the Holy Father has called upon bishops and religious to minister to one another after the manner of the special gifts given to each. The goal is mutual conversion, which will overflow in its effects into the whole Church. I quoted the words of the Holy Father when he spoke to some of our American bishops. He said, "There is great possibility here." But looking at the hard realities, can we say there is any reasonable hope that these rich possibili-ties will be realized to any significant degree? The answer to that question depends on many contingencies. In the first place it depends on whether the bishops and the leaders of religious congregations are convinced of the critical nature of the present moment in religious life in this country, and of the high priority to be given to assisting in its renewal. Without that conviction, compliance will be either token or one of complete indifference. The significance of the present moment must also be transmitted to the individual members of the various congrega-tions by those who have leadership roles. Then ways have to be found to bring together the two aspects of renewal: personal conversion, and discernment between authentic and inauthentic change in religious life. It is unlikely that this "great possibility" will be accomplished through the multiplication of more meetings. Most religious, as well as bishops, could not bear the thought of another round of meetings in which they would repeat what they have h~ard a dozen times already. There is a need for a new format, one that would provide the setting to reach a genuine spiritual freedom in the Lord. Perhaps the bishops could make extended retreats with religious superiors so that together, in an atmosphere of faith and prayer, they could come to a better understanding of one another, as well as a sense of what the Lord is asking. Conclusion At this point in our history it is also important to recall the debt we owe to those religious who have served the Lord and the Catholics in this country so well, and who now, like Anna and Simeon, enter into the sunset of their lives. They were the educators, nurses, catechists, administrators who, more than any other single factor, brought the Church into the twentieth century, and allowed Catholics to take their place in the ranks of every profession. In those days sisters fostered vocations to the priesthood and brotherhood, and priests directed young women to enter into religious life. That partnership has been shaken, at times, even lost, and at this juncture almost always exists in tension. Could not our corporate response to the pope's call heal those relationships, and call us once again to mutual trust and collaboration? If the pope's intention could be realized even to some partial degree, then 190 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1984 could the shepherd's words in Shakespeare's The Winter's Tale be fittingly applied: "Now bless thyself; thou rneetest with things dying. I with things new-born." NOTES mThere are many associations of religious men and women in the United States. They are listed in the National Catholic Directory and in the Catholic Almanac. The two which officially represent religious are the Leadership Conference of Women Religious (LCWR), approved in 1962, and the Conference of Major Superiors of Men (CMSM), established in 1960. Other organizations with significant membership are the Consortium Perfectae Caritatis, dating from 1971, and The Institute on Religious Life, founded in 1974. 2See "The Place of Women as a Problem in Theological Anthropology," Karl Lehmann, Communio: International Catholic Review, Fall, 1983, pp. 219-239. 3Some additional observations are in place. In those congregations which have definitely opted as communities to keep the religious habit, exceptions would be less common and would be made in consultation with superiors. Also, considering the situation of so many religious today in the United States who do not wear the religious garb, it would seem that conditions are such that a return to the habit in the foreseeable future is practically impossible. Christos Anest~ The lily's silent blare In satin quiet glare And noiseless emerald flare Heralds the peaceful flow Of light becoming glow In the hearts of all who know: The final drop of madness Turns melody from sadness To triumphant gladness Through the mortal progress Of transforming, transformed flesh For the dew-lit, morning fresh, Filling chests with heaviness Of gaiety, joy, and case, Erupting in release-- Sighing peace. Dale P. Wunderlich St. Cletus Rectory 2705 Zumbehl Rd. St. Charles, MO 63301 Apocalyptic Sources of Religious Life A. Paul Dominic, S.J. Father Dominic has been focusing his research on aspects of religious life. His last article in these pages appeared in the issue of July/August, 1981. He may beaddressed at Satyodayam; No. 12-5-33; Secunderabad 500 017; India. Apocalyptic? I remember once heating an aged brother, with a mind of his own, expressing himself against the use of high-flown words in religious litera-ture. He mentioned as an example the word eschatological used in connection with religious life. He went on to say with approval and delight that Ordinal Hume said somewhere in his book Search for God that he knew nothing of what eschatological meant. One wonders in what context the cardinal made the remark! Anyhow, one of the ideas regarding religious life brought to the fore by Vatican II is undoubtedly its eschatological dimension. It would be unwise to fight shy of new terminology that may appear even outlandish, especially when the newvocabulary conceives and gives birth to new ideas. The new, possibly offending, word that is heresought to b¢ associated with religious life is akin to eschatological. The eschatological is the domain of the apocalyptic. The apocalyptic concerns the literary form of the eschatological message and serves as its medium. The apocalyptic therefore comes to mean: the revelation of the hidden designs of God destined to be realized in the ultimate future in prelude to the establishment of his eternal reign. There are many bizarre elements in the apocalyptic that are esoteric; but its spiritual intent is its essence, and as such is a matter of common interest. It is identified with the present urgent hope tending to the final triumph of God. A serious and earnest believer should not be oblivious of the fact that the final biblical revelation is an apocalyptic,~ namely the Apocalypse of John, that keeps urging the faithful to hold out with the sure hope of victory because even now 191 199 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1984 they can hear the echo of the song of victory in heaven: "Alleluia! The reign of the Lord our God almighty has begun" (Rv 19:6). From the Eschatologieal to the Apocalyptic Before developing the apocalyptic vision of religious life, it may be helpful for purposes of clarification to set down the allied idea of the eschatological nature of religious life. Vatican II gave some clear teaching on this matter. According to Lumen Gentium: ¯. the religious state by giving its members greater freedom from earthly cares more adequately manifests to all believers the presence of heavenly goods already possessed here below3 Gaudium et Spes added another eschatological note regarding religious life, viewing it as giving "clear witness to the desire for a heavenly home and to keep that desire green among the human family."3 Post-Vatican II literature on religious life has given expression to the same doctrine in some form or other with varying emphases. For instance we read in R. Voillaume, a prolific author on religious life: ¯. the religious has to bear witness among men to the reality of the kingdom of God; for men, being busy with the things of this world, need to have the invisible realities of the kingdom made visible and tangible for them by their being embodied in other human lives . 4 The religious life is a reflection of the kingdom of GOd, not only in its eschatological sense of something yet to come, but also in the other sense of something already invisibly present among men.~ However much one may appreciate the validity of the insight into the eschatological character of religious life, there are certain misgivings expressed in connection with it that are not easily brushed aside. It deals with a future which is certain, and yet is so distant that it tends to slip and fade away from the mental horizon. The answer to this objection is not simply that there is an eschatological trait in man's nature as such. True enough, as Viktor E. Franld says: It is a peculiarity of man that he can only live by looking to the future--sub specie aeternitatis. And this is his salvation in the most difficult moments of his existence, although he sometimes has to force his mind to the task.6 But it is not pointless to ask what will assist him and even force him to his eschatological task in the ordinary course of his life. The answer to the objec-tion is neither that the distant future has its preliminary realization appearing as an earnest in the present.7 For the truly eschatological tendency consists in a tension to the future, a tension experienced in the present and towards the future. Speaking of heavenly goods already possessed here below reveals no such dynamism toward the future but rather denotes a static and erroneous conception of existence. Further, the eschatological aspect of religious life is often remarked in relation to the Church in such a way that religious life is Apocalyptic Sources of Religious Life / 193 understood as only a sign of the eschatological dimension of the Church, as though the eschatological significance does not affect the core of religious life itself. Surely religious life cannot project the eschatological dimension of the Church without itself experiencing the eschatological drive; but to this a~pect little or no attention is paid. Last but not least, the eschatological consideration of religious life is narrowly limited to the discussion on celibacy, though each evangelical counsel has an eschatologieal dynamism. All this, doubtless, accounts for the apathy in terms of which the eschatological view is ignored as innocuous, or even an inoffensive notion, as J. B. Metz says,8 without any practical validity. Thus the eschatology of religious life has come in many minds to denote something vague, distant, static and theoretical. According to Karl Rahner, religious life has an eschatological character: not simply because life in accordance with the counsels is an anticipation of the existence that awaits us in heaven . Still, the counsels can and should be regarded as witnesses to the last things, inasmuch as they~objeetify and manifest the faith that trust-ingly aspires after the things to come, which will crown the grace received in this world.9 Even this formulation of the eschatological aspect of religious life is not such as to dispel the disaffection felt towards the eschatological outlook; indeed, it:cannot be said to be completely free from the limitations pointed out earlier in the .prevalent understanding of the eschatologieal. This observation, if valid, is -suggestive of the very inadequacy so often met in expression of the idea of the eschatologieal. If the eschatological idea is not to remain merely a legitimate, though ineffective idea, but also a dynamic, working principle, it must be brought to life by what may be called "apocalyptic inspiration." To put it somewhat differently, the eschatological idea is an ideal goal which can be realized only by the experience of an "apocalyptic goal"--to use the expres-sion of Metz.~° The sense of future hope that is eschatology can be kept alive only by the corresponding sense of present, uncompromising urgency that is apocalypse. The apocalyptic urgency that we would like to discern in religious life is something like the experience of Alan Paton, a white attorney-at-law, in his lifelong work for the South African natives that led to his martyrdom. His basic experience was not one of moral striving but of inner impulse, not .one of indifferent outlook but of interior constraint, as he noted in his testament: I shall no longer ask myself if this or that is expedient, but Only if it is right. I shall do this, not because I am noble or unselfish, but because life slips away, and because I need for the rest of my journey a star that will not play false to me, a compass that will not lie. I shall do this not because I am a negrophile and a hater of my own, but because I cannot find it in me to do anything else. I am lost when I balance this agair~st that; I am, lost when I ask if this is safe . Therefore I shall try to do what is right, and to speak what is true. I do this not because I am courageous and honest, but because it is the only way to end the conflict of my deepest soul. I do it because I am no longer able to aspire to the highest with one part of myself, and to deny it with another. I do not wish to live like that, I would rather die than live like that.~ 19ll/"Review for Religious, March-April, 1984 The invaluable experience of Paton regarding his life was not so much a determination made with deliberation, as an o existential uncontrollable urgency, arising in the depths of his being, and directed to the future. Some similar passion-ought to surge in the heart of religious, creating in them a dynamism to rise and break into the eschatological atmosphere., The Apocalypti~ in Religious Life What exactly is the new dimension in religious life that has been termed here apocalyptic? It is something that approximates the spiritual experience :of Jesus which he was keen on sharing with his co-religionists who were so eager for the final intervention of God. With the early and rather sudden enlighten-ment in the temple that he had to be busy with his Father's affairs (see Lk 2:41-50), he came to discern more and more the sure movement of his Father in the midst of his people, till he found himself proclaiming the Lord's Year of Favor (see Lk 4:16-19). He was persuaded by the'power of the Spirit in him that the providential era of salvation had begun to unfold; and so he heralded the good news that the kingdom of God was imminent and indeed breaking in (see Mk 1:15)~ By this he meant to declare that, with the arrival of the "zero hour," God was now 'addressing men more immediately and confronting them more urgently than ever before, thus precipitating an unprecedented oppor-tunity of salvation, He could therefore tell unsuspecting individuals: "If yoi~ only.knew what God is offering" (Jn 4:10). When he made known his message of the kingdom, Jesus was actually interpreting, in prophetic fashion, the prevalent situation in terms of his ~,ision of God. However there was a difference between his messianic message and the ¯ prophetic oracles of old. The prophets had held out hope of the ultimate future that would come one day; but Jesus announced that the eschaton of the prophecies--the future without a future--had begun to emerge as a present reality, had just become a nascent phenomenon. He was delighted when he found some who welcomed this new revelation of God (see Lk 10:21):" On [he,contrary he was amazed to see people who would not recognize the dominion of God making inroads upon their life, even though authenticated' by his miracles and attested by the Spirit of God (see Mt 12:24-32). He had no doubt whatever that God's final redemptive activity was impinging: on the world for all to see; and so to those who failed to see, he said sharply: "Hypocrites[ You know how to interpret the face of the earth and the sky. How is it you do not know how to interpret these times?" (Lk 12:56). He was keen however to ward off the danger of mistaking the kingdom as merely exte'rnal and bbservable and portentous. "For, you must know," he said, "the kingdom of God is among you" (Lk 17:21). The import of this saying, with the mooted expressipn "among you" (entos hymon) is perhaps best understood as gracious infiltration thus: God is acting as King in and through the ministry of Jesus and his disciples and it is up to the contemporaries of Jesus to recognize this and to respond to it.~2 Apocalyptic Sources of Religious Life / 195 People therefore had to be sensible (phronimos) enough to live with.,the times, the pecular times that bore the mark of eschatology in the process of realization. This was the new summons Jesus issued in his crisis-parables (see Mt 25:1-13; .Mk 13:33-37; Lk 16:1-8), Whether or not his. fisteners paid heed to hisclarion call,~the appearance of the kingdom could not be delayed, much less thwarted (see Lk 10:10-11). For, his own incontrovertible experience was that the fullness .of time had arrived, seized with the existential eruption of the "violence" of the kingdom, i.e,, of the irresistible power with which the king, dom was beginning to establish itself powerfully in spite of all obstacles(see Mt 11:12), making its headway as certainly and impalpably as harvest would come in due season after the sowing (see Mk 4:26-29). ~ ~ What is the significance of all this for us in the present day? The new age Of the kingdom so enthusiastically announced by Jesus has not reached its cfilmi-nation,, but is ever racing to its finale with greater and greater momentum. Therefore our times, too, must be caught up in the eschatological movement. So St. Paul could say to his age: ' You know ~the time" has come: you must wake up now: our salvation is even nearer than it was when we were converted (Rm 13:11). There is assuranc~ then that the majestic kingdom of God invades our days too with its cumulative momentum of the past. It ceaselessly forges ahead towards the absolute future. Here is sensed the apocalyptic reverberation of the eschatological thrust that has been set in motion irrevocably. It is in such milieu that religious life experiences its quickening. The Apocalyptic Eruption of Religious Life The familiar perspective of religious life in view of the kingdom, as this is usually understood, only scratches the surface of the reality, and is not worthy of the sovereign nature of the kingdom. Is it not truer existentially to regard religious life as the specific outcome of the kingdom working its way in and beyond the world? If the kingdom is indeed' like what happens in flour because of the yeast mixed in it (see Mt 13:33), a religious fermentqsbound to show; and religious life is a remarkable expression of thig, Or in terms of the parable of thesower, if the kingdom is like the marvelous growth of seed destined to provide a bumper harvest despite all the usual hazards (see Mt 13:4-9), then. surely there is at work some divine power achieving its purpose without fail. What is.religi0us life but a phenomenon of~the k!ngdom exercising its sway over men unmistakably and forcefully? Surely it is.the dynamic reality of the . onrush of the~kingdom that causes religious life to spring up with an awareness of its own and to buoy up with a new impulse, The obvious fact that religious life grew in the climate of the New Testa-ment is not particularly striking until we come to think of it. However it provides a clue to an important aspect of religious life. Religious life did not, and in fact could not, exist in the period of the old covenant ~hen the kingdom had, not begun to take shape. When, in the fullness of time, the kingdom of 196 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1984 God made itself felt by its hidden transforming power, it gave rise to a new style of life, even to a fullness of life (See Jn 10:10). Will it be forcing the point to detect traces of this richness in religious life? For instance, if there are some people at least who embrace and honor poverty, it is because they have come to believe that, with the coming of the kingdom, the rich are sent away empty, while the hungry are filled with good things (see Lk 1:53). Poverty is no longer emptiness but fullness because it bestoxbs the title for the possession of the kingdom (se~ Lk 6:20). On the contrary, riches are hollow: "For a man's life is not made secure by what he owns, even when he has more than he needs" (Lk 12:15). In the matter of celibacy, its aspect of fullness appears in the virtual disappearance of the urge to the raising of a progeny to continue life after the death of the progenitor, and this in virtue of the marvelous hope of claiming the kingdom unassailed by the specter of the second death (see Rv 20:6). The earlier absolute necessity of procreation binding on Jews in view of the Messiah cannot remain unchanged after his birth. In fact one has to reckon with the possibility of the opposite necessity, that of celibacy, in view of the kingdom brought about by him who remained celibate. Surely no one can talk in this fashion without the earlier experience of being seized by the spell of the. kingdom.~3., The experience of the power of the kingdom includes also the exaltation of the lowly (see Lk 1:52; 14:1 l); and this proper, though unusual, sense of dignity (see Lk 22:25-27) is the real inspiration of a true life of obedience. Those who give credence to this understanding of religious life will heed the words of St. Paul: We beg you once again not to neglect the grace of God that you have received. For he says: At the favorable time, I have listened to you; on, the day of salvation I came to your help. Well, now is the favorable time; this is the day of salvation (2 Co 6:1-2). Remembering how the rich young man forfeited the favor offered to him by Jesusothe eschatological prophet (see Mk 10:22), religious would not miss the apocalyptic ur.gency of the ancient warning: "If only you would listen to him today" (Ps 95:7). Concretely, "as long as 'today' lasts" (Heb3:13), every~ day dawns for them with "the rising sun" (Lk 1:78) turning their passage of time or chronos into kairos, the providential time for the realization of escha-tological salvation. Religious life thus understood as life pressing towards its fullness and keeping pace with the kingdom could be produced by man no more than could the glory of the kingdom. The inauguration of the kingdom coincides with the age of divine favor that has been awaited for ages. Jesus congratulates his disciples on their privilege of witnessing ~this reality of the kingdom: Happy the eyes that see. what you see, for 1 tell you that many prophets and kings wanted, to see what you see, and never saw it; to hear what you hear, and never heard it (L.k 10:23-24). So religious life, as it participates in the course of the kingdom, should'bear Apocalyptic Sources of Religious Life /i97 the imprint of the gracious favor of the Lord manifested in his kingdom. The logion on celibacy for instance throbs with this spirit (see Mt 19:11-12). Far from being mastery or control of self, celibacy is the ardor created by the kingdom spreading abroad its divine warmth. Therefore only those can take upon themselves the practice of celibacy who know the happy necessity of it from their personal experience of being caught_up bY the love of the ki.ngdom. If the initial fervor of religious life as a rule does not last longer than a nine days' wonder, the reason is that it does not spring from the consciousness of the divine favor stirring in religious life. Religious life is not basically a moral achievement but a religious acknowledgment in wonderment; it is a fervent acceptance of the good things God wants to give his children in his kingdom (see Mt 7:11); it is a knowing and a rejoicing in what God offers everyone in the time of his favor (see Lk 19:44b; Jn 4:10). The fundamental profession of religious life finds appropriate expression in the Johannine conviction: Indeed, from his fullness we have, all of us, received--yes, grace in return for grace, since, though the Law was given through Moses, grace and truth have come through Jesus Christ (Jn 1:16-17). How. far this finds verification in the actual experience of religious is a valid question. Even if the vast majo.rity of religious may be wanting in this pro-found experience--and this may lead to the further question about' the, genuineness ofrgreat numbers surviving in religious life--their initial desire for religious life is not without value and is a measure of the pervasiveness of the kingdom. As-a scriptural instance of it the story of the rich aristocrat may be cited (see Lk 18:18-25). His eager and earnest question regarding the kingdom of God is in itself something admirable; and is best attributed to an inspiration owing to the closeness of the kingdom. This initial appeal of the kingdom develops further in a compelling manner toward its final appeal of being poor enough to have treasure in heaven, as Jesus expounds the grace of the king-dom. Here is grace upon grace which, however, is not received by the rich man, for his earlier ardor dips into gloom, only to invite a straight look from Jesus followed by a cutting remark: "How hard it is for those who:have riches to make their way into the kingdom of God" (Lk 18:24). The reaction of Jesus insinuates that there is a certain necessity to respond to the grace of the kingdom, especially if it comes pressing on us. This necessity receives, explicit affirmation in the clarification given by Jesus regarding the best places in the kingdom: "Anyone who wants to be great among you must be your servant; and anyone who wants to be first among you must be your slave" (Mt 20:26-27). This sense of necessity, parodoxically enough, cannot be wanting in those who freely make themselves eunuchs, driven by the ceaseless urge of the kingdom towards its consummation (see Mt 19:12). How far have religious e.xperienced this necessity as a matter of blessing and responded to the over- 191~ / Review for Religious, March-April, 1984 whelming grace of the kingdom deep down in their hearts? If response to the grace of the kingdom is constitutive of religious life, the experience of conversion must run through religious life right from 'the start, for the call to conversion is part of the kingdom. Religious life, as the king-dom, is not ,for the elite, but for,all those who find favor in the sight of the Lord because of their humbled and contrite spirit. This' spirit of conversion does not pertain only~to the initial entrance into the kingdom, but also to the lasting continuance in it, as is implied in the parable of the farmhand (see Lk 17:7-10) who knows his proper status. No one can remain directly turned to the Lord--that is, what conversion is-~-without the ennobling spirit" of the Miserere (Ps 51). Not~satisfied with mere forgiveness of sin~, one ought to yearn for a transformation of heart wrought by the Lord, and so keep praying: Yet, since y~u love sincerity of heart, teach me the secrets of wisdom. :. God, create a clean heart in me, put into me a new and constant spirit (Ps 51:6,10). What the rich aristocrat missed sadly was precisely this. For all his good performance with regard to the commandments, he lacked ~this one thing: submission to the thrust of the kingdom making its peculiar, salvific dem~inds that are superior to the laws of earlier ages. And so he failed to make his grade in the kingdom--not unlike the Pharisee who prayed to himself (s~e Lk 18:9-14). Religious with all their.practice of specific virtues and vows, cannot be too chary of this pharisaic outlook that dispenses with the need for growing, abiding conversion. Part of the experience of conversion is conviction. Conviction is not neces-sarily conversion, but conversion is conviction: Convergion engenders a new vision of life calling forth a new belief altogether. How Jesus instills this new belief in his special .recruits for the kingdom! Broaching the idea of the obe-dience of service, for instance, he sets it in clear opposition to what obtains outside the realm of the kingdom: You kno~w that among the pagans the rulers lord it over them, and their great men make their authority felt. This is not to happen among you (Mt 20:25-26). He tried to convince his disciples that he himself has come only to serve; at the Last Supper he even indicts them for their sin of failure in this matter by personally washing their feet. In the: same way he opens to them a new world of values regarding mundane matters like possessions. Possessions prove to be snares (see Lk 12:1 ~20); and so they are better left aside (see Lk 12:33) so as to store up treasure in the kingdom of God (see Lk 12:34; 18:22) where alone human hearts can rest secure with no fear or disappointment (see Mt6:19-21). Even perso, ns can bea hindrance to the outreach of the kingdom in us; and so the disciples of thee kingdom need to be disciplined enough to be free from the possible shackles o~ porents, partner or progeny. In advocating, this belief, Jesus utters the promise: Apocalyptic Sources of Religious Life I tell you solemnly, there is no one who has left house, wife, brothers, parents or children for the sake of the kingdom of God who will not be given repayment many ¯ times over in this present time and, in the world to come, eternal life (Lk 18:29-30). Would that religious dared to profess this faith, not only ideally but existentially, in the bewitched world that senses none of the hidden influence of the encircfing kingdom[ The content of the response made by religious life to the advance of the kingdom ought to be a matter of disbelief or at least disturbance for any person in his fight senses who loves himself and his life. Surely each one of the invited' guests in the parable of the great supper who refused to, attend the celebration must be considered sensible enough to know his'own rights and how to enjoy himself. One wants to exercise his independence, another his ownership, and the third his right of marriage; and yet their action comes in for condemnation because, under the influence of hasty excuses, they have gone back on their earlier acceptance of the invitation, setting at nought the very invi~tion they had once cared for (see Lk 14:15-24). The point of the parable is that the kingdom of God is such a pressing reality in the here-and-now that nothing else, not even man's most cherished privileges and rights, can h01d its own so as to exercise a superior claim over man. The urgency of the kingdom will impinge itself at least upon some people with a weight that leaves them in no mood to follow the usual course of life with its legitimate pleasure, typified by eating and drinking, buying and own-ing, marrying and giving in marriage (see Lk 17:26-30). Such is the urgency, for instance, behind the call to leave one's home. The one who is ready to follow Jesus only after seeing to his father's burial, hears the peremptory order: "Leavethe dead to bury their dead; your dutyis to go and spread the news of the kingdom of Gbd" (Lk 9:60). Such is the sense of freedom inspired by the kingdom that some feel the impulse to forego their birthright of founding their own family, and think nothing of the loss (see Mt 19:11-12), The absolute compulsion of the king-dom, overriding all personal concerns, becomes all the more categorical when it proceeds as a personal command issued by Jesus. He is the very personifica-tion of the kingdom, and so he can authoritatively demand sole allegiance from others, expecting them to set aside all bther possible contenders--includ-ing their own precious life (see Lk 14:26). Only people who succumb to the sure, gentle and absolute urgency of the message and of the, Man of the kingdom (see Mt 11:28-30; Jn 7:46) may legitimately and worthily embark upon religious life. Their life now, condi-tioned by the absolute claims of the kingdom, must be counted already part of the kingdom, adding its own vigor to the eschatological tidal wave. ~ The worth of.the kingdom does not admit of any compromis.e with regard to its radical implications. However the kingdom does not encounter one and all in the same way, nor with the same force. For instance, as Jesus points out emphatically, the stunning call of continence cannot be generalized (see Mt 21~0 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1984 19:11). Again he does not press on everyone to become actually poor. Surely he leaves Zacchaeus serene with his experience of salvation, without demand-ing from him any further distribution of his wealth to the poor (see Lk 19:1-10). So religious life, which commits itself to the kingdom unconditionally, does not engage or enlist everyone who experiences being drawn to the king-dom. Further even those .who find themselves actually within religious life must prove themselves not only called but chosen! The proof surprisingly does not consist in the mere bleak, though perfect, fidelity to the exacting demands of the kingdom, but rather it originates in the kind of joyful impact expe-rienced when the kingdom has impinged upon them. If the kingdom has engaged their attention and delighted their hearts, has subdued their natural powers and invaded them with its own rhythm, then religious life, with all its sacrifices, will not be a forced choice even borne with a gri.'n, but a pleasant surprise like stumbling on the pearl nonpareil. Without the enthusiasm flowing from such an absorbing and radical experience of the kingdom the possibi~lity of the exciting adventure of religious life does not arise, and the actual practice of religious life could well pass for a form of ¯ conscription, one that therefore might better not be. Indeed who could cope with the rigors of religious life without having been surprised by the joy of the kingdom? The grace of religious life for the kingdom is not cheap but costly, to use the expression of Bonhoeffer; and for that very reason fulfilling in the very depths of one's being. No one comes to the kingdom by chance but by decisive choice made in the contact of a propitious moment of grace. In this aspect precisely religious life presents a distinctive feature of its own. The necessity of decision in view of the absolute grace of the kingdom can exercise most mind~ without actually pressing the individuals to enter upon a decision. But religious life does not merely provide a forum for endless cerebral discussion on "decision for the kingdom." It also sets up a structure which makes its aspirants uncomfortable with mere good intentions: It obliges them, within a specific period of time, to make a positive decision worthy of the kingdom. The early traihing, leading to the full embrace of religious life, is a time when the recruits are shaken out of rootless fervor and faced with the challenge of the actual necessity of decision--or at least of the decision to make the decision--for the life of the kingdom! The profession of the vows, especially of perpetual vows, is intended to signify the actual, irrevocable decision made for the kingdom by the religious. 'Religious profession is rightly termed a commitment to the kingdom, which has encountered us with its costly, but overwhelming, grace. It is the way of enjoying the road of blessedness, of having heard the Word and kept it, (see Lk 11:28), unlike the rich young man who went his way sad. ~' Religious commitment is a sign that the children of light are becoming as earnest and astute in the matters of the kingdom as the worldlings have been in ¯ Apocalyptic Sources of Religious Life / 201 theirs (see Lk 16:8). It is a resolve charged with the courage of conviction--so very necessary in the affairs of the kingdom as in any serious, worthy cause. The pronouncement and practice of the vows save the religious from the trickery of self-deception, guarding them from the danger of being surprised in their weariness into looking back, strengthening them instead with the spirit of perseverance for looking ahead to the ever growing fullness of the kingdom. Religious life, caught up by the dynamic thrust of the kingdom, cannot escape from the eschatological struggle in the present stage of "the last times"; but it keeps itself buoyed up with the throbbing hope of final victory, and the consequent establishment of the kingdom. Whatever may be the strength of the decision made in commitment to religious life, the decision needs to be made and renewed time and again in the face of forces of the world, namely the sensual body, the lustful eye and the pride in possessions (see 1 Jn 2:16). This involves a constant struggle which callsfor relentless faith by which alone the righteous man lives and can live (see Heb 10:37-39). Religious life knows no respite--this is part of its apocalyptic experience-- as, being part of the kingdom, it strives to do away with "every sovereignty, authority and power" (1 Co 15:24) and thus redeem the present age of wicked-ness (see Ep 5:16). In the process, however, much suffering has to be borne: there will be mourning, hunger, thirst and even persecution for those who are forging ahead into the kingdom (see Mt 5:5,6,10). While it is true that religious life is under the sway of the kingdom, and accordingly is persuaded of the privilege of poverty (see Jm 2:5), the happiness of the service of obedience (see Lk 22:25-27; .In 13:16-17), and the worthiness of celibacy (see Mt 19:12), yet it cannot escape the onslaught of the kingdom of the world any more than did Jesus (see Mt 4:1-10;16:21-23). In accordance with the pattern of the experience of Jesus (see Lk 12:49-50;24:26), "we all have to experience many hardships," as a beautiful line in Acts has it, "before we enter the kingdom of God"(14:22). There is no other means by which we~may be found worthy of the kingdom of God (see 2 Th 1:4-5). Revelation revolves around this truth. In particular the vision of the saints in heaven (see Rv 7:9-17) lifts us up from the familiar scene of tribulation to hear their cry of victory in the kingdom of God. If they take their place in front of God's throne, it is because they are martyrs, having shed their blood and mingled it with the blood of the Lamb. So martyrdom for the kingdom is an eschatological necessity. Religious life cannot escape this necessity without endangering itself. Religious life is not a substitute for martyrdom, though it grew up only when the early persecutions came to an end. Religious life is in its own right a lifelong martyrdom. Religious life must come to grips with this reality existen-tially and not merely morally. The vows of religion are marks of the eschato-logical martyrdom that religious should gladly undergo in their enthusiasm for the kingdom. What we endure in this life can never be compared to the glory of the kingdom yet to be revealed in its glorious fullness (see Rm 8:18). So it 909 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1984 should be a matter of rejoicing~for the religious that celibates are singled out in one of the apocalyptic visions of the heavenly throng surrounding the victor-ious king (see Rv 14:1-5). Happy will be those religious who treasure the prophecy of the Apocalypse (see Rv 1:3). However, th~ir~l~appiness cannot be unmixed and will be:far from perfect because the prophecy is yet to be fulfilled. Meanwhile, therefore, they groan in their obedient service as they await the inheritance of the fullness of the kingdom with a longing (see 2 Co 5:2), that is enlivened by their poverty and expressed by their celibacy. When sufferings come their way, as indeed they must, they will remember to stand firm to the end (see Mt 24:13) and even know to boast about their sufferings. ¯ These sufferings bring patience, as we know, and patience brings perseverance, and perseverance brings hope, and this hope is not deceptive, because the love of God has been pi~ured into our hearts by the Holy Spirit which has been given us [as the greatest of all eschatological gifts] (Rm 5:4-5). What is this hope except that for which all have been called and chosen? Imbued with this spirit we religious mean to work all the har~der to justify it; for in this way we will be granted admittance into the eternal kingdom (see 2 P 1:10-11). NOTES ~Describing the eschatologieal perspective specific to the New Testament, an Encyclopedia of T~ eology says: "It is not surprising., that the Christian revelation should be essentially an apocalypse (Mt 16:17; Ga 1:16; Rv). See K. Rahner et al, eds., Sacramentum Mundi (London, 1968), p. 50. 2Vatican II, Lumen Gentium, n. 44. ~Vatiean 11, Gaudium et Spes, n. 38. *R. Voillaume, Concerning Religious Life (London, 1975), p. 20. 5Ibid., p. 29. 6V. E. Frankl, Man's Search for Meaning (New York, 1963), p. 115. 7y. Raguin points to the danger of eschatology being tied up with the future life, but does not seem to advert to the other danger of the eschatology being confined to the present experience. See his Celibacy for Our 7~mes (Hertfordshire, 1978), p. 23. ~ 8See J. B. Metz, Followers of Christ (London/Ramsey, 1978), p. 62. 9K. Rahner, "The Theology of the Religious Life," in G. Huyghe et ai, Religious Orders in the Modern World ~(London/Dublin, 1966), pp~ 68-69. t0See J, B. Metz,' op cit., p. 76. ~A. Paton, Cry~ the Beloved Country (Seribner, 1948) as in J. Loew, As If He Had Seen the Invisible (Notre Dame, 1967), pp. 84-85 (emphasis added).° , ~2N. Perrin, The King~d~m of God in the Teaching of Jesus (London, 1975)~ p.~187. ~JSomething similar has been f

Issue 42.1 of the Review for Religious, January/February 1983. ; Rt vtFw I-or Rvt IGIOU~, (ISSN 0034-639XL published every two months ~s edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St Lout,, Umverslty The editorial offices are located at Room 428:3601 Lindell Blvd.: St. Louis. MO 63108. REVIEW FOR REI.IGIOtJS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Instltute of the Society of Jesus. St. I.ouis. MO. © 1983 by REVIEW FoR REI.IGtOtJS, Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis. MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription U.S.A.: $9.00 a year: $17.00 for two years. Other countries: add $2.00 per year (postage). For subscription orders or change of address, write: REVIEW VOll RELIC, IOUS: P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Daniel T. Costello, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Book Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor Jan./Feb., 1983 Volume 42 Number I Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGtOt~S; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; Jesuit Community; St. Joseph's University; City Avenue at 54th St.; Philadelphia, PA 19131. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REVtE'W EOR RELtGtOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108, "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. Review for Religious Volume 42, 1983 Editorial Offices 3601 Lindell Boulevard, Room 428 Saint Louis, Missouri 63108 Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Daniel T. Costello, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Miss Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Book Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is published in January, March, May, July, Sep-tember, and November on the fifteenth of the month. It is indexed in the Catholic Periodical and Literature Index and in Book Review Index. A microfilm edition of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is available from University Microfilms International; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. Copyright © 1983 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Signs of Hope in Religious Life Today Stephen Tutas, S.M. Father Tutas has been Superior General'of the Marianists. and is now assigned to their forma-tion center in California. The September-October, 1982 issue carried "Preparing for the 1983 Synod." Father Tutas resides at the Marianist Formation Center. 22622 Marianist Way: Cuper-tino, CA 95014. One of the most important contributions religious women and men can make to the Church in any era is to be signs of hope, encouraging others in their own response to Gold's call by a witness of joyful dedication. This call to religious to be signs of hope is as urgent today as in any other time in the history of the Church. The preparatory document for the 1983 Synod of Bishops states that "the dominant characteristic of our era s~ems to have become that of tensions and divisions., situations of incomprehen~ion, of estrangement, of conflict, of schism, of reciprocal condemnation . " In response to this, 1 believe it is absolutely necessary that we religious today strive to be outstanding men and women of hope. We must really believe--and show our belief--that the Holy Spirit is active in the Church today, and that this active presence of the Spirit is the basis for our hope. Points of Convergence For some time now, ! have been especially sensitive to the signs of hope found in religious life. I was privileged to see some of these signs of hope as 1 met with other superiors general of both men and women religious congrega-tions. The various formal and informal meetings in Rome and elsewhere were for me inspiring moments when we were able to share with each other what we experienced in our visits to communities. It was very heartening for me to see how many points of convergence there were as we discussed the main themes of religious life and were able to refer to so many encouraging examples of 4 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1983 what was actually being realized on a day-by-day basis in religious communi-ties throughout the world. My personal experience included contact with communities of the Society of Mary (Marianists) in thirty one countries on all the continents. As I found in my exchange of views with others, my experience reflected well the general thrusts in religious life as 1 came to identify these through visits and reports. Obviously, not all that I experience is positive and encouraging. I am painfully aware of the inadequacies in my own life and in the lives of others. It ,is always true that the Church "is at the same time holy and always in need of being purified."~ But while recognizing our failures as religious, I believe it is much more life-giving to look at the signs of hope so evident in the lives of many religious women and men and build on these so that together with other members of the Church we can move forward to the third millennium in a spirit of hope. I often pray in the words of Pope Paul VI that "the world of our time, which is searching, sometimes with anguish, sometimes with hope, be enabled to receive the Good News not from evangelizers who are dejected, discouraged, impatient or anxious, but from ministers of the gospel whose lives glow with fervor, who have first received the joy of Christ, and who are willing to risk their lives so that the kingdom may be proclaimed and the church established in the midst of the world."~ After completing my terms of service as Superior General, 1 was privileged to have several months to devote to prayer and reflection before taking up my new assignment as Director of the Marianist Formation Center in Cupertino, California. Most of this time of prayer and reflection was spent in the Mother-house of the Dallas Province of the School Sisters of Notre Dame in Irving, Texas, where I served as chaplain under ideal conditions that made it easy for me to look back with gratitude and to look forward with hope, while sharing my experience of gratitude and hope with the community as I tried to live fully in the present. Now that 1 have taken up my new life and work in California, With the specific responsibility to promote continuing formation in the Marianist Prov-ince of the Pacific, I would like to share with the readers of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS a gummary of the signs of hope that I see in religious life today. Ten Signs of Hope I have selected ten signs of hope that I find particularly striking. It is evident that these signs do not exist everywhere. And where they do exist, the signs .vary in clarity and intensity. But these signs do exist, and my daily prayer is that they become ever stronger and more general throughout the Church, I hope the readers of this article will find in the list a confirmation of their own experience, and a further encouragement to continue working to make these signs ever more clear and ever more general. 1. A strong commitment to ongoing renewal, emphasizing: - personal and communitarian prayer, making union with God clearly the Signs of Hope in Religious Life Toda.v / 5 basis for religious life: - the building of community, recognizing this bonding in view of a shared ideal as the sign of being a true follower of Christ; - the concern for a greater simplicity of life: - the positive understanding of celibacy as a way of loving rather than as a simple renunciation of marriage and of family. These four points constitute a truly radical change in religious life which is often unnoticed as we ourselves go through it. It is not that the value of prayer, community, simplicity and celibacy were lacking in the past, but that we have been able to give new expression to these values in a changing world. I have selected these four characteristics of renewal as being the most life-giving. First and foremost, of course, m,ust be the contemplative dimension of religious life. I find it significant that the "Conclusive Document"just issued by the Vatican as a follow-up to the 1981 International Congress of Bishops and Others Responsible for Ecclesiastical Vocations declares, in speaking of religious states, that "the contemplative dimension is the true secret of spiritual renewal and apostolic fruitfulness in religious life.'~ All renewal programs begin with this contemplative dimension. Efforts are also being made to emphasize community as a sharing of faith: faith is given expression in a concern for simplicity of life: the commu~ nity of faith is always being urged to look beyond itself. These are outstanding fea-tures of various renewal programs. Perhaps never before in the history of religious life has so much attention been given to providing assistance for continuing formation. This itself is certainly a great sign of hope. 2. A rediscovery of the relevance of the founding charism, along with a renewed interest in the person of the founder or foundress, and also a renewed understanding that the founding charism is just as important for the Church of our time as it was at the time of the actual foundation of the community. The document, "Mutual Relations between Bishops and Religious," is an important encouragement for us religious to renew the offering of our cha-risms to the local church, and this with a renewed awareness that we are needed and wanted for the specific gifts God has entrusted to the various religious families in the Church. General chapters, especially in writingconstitutions in response to the Second Vatican Council, have expressed very forcefully how the founding charism is able to meet the urgent needs of the Church in our time. 3. New directions in evangelization, in continued response to that great docu-ment of Pope Paul VI, Evangelization in the Modern World, which followed the 1974 Synod of Bishops on Evangelization. 1 found it very rewarding to read Archbishop Robert Sanchez' address to his .fellow bishops at Collegeville last summer in which he gave heavy emphasis to the dynamic orientations implicit in Pope Paul's statement, saying that "it 6 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1983 would be difficult to exaggerate the importance that this document will have in revitalizing and prephring the Church for the future . -4 For us religious, this Apostolic Exhortation has sparked and encouraged a gratifying transition from concern about ourselves--even about our survival-- to a greater sense of mission and outreach. 4. The greater insertion of religious corhmunities in the local church and a more ecclesial thrust in solidarity with other religiotls and in collaboration with all others in the local church. As we look back over the past twenty-five years we can appreciate what dramatic changes have taken place in terms of greater collaboration among religious themselves, but also in terms of the active involvement of religious in the life and structures of the local church. The Unions of Superiors General and the national conferences of superiors have provided excellent leadership in this regard. At the same time, more and more bishops are recognizing the unique contribution religious communities can make to the life of the local church. Here, as with the other signs of hope, much needs to be done, but the first step in making this sign clearer and more general is to acknowledge the great strides that have already been realized. 5. The increasing concern for the promotion of justice and peace. 1 am temp~ed to write more extensively aboiat this sign than any other because, as President of the USG Commission Justice and Peace during most of my years as Super-ior General, I was able to witness first hand the response religious have made to the call of the 1971 Synod's document on Justice in the World. Perhaps the simplest statement is best: if the movement to promote.lustlce and peace has developed so strongly in our time. it is in great part due to the courageous initiatives on the part of so many religious throughout the world. 6. The promotion of the laity. It may be surprising to some that ! ha~,e chosen to underline the promotion of the laity as a sign of hope for religious. But ! believe the attention that has been given to the vocation of the laity since Vatican II has served to clarify even more the specific vocation of religious men and women in the Church. Among the significant consequences of this clarification has been greater attention by religious to the witness they give by the quality of their religious life. There is a definite priority given today to being. Religious life, theh, will not be evaluated simply in terms of doing. As important and vital as our work may be, the first and most important contri-bution we religious can make to the Church is in terms of our life. This emphasis religious give to being is a wonderful response to the call of the Church in our time, as this was stated so clearly by Pope John Paul 11 shortly after his election: "What counts most is not what the religious do, but what they are, as persons consecrated to the Lord."5 I also find it encouraging that more and more r~eligi0us ar,e emphasizing a greater collaboration with the laity, recognizing the unique values that each Signs of Hope in Religious Life Today can offer the other. One of my hopes, as a consequenge of the last Synod of Bishops on the Christian Family, has been for a more effective collaboration between the community of religious and the Christian family in the local church. 7. Collaboration in the promotion of vocations. Ever since the Second Vatican Council, the Church has been calling upon all Christians to work together in promoting all Christian vocations. The Conclusive Document referred to ear-lier is an excellent guide t9 help toward the realization of this objective put forward by the council. What I find as a heartening sign of hope is that so many religious communities are making well-organized efforts to collaborate with each other in the promotion of vocations rather than seeking unilaterally to promote their own vocations. Religious who see clearly their responsibility to promot~e a sense of voca-tion in the lives of all, and who offer their own charism to those whom God may call are themselves great signs of hope for the Church in our time. 8. Trends' in .formation and government that assure the best conditions for human development, such as: - concern for affective maturity; - emphasis on freedom and personal responsibility; - endorsement of animation as a way of exercising authority; - general application of the principle of subsidiarity; - appreciation of collegiality on all levels. Each of these points is itself a sign of hope. Taken together, these trends offer great promise for the future of religious life. 9. A reassessement of the role of religious life in the churches of Africa, Latin America and ASia, featuring both a new thrust (from missionary to collabora-tor) and new foundations to implant various expressions of religious life for greater and longer-lasting service to the local church. The kind of thinking sparked by Buhlman's "The Coming of the Third Church" has been both challenging and stimulating for many religious communities. The transition from missionary to collaborator is not easy, but it is being done. and done very well, in so many places. The new foundations, despite the overall decline in numbers and the stead-ily advancing age of communities, are remarkable signs of confidence in God's Providence, that a generous response to the evident needs of God's people is the only way to live. 10. The spirit of hope that is evident in so many leaders of religious today. I am strongly convinced of what 1 like to call "the apostolate of administration." There is nothing more life-giving than a religious leader who is a man or woman of hope and is able to share that hope with others. We religious are blessed in having many women and men of hope among us at this time in the history of religious life. I! / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1983 As I look at these ten signs of hope, I sense in religious life today a real desire for a way of life that, in the words of Cardinal Pironio, is committed, serious, profound, fraternal, ecclesial. Something really tremendous is happening in the Church today, and this amid the tensions and struggles of life. And so it is very life-giving for us religious to look beyond the day-to-day struggles, the evident failures and shortcomings, to see how God is at work in our lives and to share this experience with each other. Not all that is happening in religious life can be attributed to the Spirit. There is need for continual discernment. But the good that is evident in religious life is a sign of the Spirit at work among us and deserves to be recognized and proclaimed. We are in an age of transition as we experience the death of much of what was familiar and as we experience the birth of a new era in the history of religious life. May our constant prayer be for the grace to believe in the potentiality of our religious communities, recognizing that religious life does have a great mission in the Church today, and that each religious community is called to serve the Church in a special way, offering.its particular charism to be incarnated, adapted and enriched in so many different people. NOTES ~ Lumen Gentium, n. 8. 2Evangelii Nuntiandi, n. 80. 3The Conclusive Document, p. 53. *Origins, Sept. 2, 1982, p. 181. 5October I, 1979. quoted in The Conclusive Document, p. 53. Our Images of God Michael T. Winstanley, S.D.B. Father Winstanley's "The Eucharist as Light and Life" appeared in the issue of November/ December, 1982. He continues to live and teach at Ushaw College: Durham DH7 ORH: England. This is eternal life: to know thee who alone art truly God, and Jesus Christ whom thou hast sent (Jn 17:3). The quality of our praying and living, and of the service we offer to others, depends a great deal on our image of God. The words of Jesus quoted above provoke me to ask: Who is this God whom 1 am invited to come to know genuinely, to whom 1 pray, for whom 1 strive to live? A correlative question follows: What image of God do I communicate to others, do we communicate as religious, as Church? We all have our image of God, though perhaps we have never paused to articulate that image in words. And whether we advert to it or not, we "reli-gious" people cannot avoid conveying an impression of our God to others. We do so, for instance, by the way in which, as parish workers or priests or headmistresses or nurses, we treat the people to whom we minister. And simple, ordinary things can speak loudly about our image of God, things like the architectural design of our churches (especially the position of the altar), the siting and decoration of our community houses, clerical dress, our style of worship. Since all religious have their particular image of God, it is obviously important that, as followers of Jesus, our God be the God of Jesus, the God whom he came to reveal, the God to whom he prayed. It would be rash to presume that his God coincides with mine! It would be equally rash to pre-sume that the image of God we project coincides with the God of Jesus! 9 10 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1983 Recently, I attended a lecture by the retired Anglican theologian, E.L. Mascall. He was discussing the role of theology in the university. Theo-logy is a word about God. He questioned whether the word about God that was declaimed in the lecture theater was verified in its turn by the word about God so eloquently proclaimed by the life-style and structures of the Theology Department--an interesting question, one that is capable of being transposed to our Churches, hospitals, classrooms, religious communities. A recent con-tributor to this review maintained that the structures and patterns of seminary life have considerable influence (for the worse) on the students' image of God.~ This in turn has a negative effect on their prayer. From what do we fashion our image of God? Later in this article I shall attempt to share with you some reflections on the Scriptures' image of God. With my head ! can acknowledge it as accurate and authentic. But deep down I have another image, a "gut-level image," and this is the image that so often seems to determine my living and my praying. 1 sometimes feel as though I'm watching a slide show in which two projectors are being used and the slides fade into one another. There are the scriptural slides, and then there are the "experience" slides. Sometimes the transitions are smooth and corroborative: at other times there are conflicting and distorting idol-images. One of my friends is a keen golfer. Over his fireplace hangs a picture of a little man in a flat cap who has hit his ball into a bunker and is having difficulty in extricating it. He is just about to move it by hand--ever such a little--when he looks round at the skies and sees a vision of God: an elderly gentleman, with long, flowing beard, his finger waving threateningly. I find it easy to identify with the little golfer. I had a marvelous relationship with my father. I was always sure.of his love and understanding and help. l knew he was on my side; I could trust him implicitly. On the other hand, when 1 was about ten years old, l went for a holiday to the seaside. We were staying with a Catholic family, and they had two children of my own age. On Saturday evening we went to confession. 1 hadn't too much to say, and as I was preparing, l read through the pages of sins which, according to my prayer book, Catholic boys could commit. As a variation on the usual lies and disobedience, I thought I'd add something from the section on the sixth commandment. After all, l had kissed the little girl we were staying with, and maybe that was adultery! The priest behind the grill in that dark box was not amused, but tore strips off me, making me feel utterly evil and rejected by God. When we returned to the hotel, 1 broke down in floods of tears. The scar remains. That slide often fades on to my screen. Maybe God is like that--just maybe. An acquaintance of mine told me that when he wa_s young, he never felt sure of his mother's love. If he was naughty, she gave the impression of withdrawing her love. This made him fearful and anxious and unsure, desper-ately keen to please and not to make mistakes. Our Images of God / "1"~ It is factors like these that have helped to fashion our "gut-level image" of God. Figures like parents, teachers, priests, novice-mistresses have made it easier or more difficult to accept and make really our own the scriptural revelation of God, the Christian image of God. One writer says: "1 am con-vinced that one of the basic reasons for the current difficulties in both Chris-tian and religious life and practice is that we have .lost touch with our God."~ By "our God," he refers to the God of the Bible. So let us explore a little this biblical image of God. The Loving Faithfulness of Yahweh One of the deepest convictions of the people of Old Testament times was that their God, whom they .had come to know as Yahweh, had come out of his distance and mystery, and had approached them, spoken to them, and inter-vened in their history. "At various times in the past, and in various different ways, God spoke to our ancestors through the prophets. (Heb I:l). The story began with the call of Abraham--way back somewhere between the nineteenth and seventeenth centuries B.C. Abraham risked changing his whole way of life in leaving behind homeland--and all that was familiar to him--livelihood, status and security, and migrated to the land of Canaan under the impulse of God's engaging presence in obedience to a promise. The most dramatic intervention of God in their history, chiseled indelibly into the national memory, was the Exodus event. This theme recurs like a leitmotiv throughout the various movements of Old Testament literature, and was made present again in the annual celebration of Passover. In one of the descriptions of the call of Moses, the prophet chosen to play such a key role in God's purposes, we read: I am Yahweh. 1 will free you of the burdens which the Egyptians lay upon you. 1 will release you from slavery to them, and with my arm outstretched and my strokes of power, I will deliver you. I will adopt you as my own people, and I will be your God (Ex 6:6). And Yahweh, they believed, did in fact deliver them in dramatic and exciting fashion from their oppressors. In the ensuing.events of Sinai this motley grouping of nomads received a new unity and identity as God's own chosen people, specially favored and uniquely privileged. Yahweh's relation-ship with them and theirs with him were sealed in the Covenant. One of the salient features of the Old Testament writings is the profound consciousness which Israel evinces continually that she belongs to Yahweh, that she is his community, his people. An extract from Deuteronomy provides ideal expression of this awareness: You are a people consecrated to the Lord your God: the Lord your God has chosen you to be a people of his own possession out of all the peoples that are on the face of the earth. It was not because you were more in number than any other people that the Lord set his love upon you and chose you. for you were the fewest of all peoples: but it is because the Lord loves you and is keeping the oath which he swore to your fathers . 12 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1983 Know therefore that the Lord.your God is God, the faithful God who keeps covenant and steadfast love with those who love him and keep his commandments to a thousand generations (Dt 7:6-9). Israel was called, then, because of the love of Yahweh and his enduring faithfulness. And she was called to respond in love and faithfulness to him: this is the meaning of covenant pledge. Again Deuteronomy expresses this in language which is amazing for the height of its idealism and the totality of its commitment: Hear, O Israel, you shall 10ve Yahweh your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might (Dt 6:4-5). Unfortunately, however, Israel did not in general respond very well. Time and again throughout the undulating course of her history, she turned away from Yahweh, falling far short of the demands of love and fidelity, wanting rather to be like the other nations and to follow their ways. Her infidelity is mirrored in the catastrophes which befell her, like the fall of the N. Kingdom to the Assyrians in 721. But the tragic experience of failure brought growing insight into the nature of her God, the kind of God Yahweh really, is. This insight is spelled out most. movingly and beautifully by her prophets. These men were sensiti~zdy awareof Yahweh, of Israel's special calling, of the demands of the Covenant; they were deeply distressed by her waywardness and infidelity. Their image of God, their understanding of him, can be summed up in the twin concepts of love and faithfulness which we have already met. Does a woman forget her baby at the breast. or fail to cherish the son of her womb? Yet even if these forget, 1 will never forget you. See, I have branded you on the palms of my hands. (Is 49:14-16). For the mountains may depart, the hills be shaken, but my love for you will never leave you and my covenant of peace with you will never he shaken (Is 54:10). I will betroth you to myself forever, betroth you with integrity and justice, with tenderness and love: I will betroth you to myself with faithfulness, and you will come to know Yahweh (.Ho 2:21,19,22,20). I have loved you with an everlasting love, so I am constant'in my affection for you (Jr 31:3). And with this realization of God's constancy amidst their failure is born a firm hope for the future. As Jerusalem was about to fall to the Babylonian troops, Jeremiah proclaimed: Our Images of God / 13 Behold the days are coming, says the Lord. when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah . I will put my law within them. and I will write it upon their hearts: and I will be their God and they will be my people. And no longer shall each man teach his neighbor and teach his brother, saying '~Know the Lord," for they shall all know me. from the least of them to the greatest, says the Lord (Jr 31:31-34). And there are those inspiring words of Ezekiel: Then I am going to take you from among the nations and gather you together from all the foreign countries, and bring you home to your own land. I shall pour clean water over you and you will be cleansed: I shall cleanse you of all your defilement and all your idols, l shall give you a new heart, and put a new spirit in you: I shall remove the heart of stone from your bodies, and give you a heart of flesh instead. I shall put my spirit in you, and make you keep my laws and respect my observances. You will live in the land which I gave your ancestors. You shall be my people and I shall be your God (Ezk 36:2513. Yahweh, then, is constant: he continues to be present with his people, present in love, and in faithfulness to his choice and to his promise. The Loving Failhfulness of Jesus Centuries later, a man was wandering through the towns and villages of lakeside Galilee, preaching and healing and exorcising. From amongst those who were interested in him, he singled out twelve, as Mark says (Mk 3:!3-15), "to be with him," to share his friendship, life, ideals, and "to be sent," to share his mission. But these men consistently failed to understand him and his message, they were unable to accept the implications of discipleship. They continued to foster the old expectations, to cherish the old dreams, to think in the categories of success, political and nationalist liberation and prosperity, power and glamor. They failed to grasp the meaning of the kingdom he constantly talked about. They lacked insight to perceive who he was, this Jesus from the backwoods of Nazareth. But Jesus did not go back on his choice. One evening, as they were at supper in Jerusalem around the feast of the Passover, he spoke to them with sadness in his voice, telling them that one of their number would shortly betray him, and another, their natural leader and spokesman, would deny all knowl-edge of him. He went on to say that they would all run away and desert him in the end. At the same time, as head of the table, he broke bread and shared it with them as a sign and pledge of his love and friendship. And he offered the cup of wine, and spoke of the longed-for new covenant, the new fellowship with God, his Father, that would be sealed in his own blood. And one of them did, in fact, betray him very soon: Peter denied all acquaintance with him, cursed him even: and the rest of them took to their heels in flight, to a man. The Roman authorities executed him by the hideous and shameful torture-death of crucifixion. The God whom he had proclaimed to be near seemed very far away. 14 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1983 But early on the Sunday morning, some women friends found that his tomb was empty. Shortly afterwards, this Jesus appeared to Peter and then to or'hers of the group, and they came to know that the Father had raised him from death. Thus, their Risen Lord brought together again his disillusioned and scattered band, whom he loved still, and forgave, and whom he still looked on as his. his chosen ones, to whom he was fai'~hful still. And he breathed his Spirit into them, and constituted them the nucleus of the new covenanted People of God, a God whom, like him, they could now address as Father. These men came to realize that in Jesus they had encountered the love and faithfulness of God present in their midst, enfleshed. The Loving Faithfulness Which is The Spirit The Farewell Discourses of John's gospel provide us with valuable insights into the way in which the love and faithfulness of the Lord are expressed in the age of the Church: It was before the festival of Passover. Jesus knew that his hour had come. and he must leave this world and go to the Father. He had always loved his own who were in the world, and now he was to show the full extent of his love (13:1). After washing their feet as an expression of his loving service, a prophetic sign of his self-giving on the cross, Jesus returns to recline in their midst. Judas departs into the night. And Jesus opens his heart to his friends: "My children, for a little longer I am with you . . . where I am going you cannot come" (13:33). There is an atmosphere of sadness, of impending loss and bereave-ment: "You are plunged into grief because of what 1 have told you" (16:6). Jesus seeks to comfort and reassure them: "Set your troulSled hearts at rest. Trust in God always: trust also in me" (14:1). Jesus' love for his friends is palpable. Evident, too, is his strong desire to remain with them, faithful to those whom he has chosen. They are his friends, not servants. He has disclosed to them everything that he has himself heard from the Father. He has shared with them all his secrets. His willingness to lay down his life is token of his love for them. "As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you. Dwell in my love" (I 5:9). The manner in which Jesus shows his faithfulness and love (and therefore continues to reveal the nature of the Father as Faithful Love), and also con-tinues to be present with them after returning to the Father, is through the gift of the Spirit, the Paraclete: If you love me and keep my commandments, then at my request the Father will give you another Paraclete to be with you forever. He is the Spirit of truth whom the world cannot accept since it neither sees nor recognizes him: but you do recognize him since he remains with you and is in you (14:15-17). For John, the mission of Jesus is to reveal the Father and to give life. The Paraclete is almost another Jesus. His role is to continue Jesus' mission, to be his presence now that he is absent. He functions as teacher and guide, and as Our Images of God / 1'5 witness to the disciples and to the world (see 14:25-26; 15:26; 16:7-11; 16:13-15).3 A similar understanding of the Spirit's role is to be gleaned from the letters of Paul. When writing to the Church at Corinth, he says: And if you and we belong to Christ, guaranteed as his and anointed, it is all God's doing: it is God also who has set his seal upon us. and as a pledge of what is to come has given the Spirit to dwell in our hearts 12 Co 1:21-22). As in the Old Testament, we find again an emphasis on the free, elective love and initiative of the Father, bestowing that profound reality and sense of belonging, and pledging his enduring faithfulness. It is the Spirit dwelling within us who grafts us into Christ and assures us of a future. In Galatians Paul tells us: "To prove that you are sons, God has sent into our hearts the Spirit of his Son, crying 'Abba, Father!' You are no longer a slave but a son, and if a son, then also by God's act an heir" (4:6). Through the Spirit we are caught up in the relationship of Jesus and his Father, and so come to know God as love, as Father, just as Jeremiah and Ezekiel promised. The fact that we are God's children, and therefore heirs, means that this relationship has a lasting future, that God is faithful. in that magnificent hymn in the Letter to the Romans we meet those lines which celebrate the heart of the Good News that God is love and faithfulness; If God is on our side, who is against us?. Then what can separate us from thelove of Christ?. For I am convinced that there is nothing in death or iia life, in the realm of spirits or superhuman powers, in the world as it is or the world as it shall be, in the forces of the universe, in the heights or depths--nothing in all creation that can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord (8:31-39). ISon¢lusion The God of the Bible is best understood as Faithfulness and Love. In this way Yahweh reveals himself in the Old Testament period. In his ministry and passover, Jesus reveals the love and faithfulness of the Father~ In the post-resurrection time, the Holy Spirit takes us up into the enduring love and faithfulness of Father and Son, enabling us to know and to live in that mystery. We find, then, a threefold expression of the faithfulness and love which is our Christian God. Returning to our starting point, we need to ask ourselves whether this is in fact our image of God, whether we genuinely know God in this way. "Have I been all this time with you, and you still do not know me?"(Jn 14:9). We must ponder the interaction in i~ur lives and prayer between this biblical image and those many other images which the experiences of our past have fashioned and which tend to become superimposed, creating a distorted picture, preventing us from seeing the God of Jesus in sharp, life-giving focus. Why do we find it so difficult to surrender fully to this God in loving trust? We stand in such great need of healing and integration. 16 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1983 And what about the image of God which we communicate to those with whom we live, those we meet in our work? Partners in Christian marriage are meant to show forth, the one to the other, something of the love, acceptance, forgiveness, tolerance, understanding and faithfulness of God--for Christian marriage is a sacrament, is a sign of God's faithful love. Their experience together is intended to be a window into the mystery of God, to be revelation. The high incidence of marital breakdown amongst Christians is a tragedy! In a similar way, we in religious and Church communities are called to mirror to one another the authentic face of the God of Jesus. Communities where there exist intolerance, lack of care and compassion, refusal to forgive, authoritarianism, selfishness, harsh judgments, are actually idolatrous; they betray their whole raison d'etre. Parents, we know, have a vital part to play in shaping their children's understanding of God. Whilst making the demands necessary for growth to maturity, parents must convey to their children a sense of being valued for who they are (and not for what they can achieve), a sense of being loved with a love they cannot lose. Sadly, the imperfeciions of parental love can so easily impart an unfavorable image of God. Likewise, in our ministry within the Church and our mission to the world, we religious are constantly and inevitably (albeit at times quite unconsciously) projecting an image of God to those we meet. We need to be alert to and critical of those aspects of our dealing with others, and of our life-style, those facets of our structures, institutions, regulations, forms of leadership and min-istry, which give the lie to the joy-filled Gospel we announce, which present to our world instead an image of God which is a travesty, perpetuating idols of power, success, security, possessions, which instills fear, guilt, anxiety and hopelessness. Jesus prayed to God as Father. The kernel of his preaching was the kingdom, God's nearness to us in acceptance and saving love. He described the prodigality of God's forgiveness in his parables. More importantly, his own way of living and relating proclaimed in language more powerful than words the palpable reality of his mercy and love, especially for the poor and outcast. The source of Jesus' remarkable freedom, his intuition into what in life is really important, his prophetic overturning of so much that had been acceptable in the society, politics and religion of his day, his breaking down and crossing of so many barriers that kept men apart, was, 1 believe, his image of God. Because Jesus knew that God is Father and is very near, and because he surrendered to the exigencies of such a vision, he could serve others in deep compassion and healing care, he could be near to them in self-gift with a courage and faithfulness that did not balk at death. In killing Jesus, men sought to destroy his God, for they perceived that such a God was too uncom-fortable to live with, and the implications of accepting him were too challeng-ing and demanding, calling as they did for radical conversion in outlook, attitude and way of living. Our Images of God / 17 Perhaps there is still much in our Church and in our religious communities to suggest that we perpetuate the attempt to deface and destroy the God of Jesus, and present instead to our world a caricature, a dreadful distortion. In John's gospel, Jesus, in a moment of controversy with the Jews, exclaims: "I was sent by the One who truly is, and him you do not know . It is the Father who glorifies me, he of whom you say, 'He is our God,' though you do not know him!" (7:28; 8:54)--words which leave us much to ponder. But Jes~s also speaks these words of great reassurance and challenge: If you dwell within the revelation I have brought, you are indeed my discip~.es: you shall know the truth, and the truth will se~ you free (8:31-32). NOTES ~Stephen Happel, "The Social Context of Personal Prayer in Seminaries," REVIEW FOR REI.I-GIOUS 39 (1980), pp. 846-854. 2Francis J. Moloney, Disciples and Prophets (London: DLT, 1980), p. 19. SR.E. Brown. The Gospel According to John (London: Chapmans, 1972), pp. 1135-1143. Discovery Why do ! find so much of me within a wood? As if I stumbled on that part of me most pure and good. There, 1 am wise and simple: I know and am understood. (Why do I find so much of me within a wood?) Why in a wood is my soul set free, - Where my eyes like wild things the silence see And ears hear color marvelously. Why in a wood am 1 free? Why in a wood is truth so true And ! in a wood shot trembling through With a worship terrible, ancient, new? Perhaps ! find in a wood---not me-- but You . Sister Ann Maureen, I.H.M. 11201 Academy Road Philadelphia, PA 19154 Scripture: Literary Text and the Word of God Emmerich W. Vogt, O.P. Father Vogt is a doctoral student of the University of California, Berkeley, and the Graduate Theological Union. He is enrolled in a joint program of these institutions in Near Eastern Religion, focusing on the Old Testament. He is also an instructor at Holy Rosary College (Fremont), and resides presently in the Berkeley Priory: 2401 Ridge Road: Berkeley. CA 94709. With the rise of the modern critical sciences and the subsequent and grow-ing concern for scientific critical study, the historical character of the Bible has again and again been called into question. In their scientific investigations, scholars concede that the biblical narratives are not necessarily factually accu-rate. Some narratives, though perhaps based on actual historical events, are themselves fictional. Moreover, literary and form criticisms have shown evi-dence of various literary techniques and genres, such as mythological lan-guage, present in various narratives. To many, this scholarship has led to a certain skepticism regarding the revelatory character of Sacred Scripture and its reliability as the Word of God, something which has been proclaimed by Christians throughout the centuries. Some are led, on the one hand, to deny any authenticity to Scripture as revelation, while others, more fundamentalist in their approach to Scripture and seeking to preserve their faith in it as the Word of God, become hostile towards all historical and literary critical endeavors. The person of faith, having neither the expertise to make a scholarly inquiry, and lacking sufficient instruction from local pastors or religious educators (who themselves are often confused as to the nature of biblical literature), i~ lbd to reject either his or her faith or the methodology of the modern critical sciences. And this situation is present among both clergy and laity. In essence it is a dilemma which stems from a lack of understanding regarding the nature of Scripture as at once a 18 Scripture: Literao, Text and the Word of God / 19 reality of literary language and the Word of God. An illustration of this dilemma can be seen in the life of John Ruskin, a renowned nineteenth-century English art critic. Raised as an Evangelical Christian, from an early age he was taught devotion to Scripture as the Word of God. However, as a grown man in his thirties he lost this faith largely because of a conflict he saw between Scripture and science. He confided this to a friend, Henry Acland, in 1851: You speak of the Flimsiness of your own faith. Mine, which was never strong, is being beaten into mere gold leaf, and flutters in weak rags from the letter of its old forms: but the only letters it can hold by at all are the old Evangelical formulae. If only the Geologists would let me alone, I could do very well but those dreadful Hammers! I hear the clink of them at the end of every cadence of the Bible verses.~ Geology had been successful in weakening the faith of many Victorians, cast-ing doubt on biblical stories such as the Flood. It is very odd, indeed, that an artist and art critic like Ruskin would have had this difficulty. As an artist he "asserted that art itself must be regarded as a 'universal language,' which spoke not to the connoisseur alone but to the whole of modern mankind: a work of art was closely linked with all the other aspects of contemporary civilization.'"- What Ruskin failed to realize was that Scripture is the Word of God in human garb. It is art, it is literature. It is the Word of God, but the Word incarnated in human language. We have come a long way since Ruskin's time in our understanding of both science and of Scripture. Today we are much more accepting of Scripture's true nature as literature. Yet, we hesitate, and for that very reason, to accept Scripture as the Word of God. "We somehow are under the mistaken assumption that if God were to communicate with us, he would have to do so in exact, scientific terms, revealing to us scientific realities. Recognizing the mythopoeic nature of Scrip-ture, we are inhibited from accepting this as a valid means of divine communi-cation. This was Ruskin's problem, which led him to deny Scripture as the Word of God. An examination of the nature of literary language and its prevalence in human culture, however, will manifest its suitability to express the Word of God. The Nature of Literary Lanaguage The preacher captures the attention of his congregation with a moving story that illustr~ites a certain belief. What holds the interest of the listeners is not abstract religious truths bt~t rather religious truths conveyed in image or story forms. What the artist does with images-in-colors the preacher is able to do with images-in-words,~ and the result is a captivated audience. The human person is intrigued by such story-telling. We are image-form-ing people, and this phenomenon is clearly understood, appreciated, and pur-posely exploited by the artist, whether he be painter, song-writer or storyteller. Colorful images and not sterile abstractions are what captivate the human mind. This is illustrated by Erich Fromm in his study of dreams. 20 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1983 Let us take a mood in which you feel lost, deserted, where the world looks gray, a little frightening though not really dangerous. You want to describe this mood to a friend, but., you find yourself groping for words and eventually feel that nothing you have said is an adequate explanation of the many nuances of the mood. The following night you have a dream. You see yourself in the outskirts of a city just before dawn, the streets are empty except for a milk wagon: the houses look poor, the surroundings are unfamil-iar, you have no means of accustomed transportation to places familiar to you and where you feel you belong. When you wake up and remember the dream, it occurs to you that the feeling you had in the dream was e~actly the feeling of Iostness and grayness you tried to describe to your friend the day before. It is just one picture, whose visualization took less than a second. And yet this picture is a more vivid and precise description than you could have given by talking about it at length.4 This phenomenon is not something new to the human experience. "The ability to make images is:primeval, and it is no accident that the earliest records of human activity show men making pictures."5 The us~ of literary language, however, involves insight, and our endeavor, if we are to fully enjoy and appreciate the artist's creation, is to elucidate the insight the imagery is meant to convey. The words used, the structure within which they are expressed, and so forth, are all carefully laid out by the designer. Luis Alonso Schoekel makes this point in reference to the literary language of Scripture: In literary language, words have an absolute importance, and they are sought with the greatest care~ They are not merely a way of saying something completely separable from what they say. Words are important for their sound quality, for their rhythm in a phrase, for their aura of associations, and for their resonances in the periphery of our consciousness . 6 The choice of words, the creation of moods through images, the ability to effect "resonances in the periphery of our consciousness" give literary language a charism not possible with philosophical abstractions. However, since the modern world has been so greatly influenced by the scientific mind, oftentimes the value of literary language is not appreciated as a valid means of conveying very real truths about human existence. Nevertheless, human literary achieve-ments give witness to this charism: The power of stories, parables and literal untruths to give us information can well be illustrated in the case of proverbs and "cautionary tales." The tales of the Hare and the Tortoise, the Monkey and the ,lar of Nuts, the Ass in the Lion's Skin, and many others like them, have lasted for centuries, passed from one culture to another, and still appeal today. They have survived not just because they are good entertainment, but because they each have a credible point--that life is like that. The same is true of popular proverbs, "The early bird catches the worm," "Too many cooks spoil the broth," "Empty vessels make the most noise". We test them, not by verification of their literal sense, but through living by them and finding them to work out in experience.7 Trained to search for precise, scientific data, however, the modern mind often misunderstands the nature of mythmaking and storytelling as a valid means of teaching morals or handing on true insights drawn from our com-mon experience. "For the philosopher of the age of reason, myths are barbaric superstitions that grossly befogged the mind of man . -8 Scripture: Literary Text and the Word of God / 2"~ An example of this mentality can be seen in an incident related by John Knox about a man who thought an error had crept into the text of Shakes-peare's As You Like It which reads, "books in running brooks, sermons in stones."~ This man thought that the lines must have originally read, "sermons in books, stones in running brooks." Reflecting on the man's observation, Knox remarks: A work of art is called "truer when it effectively embodies a real vision or mood of the artist, though its correspondence with any objective reality is remote indeed. Even in such a case, however, it would be rash to deny any kind of objective reference. When one calls a work "true,"does one not imply, at the very least, that the vision or mood is to some extent or at certain moments shared by others besides the artist and is therefore not entirely subjective? And does one not probably imply that there is something in the real situation of man in the world which gives rise io, or answers to, the artist's feeling? ¯ . . In other words, when we say there are "books in the running brooks," we are making a statement which, if we regard it as true at all, is for us objectively true--quite as much as the statement that stones are there. We mean that "running brooks" have something to teach us--that they really do.t0 The imagery used in a story possesses a certain power--a power not possessed by mere clear and distinct ideas as such--todraw the mind to truths by way of the imagination. However, clear and distinct ideas expressed in conceptual language is thought by many to be the only valid means of com-municating truth, as we can see from the words of the eighteenth-century philosopher, David Hume: If we take in our hand any volume of divinity, or school metaphysics, for instance; let us ask, Does it contain quantity or number? No. Does it contain an experimental reason-ing concerning matter of fact and existence? No. Commit it to the flames. For it can contain nothing but sophistry and illusion.~ This mentality fails to grasp that the nature of literary language is such that stories created by the imagination, while not factual in themselves, nevertheless present the reader with certain truths about reality. It is the "kind of language that can somehow work upon men and lead them to insight and even action, where a more conceptual language might fail."12 Fiction can contain truth precisely as imaginary; it can be expressive of reality.13 The human mind is not drawn by abstract reasoning alone, and man's life entails more than ideas. We come to learn from sense experience, and such experience cannot be conveyed adequately in abstract reasoning. This charism of literary language was not understood by the rationalist, Humian mind. To misunderstand this charism is to "alienate man from his own nature," a point stressed by Edward Schillebeeckx: We might say that it is empirically demonstrable that man is alienated from his own nature if he thinks he has finished with the symbolic thinking of the religious conscious-ness . But in our one-track Western culture we can also demonstrate that the exclusiveness and absolutism of purely, scientific and technological thought., allows whole areas of our humanity to die out or become stunted, and precisely in doing so alienates man from himself.~a 22 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1983 A ~:lose look, however, at the literary compositions appealing to popular society will reveal that, despite the tendency to downgrade the role of literary language in expressing truths, this charism of language is very prevalent in our contemporary world. Contemporary "Rock," for example, manifests the artist's expression of "truth through images." Simon and Garfunkel's famous song, "Bridge Over Troubled Water," uses such imagery to tell of devoted friendship in a time of personal struggle. Elton John, whose mu.sic appeals to millions of people throughout the world, expresses in ima~gery an autobio-graphical situation from his early adult life in a song entitled "Someone Saved My Life Tonight." In the song he speaks of his former relationship with a woman he describes as "a princess perched in an electric chair." By way of such imagery, he conveys to the listener something of the reality of that relationship. And many articles have been written about the great influence of the Beatles' songs on contemporary society.15 Their songs abound with colorful literary expressions~ It is by way of such imagery, and not in spite of it, that their message is conveyed. These are but a few examples from contemporary popular imagery-in-music that demonstrate the usage of imagery and symbol to convey thought. "People cannot live by abstractions alone"~6 but ~appeal time and again to the image, and this appeal is perennial. It is found not only in contemporary music but in contemporary literature. The current popularity of the writings of C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien is evidence of the charism of literary language in contemporary culture. Those who read them are well aware of their fictitious nature, as are those who flock to see the Star Wars sagas and or.her such science-fiction marvels. "Our knowledge that the stories are not factual is neither here nor there. For the stories themselves have power to arouse certain moral attitudes . In addition to its function of allowing the human mind to be creative in conveying truth through story, there is another reason why the .human person seeks to express himself in some medium other than with clear and distinct ideas and conceptual language. This was touched upon.above in the quotation from Erich Fromm: oftentimes we cannot adequately express ourselves through conceptual language alone. Furthermore, not all of our experiences are capable of such expression. Such is the case with re!igious experience. Some other form of expression is needed. Mythopoeic Thought and the Charism of Literary Language Because of the charism of literary language, linguistic expression can be given to that part of reality which escapes scientific scrutiny but which is, nevertheless, real and a part of our existence. Such is the case, for example, with our human urge for survival, for justice, for happiness. These urges, which are universal, experienced by people of all cultures and generations, come into conflict with the historical, existential living out of our lives.~8 The desire for survival is our common experience. We do not desire life for a given Scripture: Literao, Text and the Word of God / 23 number of years only, but eternally; if given a choice we would not have our lives terminate. Whether by witch doctors or miracle vitamins, we seek to prolo.ng our lives, to avoid aging and death. The same is true regarding happiness: we seek happiness not for a predictable number of years but for all our years. We do not want finite happiness as contingent beings, but infinite happiness as immortal beings. The conflict arises when we find ourselves cruelly thwarted. The experience is traumatic. Answers to queries arising out of this conflict escape the scientist; they evade his scientific scrutiny. From the experience of ourselves as contingent, we realize that "man cannot ground the possibilities of his own existence, his knowledge and his ability in his own planning and his own reflection."19 Out of the conflict arises the question of God, and a merely scientific, conceptual language is not adequate to deal with such a reality as God. The human person, being at home with imagery pre-cisely as a human person, resorts to mythopoeic thought to give expression to queries such as the origin of evil and injustice; man's loss of immortality which he so ardently desires; "the origin of the world and of man; the nature of deity; the origins of society and of social institutions; the ultimate validation of moral principles; the purpose and direction of human existence."z° Incapable of being adequately expressed in conceptual language, such queries find expression in mythopoeic thought. Because the language of conversation rarely enables us "to share all the wealth of an experience, or to communicate the richness of what we live within ourselves,TM mythopoeic thought finds expression in and through the charism of literary language. Although the religious experience deals with "problems that lie beyond sensible experience,"~2 the mind can nonetheless give expres-sion to this experience. John Knox saw this need for mythopoeic expression in religious language: In a word, we find ourselves dramatizing or mythologizing. Use either of these terms you will or find some other: bul however you want to say it, the main point is clear and undeniable: we are no longer speaking factually or literally. We cannot speak so when we are speaking of God, for our speech can use ,only the terms provided by our human .experience and thought, and God transcends both. The divine, however near to, even pervasive of, the human it may be, is still essentially transhuman or superhuman.2s God-talk by its very nature den~ands an expression beyond that of the discursive language of the philosopher, an expression that transcends the philosophical. Schillebeeckx cautions that although our talk of God may be inadequate, that is no reason.for silence: Unless linguistic expression is given to the reality which escapes us but grounds our being, even though this may only be through the "poverty" of symbolic expressions, it threatens to disappear into forgetfulness.24 What the person of faith "has experienced," however partially or brokenly, and therefore needs to affirm is, in its fullness or at its source, 'out of this world.''~ When we read the Christian mystics, we notice their frustration at attempting to find words adequate enough to convey their religious experien- 94 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1983 ces.26 The very stating of the experience seems to make it something less than it is. This demonstrates that the mythopoeic form of expression is not simply an entertaining way of speaking, as in fairy tales, but is necessary if we would convey all of our experience of reality. If we are going to appreciate the language and literature of the Bible, we need to understand mythopoeic expression and how it was used by the peoples of the ancient Near East. Out of the cultures of the ancient Near East came the literature of the Bible, which we call sacred. Literary Language in the Ancient Near East For many centuries the literature of the Bible had to be studied and interpreted simply on its own merits since no extra-biblical literature was known that could elucidate its past. For example, there was no corresponding historical material to enable the scholar to judge the nature of the historical books of the Old Testament. Did they contain history properly understood by modern terms? Knowledge from the cultures of Israel's past was greatly lack-ing, knowledge that would help answer such questions. This situation has changed drastically over the last century due to the discovery of a great number of ancient Near Eastern texts relating to the Hebrew Bible that not only predate it, but bear some strong resemblances to its subject matter. The ancestors of Israel's traditions did not live in isolation but were greatly influ-enced by the predominant cultures of their day. Pius XII, in his encyclical on the study of Scripture, recommends the study of those ancient cultures: It is absolutely necessary for the interpreter to go back in spirit to those remote centuries of the East. and make proper use of the aids afforded by history, archaeology, ethnol-ogy and other sciences in order to discover what literary forms the writers of that early age intended to use and did in fact employ.27 By discovering the literary forms used by Israel's literary ancestors, we better understand the nature of the biblical literature. Innumerable parallels between the cultures of the ancient Near East and the Scriptures have been documented by scholars.28 The wealth of ancient Near Eastern texts discov-ered since the middle of the last century has revealed, among other literary genres, such genres as "epics and myths, hymns and lamentations, proverbs and 'wisdom' composition,"~9 and these from texts of various cultures: Egyp-tian, Mesopotamian, Hittite and Ugaritic.30 Mythopoeic expression was common throughout the ancient Near East. Would this have had an influence on the literature of Israel, even though this latter is said to include the "Word of God"?. Nahum Sarna explains that there was such an influence, and the influence was no slight one: In actual fact, no advanced cultural or religious tradition has ever existed in a vacuum; it cannot therefore be studied in isolation. This is all the more true of the people of Israel. who strode upon the stage of history at a time when the great civilizations of antiquity had already passed their prime . The ancestors of Israel originated in Mesopotamia, wandered through Syria and Canaan, and settled for a prolonged stay in Scripture: Literao, Text and the Word of God / 25 Egypt . The land of Israel enjoyed a location of unique strategic importance as a corridor connecting Europe. Asia and Africa, as well as a window to the Mediterranean lands. Through it crossed the arteries of international communications, and into it flowed the powerful cultural and religious influences of surrounding civilizations. It is no wonder that the culture of Canaan was a mixed one. for its geographic position perforce imparted to it a richly international character that impeded the maintenance of individuality and the development of cultural and religious independence. In view of all this. the discovery of numerous parallels between Israel and her neighbors should hardly occasion surprise and chagrin?~ It can be said, then, that Israel and her literature were certainly influenced by the dominant cultures of her past, just as the world today is influenced by dominant cultures: McDonald's golden arches are found in Paris; Levi jeans are worn in Africa; and Shakespeare is read in Polish. Israel utilized those methods of expression common in the ancient Near East. and she borrowed from their subject matter and imagery, all the while, however, making it her own. Her literature, then, can no longer be naively regarded as a "dictated" Word of God as if somehow removed from human experience and the modes of expression utilized by the human community. Rather, it is the Word of God mediated through a rich literary language. Literary Language in the Bible Although great progress has been made in our understanding of the Bible since the discovery of ancient Near Eastern texts, a confusion has resulted. Sarna remarks that ¯. the modern student of the Bible has at his disposal a formidable array of primary and secondary tools, the fruits of a century of intensive scholarly endeavor. Excellent new translations into modern English, a deluge of popular works on archaeology, a plethora of enyclopedias, dictionaries, historical atlases, reliable non-technical commen-taries of recent vintage, all deprive any literate person of the excuse of ignorance . But the crux of the matter is that in the eyes of modern, secularized man, the Bible has very largely lost its sanctity and relevance?2 ~ We seem to meet with two extremes among readers of the Bible: those who accept the results of the modern critical sciences and have come to understand the true lite'rary nature of Scripture, but as a result do not regard such litera-ture as inspired, and, on the other hand, those.who, intent on maintaining their faith in Scripture as the Word of God, reject the results of the methodologies of the critical sciences when applied to Scripture. Why is this? The predominance of evolutionary theories, the general awareness of the findings of modern science regarding the "birth" of the universe, and the results of comparat.ive studies showing the influence of ancient Near Eastern mythol-ogies on Scripture--all this has had great ramifications regarding the inspired character of the Bible. Genesis has lost its credibility, having been understood literally for so long and by so many. The modern critical sciences have done much to shed light on the literary characteristics of this literature. As a result of such studies, we know that Scripture expresses its message not simply through 26 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1983 historical narrative, but also by way of poetic narrative. Because the Bible is great literature, it may contain such literary genres as myth, fairy tale, fable, saga, legend, etc.33 For Jews and Christians the Old Testament is sacred and canonical. Faith proclaims that it is inspired: it is the Word of God. Now, when the modern critical sciences discover the presence of mythopoeic expres-sion in Scripture, should the person of faith regard these sciences as a challenge to his or her faith? Or does the Word of God in revelation find expression in and through the charism of literary language? In studying what he calls "the immanence of transcendence: the possibility of expressing the reality of revelation,''34 Schillebeeckx maintains that "trans-cendence lies in human experience." Revelation itself is not a reality apart from human experience: it can be expressed only in and through the medium of human language in such wise that God's revelation comes in the form 'of human ideas and words. This emphasis on the human situation will help us underStand just how God has acted to communicate his word to the human community. As Thomas Aquinas taught, "In the divine Scriptures, divine things are conveyed to us in the manner to which people are accustomed.''35 We experience reality. What is our common mode of expressing that expe-rience? Oftentimes. imagery and mythopoeic expression. If this is the manner to which we are accustomed, and the manner to which people of the ancient Near East were accustomed, should we be surprised, or our faith challenged, because the mythopoeic nature of some of the biblical narratives is made apparent by the modern sciences? Or should we be surprised that God would use this means, to which we are accustomed, to communicate his Word? On the contrary, such an understanding can only serve to enhance our apprecia-tion of that sacred literature. To lack this understanding is to misinterpret and invalidate the scriptural message. "The devastating effect of all this upon faith, when faith was exclusively identified with a literalist approach to Scripture, is abundantly obvious.''36 If for no other reason, Scripture has lost its credibility because modern man has failed to understand that God's word has come to us precisely in our human garb, the human garb of our language, so to speak. It is a failure on the part of the Christian to commit himself or herself to a living and pervading faith in the Incarnation. Scripture is the Word of God mediated through a mythopoeic expression, and richer by that very mediation. NOTES ~George ,P. Landow, The Aesthetic and Critical Theories of John Ruskin (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1971), p. 266. "-The Ent:vclopedia Americana. 1978 ed. s.v. "Ruskin, John." -~Mhson Olds, Stor.v: The Language of Faith (Washington, D.C.: University Press of America. 1977). p.5. '~Erich Fromm, The Forgotten language: An Introduction to the Understanding of Dreams. Scripture: Literary Text and the Word of God / 27 Fairy Tales and Myths (New York: Rinehart, 1951), p. II. ~Gerardus van der l,eeuw, Sacred and Profane Beaut),: The Holy in Art (New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston. 1963), p. 155. 6Luis Alonso Schoekel. The Inspired Word: Scripture in the Light of Language and Literature (New York: Herder & Herder. 1965), p. 160. 7peter Donovan, Religious Language (London: Shelden Press, 1976). p. 29. 8Philip Freund. Myths of Creation (New York: Washington Square Press, 1965), p. 20. '~John Knox, Myth and Truth." An Essay on the Language ~?f Faith (Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 1964). p. 19. The reference is to Shakespeare's As You Like It, Act II, Scene I. ~Olbid., pp. 20 & 21. ~Donovan, Religious Language. p. 16. ~2John MacQuarrie, God-Talk." An Examination of the Language and Logic of Theology (New York: Harper& Row. 1967), p. 205. MacQuarrie is citing from Hebert's The Bible From Within, p. 176. ~JDonovan, Religious Language. p. 29. ~'~Edward Schillebeeckx, Christ." ~he Experience ~f Jesus as Lord (New York: Seabury Press, 1980), p. 58. ~See, for example, 77me. Dec. 22, 1980. ~rRene Wellek and Austin Warren. Theory of Literature (New York: Harcourt, 1956), chapter 12. ~TDonovan, Religious Language. p. 26. ~SThe following are ideas expressive of those heard in a class at the Graduate Theologic~il Union from Professor Kevin Wall. This notion of the conflict between a person's expected desires or urges and his actual, existential situation of life lived in the world is referred to by Professor Wall as the "myth/history conflict." ~gSchillebeeckx, Christ, p. 47. -'°John L. McKenzie. "Aspects of Old ~estament Thought~" Jerome lh'blical Commentary 77:23 (Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey: Prentice-Hall, 1968), p. 740. -'~Alonso Schoekel, The Inspired Word. p. 159. 2~McKenzie, "Aspects," p. 740: -'-~Knox, Myth and Truth. p. 5. ' 2'~Schillebeeckx, Christ. p. 55. ~SKnox. Myth and Truth. p. 81. ~'Such was the case, for example, with St. Catherine of Siena. During a mystical experience brought,on in prayer, Raymond of Capua (her confessor) heard her say, Vidi arcana Dei: "1 have seen the secret things of God." Raymond recounts that, "When, after a great length of time, she returned to her bodily senses sh,e kept repeating the expression Vidi arcana dei. Wishing to know the reason for this 1 said, "Mother. why do you keep saying the same thing over and over again. instead of drawing out for us as usual the meaning o,f what you say, or of adding a word or two of explanation?' 'Because,' she said, '1 find it quite impossible to say anything else. or put it into other words.' "But why,'~ I asked. 'do you find this so now, when you never did before?". 'Because.' she said, 'on this occasion ! am so conscious of how inadequate human words are to express .what I saw. I should feel as if I were only belittling God, and profaning him, by any words I could say. When the mind is rapt in God. and is granted the light and the ability to fix its gaze on him. what it contemplates so far surpasses anything that can be put into words that the one thing seems to be the negation of the other. No: this time I cannot attempt to give you even a faint idea of the things 1 have seen. They cannot be encompassed within the limits by which human speech is bound'" [emphasis added]: Raymond of Capua. The Life of Catherine of Siena, tra,ns, by Conleth Kerns (Wilmington, Delaware: Michael Glazier, Inc., 1980), p. 179. ~TPius XII. Divino A.fflante Spiritu. EB 560. -'SNahum Sarna, Understanding Genesis (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1966), p. xxvi. ~S.N. Kramer, Sumerian Mythology: A Study ~f Spiritual and Literary Achievement in the Third Millennium B.C (Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society, 1944). p. 13. ~0See Walter Beyerlin. ed. Near Eastern Religious Texts Relating to the Old Testament (Phila-delphia: Westminster Press, 1978). -~Sarna. Understanding Genesis, pp. xxvi-xxvii. -~'-Ibid. p. xx. ~-~See John I. McKenzie. "The Literary Characteristics of Genesis 2-3," Theological Studies 15 (1954). p. 546. See such scriptural pas'sages as I K 17:7-16; 2 K 4:1-7: 14:9: Nb 22:22-35: and the story of Sodom in Gn 19. ~Schillebeeckx, Christ. p. 55. 35St. Thomas says, "In scriptura autem divina traduntur nobis per modum quo homines solent uti. "Comm. on Heb. ch. I, 1,4 ,quote0 in Alonso Schoekel, The li~spired Word. p. 44. Images of Job Jesse Nash, O.S.B. Brother Nash resides in St. Meinrad Archabbey; St. Meinrad. IN 47577. Every age has its heroes. Religious ages venerate saints and martyrs. Rebellious and turbulent ages tend to venerate rebels and even anti-heroes. Our age is curious in that it is characterized by both tendencies. One would naturally suppose that the heroes of traditional religious groups will sharply clash with those figures idolized by more secular, non-traditional groups in our society. Ahd such is typically the case. What the religious imagination sees as'a virtue, the non-religious or secular imagination disdains. Rarely do both camps find themselves prizing the same figure, whether histori-cal or legendary, as a hero. But the literary character Job is an example of such an exception. Both the traditional religious imagination and the contemporary imag-ination, which includes rebellious religious persons as well as non-religious ones, claim Job as their own. It is the oddity of this dual claim which has prompted this essay. The Book of Job as a Story Like an intricately designed puzzle, the book of Job frustrates the scholar and exegete. It is difficult, some say impossible, to translate. As to how the book came to its final, present form, which is a combination of poetry and prose, scholars are not in agreement. Nor are they in agreement as to how the various parts of the puzzle should really be fit together into one harmonious whole. The questions the book raises are legion. In spite of scholarly difficulties ,with the book of Job, the character of Job has been for centuries a hero of the religious imagination. For Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, Job the man has been a hero to be imitated.~ More specifically, .lob was thought to be a model of patience in the face of a~Jversity. St. James represented all Images of Job / 29 three of these great religious traditions when he used Job as an example for his congregation to imitate: "You have heard of the steadfastness of Job, and you have seen the purpose of the Lord, and how the Lord is compassionate and merciful" (5:11). In more recent times Job the man has become a hero of another sort altogether for both the religious and the secular imaginations. Job as a model of patience has been replaced with the model of Job the rebel. Job has even been adopted by the existentialists as one of their own. Today the Job who shakes his fist at the heavens in outrage and the Job who broods over the meaning of life is of more fascination than the older, more traditional view of Job. Scholars and. laity alike are more attracted to Job the impatient than Job the patient? How, we might ask, could two such contradictory models be constructed around the same literary figure? One reason for this difference in models lies in the structure of the book of Job itself, which looks something like this: 1. Prologue chapters I-2 11. Job's Laments and Debates chapters 3-27 111. A Hymn to Wisdom chapter 28 IV. The Debates Continued chapters 29-37 V. The Divine Speeches chapters 38-41 VI. Epilogue chapter 42 In the prologue and epilogue, the book is basically in prose. The rest of the book is mostly poetic in style. In the prologue Job is patient, and at the end of the divine speeches he surrenders to God, repenting in the end (40:3-5: 42: I-6). From these sections of the book the model of Job the patient was constructed. A different picture of Job is found in his laments and in his argumehts with his friends--here Job is not only impatient, he is rebellious. Thus we have the two models. Of course, the problem with either model is that it relies only on sections of the book congenial to the desired model. The book as a whole is often ignored. When this happens we are only given a glimpse of one image of Job when in fact there are three distinct images of Job in the book: one of patience, one of impatience or rebellion, and one of repentance. The images, at first glance, appear to be contra-dictory. How do we reconcile Job's rebellion with his final repentance? Some have chosen to ignore the repentance as though it were out of place in the book. But as Bernhard Anderson has pointed out, the fact that Job repents is the key to the book as a whole.3 Several scholars, along with Anderson, have stressed that the book of Job should be read as a story.4 By reading the book as a story with each of the various sections belonging together, we find that we do not have to choose between the model of Job the patient and Job the rebel. Neither model really reflects the whole story, so to speak. To choose ,lob the rebel over Job the patient or repentant (or vice versa) neglects the fact that in the book we catch glimpses of at least three moments in the life of a literary figure as he attempts to understand himself, his suffering, his world and his God. To read the book of Job as a story is to read the 30 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1983 movement of one person from self-assured patience to open rebellion to finally repentance and reconciliation with God. From Patience to Impatience In the prologue, chapters I-2, Job is presented as a successful family and business man with considerable wealth in terms of land, livestock, and servants, He was also blessed with many children. Both the extent of his wealth and the number of his children were signs of God's blessing in the popular piety of the day. Of course, the reason for this blessing was Job's righteousness. He was "blameless and upright, one who feared God, and turned away from evil" (I:1). 'The depth of his piety can be seen in his concern for the spiritual welfare of his children: ¯. he would rise early in the morning and offer burnt offerings according to the number of them all: for Job said. "lt may be that my sons have sinned, and cursed God in their hearts." Thus Job did continually (1:5). Such a description not only serves to draw attention to Jo.b's piety, it also points to his wisdom. Although his children had every reason to be contented and thankful to the Lord. the possibility of alienation from God was always present. When misfortune did strik~ Job's children, servants, and property, he reacted as a wise man should. He mourned his loss and worshipped God (1:20). He was steadfast, as St. James said. and reconciled his loss with his faith in God: Naked I came from my mother~ womb, and naked shall 1 return: the Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away: blessed be the name of the Lord. In all this he did not sin or charge God with wrong ( 1:21-22). Even when Job himself is afflicted with sores over his body, he remains stead-fast. To his goading wife, he retorts: "Shall we receive good at the hand of God, and shall we not receive evil" (2:10)? Job's so-called patience was maintained because of his conviction that come what may, good or bad, it comes from God. Thus suffering was something to be endured. This too was part of the popular piety of the Ancient Near East (see Pr 3:1.1-12). ' Needless to say. Job's patience does not last long. As Job's patience ends in the story so does the prologue and thus begins Job's poetic lamentations and debates with his friends. Still, Job does not curse God. Rather. he curses the gift of life: "Let the day perish wherein 1 was born, and the night which said. 'a man child is conceived'" (3:3). His friends protest his outburst. Life. as a gift from God, was sacred to these people. Moreover. and here is a point often missed. Job's outburst is out of character for him. Eliphaz chides him: Behold, you have ,instructed many, and you have strengthened the weak hands. Your words have upheld him who was stumbling, and you have made firm the feeble.knees. But now it has come to you, and you arc impatient: it touches you, and you are dismayed (4:3-5): Images of Job / 31 Having helped others, Job now finds himself unable to cope with his own suffering and pain. He is forced to admit he hasn't the strength to be patient (6:11-13).~ Sheol is a nicer alternative than his present life (3:13-19). Sense of God and Sense of Self Job's patience and wisdom crumble before his pain. He is not being true to form, his friend Eliphaz notes. He becomes rebellious and argues with his friends. Claiming that he has not sinned, he argues that he does not deserve to stiffer in such a way (6:10). His outbursts are directed against God as well: "Why hast thou made me thy mark? Why have 1 become a burden to thee" (7:20)? Being bold in his anger, he would even presume to argue face to face with God to defend himself and the record of his life (13:3-5). Such a posture from Job has led John Bowker to think that Job's "sense of God" has been radically altered. Job no longer knows what to expect from his God, who is supposed to reward the righteous and not punish them.5 But is this actually the case? Did Job's experience of suffering cause him to question the very God he worshipped in the prologue? This question is crucial because'on it hinges the model of Job the rebel. Roland Murphy sheds some light on the question. He notes that Job is expe-riencing "the dark side of God.''6 This side of God'is not new to Job or the reader of the book. In the prologue we are told that God is going to allow Job to be tested (1:8-12: 2:3-6). This is the Hebrew way of saying that God is not above such a thing. The reader is almost immediately confronted with "the dark side of God," Job himself in the prologue relates his misfortunes to the hand of God and claims that evil as well as good should be accepted from God. And in his laments Job never doubts the existence of this side of God. The God Job worships in the prglogue is the same God he rages against in his lamentations. True, Job does rebel, but he rebels because he himself has become a victim of this side of God. Where before he counseled and consoled the victim, now he is one himself. Ironically, he asks: What is man. that thou dost make so much of him, and that thou dost set thy mind upon him. dost visit him every morning, and test him every moment? (7:17). Job has always been aware of this side of God, the testing side. But now that he personally is affected by it he questions the rationale .behind this possibility of the God-human relationship. Becoming more rebellious, he even questions the ration-ale behind punishing sinners: "It~ I sin, what do I do to thee, thou watcher of men" (7:20)? It is Job's "sense of self" that has radically shifted. He complains about the nature of a person's sojourn on earth in general--it is like that of a hired-hand (7:1). Old age also stares at him: "my life is a breath" (7:7), he tells his friends. Angrily, he is forced to conclude that suffering is only an additional complicating factor in the problematic nature of a person's life. 32 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1983 Job's sense of self is shattered by the greeting he gets from his social world. His friends wrongly associate his affliction with sin. His affliction (remember, he is covered with sores) has ostracized him from his natural acquaintances (19:13-19). Worst of all, "I am repulsive to my wife" (19:!7). His frfistration and rage are exemplified in his protest to his friends: "Why should I not be impatient? Look at me, and be appalled, and lay your hand upon your mouth. When I think of it I am dismayed, and shuddering seizes my flesh" (21:5-6). And while all this has hap-pened to Job, the wicked prosper and grow old peacefully (21:7-21). Tested by God and shunned by his social world, Job rebels. One can under-stand his preference for the peace and rest of Sheol (1:13-19). What one cannot understand is how Job got the reputation over the centuries for being patient. But neither is Job's rebellion the last word in the story. To Repentance Job demanded a face-to-face showdown with God so as to resolve the issues he had raised. Yet when God does appear, much to the surprise of the reader, God does not defend himself by resolving the issues. In the divine speeches (chapters 38-41) God is on the offensive, asking some questions of his own: where was Job at creation or can Job control creation? Job is overwhelmed and concludes: "Behold, I am of small account; what shall I answer thee" (40:4)? And finally, "I had heard of thee by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees thee: therefore I despise myself, and repent in dust and ashes" (42:5-6). But why does Job repent? God does not actually absolve Job as he had demanded. Instead, Job is given a whirlwind tour of, in G. K. Chesterton's famous phrase, "an idiotic universe," a universe in which the wild ass (39:5ff), the wild ox (39:9ff), the ostrich (39:13ff), Behemoth or the hippopotamus (40:15-24), and even Leviathan or the crocodile (the subject of all of chapter 41) are the wonders that attest to God's glory and power. God here literally sings a hymn of praise to the ostrich, the hippopotamus, and the crocodile, creatures ugly or dangerous to humans. But these are the wonders of the universe according to God. He even seems proud of his "idiotic universe." God's description of the wonders of the universe catches Job off guard, so to speak. "What is man that you make so much of him?" Job had asked earlier. God replies by making much of creatures ugly or dangerous. The divine speeches force . Job to realize that he is not the center of the universe and that humans are not the only concerns God has. In regard to the meaning of the divine speeches, Robert Gordis notes: "The universe was not created exclusively for man's use, and therefore neither it nor its creator can be judged solely by man's standards and goals,w ' Job's rebellion was against his world and his God. God appears and shows him how little Job actually knows and understands. To demand to know the reason for suffering is to ask for more than is possible for humans. But God does not himself offer an easy answer. He confirms Job's suspicions that he has indeed created "an Images of Job / 33 idiotic universe." Nevertheless, a person's first obligation is not to understand but to give glory to the creator come what may.8 By his rebellion Job has caused an imbalance in the divine-human relationship. His repentance restores that relationship. onclusion Perhaps the unnerving thing about the book of Job for the reader of any age is that Job does repent. God in his confrontation with Job never addresses the problem of the suffering of the righteous or even the problem of ordinary living, both of which came to frustrate Job. Rather, God in the divine speeches accepts the world as his creation. He lays claim to it in spite of how crazy the world may appear to us. Job repents, but God declares to his friends that Job had spoken correctly of God (42:7). By his repentance Job accepts God in spite of unanswered questions and "an idiotic universe." Herein may lie a model worth our imitation, a model more challenging than those of Job the patient or the rebel. NOTES ~Nahum N. Glatzer, The Dimensions of Job: A Study and Selected Readings (New York: Schocken Books, 1969), pp. 12-34. 2Qoheleth has also been appropriated by some as a rebel or as an existentialist. For a critique of the use of Job and Qoheleth in such a manner see Robert Gordis, Koheleth-- The Man and His World. 3rd ed. (New York: Schocken Books, 1968), pp. 112-28. 3Bernhard W. Anderson. Understanding the Old Testament, 3rd ed. (Eng!ewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall, 1975), p. 559. 4See Glatzer, p. 4: Robert Gordis, The Book of Job: Commentao', New Translation, and Special Studies (New York: The Jewish Theological Seminary of America and KTAV, 1974): William J. Whedbee. "The Comedy of Job," in Semeia, 7 (1977), pp. 1-39. 5John Bowker, The Religious Imagination and the Sense of God (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1978), p. 100. ~'Roland E. Murphy, The Psalms, Job, Proclamation Commentaries (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1977). p. 79. 7Gordis. The Book of Job, p. 435. SAnderson. p. 558. A Word On Tomorrow's Renewal M. Helen Hardebeek, O.S.B. Sister Helen has been a member of the Benedictine community of Boerne, Texas. since 1960, and is presently working with Benedictine Sisters in Mexico City. She has attended both public and private universities. She writes "influenced by the totality of these experiences . prompted by a strong desire to encourage my sister and brother religious to see the long-range nature of our renewal efforts." Sister Helen may be addressed at Rio Bamba #870: Delegaci6n Gustavo Madero: Mexico 14. DF. 07300. Tired of talking about renewal? Want to know when we are finally going to settle down? You may be in for a shock: we've only just begun. The thing about renewal is that it never should have stopped happening in the Church in the first place. But stop it did--and that fact stands to warn us that stop it can again. We are made of the same weary bones and tired blood and change-resistant mentalities as those who first began to settle for the routine churchiness which provoked John XXIII to call for an opening of windows in the 1960's. Fifteen to twenty years later, most American Roman Catholic religious communities have lived through renewal processes; whether they have lived through renewal experiences remains an open question. Ask a representative religious (if you cannot find a representative religious; ask just any religious you come across), "How is your community renewing itself?." The answer very likely will be, "We already did." Thus do we set ourselves up a~ marvels of.grace or as paragons of delusion. It is a little like asking, "Are you looking forward to springtime?" and being told, "l've already seen one." Members of a community may feel that they have "renewed"just because they have studied and revised constitutions, set up group-defined goals and objectives, and established committees to evaluate the results of the efforts directed toward achieving those goals and meeting those objectives, While 34 A Word on Tomorrow's Renewal such efforts do indicate a willingness to travel toward renewal, they are no indication that renewal has indeed taken place. True, many aspects of our communities have changed, but l~t's face it: not all change is in the direction of renewal, and we are not always wise and clever and alert enough to catch the difference right away--although we may be scandalized at the thought that for all our prayer and sincerity, We, as groups, actually can make mistakes. Perhaps one of the biggest mistakes we are tempted to make is that of canonizing ourselves before our time, thinking that because we have asked the Spirit to guide us and have trusted the Spirit to guide us, thereby we must have made excellent decisions. The truth is that we--none of us--are immune from the probability of making some mistakes--even in prayed-over group deci-sions. We get together, trust, and do the best we can with the information and inspiration at hand. Nevertheless, it can turn out that, with the best will in the world, groups have made decisions which ultimately do not result in the authentic renewal of ministries and of lives that was intended. And~that does not say that the Spirit hds not been with us! After all, whole masses of populations lack success, lack necessities, lack knowledge, even though the working of the Spirit in their lives may be pro-found-- so profound, in fact, that our age probably will not know what groups and which actions have been truly effective in renewing the face of the earth. Looking at the poor and the oppressed and the ignorant~ one could judge that all they do and have done is to make mistakes! But we don't know. And we don't know about ourselves~ either. So one day we may discover that we have made some bad decisions. Does that mean that the Spirit is not with us, "or was not present at the time of the decision-making? Let us transpose the questions to another level: Is the Spirit not with prayerful poor or oppressed or ignorant persons? H~ive we made successful results to be our criteria by which to judge the value of prayer? It is-not necessarily success that characterizes the value of our renewal efforts. True renewal is characterized by love--a love that keeps growing in the same Spirit~regardless of success or failure, a love that does not allow factions to develop--factions made up of those who knew better all along, those who should have known better in the first place, and those who, in the clear light of hindsight, can now tell us better. Is renewalactive within the hearts of the cOmmunity members? If.so, then renewal is active within the fiber of~the community, and that community will be renewed. Ask ~f the community is loving, open, to the ideas of each person, or are there m(mbers whose ideas are always disregarded a priori because, for example, they "talk all the time without thinking!" Some people, unfortunately pei'haps, think by talking: as a result, much of what they say gets tuned out. Yet, in a "controlled-process situation," where solitary reflection is insisted upon as a pre-requisite to the sharing of insights, the tuning out of anyone by any6ne else is definitely a sigff of bad will, and a hindrance to the renewals process. 36 / Review.for Religious. Jan.-Feb. 1983 Another instance: does a clique of judges hold court privately on the inner workings and outer behaviors of the group? Thoughtful dialogue about per-ceived problems and weaknesses can be a sign of a loving community because thoughtful dialogue imp!ies a sincere desire to include ever more intensely Christ who is present where two or three are gathered in his name; but carping criticism is as different from thoughtful dialogue as chewing gum is from eatirig a hearty meal. Attempts at dialogue with chronic complainers are a wrong-way drive down a one-way street--just that pleasant, and just that effective. On the other hand, dialogue, which includes elements of constructive criticism, can be useful and invigorating. is the community loving? Does every person feel free to express opinions and to raise questions, knowing that the opinion expressed will be valued, and that questions asked will be seen not as signs of stupidity, but rather as signs of sincerity? ls the community loving? Or would a member cringe who has to ask for a substitute to wash dishes, a driver to the doctor, a helper on a project which is running late. So many indications of love, or its absence, could be listed--and most of them come down to simple, everyday acts which indicate an unselfish-ness, a lack of self-importance, a kind way of thinking. The process of renewal should, of its nature, be !ight, joyful, and exciting. What was old is becoming young again! What was broken is being healed! What was listless is being invigorated! When renewal is experienced as tire-some, dull, irksome, something is wrong. The mark has been missed. Better to stop and play a game or put a vase of flowers on the table: to sing a song or have an ice cream party. If we are truly renewing, we are becoming more and more like the happiest people who have ever lived: Jesus, whose awareness of the Father kept him headed toward the breathtaking experience of Resurrec-tion; our founders, whose glimpses of what it means to help others come into contact with Eternal Beauty made their lives adventure stories. Our founding documents brim with the possibilities open in life for you and for me. If we are not filled with happy thanksgiving for creation, not convinced that life is a splendid opportunity for sharing a magnificent message, then we still need renewing. How do we become and stay renewed? A lot depends on attitude. We can go through a group process and come out animated or disgusted--it depends on attitude. Any process can fail if those who come to it are disgruntled because they have to work in small groups, or because they had to stop what they were doing to come to "another meeting," or because they have convinced themselves that processes are for the purpose of manipulation. If process after process results in a heavy, sarcastic atmosphere, it may be time to say, "Per-haps we are not going to be renewed. Maybe we are going to die." And a funeral service could well be the next process--to lay to rest the hopes and dreams of the founder, the hopes and dreams that this group had been ¯ intended to realize today. A Word on Tomorrow's Renewal As we have seen, negative attitudes can sabotage renewal efforts. Positive attitudes, however, can enliven these efforts with ease and graciousness. Con-sider, as an example, the study of revised constitutions. As mentioned earlier, a study does not, in itself, guarantee or signify renewal--but the spirit in which a study is undertaken can be, indeed, a sign of renewal, if the corporate and individual qualities of Christian love highlight the interaction as the members explicate their documents together. Usually revised constitutions are couched in current theological terms-- which undoubtedly are interpreted differently among the membership. A study of these terms and of the varying understandings can be a fruitful "grassroots" source of reflection; and when it turns out that interpretations do differ, perhaps drastically, that is just fin!! Why not? Go through your community's constitution by yourself sometime. Is every phrase crystal clear? Is every underlying assumption apparent and familiar to you? Do you have a suspicion that there is more being implied than a cursory reading indicates? Or do you have other suspicions: that you know exactly what particular passages mean to certain others of your group and that your own interpretation differs vastly from theirs? The process of revising constitu-tions was intended to provide a theoretical framework wherein renewal could take place. The riches of our revised documents may be far greater than we realize, especially if we have not given ourselves the benefit of taking a close look at the fine print, and more especially, if we have not taken advantage of the opportunity to share our insights with others, and of learning from their impressions and reactions. Firm understanding of our own thought takes time; firm understanding of one another's thoughts is an even slower process. It is also tricky in that we must constantly allow for change (growth) in our own and in the other's thinking. However, if we are to know both ourselves and our documents, we may need to face up not only to the inspirational aspects, but also to the hard questions that result when differing interpretations are discussed openly. Did anyone ever say not to question our documents? The asking of searching questions may be a great source of renewal, particularly the asking of searching questions by our own Companions, within the context of our own communities. If we are fortunate enough to belong to a group that is honest, open, and tolerant, we can increase in our appreciation of the elusive nature of truth. As we ponder truth's way of moving past our present understandings, its way of surrendering itself only to the most persistent of pursuers, we can grow in our appreciation of the ongoing nature of truthful renewal--and we will not grow tired. On the contrary, we will grow livelier as we support one another as individuals, as we contribute to the cohesiveness and effectiveness of our communities, and as we witness in our ministries that ongoing efforts are needed if we are to become an ever-renewed people on our way to an ever-new God. Am I Growing Spiritually? Elements for a Theology of Growth Matthias Neuman, O.S.B. Father Neuman is a Professor of Theology at St. Meinrad Seminary. An earlier article, "The Contemporary Spirituality of the Monastic Lectio." is still available as a reprint. Father Net~man may be addressed at St. Meinrad Seminary: St. Meinrad, IN 47577. ecently a student at our seminary expressed his judgment about the quality of the theological and spiritual training offered to him: "Because of the many talents, and abilities of our faculty I am sometimes overwhelmed by the,vast-ness of what one should know and be. This has contributed to .a feeling of insecurityand incompetence on my part in tackling pastoral duties and spir-itual responsibilities." In a later conversation this student indicated that the variety of theological disciplines, the pluralism within each discipline, and the multiplicity of personal spiritualities forced him toward too many choices and subsequently a stalled indecision towards his professional and spiritual devel-opment. This young man. rather sharply reflects the problem that confronts many people today. The American religious scene corrals a grab bag of inter-ests, from mysticism to social action, from pure rationalism to biblical funda-mentalism, from family-c~ntered religion to process cosmology. The spiritually minded individual, fortunately or unfortunately, gets exposed to most of these religious trends at"some time or other. Besides being intellectually confusing this incredible mixture tends to stall one's personal integration, growth and competence in the spiritual life. In this article I wish to explore the possibility and issues of a viable "theology of spiritual growth.L' I would like to search out some concrete directives by which a Christian adult might seriously look at his or her life and give a satisfying response to the question: "Am ! growing spiritually?" 38 Am I Growing Spiritually? / 39 This tremendous concern of faith-minded adults for their o~,n spiritual growth cannot be separated from the larger thrust of American religion into the realm of interiority and spirituality. At the outset it would be good to take some time to clarify what is meant by the two terms spirituality and spiritual growth. At least in Roman Catholic circles, and I suspect beyond, spiritualio, has become a "hot" subject in recent years. Books, workshops, prayer seminars and directed retreats proliferate and vie for the increasing crowd of concerned believers intent on deepening their faith. This movement in spirituality high-lights a number of concerns in American religious practice. There is, first, the desire to break through the abstractions and formalismsof religion to gain a personal, immediate contact with God. This desire also wants to go beyond the generality of scriptural l~hrases such as "life in the Spirit" and "following the Lord." These are certainly important but they need to be fleshed out with a commonsense language of our time and culture. Second, prayer is viewed,as "being-in-the-presence-of" the Divine rather than an obligatory addressing of the Deity; it is personal communion with God. Third, by means of spirifuality people wish to free their emotions and use their real-life experiehces as their primary religious foundation in place of theoretical dogmas. And, lastly, the spirituality thrust calls each man and woman to develop a very persOnal and intimate religious practice. These concerns convey some of the flavor of the spirituglity movement, but they do not make precise the structured shifts that take place in the religious practice.of people. Fo.r this we need to know the basic elements of any spiritu-° ality. I would like to suggest four constitutive elements which are always operative, either explicitly or implicitly, within a given spirituality9 I. The point at which God touches people in their dai~v lives. The~real, generating source of any spirituality is found where the person oi" per~ns s~e~nse the p,resence of Mystery or of the Transcendent in their everyday lives. Wher-ever we sense that a power beyonff draws us out of ourselves and gives us a feeling of awe or of selfless love (the Holy), then a spirituality begins.2 Those everyday moments, places, events or persons which join us to the Transcen-dent ground the structural origin of any sPirituality. 2. The supports constructed to protect and nourish this experience of Mystery. The instinctive reaction to an experience of the Holy is to surround it with activities: derived from our best abilities, which are intended to'shore up and protect, and thus contribute to the likelihood that the Mystery will appear to us again. Whatever form these follow-up activities take, they constitute the intrinsic "devotions" of the spirituality. 3. A method of.focusing one's attention,for the renewed encounter with Mystery. Such styles of "attending" are, in fact, methods of prayer. From a phenom, enological perspective, every style of prayer--meditation or contem-plation, communal or ritual movement--reflects a particular way of organiz- 40 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 19~3 ing and stimulating consciousness to prepare for Mystery. 4. A method of growth and conversion. Every spirituality encloses some plan for extending the benefits and riches of one's contact with God into all other areas of one's life. To meet the Transcendent must rearrange values, and that rearrangement must automatically push itself into all other parts of a person's total !ife-world. A spirituality, then, inherently implies some kind of spiritual growth. This last item of the structure of spirituality needs development, thus bringing us to the major concern of this paper: a theology of spiritual growth. Our American culture is obsessed by the need for progress. People feel compelled to constant growth--intellectually, personally and spiritually. Not unlike so many consumer products that we buy, each year (we feel) we should be able to measure ourselves as "new and improved."This often rabid quest mirrors the ethos of American modernity itself, the cumulative result of indus, trialization, technology, mass media and the.myth of prbgress.3 This cultural storm has flooded into the religious milieu of America as well, engulfing all the branches of the Christian tradition. The myth of contin-ual growth, the American dream, has ever so forcefully incorporated itself into our religious practice and hopes. People feel an intense need to be able to measure and plot their progress toward God. They ask for special courses and practica in spirituality, faith formation and prayer. They seek out spiritual directors with whom to identify evidences of their spiritual growth. This state of affairs generates a plethora of problems. First of all, few people seem to have any clear idea or conviction about what "spiritual growth" really consists of, or how to measure it. Like myths about sex, views of spiritual growth get passed around from popularized article to popularized conference. Countless people strive constantly to improve, to grow, but end up terribly frustrated because they aren't sure if they are getting anywhere-- because adequate criteria and a coherent theory are lacking. Marshall McLuhan once wrote: "The price of eternal vigilance is indifference,TM an ominou~warning for so many who cast themselves headlong into plans of spiritual regeneration. This presents us with a serious problem in Christian spirituality today. In the remainder of this article, I will try to indicate some componen~ts of a theology of spiritual growth which might assist Christians to make a better evaluation of their lives in their journey towards the Mystery of God. Three points, will be specifically addressed: i) the necessity of a critique of cultural theories of human growth; 2) a better use of Christian religious rcseurces as a foundation for valid spiritual growth; and 3) the importance of increasL,g *he role of personal responsibility for one's spiritual growth. The Necessity of a Critique of Growth Theories In the last quarter century, under the onslaught of the psychological revo-lution, an ~er-increasing array of theories of human growth have established Am I Growing Spirituall.v? / 41 themselves as elements of the American cultural scene. Philip Rieff's prophetic warning has ~come of age: Psychological Man lives by the ideal of insight--practical, experimental insight leading to the mastery of his own personality. Psychological Man has turned away from his Occidental preoccupation with transforming the environment and converting others. Rather. he now more nearly imitates the Oriental ideal of salvation through self-contemplative manipulation.5 Some perception and schematizing of human growth has traditionally bei:n a part of all folk wisdoms and religious traditions. The transition from child to adult was always hcknowledged, and a large portion of folk literature dealt'with the shifts in behavior, attitude and community-esteem that attach to the passage from boy to man or girl to woman. Similarly, religious traditions Of every kind have alwa3)~ sought to understand the fundamental ~hifts that occur in the course of human life and how this changes the individual relation-ship with God; the Hindu schema of Student-Householder-Wanderer-Holy Person serves as a typical example.6~However, these traditional understandings of human growth have been sharply accentuated and developed in our hyper-psychologized milieu. Not too long ago psychologists began to delineate more precise stages of growth--down to year-by-year and month-by-month. In addition to more narrowly identifying the temporal sequence, they also expanded the list of means by which such growth should occur. One fairly recent book lists a sample of the ways available to contemporary Americans, offering us growth by means of play, breathing, extended perception, smell, taste, touch, sex, family, encounter groups, peak experiences, gestalt therapies, LSD dreams, meditation, training intuition, psychedelic experiences and-- finally--relaxation .7 In such a supercharged atmosphere, is it any wonder that people start Worrying about "having to grow"?. They check themselves month by month to keep tabs on the normalcy of their progress. A man in a parish once told me of his anxiety that his mid-life crisis hadn't started on time! People can get abnormal trying too hard to be normal. A good theology of spiritual growth ought to address this issue head-on. Available theories are legion in our society. Just consider the complexities of balancing together Piaget's cognitive development,8 Erikson's psycho-social theory of growth,9 l~ohlberg's stages of moral development,10 Richard Jones' structuring of imaginal growth,~ Daniel Levinson's modeling of adult life-transitions, 12 and Elizabeth Kuebler-Ross' enumeration of the stages of dying.~3 Apparently the negotiation of one's way through that maze begins with the first month of life and never ends until the final breath. It would be a grim and determined individual who would seek never to sway from the tough road of.such normalcy: "Narrow is the path that leads to life and few there are who follow it" (Mt 7:!4)! What I find distressing is how easily and totally those growth schemas are imported wholesale into spiritual thinking and writing. Piaget and Kohlberg 42 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1983 are assumed to present ready-made outlines for faith development.14 Erikson's schema is accepted as the basis for identifying the major steps of adult religious conversion.~5 Levinson's adult life-transitions provide the hidden key to a mid-life "spirituality of crisis."16 . 1 would like to suggest that a theology of spiritual growth ought to provide a much deeper and more detailed critique of these'theories of human growth and their uses for spirituality. While there is much excellent research in these cultural theories of growth and development,and while they certainly offer a mine of insights to be tapped for a theology of spirituality, there is still a need for religious prudence in the acceptance of them.' Too often, for instance,, one encounters the feeling that the accurate following of this or that theory becomes binding ,for human happiness. "Normalcy" equals happiness and fulfillmen!! A theology of spiritual growth should exercise some critical defla-tion of such expectations. ,. Again, readers of psychological theories frequently assume~that a particu-lar age-related growth pattern can be made the target of personal decision and attacked forthwith. They forgetthat the most such schemes can accomplish for any individual is to provide possible awareness-points along the way toward long-range programs and decisions, points which might possibly help people to locate the source of some of their present blockages in one or other unre-solved issue of their past lives. There are, in other words, no instant panaceas. In seeking for balance in the utilization of these chronological growth patterns, a theology of spiritual growth would do well to brush off discarded philosophy books, rehabilitating, for instance, the existentialist notion of "event."~7 In the making of a human life, the setting of attitudes, actions and hopes is as much the result of the particular and unique events which happen to an individual as it is of the unfolding of any chronologically structured growth scheme. Most life events occur without our previous consent,'even though others may be defiberately planned and executed. The powerful exis-tentialist insight into event, however, has recently been smothered, philosophi-cally, in the waves of' structuralism. Bonhoeffer's Letters and Papers from Prison provide a good example of one man whose mind, heart and vision had been irrevocably changed and shaped by his unplanned prison experience.~8 Other areas cannot be developed here. But let me suggest that any ade-quate theology of spiritual growth must incorporate and develop four basic d~,namics of human and spiritual deepening. I have drawn these from a theory that combines social phenomenology and cultural anthropology. ,I. Chronological Growth Stages. This dynamic encompasses the many theo-ries that seek to explain how the structural human being (mind, emotions, sociality, and so forth) moves through the trajectory of life. Its purview.is the time line, and it locates the person as moving successively out of. oqe set of structures into a future set. Most of the growth schemas menti.oned above-- Erikson, Kohlberg, Levinson, and so forth--are good exp?sitors of, this Am I Growing Spiritually? dynamic of human growth. Knowing these chronological stages can give us some positive insight into how we have negotiated the human need to cope With emotional maturity, sociality, intellectual responsibility, and so forth. We need to know this, and it can serve as a fundamental indicator of our spiritual growth toward the mystery of God.19 2. Cultural Exposure. Just as significant for a basic human and spiritual deepening is the dynamic of cultural expression to which a person has been exposed. Here growth opportunities point to a richness or expansiveness of social, personal and religious experiences of life. This may be the. most ne-glected of all the basic areas of human and spiritual growth. Americans espe-cially hax~e been provincial---even to the point of denigrating the cultural riches of other peoples. Yet we have ,to realize that there are many ways of meeting the fundamental issues of life in family and society, of entering into interper-sonal relations, and so on. To limit oneself exclusively to the learned patterns of one:s own family or culture is, in effect, to deny the possibility of other ways of growing that God has offered to the human race. Cultural openness is also a means of grasping more profoundly just how God's life me~rges with our own. A personal example may illustrate what I mean here. 1 was raised in a small midwestern town, in a culture strongly shaped by traditional Germanic values. A cardinal belief of that culture was: You never get something,for nothing. That limited experience kept me from really understanding and inter-igrizing the New Testament notion .o.f charism--a gift of God freely bestowed. It wasn't until I had lived in another culture (Italy)~.f.or four years that the cultural expression of pure gift became an experienced part of my reality, enatiling me to interioriz_e this New Testament meanin.g. I doubt that this could have happened if 1 had clung rigidly to my inherited convictions. A broadbased cultural exposure can be a vital dynamic of both human and spiritual growth. Not only should we recognize this, but we should be ,willing to let ourselves be challenged by it. 3. The Depth of TranSformational Possibilities. This dynamic considers'to what extent the indivi~lual recognizes the opportunities that are available for changing one's life~ The previous element cab present numerous possibilities and values to test One's ability to go~ beyond and enrich one's inherited and socialized culture. This dimension of human deepening, though, looks far mor+ r~dically and openly to the future hnd to the goal of humanization than do the previous two areas. It incorporates the hope and realistic expectation that 6ur live~ can actually be reshaped and renewed into a creative new pattern that combines inherited values and newly-learned cultural expressions. The full reality of spiritual growth, then, must internalize the possibility that the true spiritual person will be the result of a creative religious act.2° 4. Integrative and Creative ~)ecision. This final dynamic specifies that unique moment when the three preceding dimensions are brought into mutual interac- 44 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1983 tion. Chronological growth, cultural possibilities, and projected changes are balanced and ready to be creatively merged by free decisions. This truly inte-grative dynamic of spiritual deepening is the traditional meaning of Wisdom. Christian theology has also called it "discernment in the Spirit of the Lord."!t is an axis of human and spiritual growth which reaches far beyond the simple importation of cultural growth theories into religious spirituality. These four elements of spiritual growth ought to provide at least a basic framework that would take us beyond a simple application of the chronologi-cal growth stages. Spiritual directors and reflective Christian adults should examine all four areas for material to answer the question: Am 1 growing spiritually? Christian Resources and a Theology of Spiritual Growth Having considered the problem of understanding growth in contemporary spirituality and the human social sciences, we must further inquire." Does the Christian religious experience offer any special contributions to this issue of spiritual growth? Does the Christian tradition add any unique perspectives in ascertaining the precise goals, means or methodological steps of authentic spiritual deepening? First, let us acknowledge that Scripture surely affirms some kind of reli-gious maturation. The Apostle Paul gently reprimands his congregation at Corinth: "I treated you as still infants in Christ. What I fed you with was milk, not solid food, for you we.re not yet. rea.dy for it" (I C° 3:1, 2). In another passage he contrasts the ways of Children with those of adults as a norm for spiritual deepening (! Co 13:9-12). Paul further notes the real possibility of regression or backsliding on the" spiritual journey: "! am astonished at the promptness with which you have turned away from the one who called you." (Ga 1:6). Along with other biblical writers (see Jn o16:12) the Apostle of the gentiles presents a definite conviction of the need for growth or deepen-ing on the spiritual journey. But we will look in vain for any systematic description of a life-pattern of holiness in the Scriptures. Alas, no biblical Erikson has appeared to lead us into this Promised Land. At best we can discern religious situations, spiritual responses to the situations, and recogni-tions that people have not progressed as far as they should have. Secondly, from a purely linguistic and cognitive viewpoint the Scriptures complicate the matter of trying to formulate a coherent theory of spiritual growth. This complication results from the cultural and religious pluralism that lies behind the,early Christian writings: this pluralism results in a variety of central symbols--all concretizing the same Christian wa~y.2~ The New Tes-tament encompasses a variety of goals in the spiritual process: the pascha~l pattern of Christ in us (Paul), the kingdom of God (Jesus), the holiness of God (I Peter), the life.and ministry of Jesus (synoptic gospels). Similarly diver~e are the means to attain these goals: aft active moral love (Paul), the new com-mandments (Matthew), loving knowledge (John) and personal conversion Am I Growing Spiritually? (Jesus). As if this were not enough, one fails to find the least evidence of any systematizing method which would trace the step-by-step procedures of spiri-tual growth through the means to the end. While many later Christian writers have attempted to formulate systematizing examples, they all impose a later schema on the earlier texts,z2 The absence in the New Testament of a step-by-step explanation of spiri-tual deepening should be understandable in a moment's reflection: these canonical writings are occasional pieces, not systematic expositions. Moreover, in the cultural milieu of their composition, subjective spiritual growth was not a high priority: it is our modern viewpoint that has elevated it to a primary concern. And yet the richness of spiritual experience in the Christian heritage does possess an immense wealth in its own right, one that need not be clipped or stretched to fit within our cultural categories of human growth. Methodo-logically, this suggests that a revisionist method of theology, such as the one outlined by David Tracy, should be introduced more forcefully into the realm of spirituality.23 The Christian heritage should challenge" contemporary culture, as well as vice-versa. I would like to suggest one issue which might be pursfiEd in this dialectical exchange. The question should be raised: Does the Christian religious vision even allow that spiritual growth have any single necessary ground-plan? Ought we not consider as a real possibility that the reason it is difficult to find a methodo-logical statement of spiritual growth in the Bible is because there isn't supposed to be one? These writings are open-ended! They provide no abs61ute goal of spiritual growth: they offer no absolute means of holiness: they organize no steps in an absolute methodological pattern. Taken as a collection of accumu-lated experience these writings simply give us a variety of examples of men and women who are "on the spiritual way." Like the parable of the Good Samari-tan which avoids a direct answer to the question: "Who is my neighbor?" the wholel import of the scriptural collection deliberately leaves a great deal of latitude for people to choose their own path. The implied message of the Good Samaritan story, "Be loving and you will recognize your neighbor," may be symbolic of the entire scriptural message. Paul's great theme of freedom in the Galatian letter forcefully accents that same open-endedness. "Before faith came, we were allowed no freedom by the Law . The Law was to be our gua~rdian until Christ came . lqow that that time has come we are no longer under that guardian" (Ga 3:23-25). That warning may be spoken against any absolute plan (including a growth plan) that would shackle human freedom. When Paul pleads with his hearers to be guided by the Spirit (5:26), he is admonishing people to remain open and a

Issue 41.1 of the Review for Religious, January/February 1982. ; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. © 1982 by REVIEW FOR REI.~G~OOS. Composed. printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription U.S.A.: $9.00 a year: $17.00 for two years. Other countries: $10.00 a year; $19.00 for two years. For subscription orders or change of address, write: REVIEW FOR REt,IGIOUS; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55802. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Daniel T. Costello, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Book Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor Jan./ Feb., 1982 Volume 41 Number 1 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REVIEW I"OR RE~.IGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; Jesuit Community; St. Joseph's University; City Avenue at 541h St.; Philadelphia, PA 19131. Back issues and reprints shoul.d be ordered from Rt:v,Ew Vo8 RE~oIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindetl Blvd.; St. L~uis, MO 63108. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. Review for Religious Volume 41, 1982 Editorial Offices 3601 Lindell Boulevard, Room 428 Saint Louis, Missouri 63108 Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Daniel T. Costello, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Miss Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Book Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is published in January, March, May, July, Sep-tember, and November on the fifteenth of the month. It is indexed in the Catholic Periodical and Literature Index and in Book Review Index. A microfilm edition of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is available from University Microfilms International; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. Copyright © 1982 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. The Art of Wasting Time: Thoughts on the Expropriation of Leisure James W. Heisig Father Heisig, of the Society of the Divine Word, is a Permanent Fellow of the Nanzan Institute for Religion and Culture, General editor of its book series on East-West thought and Associate Professor of Humanities at the Nan:an University. His address: Nan:an Institute for Religion and Culture: 18, Yamazato-cho. Showa-ku: Nagoya, Japan'. In modern industrialized nations, time is thought of as an investment commodity with a fluid market value. The power of time to cure all ills that the ancient Greek proverb celebrated has been drained from it to reduce time to disposable mer-chandise within our control. Some people's time is now worth more than other people's time because they know how to use time .profitably, that is, to achieve maximum production with minimum consumption. The ideal management of time is measured by cost-benefit analysis. As a consumer commodity, time is also unevenly distributed: some people now possess more time than others, which they are free to invest wisely or foolishly. It does not take much reflection to appreciate how the metaphor of "annual income,"the most Oniversal measure of the relative value of time, has crept its way into the modern imagination and laden words once rich in personal meanings with the double entendre of economic connotations. And that is as true in the world of business as it is in the world of religious or humanitarian devotion to an ideal. We hear it said that the fund~.mental shock occasioned by the increased pace of modei'n living is that shorter and shorter periods of time enable us to achieve the same things that former civilizations took much longer to achieve, which in turn produces the need for constant novelty. In fact, we do notachieve the same things at all. By submitting time and human needs to new s.tandards, the quality of life 3 4 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 itself has been altered and important spiritual values siphoned off as waste. The trip across the Sinai that took the ancient Israelites forty years to complete would hardly take forty minu~tes today from t~ikeoff to landing. But whereas their voyage was a.journey that transformed a band of refugees into a people of God, ours is reduced to a mere change of location that takes place too quickly to effect any but the most superficial of insights. For us, time wasted in travel, in the use of outmoded tools, and in the inefficient use of resources and personnel is money flushed down the drain. On the one hand, time well spent promises the reward of time to spare; but on the other, the time that we have saved is only of value if it, too, is well spent. The result is that leisure has become a luxury item, with less to be found among workers today than there was among the slaves of ancient Greece and Rome. In such circUmstances, it has become easy to market time-measuring devices for popular use that approximate the precision of scientific equipment. A wrist-watch that takes time to wind and has to be reset once a week is an anachronism to the modern mind. The practical advantages of such accuracy are fictitious, but the ideological advantage is very real. We are so firmly locked into the modern myth of time that the thought of unclocking oneself, even for the purposes of relaxation, has become the moral equivalent of undressing in public. The idea of time that has colonized the habits of thought that gird the institu-tions of modem society--school, church, business, entertainment, travel, health care, politics, social action--has wrought a spiritual impoverishment on our native sensibilities. The reverence for free time Freizeit and leave from labor (leisure) has not disappeared, but its motivations have shifted. The important wisdom that time belongs among the "best thing~ of life" that cannot be bought and sold, that belong to all of us as our common human right, and that are their own reward, is in peril. The expropriation of leisure by the consumer ethos is one of the most harmful ideas that pollute modern consciousness and obstruct the construction of an equitable and sustainable global community. Instead of having time for oneself, time for the earth, and time for the human race, we have become content with having time to consume the goods and services manufactured in other sectors of society. We have come to think of time as a nonrenewable resource, and lost the art of wasting it lavishly for our spiritual well-being. Deliverance from this state of affairs begins with learning to make transparent the myth of time that we inhabit unawares. And onestep in that direction, it seems to me, is to have a look at some of the things we no longer seem to have much time for. Time for Oneself The story is told of a certain clergyman who went to see the famous psycholo-gist, C. G. Jung, complaining of an impending nervous breakdown. His story was a familiar one. Working fourteen hours a day to fill up his life of service with meaning, he found only a spiritual tiollowness to his work. The harder he worked, the more tasks he took on, the more his nerves stood on end, threatening at any moment to shatter through the fragile mask of the busy pastor and expose his The Art of Wasting Time hypocrisy. 3ung's advice was simplicity itself; he was to work a mere eight-hour day, go home and spent his evenings quietly in his study alone. Unconvinced of the wisdom of .lung's counsel, but sufficiently agonized to have no other recourse, the man made up his mind to follow the prescription to the letter. He worked his eight hours, returned to the parish house for supper, then retired behind the closed doors of his study for the rest of the evening. Some time later he returned to see .lung, reporting that, alas, the remedy had been a complete failure. Spiritually he was worse off than before, and the parish had fallen into disarray for want of attention. He had done everything just as he had been told, but to no avail. "What did you do in your study?" Jung asked. "Well, let's see, the first night I finished a Herman Hesse novel and listened to some Chopin l~tu~les. After that I read some Thomas Mann and listened to a Mozart sonata. Next I . . ." "But you didn't understand," .lung broke in. "I didn't want you to spend your time reading novels and listening to music. I wanted you to be alone with yourself.""Oh, but 1 couldn't stand it. i make such bad company," the pastor replied. "Aha! Now we see the problem," said .lung. "That very self that you can't stand for even a short period is the same self you have been inflicting on others for fourteen hours a day.~ The pastor's problem and the way he set out trying to cure it both belong to a level of cultural development that can only be called elite. The freedom to opt for a fourteen:l~our work day and drive oneself to psychological tatters, and then to reduce one's time of labor by 40% for the sake of spiritual hygiene; the possibility of consulting a professional therapist and paying for the service; the ability to read classic literature and appreciate classical music--all of these things belong to a style of life unthinkable to the great masses of humanity, who do not work for ends supererogatory to survival that can be dispensed with when body or soul collapses, but work to keep alive, and great numbers of them successfully. I do not mean to imply that the man's problem was not a real one, or that it should be classified, along with cosmetic surgery and Caribbean cruises, as needs bred of boredom or surfeit. I mean only that, like all spiritual problems, its roots reach over into problematic social structures as well, whose repair requires more attention to one's own soul. Of this, more shall be said later. What 'lung showed the pastor about himself, and what many of those who share his general cultural field can readily identify with, is that people will often go to extraordinary lengths to avoid having to look at themselves without a role to play. The crises of meaninglessness.that had attacked his work spread over into his leisure because of a common fundamental bias that value can only be generated by keeping busy at a socially acceptable task. In each case, he fled what he feared would do him more harm than anything else: his deep dislike of himself. In his work, the pretense of altruism threw up a thick smoke screen, almost as if deliber-ately to cloud the problem; and in his leisure the pretense of polishing up his education protected and reinforced the hollow ideals he could never quite recog-nize as his own. "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself." Before one embraces those words as a commanded task, they need first to be accepted as a statement of fact: like it or not, one cannot love another if one does not first love oneself. And 6 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 there is no way to love oneself if one does everything possible to avoid spending time with oneself. The pastor's abuse of leisure meant that leisure was not a freeing time but an enslaving time. Instead of serving as a re-creational balance to the creativity of his work, it bound him more firmly to the estrangement he felt between his own innermost beliefs and his outward devotedness. The proper use of leisure, on the other hand, demands the capacity to turn solitariness into solitude, not to dread it as a mere isolation from things that have value. If there are human values that daily life and work sterilize conscience against, and if those values are truly the eradicable imprint of the divine on the soul of each individual, then the deliverance of the human from the inhumanity of which it is capable begins with a transforma-tion in perspective metanoia towards oneself. And that takes time, leisure time. To be denied that time to waste on oneself, or to deny it to oneself, is to forsake redemption from the common habits of evil that we all participate in unawares. Time for the Earth A second dimension on which our~modern myth of time has expropriated the functions of leisure is that of our relationship to nature. In order to get to the core of this problem, 1 should like to cite a story from the Inner Chapters bf Chuang- Tzu, the Chinese mystic and Taoist philosopher of the fourth century before the Christian era. It is a story about a certain master carpenter named Stone and his apprentice, and how they happened one day to encounter the truth about worth-less trees. It seems that on one of their voyages the two chanced to pass by a gigantic oak tree standing by a local village shrine. The young apprentice stopped short and stood aghast with awe at the towering majesty of the tree, whose trunk he thought must measure a hundred spans in girth, and whose branches were so immense that at least ten of them he reckoned could surely be carved into boats. But the master Stone just stalked off ahead without so much as giving the tree a second glance. Catching him up, the apprentice inquired of him why a carpenter should pass up such timber, more splendid than any he had seen since taking up his axe. "Stop!" the master rebuked him. "The tree is useless. A boat made from it would sink, a coffin would soon rot, a tool would split, a door would ooze sap, and a beam would have termites. It is worthless timber and is of no use. That is why it has reached such a ripe old age." That night the oak,tree appeared to the carpenter Stone in a dream and complained of being compared with useful trees that are stripped and pruned and robbed of their fruits or cut down in their prime because they attract the attentions of the common world. "As for me, I have been trying for a long time to be useless. I was almost destroyed several times, Finally I am useless, and this is very useful to me. if I had been useful, could 1 have.ever grown so large? Besides, you and I are both things. How can one thing judge another thing? What does a dying and worthless man like you know about a worthless tree?" The next day, when the °The Art of Wasting Time apprentice heard of the dream, he was puzzled. "If it had so great a desire to be useless, why does it serve as a shrine?" This time the master took up. the cause of the tree. "It is just pretending to be one so that it will not be hurt by those who do not know that it is useless. If it had not been a sacred tree, it would probably have been cut down. It protects itself in a different way from ordinary things. We will miss the point if we judge it in the ordinary way." Let us say the carpenter Stone, with his "ordinary way" of looking at things, is a type of technological men and women whose tools have so eclipsed their direct contact with nature that they can no longer revere the world except as something "useful" for their equipment. As the tree reminds the carpenter in his dream, however, there are values that go beyond the useful, beyond the values that civilizations assign to things when they judge them to be worth our "while." These values reach deep beneath the differences that separate the human from the rest of the earth, to the point of geocentric unity that was broken with the anthropocent-ric revolt against being merely a thing among other things. They reach beyond the divisions of means and ends into which people classify everything about them. Insight into such values begins with learning t9 listen to the earth, something whose importance we are only now rediscovering after a century of industrial progress. Even so, we have the greatest of difficulty in unplugging ourselves from the apparatus we have built to mediate our way to nature. The world is still viewed by and large as raw material for human civilization. We struggle to keep our environment free of pollution because we fear the spread of disease among people and the poisoning of our food. We lobby against the mindless pillage of forests because we fear the effects of soil erosion on our buildings and landscaping. We protect the wilderness because we need somewhere to "get away from it all." These are reasons that make sense to a civilized mind, but do not satisfy it quite yet. We still want more sense than that. Increasing numbers (especially those for whom there is no economic danger involved) are finding it therapeutic to sympathize with the plight of species endangered by hunting or the destruction of natural habitats. Others are relearning to use the tools that scientific advance had thought to render into museum pieces. Something like a spirituality of the earth is coming to birth, but its douleurs d'enfantement are spasmodic and uncomfortable in the extreme. Perhaps the major reason that the developed industrial nations of the world do not yet have time for the earth is that their livelihood depends on a world frag-mented according to its utility for tools, and on a work force of specialists who literally feed off of one or the other fragment. The kit of tools that provides us with our ordinary way of looking at the earth functions not only because it represents a considerable extension of the power of the human body--legs into automobiles, voices into radio waves, eyes into telescopes, arms into cranes, and so forth, in the great caricature that humanity has made of its own image--but also because it succeeds in devaluing any other way of looking at life and work. While this has made impressive leaps in scientific and technical progress possi-ble, it has also taken its toll on the human spirit in the form of a massive addiction I~ / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 to packaged, processed experiences of the earth. We seek respite from the drudgery of working at our own specialized task only to find ourselves consuming the product of someone else's specialization. The woman who sits from morning to night on an assembly line at a canning factory learns to put up with the boredom and servility of her labor by concentrating on the privileges it will give her through the money she earns. Come vacation time, she happily skips into a great steel can sealed in Los Angeles and opened in Hawaii, clutching her five-nights-six-days-cut- rate-holiday plan around which she has organized her hopesof regaining some of the dignity she had to forfeit in order to afford the trip in the first place. She may well spend her whole life without noticing 'that she is being sold on the earth in entertainment-packages by an industry that depends on people not being able to experience the beauties and pleasures of nature without their help. Such contact with nature, far from helping one to recover the basic human demand for creativity and meaning in work, only reinforces the same feelings of impotence, ignorance, and strangeness in the face of the complex machinery and bureaucracy that has come between people and the earth. From the point of view of those who have forgotten that demand, such time may be considered very well spent, very useful, and very recreational. But it is not the freeing time of leisure because it does not so much as waste a moment on trying to step outside the ordinary way of looking at the earth, to see nature once again from the inside as it were, as something valuable in itself. Time for the Human Race In addition to the estrangement from oneself and estrangement from the earth, there is a third dimension on which our myth of time has expropriated the dower of wasted time, namely estrangement from our own race. We who compose essays on electric typewriters and subscribe to journals on the spiritual life tend to forget that the technology we take for granted is still experienced as an oppression by the vast majority of human beings. Consciously it is felt as the oppression of neglect at the hands of those who dwell in the economic penthouses of the global commun-ity. Unconsciously it is felt as the oppression of envy for the equipment and the life style of affluence and the accompanying disgust with their own primitive enjoy-ments. For all the commonsense wisdom contained in the counsel that money cannot buy happiness, and that more often than not it only multiplies the possibili-ties for unhappiness, both the rich of the earth and the poor are agreed that it is a misery they would prefer risking. The consumer ethos that pervades and sustains a high level of technology at the top of the human pyramid also pervades and sustains the grotesque want under which most of our kind are forced to live. - By far the greatest part of the human community has no opportunity for employing the technological tools that are now transforming the fac~ of the planet, and in many cases do not even know that they exist. Those who use jet transporta-tion are an absolute aristocracy; for every one of them there are several thousands who have never ridden a bicycle. The number of illiterates in the world still far The Art of Wasting 7~me / 9 outnumbers the number of those who even own radios; and the number of people who own television sets is far lower than the number of those whose annual income does not reach the cost of a television. The rest of humanity, for which individuals in the developed world have no time, have fallen into conditions made more difficult to escape by the surfeit that one small portion of the world enjoys. At the base of the human pyramid there are ~hundreds of millions living on the borderlands of vegetation and death, which in turn belongs to a group of nearly one billion people whom we have now come to speak of as the fourth world. Above them is the third world, over half of which lives in a poverty they have no hope of remedying, yet a poverty tortured by the knowledge that some of the race spend their lives struggling to acquire still greater surpluses of luxury, and to glut themselves with still more of the already maldis-tributed fruits of the earth. Those who are born and bred in life at the top of the pyramid have little practical feeling for the current inhumanity that is ravaging most of the race. They find it easier to imagine science-fictional futures than to imagine the present reality, let alone to image their own complicity in the way things are. They may watch documentaries about starvation in Africa or floods in Asia, but fail to make any connection when they book passage the next day for a tour in the Yucatfin. Or perhaps better, they have allowed their.questions to be silenced by the whole tangle of government and economic organizations that constantly complain of how com-plicated everything is. They may know that the budget of New York State, with its twelve million people, exceeds that of India with its six hundred million, and perhaps even permit themselves a sigh of pity; but they entrust the sorting out of injustices to the experts who have been trained to worry about such things. All the privileged of the earth know for sure is. that they have no objection to others sharing in their style of life, provided it does not make any demands on theirown appetities. Clearly, this is not enough. Within a generation we shall have six billion people on the earth, with five billion of them living in poverty. The tactic of indifference, which amounts to a war of the few against the many, kills and dehumanizes more effectively than any weapon we have yet dared to use. But it is running out of time. As the poor arm themselves with the surplus of our .stockpiles, sold off cheaply to make way for more advanced weaponry, we cannot suppose that they will forever remain content with waging war among themselves. The smaller and more concen-trated the centers of wealth become throughout the world, the more vulnerable they become to the masses of those who have been trained to be jealous of what others are free to consume. The urgency of the situation, however, is not of itself enough to guarantee the quality of any and every attempt to alleviate it. Just as time for the self and time for the earth tend to get absorbed without remainder into time for the consumption of luxuries advertised as refreshment from working time, so time for the human race all too readily gets twisted into the donation of services that perpetuate the spirit-ual impoverishment of the technological world by camouflaging it behind an 10 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 idiom of charity. Those who are touched with a sense of pity for the maldistribu-tion of wealth and feel the pressure to help, all too frequefitly lack the requisite insight into their own patterns of thought to realize how their aid can amount to the substitution of one form of dehumanization for another. In providing hospi-tals, schools, factories, and modern transport for the underprivileged (that is, for those denied the right to consume culture as we consume it), the donor organiza-tions narrow their responsibilities down tc~ the unilaterial sharing of goods and values. The possibility that alternate social systems, now' rendered obsolete, unproductive, and unsustainable by the current management of the world's resources, may have something to, teach the human community about liberation from the consumer ethos is pushed to one side in the rush to make amends for gluttony overcome with guilt in the face of deprivation. I1: the price of providing bread for the world is further investment in the current means of producing and distributing bread, then bread for the world there will never be. The economics of this are fairly intricate, but the direct ratio th~it obtains between the number of people who are starving to death and the increased number of organizations and agencies aimed at distributive justice is plain enough to see. A leisure that is freeing for the human race is not simply time given free of cost by the haves to the have-nots, but a time for withdrawal from the ruling myth of time. It must, in the first pla~e, be a waste of tilne altogether free of investments economic or ideological, time wasted on the whole of the race, ourselves included. Of all the forms of leisure, this is the one that has become most radically enslaved to the biases of working time, despite the way in which improved means of communication have enabled an altogether new image of the universal h~]man family. There may be no greater constriction of.the imagination in the history of human thought about world order than that of the present day face-off in devel-oped industrial nations between the philanthropic illusion of the rich nations of the world opening their storehouses to share with the poor on the one hand, and the financial illusion of increasing productivity to the point of being able to sell more goods more cheaply without monetary loss on the other. And this, too, is a mark of grave spiritual immaturity. The Reappropriation of Leisure If I have left a good deal in the previous pages to innuendo and only hints of an explanation of how leisure time has become victimized by the spread of consumer metaphors, it was not only to condense a manifold problem into a few words, but also to prepare for what 1 wish to propose by way of conclusion. Simply put, it comes to this: that only the personal awakening of increasing numbers of individ-uals to the considerable loss sustained by civilization in its forward march into technology can provide the footings for a modern spirituality, and that only the redemption of leisure time from its servility to current structures of thought can provide the conditions for such awakening. The reappropriation of the need for leisure--an unadvertised, unprofitable, and withal revolutionary need--begins with the individual or it does not begin at all. No one can stand l~roxy for another's The Art of Wasting Time spiritual conversion. No expertise can service a society with personal insight, judgment, and decision. For it is not so much concession to the logic of particular conclusions that is the point, but the recovery of the process of working one's own way out of familiar biases. This process hinges on the art of wasting time. In the first place, leisure time should nurture a spirit of resistance to the humors of resignation that poison the bloodstream of industrial society. It should increase one's resistance to the workaday bias that the submission and trust due divine providence, for having cast us into a world with hopes in our hearts too big for our abilities, should be extended into a submission and trust in social provi-dence, for having spun a web of institutions so tightly about us that we are powerless to do much more than lay a hand across our inquisitive mouths and adjust as best we can. From the point of view of the world of time where work gets done, free time that results in raising basic questions about that world is not only wasted time, it is counterproductive. No doubt a life in which leisure means nothing but filling up with comforts and entertainments the hollow gouged out of the soul by resignation to the complexities of modern life is an ideal few, if any, would Openly champion. But the fact is, the bare physical need for periodic reinvigoration always has a spiritual dimension to it as well, and in industrial society that spiritual dimension tends to vacillate between the reinforcement of patterns of passive consumption of relaxation and spare-time thoughts about better pay, shorter hours, or increased benefits. In either case, it remains subser-vient to the structures of work and effectively concedes defeat to their power. It lacks re-creativity. This is the idolatry, of epidemic proportions, that afflicts the spirituality of technological society. Second, in order to offer this sort of recreational resistance to the spirit of resignation, time wasted in leisure should be an abandon to the spirit of playful-ness. I use that word in a broader sense than either the games of children or the athletics of adults to cover not only the labor of alternative activities but also the enjoyments of repose; and in a narrower sense than sleep or intoxication on the one hand, moonlighting or profit-making hobbies on the other. The playfulness of leisure has three facets. The first of these is the imagination of possible futures in which we might be free of the oppressions of the present. If such futures are truly' possible, that is, if they are able to emerge out of the existing world by a rearrange-ment of its priorities, then their entertainment in imagination is capable of being sustained and deepened from one period of leisure to the next. This in contrast to the scattered daydreams of wishful thinking that come and go for all of us without effort or lasting impression. That is, such images can accumulate sufficient form in time to lead to the commitment to some preferable future from among the possi-bilities~ To experience such a reorganization of hope in playfulness is to experience the genesis of an ideal within oneself. Not to experience it is to keep leisure locked up in itself. And finally, there is the transition from the possible and the preferable to the enjoyment of the future in the present. This is where most people are best at wasting time, even though they may not know what they are doing. It consists in the construction of a temporary utopia about oneself where the things one values 12 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 most can be savored. It is a timefor tasting ideals of companionship without strife, pleasure without labor, crafmanship without pressure, play without punishment. The reigning fear among those who wish to protect their leisure time from being absorbed by spiritual or intellectual recollection is that too much reflection inhibits enjoyment. And to be sure, there are those whose twisted sense of asceticism drives them from one cause to the other, volunteering their services and neglecting the wisdom that comes from having a good, wasted time. At the other extreme, enjoyment cut off from reflection about the future altogether quickly shrivels up into a mere pampering of a self exhausted by labor, with the result that it becomes less and less enjoyable and more and more like the pure passivity of sleep. Some-where between the two lies the art of celebrating a world that is not but might be for a while, a world filled up with the spirit of playfulness. Third, leisure should help foster a spirit of survival in the midst of this by no means best of all possible worlds. Just as the struggle for physical survival requires ingenuity in using available resources and at the same time remaining alert to the opportunities for deliverance if and when they present themselves, so too with the struggle for spiritual survival. It requires anger against avoidable evils, sensitivity to appropriate solutions in which one's anger may be expressed, and the capacity to wait without exploding from within or being sapped of one's energies from without. One may have to buy chemically treated food because fresh produce has been priced beyond one's budget; one may have to drive an automobile to work because public transport systems have become an economic deficit to the com-munity; one may have to put up with menial labor because one's skills are not in demand; one may have to swallow large doses of injustice, stupidity, and callous-ness. But one does not have to pretend to like it or allow it to embitter enjoyment. Survival means wedding a resistance to resignation with a love of playfulness so as to forfeit neither the gusts nor the disgusts of life. Fourthly, leisure needs to infuse a spirit of the sacred into the time that we waste. When the ritual, beliefs, and holy writ of a religious tradition become fettered to the myth of consumer time, they forsake their sacredness. When they cease to cut like a. two-edged sword that denounces sinfulness and announces goodness, they dull and profane their capactiy of re-creation. At the same time, when they provide mere divertissement from the trials of working life or serve only as platforms for supporting the flood of causes that wash through the mass media with the regularity of spring and autumn fashions, they betray their meaning. Sacred time is not an investment measured in loss and profit to the current problems of a civilization. It is a necessity--the necessity to hallow the self, the earth, and the human race as a single great gift beyond all desert. It insures that, whatever of practical use may come out of time wasted in leisure, it is the wasting that is holiest. Sacred time unplugs us from our own time and opens up a horizon of all time, against which the greatest sin appears as the desire for absolute control and the greatest goodness as the grace of being absolutely loved. All of us, every soul of us on earth, breathe the myths of our civilization as inevitably as we breathe the air .that surrounds us. They are transparent, taken for The Art of Wasting l~me / 13 granted, but essential for human .life. Leisure time is like a flute that transforms.the silent secrets in the air into music. It shows us the harmonies and the cacophanies, the purity and the pollution of our myths. Without leisure, we have no way to know the air about us, no way to love back the One who made us the,mythmaking animals we are. View From Behind Tapestries look like battlefields from the back. Threads like soldiers in hand to hand combat-- who is most resilient? Arms locked, elbows out, clenched fists of knot scattered like small skirmishes across the expanse. Who is most flexible? Stitches quarrel in overbearing voice, rush to trenches, maintain positions. Colors invade each other's territory, singing violent victories of light. All clamor, all struggle, It faces the wall of faith while the weaver and the watcher . work from the front. St. Anne Higgins, D.C. 123 Franklin St., Petersburg, VA 23803 Celibacy in Africa Matungulu Otene, S.J. Zaire's Father Otene, ordained in 1977, is presently working in St. Peter and Paul parish: B.P. 1125: Lubumbashi: Zaire. This article is excerpted from the booklet. "C~libat Consacr~ pour une Afrique assoiff~: de F~:conditi:," published by Editions Saint-Paul Afrique, P.O. Box 8505; Kinshasa, which was translated into English by Louis C. Plamondon. S.J.: Manresa; Box 47154; Nairobi; Kenya. In English, it is no. 65 of the Spearhead series, "Celibacy and the African Value of Fecundity," published by Gaba Publications: P.O. Box 908: Eldoret: Kenya, which graciously granted permission for our use. ~f the reason for Christian celibacy is unique, that is, for Jesus Christ and his kingdom, every Christian called to this type of life is also called to live out this experience in the context of his own culture and personal history. An African celibate today is not celibate in exactly the same way as an Indian of today, even if both are celibate for the sake of Jesus Christ and his kingdom. There is a whole world of emotions and affectivity which permeates our celibacy very deeply. This is so true that the world we live in affects the objective and subjective content of our celibacy. Both what we hear being said about celibacy and what we experience in our flesh by living out what is said, are rooted emotions. Without this emotive element, there would be no human celibacy in the full sense of the term; conse-quently, there would be no Christian celibacy since the latter is deeply rooted in human nature and since celibacy itself has also to be incarnated. The affective life of a South American--his way of feeling and living celibacy--differs from that of an African from Zaire or Senegal. Among Africans there are a certain number of differences in affectivity. However, even if it must be admitted that within the same people there are different ways of feeling things, this, nevertheless, does not mean that African peoples do not have a greater affinity with one another than with peoples from the West or the East. After all, their cultural heritage is common. This seems evident even if there are shades of meaning or subtle nuances which are hard to express in these few short pages, which do not pretend to be a psycho-so-cial study of human societies. 14 Celibacy in Africa The cultural milieu in which the young African lives has a very great impact on his response to the Lord's call. Celibacy is surely an area in which sensibility is a very important factor, if not the most important. In fact, coming as he does from a family where marriage is viewed in a very special light, the young African will carry in the depths of his being, perhaps through his whole life, the impact of this way of thinking. It will take only a circumstance or an event to awaken in him a whole world of memories accumulated throughout his short life. The fact that his grand-father was polygamous, that his own father had more than one wife, and that his own mother was not the first wife of his father, nor the one preferred, cannot but have significance in his life of celibacy. The mere fact of knowing that in his extended family there is somewhere a cousin with five children, each with a different father, cannot be without significance. Those are his half brothers, but this entails that this good cousin of his.is a husbandless woman with children entirely dependent upon her. To know that his aunt is a prostitute with children, cannot' but have some impact on him. It is no small thing to have a deep sense of all these situations and still, despite all this, to dedicate his life to God in conse-crated celibacy. This world which I have just described briefly cannot be found as such in Europe nor in North or South America, but this is the world that has shaped the young African of whatever black African country he may be. One cannot ignore these realities and pretend that they do not have any influence whatsoever on people. For Africans the child is a reality to be treasured; and each human being does all in his power to leave behind him :some offspring, whether he be married or not married, living the life of a prostitute or of enforced celibacy. All Africans desire to have children, sometimes by any means. The young man who hears the Lord's call is living in this very world and not in any other. His' reflections and ways of thinking are rooted in the environment from which he comes, in the psycho-social milieu which surrounds him. This does not frighten the Lord just as no human milieu frightens him, because it is in such complex situations that he manages to find celibates for his kingdom. Growth in the Life of Celibacy To be sure, other cultures also have their own difficult problems in this area. I am merely showing that our way of experiencing the world has an influence on celibacy and that the cultural traditions are to be taken seriously, but without exaggeration. The young African called to a life of celibacy or religious life will have to integrate progressively within his affective life the realities which surround him without seeking to escape from them. He will do so by looking at them frankly, without panic, in prayer, in his personal relationship with Christ in the Eucharist. God's grace is always there, and this is what gives us confidence in the face of the strong temptations in this life. This young human being will have to understand that since the Incarnation, God gives his grace through weak human beings. Accordingly, to see clearly within his own being, he will have to be open with another person who has the experience of Jesus Christ. The one the Lord will "16 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 put in his path will show him the road to follow and will give him courage in the moment of trial when temptations are strongest. Celibacy requires a lot of disci-pline. He will have to learn to exercise great control over his senses and sometimes to give up things which are innocuous, and to focus on the unique reality which is necessary, Jesus Christ. For certain types of people, chastity can be gained only after a hard fight lasting many years; and this can cause a lot of anxiety when it happens to people who are scrupulous by nature, yet desirous of achieving holiness. What I have just written is not rhetoric. It sometimes happens that young people are torn apart inwardly because they want to dedicate themselves entirely to the Lord but yet cannot completely control certain evil habits or certain attitudes which they find difficult to evangelize. I insist that it is a difficult fight--a fight to death--a fight which moulds a man gradually as he learns bit by bit not to depend upon his own strength but on that of the Lord who has set him apart from his mother's womb to preach his Gospel to men of good will There are less sensitive types of people who do not encounter very many types of problems in their development, but irrespective of their sensitivity, all will undergo moments when they are forced to make a decision for the Lord. The chastity that is required by a life of celibacy is not a case of spontaneous generation--it is a garden that must be tended lest weeds grow in it. When one has gone astray, one finds it difficult, sometimes even impossible, to go back; thus, it is not surprising that some young, generous people have gone astray. Vigilance is necessary in these matters, but the kind of vigilance characteristic of those who are sure of victory; for if Christ is with us, who can be against? Sooner or later Christ will defeat this devil of our middle age who likes to attack our flesh, born in the human condition, born incomplete. The young celibate, therefore, will learn not to abuse God's grace. He will be prudent; he will not take chances with his celibacy. He will have the simplicity of a dove but the prudence of a serpent. The married man who is a dedicated Christian will not flirt with other women lest his marriage, be threatened and, accordingly, his real happiness and that of his home. The same holds true for religious. They also cannot take chances with their passions and put themselves in the position of violating the gift they have made of themselves in the simplicity of their heart. Nothing escapes lay people when it comes to observing the behavior of reli-gious. They notice even the smallest detail when they want to criticize their priests or religious men and women. Some even take pleasure in judging them, in scrutin-izing their behavior to find the smallest reprehensible thing. In this way, they purify their religious, even without wanting to. Lay people are surely not gullible, even though they sometimes misinterpret the way African religious live out their celibacy. They can often distinguish between the religious who is loyal and faithful to his consecration to the Lord from the religious who is beginning to compromise and. to give in. Assuredly, their judgments are not gospel truth, and often one would do well to minimize themremembering that even the great saints were often Slandered by malicious tongues. Celibacy in Africa Certain Difficulties or Certain Illusions It is sad to 'note that many young, generous and seemingly solid religious have lost the grace of celibacy because of supposedly spiritual relationships with women religious and with young girls. There is nothing more dangerous than these suspect relationships between men and women religious, nothing more scandalous for African Christians than to see their priests, their men and women religious become involved in expressions of human love under the pretext of love in Christ.Many men and women religious believe rather too easily that they have been made immune to the weakness of their flesh. They are a little too quick to believe that they have attained the required maturity in celibacy. They sincerely think that henceforth sex has no hold over them since they have become spiritual. Yet, it is a very sad and illusory spirituality which makes man believe that he is now immune to sin. A really spiritual person, on the contrary, depends entirely on the grace of God without giving up healthy vigilance. I believe that the closer one gets to the Lord, the more one realizes that what seemed innocent until then now takes on the appearance of something that is not entirely pure. However, far from being threatened or discouraged by this increasing desire for purity, one has more and more confidence in the Lord and greater humility when one thinks 6f how little one is virtuous. In true love there is no fear. This is so, it seems to me, in the case of one who wants to respond wholeheartedly, day after day, to the call of him who has made us pass from darkness to his wonderful light. In my humble opinion, it often takes many years of solitude to be able to experience a true spiritual friendship in Christ with members of the other sex. The danger is to believe too quickly that the right moment has come. That is often when one goes astray. As for any genuinely Christian life, celibacy cannot go without suffering. There is no real celibacy without the mystery of the cross written, as it were, in the flesh of baptized people. A celibacy without renunciation, without a sacrifice that is willingly accepted, a celibacy which refuses to die like the grain of wheat fallen in the soil is a celibacy locked up in solitude and bearing no lasting fruit. There are people who are undoubtedly privileged because of circum-stances and especially because of the Lord, but let us not be too quick to classify ourselves among those people and risk spoiling the splendid grace the Lord has given to us--the grace of living the celibacy of simple people without any special favors from God, I mean without any extraordinary grace. This simple gift, in fact, honors the Lord just as much as the extraordinary gift that some of us humans might receive from God. I don't mean to say that it is absolutely impossible for men or women religious to experience a healthy spiritual friendship with members of the other sex, but I believe that some of us think that we have attained that stage when we really haven't. Often, because of a lack of restraint or a lack of real self-knowledge, one strikes up a friendship which will tomorrrow become sinful, therefore, bad for oneself and for theirs. A friendship to which we are too attached, a friendship which prevents us from fulfilling our duties is a friendship to be "18 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 purified or, better still to be abandoned while there is time; that is, as soon as we become aware off where it is. leading, the relationship must be severed politely and without human respect. This is for the greater good of the person whom we love in Christ; finally, it is for the greater glory of the one who has called us to holiness, Jesus Christ. In the same way, a friendship which would render a member of a religious order incapable of being available to do what his superiors want 9f him is simply not good. It is for the Lord that we have joined religious life, not for the purpose of surrounding ourselves with protective partnerships which go against true charity. In,his infinite goodness, the Lord may put on our path a person of the other sex for a certain period of time. This, person will enrich us through, friendship, and this enrichment can be mutual. But, here again, this gracemust be lived in all simplicity and with the necessary prudence since we are all weak, sinful human beings. Hope for Africa ~ , Certain missionaries have led young Africans to believe that celibacy is more difficult for them than !t is for young people from the West. This opinion is based on ignorance or it is a lie. The fundamental problem, in fact, is the same for all human beings; the conditions that are found in any culture are not qualitatively different. In the final analysis, it is the same fundamental problem for different people in different cultures; there are accidental but no essential differences. I have sometimes been shocked to hear this type of broad statement according to which it would be practically impossible for Africans to live a life of celibacy. For me, celibacy is rooted in faith in the living Christ. It is something which permeates the faith of the one who feels called, and faith is something which is given by the Lord without any distinction of culture or race. There are differences, but they are not so essential that they make a life of celibacy impossible in AfriCa. There are enough African religious to show th~.t this is true. Among these meia and women of Africa, often living in some isolated areas, there are men and women religious who live their cbnsecration to the Lord even in heroic fashion. Their silent example is enough to prove that celibacy is possible for Africans, at least for those who feel themselves called to it and who respond generously. Not too long ago, 1 was telling a group of young Africans the following: either we are Christians or we are not; either we believe in Jesus Christ or we don't believe in him at all. In this area there are no half measures. It's all or nothing. This is why faith in Jesus Christ requries a complete transformation of our life-style and of our outlook. One of the aspects of our outlook on life which must change because it is absolutely against Christianity is this requirement of a fruitfulness that is exclusively biological. A man without children among us in black Africa is one who does not bear fruit, who is useless and even an outcast. If there is an obstacle to the awakening and living out of vocations (and I am talking here about voca-tions to the priesthood or religious life), it is our too limited way of looking at fruitfulness. Many Africans believe that a man cannot be completely fulfilled in or outside of marriage unless he has many children. Among us, celibate people and Celibacy in Africa married couples without children are not seen in a good light because they seem useless to our society. It may be understandable that some non-Christians think this way. But for Christians this is disastrous. Haven't we ever meditated on the life of Christ? Can we ignore that he was himself celibate? Or do we believe that Jesus was not a man like us except for sin? Yet our creed is very clear on this. Jesus was truly God and he was truly man. If such is the case, why wouldn't we allow those among us who wish to live like Christ to doso? If it be true that the face of being celibate did not diminish the God made man, why wouldn't we accept that a certain number among us are not diminished by celibacy for Jesus Christ and his kingdom? Has the world ever known a being as fully developed as Jesus of Nazareth, our Love? Yet, he was celibate. Isn't this Jesus who lived without a wife and children still, even today, a source of all life for us? One doesn't lose anything by responding to his call, by becoming celibate for him and for his kingdom where we shall all have only one Father, his own, and where all of us will truly be brothers and sisters in the Spirit who makes us one. The young African is thus called to live a life of faith in Christ. He must not think that celibacy is more difficult for him than for young people in other continents. This is simply not true. Let us take the example of the West where today may be found pornographic films, sex shops, nightclubs. To live in such a world is not always easy. It requires a certain self-discipline. In order to live a life of celibacy in such an atmosphere, it is necessary to cling to Jesus Christ, to have a deep life of prayer and to receive the Eucharist regularly. The young African man or woman called to religious life will always remember that we live in a world of male and female; consequently, it is clear that we have to live our celibacy in the midst of men and women of our times and of our culture. There is nothing wrong with that; on the contrary, it is a grace that the Lord gives us by inviting us to live out his gospel in the midst of the world and not in some isolated corner. At the crossroads the Lord may put on our path certain persons of the other sex. We will welcome them as brothers and sisters in the Lord. The gospel is full of examples that show us how Jesus respected persons of the other sex. He doesn't send away the sinful woman who comes to the house of Simon, the Pharisee to have her sins forgiven. On this occasion, Jesus could have been afraid of shocking people by receiving such a woman with open arms. But the Lord was not afraid of what people would say or think because in true love there is no fear. Neither does Jesus judge the woman caught in adultery like the Pharisees who bring her to him. On the contrary, he defends her against the "unmarked tombs" who have grown old in sin and yet want to preach to others. Jesus is close friends with Martha and Mary as well as with their brother, Lazarus. Jesus has pity on the widow from Naim who has lost her son. The Lord admires the Canaanite woman's faith, and he is exceedingly affectionate toward his mother Mary, the Immaculate Virgin. In his Gospel, the Lord shows us how his celibacy did not exclude anybody. He Was completely open; he welcomed others. In solitude he prayed and he was a 20 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 source of joy and peace for the people that God, his Father, had placed in his path. If religious life is to flourish in our African continent,it is necessary that there be more and more religious who witness by their life of celibacy. A celibacy based on Jesus Christ cannot but be fruitful. Black Africa, which has such a high regard for fruitfulness, will see a new type of love which outstrips in fruitfulness the love of the children of this world. We, the sons and daughters of Mother Africa, have believed in the word of him who said, "there are some who are eunuchs because they have made themselves so for the kingdom of heaven. Let him who can understand, understand" (Mt 19:!2). If there is a word which has become the life of our life, that is the one. Spiritual Fruitfulness If there is a fruitfulness that is biological, there is another one which is spiritual. Any parent worth his salt knows that it is' not enough to procreate children. In responsible parenthood, it is also necessary to help the child that we have brought to life to grow untilhe has reached a stage where he will truly be an adult. To educate, to instruct are part and parcel of his awakening to human life. It takes only one instant for a couple to initiate the process of procreation. It takes only a little time to call someone into existence, but it requries many years for a child to become an adult. Whether it be as parents, as educators, or in any other capacity, all those who are engaged in human formation are doing a type of work that is spiritually generative. Any man who helps another one grow and become more human is a man who is gpiritually generative. This spiritual generation exists at various levels; yet, the spiritual fruitfulness of a Christian is not that of a non-Christian. From a Christian point of view, any Christian man or woman who awakens another human being to the life of God in Jesus Christ is spiritually fruitful. The object of spiritual fruitfulness for a Christian is Jesus Christ and his message. It is the person of Christ which distinguishes any typically Christian fruitfulness from any other. All Christians are called to be fruitful but in different ways and in accordance with their state in life. The form of life of one who wakens to the life of God in Jesus Christ is not something that is accidental. There are some who believe that the way of life--whether it be of married Christians or of "eunuchs for the king-dom of God"---has no importance in the process of awakening to life. But when one awakens somebody else to life, one does it with all one's being. If our way of life is not something external to us but a part of our being and, therefore, a part of our relationship to God, to others, and to the world, we can readily understand that this life-style is not without importance in matters of spiritual fruitfulness. In his life Jesus preferred celibacy to marriage, and this choice is not something accidental. The Jesus of the gospels presents himself to us as celibate and not otherwise, and this is part of the mystery of incarnation. In the same way Jesus was not at the same time a man and a woman. He was not both married and non-mar-ried. He was a celibate, and tfiis fact has some relevance in the transmission of his Celibacy in Africa message. He wanted to be born of a virgin, Mary, and this also is not something purely accidental or accessory in the mystery of salvation. Thus one who chooses celib~acy for the kingdom of God is fruitful differently from married people. This difference is rooted in the order of being and not of having. It is an ontological reality and, therefore, it is a dimension surrounded with mystery. The spiritual fecundity of those who live in celibacy resembles closely that of Christ. In other words, the way that Christ was spiritually fruitful resembles the way in which a man is fruitful through a celibacy chosen for Christ. Obviously "to resemble" or "to be close to" is not the same thing as "to be identical to." Wherever a true local Church is to be found, there will be found also Christians who are married and Christians who are eunuchs for the kingdom. Each of these forms of life has a great importance in the aspect of fecundity which is essential for the life of the Church. The uniqueness of the spiritual fruitfulness of a celibate for the kingdom of heaven shares something of the mystery of God made man, of God who wanted to be among us without woman or child while being eternally generative. Death Song of a Grain of Wheat Born above the earth, Beloved of the sun, Sky-held. Rain-touched. Wind-taught to dance, I know I sang of joy. Borne beneath the ground, Forsaken by the sun, Sky-denied, Rain-forgot, I feel no more the winds, And know a slower song. Yet reach I for the sun-set fires And C~rr the hidden waters. Stretched, song-heavy with the wait ' Of days too long to measure, I learn to trust the darkness That consumes me: That sends my myriad children to be Born above the earth. Sister Linda Karas. RSM Mercy Consultation Center P.O. Box 370 Dallas, PA 18612 The Sparrow Has Found Its Home At Last: A Personal Account of Transfer Anonymous The author is a sister who transferred from an active to a contemplative community some several years ago. She explains in the article why she prefers to remain anonymous. The sharing which follows comes as the result of a suggestion made to me that I write about my experience of transfer from an active community to a contempla-tive order. My first response was a hasty and hearty "No." Then the possibility of helping any individual or community involved in a similar experience crept into my prayer and thinking. The good which might be achieved seemed to outweigh my natural reticence and my disinclinatio.n to discuss the subject. I have not taken any polls, nor have I statistics. I personally know exactly six solemnly professed nuns and a few people in formation who transferred from active to contemplative life. However, one would'have to have lived on a remote Pacific atoll for the last several years not to know that transfers are on the increase. What follows is not a scholarly analysis of the phenomenon of transfer. It is just my own experience and an endeavor to share what ! have learned. The reason for my choosing anonymity is that I might feel freer in what I write and also guard the identity of my former and present communities. There is another reason: the story is more God's than my own. The transfer, or more correctly, my contempla-tive vocation, is his work, his call, his idea. My part has only been a response to his initiative and to his love. Early History The idea of transfer did not come as a sudden inspiration. My first desire to be a nun came when ! was twelve and I was certain then that I was called to be a contemplative: I even knew to which order and monastery I was attracted. Some-thing, though, interfered with following this vocation: My father adamantly opposed the idea of his daughter being immured in a cloister. The whole topic was 22 A Personal Account of Transfer forbidden, and gradually I forgot the idea. In the meantime, I became acquainted wi~h the sisters working in our parish. I won my father's consent to join this :community which 1 genuinely loved and admired. I received a good fo, rmation and an excellent education. I was very happy and contented. One thing consistenly moved and drew me: prayer. Right from the beginning I had some difficulty with meditation books and their outline of points, colloquies and resolutions. It all seemed too ready-made. Also, the time given to this prayer (one-half hour) never seemed to satisfy my longing for greater intimacy and depth. My difficulty was remedied by the fact that God simply transcended the books and led me along his chosen path for me in prayer. Another remedy came by way of hiding alone in solitary places on the novitiate property. There God had free rein in my heart. The one thing I most wanted was to love him and see him known and loved. Of course I did try to speak of this desire to superiors. They seemed mbre concerned that I live the common life, practice virtue, and eliminate my faults. All this was quite understandable but not terribly encouraging. Matters came to a head when I became a junior sister. My desires for loving God alone and in hiddenness, and for a life which would embrace withdrawal and penance became a steady fire within me. Neither studies nor work could distract me from it. After some months of inner turmoil I finally had the courage to broach the subject of a contemplative vocation to the community confessor, a, retreat maste.r, and my immediate superior. None of these persons told me the whole thing was a temptation against my vocation, but since 1 was happy and well adjusted, they each felt that I had enough opportunity for the things I was seeking within the scope of the religious life as it was then being lived in the congregation. Again, this was essentially what I had been told in the novitiate. My disappoint-ment was as strong as the attraction I had experienced but l was able to set aside my yearning. The work in which I was engaged kept me busy. I enjoyed it and gave myself to it wholeheartedly. A few years later, an unforgettable retreat, coupled with God teaching me to pray with Scripture some months after retreat, gave direction and support to me in my relationship with him. He was so near, and daily he spoke to me in his word. This did not rekindle the desire for contemplative life~ but it did establish me firmly in the way of contemplative prayer. This brief history serves, I think, to underscore a fact in my life and in the lives of those women whose stories of transfer I know well: the vocation was felt very early and not taken too seriously by those in a position to advise and assist. Had they done so, a good deal of the suffering, struggle and turmoil of coming to a decision to transfer,after many years in an apostolic congregation might have been mitigated. . Coming to a Decision In the years following Vatican Council II my community undertook its renew-al and adaptation. I welcomed all the initial changes as healthy and hopeful. As time went on, however, I became unhappy with my own and the community's level 24 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 of secularization. My modest wardrobe and collection of trifling possessions troubled my conscience. I wanted and expected to receive annual assignments, but the new approach of applying for both position and residence, with the full expectation that one's preferences would be honored, contradi6ted my understand-ing of Gospel obedience. T.V., mixed drinks, popular novels, dating, and all the inevitable departures from religious life were matters of grave concern to me. It seemed to me that the true life of the community was ebbing away, that God and the love of God were no longer the focus of life. We still did a first-class job in our work, but there appeared to me~ little difference between ourselves and dedicated lay persons. Without going into more detail, I felt it necessary to include the foregoing inasmuch as it formed some of the background for my transfer. However, I do not feel that discontent and disapproval, even if justified, are good reasons for transfer. They would form a very shaky foundation for any new beginning and would surely raise questions in the community accepting a transfer sister. Flight from trouble could well indicate that the same pattern would be followed in the new community. It could also mean that the heart of the problem might be within the sister herself, and her response to difficult circumstances. Fleeing trouble was never part of my motivation. Had this been the case, I would have done it much sooner because I lived in painful community situations for several years before making a transfer. Furthermore, 1 was always very open and honest in communicating my thinking to my superiors. One cannot simply leave. There must be integrity in the decision and it should be made in peace and, as far as possible, in harmony with one's higher superiors. There should be no bitterness, resentment or anger. The vocation is followed as God's call and is a result of his initiative. This fact, if kept central in the minds of all concerned, makes for peace; and it is in this way that God's presence manifests itself to all involved. God uses all our experiences to our good and brings about his purposes. While not my motivation, discontent and disapproval were part of my personal expe-rience and did serve to keep me from what I saw as wrong, In a more positive vein, they ,kept me praying for God's light, strength and help. Certain tragic events in my own family also form a part of this picture and had their effect. Instead of completely discouraging me or leading me to despair or exodus from religious life altogether, everything brought me to the God of all peace and consolation. He alone became myRock of Refuge and Teacher. The alienation I experienced from my community and its value increased my love for him and my trust in him. Thus it was that my attraction for simply being with God in love grew stronger. A mere "concidence" (in quotation marks because the providence of the God who numbers the hairs of our fieads extends to every circumstance and happen-ing) occasioned my writing to the superior of a monastery. In time we became correspondents. When I first visited her and met her community in the grilled and bare parlor of the monastery I was deeply moved. This surprised me. I had not thought of contemplative life as my vocation for years, yet here 1 was, feeling completely at home with relative strangers and very strongly drawn to their sim- A Personal Account of Transfer / 25 plicity, humility, joy, peace and poverty. In the months that followed 1 was haunted by the experience. I found out more about their life and read of their origin. Could it be? Might 1 become one of them? Or was this merely a desire for escape from present suffering ("the grass is always greener.") or a dream too good to be true? Then, too, there was the possibility to be faced that God was calling me to deeper contemplative prayer rather than actual contemplative life. And might I be doing more good in the world outside a cloister rather than in it? I went through this inner and secret turmoil for several months. All the while 1 begged for light and some discernible, positive direction from God. 1 kept waiting and hoping for some outside confirmation of God's will. God was, in fact, giving me all the "signs" I needed, but I distrusted the most significant of them: the profound attraction the life held for me over the years and especially at that moment, the fact that it fulfilled the most unselfish aspirations of my heart, and the fact that I seemed to have the requisite "talents." How is it we so readily distrust our own intuition and heart? Yet here at the deepest level of our being is where God works. Again, I have heard the same experience related by others who transferred to contemplative life. 1 went through no particular "process" of dis-cernment. There was just myself and, I trust, the Holy Spirit, plenty of tears, prayer, and searing, soul-searching honesty. One thing 1 knew: my life had one purpose and that was to love God with all my heart and soul, mind and being and to tend solely to him. Nothing else mattered. I did not see it then as clearly as I do now, but that, too, was evidence of a contemplative vocation, and had been the most important reality in my whole religious life. In his own time, God spoke, and he completely calmed the storm. I came to a "peace surpassing understanding." All my doubts vanished. My questions came to an end. I knew. In light of that peace I first asked the superior of the monastery (of the same order as that to which I was first attracted at the age of twelve) if there were any possibility of her accepting me. At the time I made my request I know now I was too little aware of the risk a small enclosed community takes in accepting a transfer. 1 next confided in my old and saintly grandmother who gave me her blessing, encouragement and wisdom--along with a warning that there was "still plenty of the world" in me and that I'd have far to go. She was absolutely correct. With my grandmother's prayers to back me, I approached my major superior. She was wonderful and accepting. The depth of my peace and conviction were evident to her. She fully realized and agreed.that this was a genuine vocation and not a result of any differences of values or opinions. We communicated in a real spirit of love. Not knowing much about contemplative life, her concern was that my personality might be stifled or my gifts ignored and unused. 1 had tentatively broached the subject to a priest friend in a letter some weeks before. Visiting him, 1 told him the whole story and said that I really thought it was God's will for me to transfer. He informed me that it came as no surprise to him, that he had seen it coming but had not wanted in any way to interfere with God's guidance of me. Among my family and friends, the least suprised was my mother. Her intuition had led her to realize that a great change was in the offing. 96 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 The responses of all the above mentioned persons further confirmed my expe-rience. I cannot say that my decision was accepted or understood by all my friends and religious family. It caused some painful estrangements and there were those who could only accept it as my "thing" and therefore all right for me. The actual process of transfer was thus initiated after what had felt like an interminable period of waiting and praying. Perhaps God wanted me to realize that it was first necessary that I be utterly surrendered to his desires and that the only way he could achieve this was to let me struggle on "alone" during that time. It was a kind of game of love. He so deeply drew me but never let me fully reach him. Left to myself 1 could not believe in my own heart. It was not until he gave me that unmistakable sign and gift of peace that 1 was sure that what I had been experiencing in my own heart was indeed his will for me, that the two were not two, but one. Legal Process of Transfer Because 1 am rather sure questions about procedure will arise, it may be helpful here to tell what 1 know about getting the document known as a "Rescript of Transfer" from the Sacred Congregation for Religious. In my own case this was done in the last months of my postulancy immediately prior to my receiving the habit and commencing my canonical year. For the validity of novitiate, one must have this document. Ordinarily the Vicar for Religious of the diocese in which the monastery is located handles the paperwork. He directed that three letters be written: the first by the superior of the community ! was leaving expressing her approval and her willingness to receive me back at any time before solemn vows should I leave the monastery; the second by the superior receiving me stating her willingness to receive me and including pertinent data regarding my status in religion (name, age, years professed, community of origin); the third by myself. handwritten and addressed to the Pope, stating my request and my reasons for it. These letters are sent to the Vicar who forwards them to.Rome through his office. In approximately six weeks, upon receipt of the rescript, he sends copies to the superiors. This is, as ! understand it, the general procedure, although I have heard of it being done through the Vicar of the diocese which the transferring sister was leaving. I have also heard of cases handled by a major superior independently of the Vicar for Religious. The superior dealt directly with the Sacred Congregation for Religious. In any case, this rescript is the only permission one needs to begin the canonical year and proceed through formation to vows. New Beginning I entered upon my new life with certain expectations. Some were realistic and some not so realistic. It was realistic to expect some sense of dbjb vu. This was in many ways a return to customs and practices l had lived in my first several years of religious life. With these things I was at home. I had also rightly anticipated a warm community life. Of course 1 allowed for a period of adjustment, but I did not A Personal Account of Transfer expect it to last more than six to eight weeks, in fact, it took much longer than that. The reason was not that I was too old to learn or change or that 1 lacked a willing docility. It was more subtle than this. Without realizing it, I expected to enter upon a period of rest, a sort of honeymoon in a safe harbor after years of struggle and sorrow. This was not to be. For one thing, the monastic community I entered was going through its own renewal pains. And much worse, for me, was that when I came in the front door of the monastery it seemed that God left by the back door. Here 1 was at last, and where was he? The work tired me. The hard bed took some getting used to. Often it was impossible to get back to sleep once it had been broken by the Office or night adoration of the Blessed Sacrament. Sometimes the closeness of my neighbors irritated me beyond measure. There were no days off from routine. I expected to master everything easily but it turned out that I was the one to be mastered. After many years in religious life it amazed me to learn how deluded I was about myself. Without the distractions of apostolic work and all that goes with it, without useless conversation, reading and entertainment, God's light began to clarify my vision. The very starkness of the life, its purity, makes for this experience. I was face to face with myself, my weakness, my poverty. Anything is possible if God is tangibly supporting us. It is when he is appar-ently nowhere to be found that things get out of hand and we are unable to cope with the simplest and most normal inconveniences and trials of daily life. But ought not a contemplative be able always to find refuge in prayer? Self-made prayer is most unsatisfactory. What a contemplative learns by being unable to pray, by being reduced to utter poverty at every level of existence (and this was my experience) is just to cling in naked faith to Jesus Crucified. Paradoxical as it may sound, there is no greater happiness. Having come to this reality through suffering, both in my life before 1 entered the monastery and in the years 1 have been here, I know something of what it means to say with Paul that I have been crucified with Christ, that my life is not my own and Christ lives in me (Ga 2:19-20). The way to the deepest joy I have ever known is just as the Son of God has taught us and that way is by losing my life and denying my very self. The total experience of knowing myself as nothing, of having nothing, has opened my eyes in faith to the All within me, the Being who in unfathomable love calls non-being into union with himself. My love for God, my hunger for him, unites me at the Heart of Reality with all my brothers and sisters in this world. I do not live for myself, nor suffer for myself, nor weep for myself. My vocati6n embraces every person on earth. In their names 1 pray and work. In their names, I, too, am in misery and pain. I am a whole world calling to God in need, in love, in trust. 1 have entered eternity in time and within me there is infinite scope for love. I came because of love and I have stayed because of love. Surely it is "a narrow gate and a hard road" (Mt 7:13-14), but it "leads to life," life opening more and more into the mystery of God as love. The Needs of Contemplatives in Direction Barbara Armstrong, O.SS.R. This article had its origin in a presentation made to a group of retreat masters by Sister Barbara, a cloistered nun residing in the Redemptoristine Monastery; Liguori. MO 63057. Somewhere in her writings, the great St. Teresa compares the contemplative with the standard-bearer in battle. She says that, because he is the standard-bearer, he is exposed to great danger. He can't defend himself because he carries the standard, of which he must not let go--even if he is to be cut to pieces. "Contemplatives," she says, "have to bear aloft the sign of humility, the Cross. And they must suffer all the blows aimed at them without striking back. Their duty is to suffer as Jesus did." "Let them watch what they are doing," she says again, "for if they let the standard fall, the battle is lost." It isn't the standard-bearer who is important. It is the standard itself which is all important, for it is imprinted with the sign of our salvation: the Cross. Perhaps this is why there are so few contemplatives. Perhaps, too, this is why contempla-tives need all the help they can get just to respond fully to the call of their vocation, to persevere and become fruitful in the Church of today. You Have No Eyes to See The message sent to the Church in Laodicea, in the Book of Revelation, is also a message meant for contemplatives--and for those who guide them. Right after the familiar passage about lukewarmness, we hear the Lord say: "You have no eyes to see that you are wretched, pitiable, poverty-stricken, blind and naked. My advice to you is to buy from me that gold which is purified in the furnace, so that you may be rich, and white garments to wear so that you may hide the shame of your nakedness, and salve to put on your eyes to make you see." That phrase, "You have no eyes to see," is significant for us because ignorance The Needs of Contemplatives in Direction is one of the reasons why relatively few contemplatives ever attain the end for which they were called: union with God. Mystical graces, we are told, are always available. God's goodness and generosity are never lacking. But very few actually arrive at a state of contemplation. Why is this? To answer this question, I would like to tell you a story. Actually, it is a parable which is told in the book of a Carmelite nun, Sister Ruth Burrows. Here is her parable. A Love Story Hidden away in a valley surrounded by high mountains there lived a very primitive tribe. The people of this tribe knew very little of the world outside their valley. Occasionally, they would get a glimpse of a jet streaking across the sky far over their heads, and this, they thought, was one of the gods throwing spears at another. One day a man appeared in the valley, a young anthropologist. He had come to study the tribe at close quarters--if they would have him. But they were a gentle tribe, so they welcomed him. The young man was lodged in the chief's hut and lived there for some years. Eventually he fell in love with the chief's daughter and married her. Hitherto, the girl had thought herself wealthy. Was not her father the most powerful of their people? But the closer she grew to her beloved, the more she saw that her riches--the family cattle, some cooking pots and animal skins--were as nothing compared to the possessions that were her husband's. He had materials, leathers and machines, knives and matches to make fire--riches unimaginable. But the girl saw, too, that her husband's greatest delight was to share his riches with her. Her lack merely aroused his bounty, so she knew her poverty itself primarily as a richness, giving them both pleasure. There came a time when the anthropologist had to leave and, taking his wife with him, he returned to his own civilization. The native girl found this new environment terribly alien. She discovered, to her horror, that her husband's enemies laughed at him behind his back because of his primitive wife. Even his friends pitied him. She didn't know what to do with this bitter knowledge. Some-how she had brought disgrace on her loved one. The girl always knew that her husband loved her. She knew that he longed to share his heart with her, take her completely into his life. But when he tried to speak of so many things closest to him, she would notice his voice falter, for she could not follow even the meaning of his words, let alone the scope of his thoughts and concepts. She was shut off from him by her own limitation and ignorance. That caused her distress almost beyond bearing. The more she realized what her poverty cost her beloved, the more absolute became her will to escape from it for his sake. Equally the more clearly did she see that, of herself, there was no escape. But all was not lost because she also realized that in her husband she had come not only to understand her poverty, but to find an effective and everpresent escape from it. From him she could receive all that his Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 love had prepared for her. So she opened her heart to everything he had to offer her. She found in him the most loving of teachers. Soon she became the echo of his thought. There passed between them intimate glances of complete understanding. She had an intuitive knowledge of how his mind worked, so closely did she grow to him. Yet she bad lost nothing of that natural woman he had first loved. On the contrary, she only now realized her own innate capacity. Her enrichment had brought all that was already there to bloom. But now, more than ever, she knew, too, that this was all his doing. Every perception, every growth, had come from his love and his teaching. Genuine Contemplatives This story, lengthy though it be, brings out so many important points about the contemplative vocation. Years ago, maybe it's different now, one of the phrases we often heard was that "we should strive for perfection." This tended to make us think that we could do it all ourselves. The main idea seemed to be that we were in control of our lives. The success of things depended on our own efforts. And so, many of us thought we could become contemplatives by the things we did. Like the primitive tribe of our story living in their valley, though, our horizons were very limited. We were content with our regulated existence, our own personal riches and the consolations sent us from time to time by a loving God. Much confid~nce was attached to the good things of our little enclosed world. We had no eyes to see beyond our then present peaceful life. But since we are meant to be genuine contemplatives, Jesus began to break through our ignorance and complacency. He asked us to leave our valley of poverty. He invited us to a rich interior world, one we had never dreamed of. These invitations continue to be offered to us in many ways. Perhaps they come in a retreat, in a sermon, in our reading, or through the words of a friend. But the voice is the voice of Jesus, and he invites us over and over again. If the primitive tribe in our story had turned away the young anthropologist when he came among them, he would never have married the chief's daughter. She would never have learned about the larger world; she would have stayed in her ignorance. Think of all the beauty, rich, ness and love of which she would have been deprived. The great St: Teresa was satisfied for a long time with her routine religious exercises, even though in her heart she knew better. We read that she continued to live just over twenty ,years with her heart divided between two extremes: the pleasures, satisfactions and pastimes of her fashionable world, and the spiritual life of a contemplative. How can this happen? How can we contemplatives continue to fool ourselves ---even though we are continually prodded, continually touched by grace? One of the ways we contemplatives have of staying in our valley of poverty is by our attachment to .the Law. We can" fall prey to a sort of fanatical legalism. The Needs of Contemplatives in Direction Most often, it seems, it is the most pious of persons who become rigid and unbending formalists. "Here at last," we say, "is something solid to hang on to." In our own eyes we are in the right. "We are doers of the Law." Any ,doer of the law, however, will also be tempted to live by the law, whereas the true lover of Jesus lives by the spirit. We contemplatives tend to make the Law, and it alone, our security. We never even dream that it is possible to seek a perfection in anything whatever with an intensity of zeal that is in itself imperfect. For instance, often in the past, the cross, austerity, suffering was unthinkingly perverted by us in our zeal. Wehad the idea that, since we were only pleasing God when we were suffering, the more suffering the better. Fearing and hating our bodies, we thought, would make us spiritual people. This, together with the notion that we were redeemed by suffering since Jesus died for us, we pushed .to its logical conclusion, thinking that we could never have too much suffering. It wasn't suffer-ing that redeemed us. It was love.t We contemplatives can develop attachments to just about anything: to prayer and fasting for their own sake; to a pious practice or devotion; to a custom or system of spirituality; to a method of meditation, even to contemplation itself (or to what we think is contemplation.) We can become attached to virtues, to things that, in themselves, are marks of heroism and high sanctity. We religious men and women, called to be saints, can allow ourselves to be blinded by an inordinate love for such things and can remain just as much in darkness and error as those who seem far less perfect than we. Some of us can become gluttons for prayer and for silence and solitude. Silence can become an ultimate. When there is noise we become angry and rebel-lious. If we are required to set aside our solitude for the sake of charity, we fill the air with our complaints. This kind of solitude and silence is false, of course, a refuge for the individualist. Perhaps the deepest attachment of all, the one which keeps us in our valley of poverty the longest, is attachment to ourselves. On this we must keep a fingerhold; we just cannot let go. Self-respect, self-fulfillment, self-satisfaction--we have to look good in our own eyes and in the eyes of others. We worry.about failure because somehow we are not living up to the expectations we have set for our-selves. Only secondly do we consider the expectations of God. In our story the chief's daughter found that her lack aroused her husband's bounty. She knew her poverty primarily as a sweet thing. But covetous as we are, we contemplatives want our hands full. We must have something of our own which we can bestow on God; or at least hold out to him, thinking to win him over with our generosity. When Jesus Touches Us Sooner or later we begin to realize that this way of living does not work; we begin to see that relying on ourselves alone is doomed to failure. When Jesus touches us with his mystical graces, what happens? Our eyes are opened and we are Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 dissatisfied with everything. This overwhelming feeling of dissatisfaction could very well be Jesus' most precious gift of all. But it does not seem so to us~ We look within and discover the same faults and vices we have always been burdened with. Prayer has become almost unbearable. Spiritual things in general lose their familiarity and joy. Panic deepens. Life seems turned upside down and inside out. Above all this, the knowl-edge that we have failed the Lord, that we have dropped the standard, that the battle is being lost--this is our deepest sorrow. But although all seems lost, what we experience in reality is the finding of our true life in Jesus. Like our primitivegirl, we, too, begin to realize, at last, that only in Jesus will we find our ever present redemption from our dreaded poverty. Retreat masters, spiritual directors and confessors will do us the greatest favor if they direct their efforts toward instilling in us an abiding trust in the all-loving Providence of God and in the saving life of Jesus. They should help us to mistrust ourselves and to surrender ourselves into His hands. They should teach us to cling to him no matter how dark things seem to be, teach us to have faith in his love and in his forgiveness no matter what we think we have done; no matter how we think we have failed. Signs of Progress What are the signs by which spiritual directors may gauge for certain real progress in contemplatives? Some of the outward manifestations of an inward mystical encounter or of infused contemplation might be the following: We contemplatives might describe to directors an experience of a deep and painful knowledge of ourselves, for we begin to see ourselves as we truly are. We may say that all our illusions are b~ing shattered, especially our illusions of self-importance. We may tell them that all our cherished ambitions are unmasked for the first time, or that we feel our dignity has been overthrown. We will, perhaps, tell them that we are lost; that we are not sure any more if we are leading dedicated lives at all. We exper!ence a growing sense of insecurity. At the same time, strange as it may seem, we experience at~ acceptance of this state. As our native girl found when she op~ned her heart to everything her husband had to offer her, so we contemplatives begin to see everything in a different light. Our lives of austerity, our efforts at mortification will acquire a deeper significance. We understand that as God is our life, we must let nothing take the edge off our need for him. This is a new way of living out our hunger and thirst, our refusing to be satisfied. We are consenting to have no security and no other satisfaction but God; a God who is unseen and unfelt. So near is he and so awesome, that unless we say "Yes" to him all the time, and accept life as he gives it, we must return to our valley of poverty. The temptation to turn back can be overwhelming. But it is also true that we are given a powerful strength at this time, enabling us to persevere. All this, of course, is an effect of Jesus' lox;e for us. We remember, indeed we cannot for a The Needs of Contemplatives in Direction moment forget, that any enrichment in us is all his doing. Still, this is a time of great struggle and temptation. Perhaps the greatest temptation will be to abandon prayer or at least to try to escape, in some way, the grievous suffering of a deep emptiness and poverty within. This empty prayer, however, has tremendous importance. If we consent to wait humbly for the Lord, we will, all unknowingly, find that it is precisely in this arid waste that Jesus is touching us. At this juncture, the contemplative might tell the director of an experience of being literally undone and remade, for there are no half measures any longer. What is really happening is that our faith is being deepened all the time. A sure sign that we contemplatives have not made progress will be precisely the certainty that we have! Alternatively another certain sign of growth might be the gradual disappearance of a tendency to criticize and find fault. There appears instead, a more gentle outlook; a kinder and more compassionate approach, thanks be to God. Love: Human and Divine Love has been our theme all the way through. But now I would like to be a li'ttle more specific about love, I mean the place of both human and divine love in the contemplative life. I think we will all agree that human affection is probably the most sweeping emotion in us. So, from the outset, we need to keep these two loves, the human and the divine, in order, lest the human sweep us off the foundation of the divine. To feel attraction for another, of course, is not wrong. Yet, for some of us, it can and does become a .dangerous thing. We fear to admit our feelings and to accept them, for the very difficulty in doing so can pose a thousand problems for us. At the same time, we know that this is the only healthy approach. It means we are accepting our sexuality and womanliness. I wonder if any of us ever fully grasps what a block to God's transforming action lies in the refusal to face up to and integrate our sexuality, and live it out continently for the glory of God? The Carmelite, Sr. Ruth Burrows states: "Being sexual means basically that 1 am a half and. not a whole. I am incomplete as I am and I tend, unconsciously, always to seek my other half, even though consciously, ! have renounced my right to marry and have children and be made whole by another. But grace does not work fully in a half person, so I struggle to love purely though it be through a great deal of suffering, because Jesus has promised to fill my emptiness with himself and so take away the ache of loneliness. If I am to become whole it will be in him and I must live in the hope of becoming whole in him and in him alone." The greatest danger is that we will try to get rid of the pain. We will even deny that these desires and attractions exist because they do not fit our stereotypic image of "the holy nun for whom God is enough." When we deny these feelings, the temptation will be to seek compensation for what we have given up. Frustrated longing comes to the surface sooner or later. It shows itself in outward behavior 3tl / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 such as domination of others, maternalism (or paternalism), or a passive or child-ish dependence. Who hasn't encountered these types in religious life? There are the old maids or bachelors. They will avoid personal involvements of every kind. In the name of holy recollection, they "keep their hearts for God alone." They are afraid to make friends and so they play it safe. Then there are the frustrated wives and mothers--and we might add, frus-trated fathers. These have never faced up to the truth of their feelings and desires. So they live on compensations instead of on God. They use their friends selfishly, looking for gratification from them. They dominate.and control other lives for their own ends, thinking all the while that this is "holy freedom" and "human fulfillment." To get back to us women: a woman, by nature, is meant to be selfless, receptive, wholly intent on giving and loving, that others 'might become them-selves. But when we see so many religious women leave their institutes these days, giving up their vocation and going back to secular life, we're not judging them when we ask, "Could it be that they did not get the help they needed in this problem of love?" Perhaps they found no one to understand their problem. Was there anyone to whom they could have gone for guidance amid these conflicting feelings, desires and attractions? I think we all need to know that it's alright to feel attraction and affection for others, especially for those of the opposite sex. I think we need to hear again and again that the feeling of attraction is only one side of love; that it may lead to love but that it is not itself real love but only a feeling. And like any feeling, it will not last thus forever. In the meantime, the tension in which we are caught, between our desires for exclusive love and our commitment to universal love, needs some level-headed self-control. We need someone to encourage us tO effort, watchful-ness and patience, humility and trust in divine grace. The struggle will teach us to rely on a spiritual power higher than our own nature. There is no doubt that we will grow from this struggle, which with God's help will become creative. We will learn to grow up, to take total responsibility for our own lives, their choices and decisions. And we will allow no one and nothing to turn us away from the principles by which we wish to live. The ultimate answer is found only when Jesus is re'peatedly placed before us as the object of our whole desire, and when, by repeated redirection, we are gradually transformed into him. Viva Memoria Finally, there comes a time when the interior rending apart, the anxiety, the sense of terrible absence are no more. The mysteries of Jesus, previously seen as the imitation of Christ giving the external principles by'which we were guided, now become our own mysteries, and we live progressively the life of Jesus; we become literally living memories. All that happens to the "personal me" begins to give joyful insight into the knowledge of Jesus himself. ~ Our venerable foundress, Mother Mary Celeste, has something to tell us about The Needs of Contemplatives in Direction this mystical state of contemplation. In her prayer our Lord speaks to her in these words which she passes on to us: "My spouse, abandon your own free will, your willing and your not willing, and leave all to my Divine Providence and my disposal. Make yourself an echo of my Willing. And if I say to you in my good pleasure: 'A cross,' then in your willing, will the cross. And if I say: 'Humiliation and contempt,' then be my echo and say, 'contempt.' And if I say: 'Kiss me with the kiss of sweet union,' then give me the most sweet echo of love and kiss me. It is in this way that you have no other desire or will than the absolute movement of my Will. Thus while you live, I, too, live as if I alone were alive in your very being, a.nd not you yourself." As with the happy couple in our love story, so it is with us: There begins the passing of those intimate glances of complete spiritual understanding. We might say that our whole occupation is love, or that prayer is our life. Either statement would be equally true. Then there is an awareness of deep contentment. That doesn't mean that growth isn't possible. In fact, it has to happen. The surrender becomes deeper and deeper, letting God do everything, totally sure that he will do so. And so ours becomes a life of deeper and deeper trust. We might end this as we began by saying, once again in the words of Sister Ruth Burrows, "Holiness in the contemplative is not a greatness but a total acceptance of human lowliness and total surrender of it to God in trust." Desert--After Fire Twisted; tortured, Bare black This land. Seared, scarred, What remnants remain. Evening whispers, "All is lost." Night mantles dark Deeper than ever touched This fire-scorched earth before. This land will heal. Soft spring rain Will sift tl~rough ashes. Bring new life to seed Concealed beneath the crusted earth. The cross is fire too And bare its wood Which must be aflame Before the Paschal morning dawns To heal and renew. Sister Miriam John, R.G.S. Patterdell 1820 W. Northern Ave. Phoenix, AZ 85021 Indwelling Prayer: Centering in God, Self, Others David J. Hassel, S.J. This article~ is a chapter from a book, Radical Prayer, which Father Hassel hopes soon to publish. An earlier article, "The Feel of Apostolic Contemplation-in-Action," appeared in the issue of May, 198 I. Father continues to reside at Loyola University of Chicago; 6525 North Sheridan Rd.; Chicago, IL 60626. The most radical of all types of prayer may well be indwelling prayer, for its quiet power pulses the movements of all other types of prayer. Indeed, the praying person, carried along by the seeming passivity of indwelling prayer, drifts closer and closer to the inmost self where the~ majestic God waits to welcome him or her warmly. In the attempt to delineate this deepest prayer, the reader's familiarity with various forms of more active prayer will be used as contrasting background for recognizing and appreciating more passive prayer. Some of these more active types of prayer would be: 1) problematic prayer wherein one reviews personal problems with the Lord while expressing various needs arising from them (e.g., peace in a troubled mar-riage, a job sought in the midst of a depressed economy, success in collegiate studies, mental health for a troubled daughter, good weather for the tourist season); 2) insight prayer (meditation): seeing the spiritual meaning of, e.g., a gospel event, a striking sentence in a saint's biography, a friend's casual but penetrating remark, a shocking event witnessed by chance; 3) spaced vocalprayer in which one spaces out the words of a favorite vocal tThe comments of James F. Maguire, S.J., of Edmund Fortman, S.J., and of Mary Ann Hoope, B.V.M., were especially incisive in revising this article for publication. 36 Indwelling Prayer / 37 prayer like the Our Father in order to discover and to reflect upon the fuller meaning of each phrase; 4) gospel contemplative prayer: seeing, hearing, feeling the gospel event as it unfolds in one's imagination; introducing oneself imaginatively into the scene as a friend of the apostles, as a servant girl, as a sick shepherd; 5) petitionary prayer: asking for God's help, e.g., to bring this person back to church, to relieve this person's mental agony, to be able to handle this court case well; 6) liturgicalprayer: the community finding God together in the sacred event of Eucharist, baptism, marriage, anointing of sick, reconciliation of sinners, and so on; 7) affective prayer: wherein feelings of hope, love, fear, anger, and desire (for God, for various virtues for saving situations, for the saints and for friends) operate. These are, of course, not ~all the forms of more active prayer, but they serve to illustrate the meaning of the term more active prayer for our purposes here. Familiarity with these types of more active prayer will later enable one to recognize, by experiential contrast, more passive prayer, and, hence, indwelling ;prayer, the probable source of all types of more passive prayer. Consequently, our first task is not to define abstractly more active prayer against more passive prayer, but instead, to get the "feel" of each by contrasting their diverse types of presence to God, self, and the world. This demands that, in ~/second step, we explore the experience of "presence" and ~ote the paradoxes arising in the presence constitut-ing more passive prayer. Thirdly, we will investigate whether more active and more passive prayer cancel out or nourish each other. In a fourth step, we note how those entering into more passive types of prayer, often undergo the discouraging feeling of prayerlessness, a purifying experience which paradoxically leads into awareness of the indwelling prayer underlying the more passive forms of prayer. At this point, we are finally ready to enter the life-rhythms of indwelling prayer and to search out the ways of doing this trinitarian prayer at the center of our being. Here, too, it should become clear why trinitarian prayer could be the presence underlying all types of prayer. For it reveals death and resurrection at new depths in our being. But for the present let us begin to deal with the diverse presences of more active and more passive prayer. The Diverse Presences of More Active and More Passive Prayer To distinguish more active prayer from more passive prayer is not to abandon one for the other, not to put a premium on one over the other, nor to deny their need of each other. But it is to see how they promote each other and to note how more passive types of prayer are rooted in indwelling prayer. Here definitions can mean nothing if they do not touch our prayer experience, or if they are ambiguous enough to bag together all types of prayer indiscriminately. Therefore we must distinguish these different types of prayer by describing the diverse experiences in which they occur. Let us begin such a process by first trying to discover the root of 311 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 more active prayer. Seven types (among many) of more active prayer were mentioned earlier. Actually all types of more active prayer seem to burgeon out of a single root, a "stretching out to the Lord." What is this stretch? It may well be an attitude towards others which the average good person has. To illustrate this, answer the following questions, and notice what you discover within yourself: i) Why not sleep later than usual today?--Suppose you do inconvenience some people like those in the car pool, like the spouse waiting at the breakfast table, like the other workers in the ,office or at the assembly line, like the students in the classroom? 2) Why pay attention at breakfast to the kids'chatter and the spouse's com-plaints about the leaking roof when the morning paper would be so much more interesting? 3) Why get to work a little bit early in order to get the jump on things so that the day goes better for everyone? 'Why not let others worry about the day? 4) Why help out at this or that emergency when you've got your own job to get done, too? Why not tell them to do the best they can without you since you're busy? 5) Why break off a lively lunch conversation to answer a telephone call or to listen to Henry's usual request for a loan to tide him over the weekend? 6) Why use your midafternoon break for correcting Jenny's letter to the man-ager protesting his failure to put her in charge of the secretary pool? 7) Why correct the kids at the dinner table when it's so much eas'ier to let things go and pretend you didn't see or hear it? 8) When you're dead tired and comfortably waiting for the T.V. news to come on or when you are just starting to relax with a little hi-fi music, why agree to hear the spelling lesson or arbitrate the latest argument betw, een the ten year old and the eleven year oM? 9) Why end and start your day with prayer at the tioes you're most tired? And why go to early Mass on your golf or hairdresser's day and also on Sunday, the only times you can sleep in? In other words, why keep stretching, stretching, stretching through the day unless there is a person waiting at the end of the stretching~ unless there is the Christ or the Father or the Spirit? This refusal to protect yourself from others and from God is a mysterious attitude.'Could it pbssibly be the lure of your vocation, the strength of your friendship with Christ (and therefore with his people, your people)? Could this attitude even be the taproot of 'all the types of more active prayer in your life? Could it even be the basic source of your contentment with life underneath all its irritations, failures, missed opportunities, and dashed hopes? Of course, this "stretch" attitude underlying more active prayer is. buried within one's consciousness and so it can be discovered only through the type of question-ing just completed. Yet is there riot some single directing lure running like'a golden thread through the "stretch" of the day to gi~,e direction and meaning to one's life? Indwelling Prayer And does this thread not lead eventually to the attractive Christ who alone makes fitting sense out of one's life? How can a person stretch out to all the needy unless first God is stretching out to him or her? .Here active prayer is seen as presence to the world and its needs--a presence inspired by Christ's appealing call. It would seem, then, that we may have tapped the root of more active prayer and are now ready to find the source of more passive prayer. More. passive prayer is often defined as a resting in God or a quiet'alertness to God and to others. Thomas Green describes it as "floating freely in th~ sea of God," as allowing God to direct oneself wherever he wills.2 In common with more active prayer, it is a refusal to protect oneself, it is an availability to God and to others. This common element,,hints at a deeper experience underlying both more active and more passive prayer and uniting them. And yet these two types of. prayers are quite different .since more passive prayer is often like a sinking into one's inner depths to find God; while more active prayer is a stretching out to others and to God in others. Even when more passive prayer is awareness of a God-vibrancy in clouds, trees, animals, and people's faces, voices, gestures, it nevertheless is more a stirring in the depths of one's being than a reaching out to touch. Even when one becomes aware of God somehow speaking and acting through the other person, passive prayer is more an alertness within one's own being than the message in the other's'action. Indeed, more passive prayer is, for the most part, careful listening, long waiting, occasionally a soundless crying out to God in his seeming absence. At other times, it is. allowing the Spirit to pray in me to the Father without my having any control; it is letting Jesus invade me totally,in my powerlessness and then .experiencing the resultant clash of fear and gladness within me. , ~ As more passive prayer progresses in the person, it can distill into a simple presenting of the self to the Lord. It is merely a "wanting to be with God" which is often intensified by Eucharistic presence. It is a wordless, thoughtless, imageless facing to .God. It is almost pure presence at the deepest level of experience; while in the upper levels of experience one can be .simultaneously aware of pain in one's posture, of distracting thoughts and images, of feelings of fatigue or elation. But the latter appear negligible compared to the facing of God. Here the praying person is facir~g not only God but also the mystery of presence itself. Perhaps the feeling and meaning of presence hold the key to understanding more passive prayer~ The Experience of Presence: Its Paradoxes in More Passive Prayer What is the "feel" of presence for us? It can be the invigorating experience of knowing that one's father and mother are listening proudly during one's piano 2Thomas H. Green, S.J., When the Well Runs Dr), (Notre Dame: Ave Maria Press, 1978), p. 150. Just as this book is ekcellent for its descriptions of more passive prayer, so his Opening to God (Notre Dame: Ave Maria Press, 1977) describes well more active prayer and delineates simply and directly the basic principles of beginners' prayer. tll~ / Review for Relig!ous, Jan.-Feb., 1982 recital~ or watching eagerly from the basketball grandstands for one's next basket. It can also be the sense of depletion, of sinking heart, when one sees the "enemy" coming into the room, hostile and even malevolent, to observe one's expected failure. Presence can be a sustaining strength in the hospital room. No need for words or for the busy alleviating of pain, just the steady touch of being there. Presence is an enriching moment when the vast anonymity of the great airport terminal'is shattered by a familiar voice calling one's name. Sometimes "absence" can sharpen one's awareness of what presence is. One observes two people talking to each other but neither listening, each waiting impatiently for his or her turn to speak. Absence can be the "freeze" where two people working side-by-side in a bakery or in an office, condemn each other heartily and render the eight-hour day coldly miserable for each other. The politi-cal handshake can be an insult when the state's leader has shaken three hands while still talking to the first hand. Here absence hardly makes the heart grow fonder. Presence, at times, seems to grow without any effort on one's part. Old friends go to the concert together. As soon as the music begins, they~are rapt and seem-ingly totally oblivious to the other. But neither would consider for a moment going to the concert alone. Underneath the silent raptness, their friendship continues to grow quietly--a conclusion proven by a new depth of sharing as they return home amid slow, mulling conversation. Not rarely three friends hike the mountain trails for six to eight hours with only an occasional word and: an almost silent midday lunch. Yet the enjoyment of each other is intense and, underneath the quiet calm, intimacy grows. It would seem that the beauty of music and nature mysteriously sensitizes each person to the other instead of distracting each from the other. This sense of the other's person deepens over the years; familiarity does not always breed co.ntempt. The tight-knit family may have more than its share of private squabbles, but its members have a true sixth sense when one of them is in jeopardy or in deep joy and they quickly arrive to rescue or to rejoice. Such a family, over the years, develops a secret language of grimace, wink, smile and code-words which sum up a lifetime of shared sorrows and laughs; the person of each is uniquely appreciated. The lover of many years still feels a _leap of heart when the beloved comes into the room or when the lover hears the beloved's laugh from the far side of the party chatter. The lover's heart affirms the beloved's "simply being there"---apart from what he or she is saying or doing;just as the two concert-goers and the three hikers are doing more than enjoying music and nature. They find in the being of music and mountains a new way in which to resonate to each other's being, i.e., to grow in the intimacy of friendship. For what is intimacy if not this acquired ability to live deeply with each other, to resonate in each other's very being, in such a way that friends can, on occasion, say to each other: "It doesn't really matter much where we go or what we do so long as we are together." Such intimacy, expressed through quick knowing glance, light caress, exuberant play, and the clasp of hand, perdures and grows at the being-level in emergency rooms, during sweaty decision-times about job and fam- Indwelling Prayer ily, on the beach, at the "graduation ceremonies" of the retarded child, at the birthday parties, within the many hasty breakfasts and more leisurely suppers. From all this, could one say that "presence" is intimacy or mutual resonance at the level of being? If so, then this could reveal much about the dynamics between more active and more passive types of prayer. If presence would be deep awareness of the other's very being, then "the prayer of simple presence" to God could be the praying person's affirming of God's being and God's affirming of the praying person's being. In more passive prayer of simple presence, one becomes aware of Christ and of his interests because one now allows him to enter oneself and one's work at the level of one's very being or personhood? In more passive prayer, God becomes more real for the praying person because the latter lets God be more real, i.e., lets God be Being Itself. The praying person does this by refusing to box up God within her or his own ideas, theories, and expectations. Rather, this person allows God to act in him or her: by remaining passive, he or she gives God time to become more present to the self. Paradoxically, then, more passive prayer renders a person more fully present to God and to self than does more active prayer. Through more passive prayer, the person becomes literally a being-for-God. Indeed, the divine name, Yahweh, comes to mean not merely "I am who am" but also "I am the One who will be for you." Is it possible that at this juncture we have reached that basic attitude of prayer which underlies all other attitudes of prayer? Is this the most radical of all prayers? For this basic attitude is the very being of a person as a "being-for-God." At this point, a second paradox comes into view. In more passive prayer, because the praying person is more present to self and to God at the level of being, he or she can now meet others at their being-level, not just humans but also animals, plants, and even non-vital things like mountains, rivers, fire, and stars. For with the experience of God's tender regard for oneself as unique and undying comes the ability to appreciate others as having unique worth and destiny. It is no wonder, then, that through more passive prayer, the praying person paradoxically becomes more actively present to the whole wide world. Even distant horizons are expanded by the intimate depth at which beings resonate with each other. For this reason more passive prayer renders the praying person more active in works for the family, the neighborhood, the Church--and also more hopeful because more trusting of the Holy Spirit's activity in the self and in others. More passive prayer, in making the perso.n less trusting of his or her own activity apart from God, has enabled the person to become more bold for the Church by 3Karl Rahner speaks of this passivity when describing the conditions of transcendence. "[Transcen-dence] may not be understood as an active mastering of the knowledge of God by one's own power, and hence also as a mastery of God himself. By its very nature subjectivity is always a transcendence which listens, which does not control, which is overwhelmed by mystery and opened up by mystery . Transcendence exists only by opening itself beyond itself, and, to put it in biblical languag,e, it is in its origin and from the very beginning the experience of being known by God himself" (Foundations of Christian Faith [New York: Seabury, 1978], p. 58). 42 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 allowing God to enter the self and to power the latter's actions. This is where personal vanity becomes reduced and the confidence in self-sacrifice gets increased. Evidently, the more passively praying person is more consciously a "being-for- God" and more clearly sees God as "I am the One who will be for you." The Differences Challenge and Nourish Each Other At this point having described more active and more passive prayer for them-selves, we are now in position to etch out their differences and to discover why these two types of prayer are called "more active" and "more passive" rather than simply active and passive prayer. It would appear that more active prayer is more conceptual than its counterpart, that is, more concerned with ideas and insight. It is also more creatively imaginative as it deals with plans of action, options for decisions, visions for the future, ambitions for the present. Again, more active prayer is more consciously integrative around a central idea or insight: "As 1 see it, the one great value in life is . "or "The central theme in my prayer is . " It is more apt to try to control: "We could set up this system of priorities, then get that done immediately; then . " It is more energetic, that is, more work oriented, more prone to gathering achievements. Finally, it is more bodily, because action in the world is incarnated through the body. On the other hand, more passive prayer is more affective than conceptual, more conscious of feelings for the other and in the other; therefore; it is more value oriented than vision enthralled. It is also more receptive than creative in its use of the imagination; thus, art and nature speak out more clearly and enter more movingly into the person praying more passively. It is more integrative by person or spirit than by idea: "This person loves me and so 1 can take the hard knocks ahead," or "1 don't quite understand her plan, but I trust her and will do what she says," Indeed, more 'passive prayer is, strangely, more spontaneous than con-trolled; it is more disturbing, more surprising, more dangerous to a person's careful selfishness. One says more often: "This happening in prayer wa~ a rather unex-pected revelation for me; I'm not sure 1 like this turn of events." Again, in more passive prayer there is more waiting, more expectancy, more sharp listening: "Nothing seems to be happening for days, and then boom ."Finally, it is more soulful in its reflective sinking into the self to find God. It should be clearer now that one must name these two types of prayer more active and more passive lest we split the personality of prayer. For both types are active and both are passive but with different emphases. For example, both use concepts, imagination, and feelings; but more active prayer is more conceptual than affective and the reverse is true of passive prayer. More active prayer deals more often with the creative imagination and more passive prayer works more often with the receptive imagination; but both types of prayer, working' in one and the same imagination, use not only the creative but also the receptive function of the imagination. All this would seem to point to their radical unity, especially since in both types the praying person has the intent not to prote,ct and to comfort the self but rather Indwelling Prayer / 43 to be available to God and to his people. Indeed, it would appear that either type of prayer would go slack and die without the appropriate challenge of the other type: Without the "stretch" of more active prayer, more passive prayer could wallow deep in the self and even forget God, much more his people. Without the "reflective sinking into being" of more passive prayer, more active prayer can end up in such a welter of action that the "stretch" could one day shred into a thousand loose strands of frenetic, superficial activities having no center of being, no rever-ence for others, no undying future. But actually, both types of prayer can challenge and nourish the other. More active prayer is concerned with "putting it all together," with having the world make final sense, so that the world is somehow under control. More active prayer works that the praying person may "have it all together," may be totally integrated as a wholesome person, not fragmented or tormented, so that the praying person may control her or his destiny. On the other hand, more passive prayer forces the praying person to face the fact that he or she is a being totally dependent on God whom he or she must trust in the midst of personal fragmentation and of a world gone awry~ More active prayer wants the resurrection now and the beatific vision now just as they are promised in every love song; in all ~great poetry and drama, and in the apocalyptic literature of the Bible. In contrast, more passive prayer demands that the praying person wait and listen, become excruciatingly aware of shortcomings and sins within one's being or personhood, know his or her absolute powerlessness to do anything worthwhile apart from God, be content for now with much less than immediate resurrection and beatific vision. Neither prayer denies the truth of the other's intent; neither claims to have all the truth, but each challenges the other to greater realism about self, God, and the world. Each depends on the challenge of the other as more active prayer aims at total wholesomeness of self and world in God and as more passive prayer aims at enduring the fragmentation of self and dislocation of world until God heals them both~ There is, however, more than challenge between the two types of prayer. Each nourishesand promotes the other. The more active forms of prayer (e.g., the seven mentioned earlier) lead into the more passive forms of prayer, which in turn.root more deeply the ensuing more active forms of prayer. For example, meditative or mental prayer focuses the praying person's powers on particular objects such asan event of Christ's life, Mary's motherhood of the Church, the mystery of the Eucharist, God's plan for the individual or gr

Issue 39.2 of the Review for Religious, March 1980. ; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published bi-monthly (every two months), is edited in collaboration ~;ith 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 Miffsouri Province Educational Institute; St. Louis, Missouri, © 1980. By REVIEW t,'OR REIA(;~OUS. Composed. printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at ~;t. 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 REvt~-:w t:o~ REt,~(;lOUS: P.O. Box 6070: Duluth. Minnesota 55802. D:~niel 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 March, 1980 Volume 39 Number 2 Correspondence with the editor and the associate editors, manuscripts and hooks for review should be sent to Rt:vlt:w volt Rt:lA~;~o'us; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. Questions for answer~ing 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. Spirituality and Theology Alan Jones Father Jones, an Episcopal priest, is Professor of Ascetical Theology and Director of the Center for Christian Spirituality; 175 9th Ave.; New York, NY 10011. His last article in these pages, "Obedience in' the Conteinporary World," appeared in the May, 1978, issue. Non abundantia scientiae sed sdntire et gustare rein internam. (Saint Ignatius Loyola) Dogmatic and mystical theology, or theology and "spirituality," are not to be Set apart in mutually exclusive categories, as if mysticism were for saintly women and theological study were for practical but, alas, unsaintly men. This fallacious division perhaps explains much that is actually lacking both in theology and spirituality. But the two belong together. Unless they are united there is no fervor, no life and no spiritual value in theology, no substance, no meaning and no sure orientation in the contemplative life.' One of the g~'eat privileges of the sabbatical system is that it not only affords the professor an opportunity to follow a particular line of research, but it also enables him to "feel and to taste the inner thing" of his subject. When it comes, however, to the subject known as mystical theology, there is som~ dispute as to whether there is anything either to feel or taste! All I can say is that after my sabbatical, I have felt and tasted Something that might well be a subject. I feel defensive, however, on two fronts. The first is the enormity and depth of the subject itself. The second is the suspicion, odium, and contempt in which the subject has been held by some theologians over the years. The first problem is more easily overcome than the second, for every scholar in whatever subject must, at various times, be overwhelmed by his inadequacy to ' Thomas Merton, Seeds of Contemplation (1972), pp. 1"97-8, quoted in Andrew Louth, Theology and Spirituality (Fairacres Publication 55, 1978), p. 4. 161 162 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 19~80 / 2 plumb its depths. This gives me a certain comfort. The second problem, however, is of more practical concern and is~more difficult to overcome. The cleavage between theology and devotion is surely a fake one, although some fakes and frauds have a wonderful way of pretending to be real. The ugly breach (albeit based on a false dichotomy) between "the intellectual" and "the affective" over the centuries has done serious damage to both. Lo~,e is blind; the intellect is a cripple--so runs a classic image. In order for both to progress according to this. image, the intellect sits on the shoulders of the affections and guides them while the affections give feet to the intellect. In the same way, theology and spirituality belong together. Andrew Louth writes: So spirituality.[is] that which keeps theology to its proper vocation, that which prevents theology from evading its own real object. Spirituality does not exactly answer the question, Who is God? but it preserves the orientation, the perspective, within which this question remains a question that is being evaded or chided.Spirituality is necessary to theology to keep il in its proper vocation. The converse also seems .to be true, that theology is necessary to spirituality to keep, it to its proper vocation . The danger of a non- or un-theological spirituality is.that it will tend to become a mere cult of devotion.~ The immediate occasion of these thoughts which have been sitting in the back of my mind for some time was a casual remark in a letter from a dean of a seminary concerning the possibility of ~ colleague of mine doing some teachi.ng there,in the area of spirituality. In the middle of his friendly letter there was a well-aimed barb. While he welcomed my colleague's coming to the seminary, he was not sure that his faculty would r~egard Christian Spirituality as a discrete discipline. Now this is harmless enough. Fair game, one might say, in academic circles.' Still, underneath the joking there is a vein offseriousness. In other words, I take seriously the phony breach betweeri head and heart," between "theology" and "devotion." But 1 am even more concern~ed by the fact that this so-called bre~ch is thought to be real~ by at least some theologians. The idea has come abotit that the gap has always been there and always w, iil be. Of cohrse we have to bri~dge it occasionally, but this is usually done in the privacy of ou~" schizoid selves when we say one thing and do anotheL The gap, though,~ has to be obliterated, not just bridged, one way or another, and 1 would like to see it destroyed first in the intellectual realm itself.~ ~ ISOuth, op. cit., p. 4. o ' This is where both recent scholarship and the Christian mystical tradition might,.h~lp us. The books which set me. going on this subject were. R. C. Zaehner's Gifford Lectures for 1967-69, Concordant Discord (Oxford University Press, 1970), [this is a strange rag-bag of a book, polemical yet urbane, containing some brilliant insights]; William Johnston's The Inner Eye of Love (Collins,-1_978), which is the.first rece'ni attempt that I know of to argue for the recognition of mystical theology as "a discrete discipline"; Bernard Lonergan's Method of Theology (Dartbn, Spirituality and Theology One might start" by asking whether academic the61ogy itself is a,.discrete discipline. As Andrew Louth points out: ° Academic theology., needs some understanding of its own inner coherence to justify ~ . itself at all as an academic d~sophne, otherwise the several d~sclphnes ofwh ch t consists really themselves belong not together but to other wider disciplines." Without Jesus Christ as a principle of coherence th~ Old Testament just a collection Of semitic writings, the New Testamen a collec~tionof Jeffish and Hellenistic ~Je~vi~sh writings of the first century, and early'Christian doc.- trine a mere st'rand in the history"of ideas?ol~ Ithe later Roman Empire; s~irituality empha.sizes the "principle of coherenc, e" which holds together a seminary cufricultim. Theology serves spirituality .by rescuing it'from a chronic subjectivism. It is tragic when theology a~ad spirituality aredi'vided. Wird Christus Tausendmal zu Bethleh6~n geboren Und nicht in dir, du bleibst doch ewigli~h verloren. (Though Christ in Bethlehem a thousand t!mes was born But not in thee, in all eternity, thou art~forlorn.}6 ¯ ,Tr~ue, but,dangerous, "for without any, corre~cting influence the 'Christ born in me' will become the sort of Christ who can!be born in me. He will tend toAose the historical lineaments of the first-.centur~y~Jgw he was. He will lose his strangeness.He will cease to be the.one~who confronts us in his~sovereign individuality ~.A_c_a~emic the~ology, the dispassionate study of the witness of Jesus of.Nazareth, can provide~that corrective?'' ,This is why we learn Greek. "The strange language.is a symbol of t.he:~strangen~ss of thought that must be passed through before we can understand the GoSpels aright_.':a Longman, & Todd, l~70),~which' provides a method by which such a discipline Can be reestab-lished;:'~ and 'finally, Richard 'of' S(." Victor's" Benjamin' Mino'r~ Benjamin Major'and The Four Stages in the Mystical Ascent (in Clare Kirchbe?ger's Richard bf Stl Victor." Selected Writings on Contemplation, Faber and Eaber, 1957; also M~igne'.s~P,.L.CXCVI). The latter author I consider impbrtant as one who has managed to I~eal the breach between theology and devotion, even though the Victorines tended to side w~th Bernard against Abelard. All four books helped me r~discoVer the fact that there ts such~a subject as mystical theology! ' Lofith,~op. cit., p. 10. - '~Somemight, take exception to this since "the Old ~Testament revelation has an,integrity of its own, independ~ent of the New, as the flourishing Jewish religious c0mmuni~y of our time testifies. The Old Testament is the matrix of Christianity, and is essential for Christianity's identity and S~lf-definition whereas Chri~ianity'is ~n~t simiiarl~, essentiaj for Judaism" (fro~ Dr. J~.mes Carpenter's response to the first draft of this paper). I am in complete agreement with hi~ her~, bui m~' poini was not io disparage the Old Testafiaent revelation as far as Jews are Concerned, but simply to affirm that I cometo.the Old Testament in and through the light of the Christian revela-tion. Dr. Carpenter's trenchant and illuminating comments on the first.draft were helpful in my making this revision, and 1 gratefully acknowledge my indebtedness to :him. ~ Louth, op, cit., p: 10: " ~ Ibid., p. I 1. ~ Hoskyns Cambridge Sermons, 1938, p.xxiii. ,. ' ° 164 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980 / 2 Let us first take a brief look at the roots of the apparent conflict:. The disastrous cleavage between theology and religiousexperience goes right back, of course, to the beginnings of the struggle to articulate Christian belief. The formal "break," which has never really been healed, came, I suspect, at~he time ~)f the Renaissance and Reformation. For me, though,°it is sym-bolized in the earlierconflict between Abelard ~nd Saint Bernard. Ts-hy sym-bolized, because it would not be historically accurate to in~,est these two men with the rigidqualities ! am ascribing to them. Abelard represents theology. He was the proto-scholastic, whose unchastened intellect led'to his ruin. Saint Bernard represents affective piety, the burning heart devoted to God in prayer. Even though Saint Bernard won the first battle of the'campaign, it was Abelard, i believe, who won the war. The conflict resolved itself in two systerris in the thi~ieenth century: that of Saint Thomas Aquinas and that.of Saint Bonaventure. But who has heard of Saint Bonaventure's system apart from those few who are either medieval historians or students of mystical theology? Now, l know that what It have 'written here is somewhat of a caricature. Abelard, ifi places, reveals "a remarkable balance between in-tell'ect and feeling;''9 Saint Bernard, at times, seems to be devoid of feeling altogether., In reality, though, there was no real victor. Theology,became merely the tool of.the roving intellect. Bernard enjoyed ~nly a Pyrrhic ,victory. Abelard representedsomething vital to the healthy development of piety, that is, a probing and critical intelligence. Without theology, devotion was to go its own way. Without devotion, theology was to dry up and become, in Zaehner's words, "the plaything of desiccated mandarins.'''° Louis M. Martz sums up the situation in this way: During the Middle Ages .the scholastics threw a deep s~hadow over the affective life, a shadow which led some, such as Thomas a Kempis and his Brethren of the Common Life, to renounce scholastic subtletie§ as the brood of folly and the bitterlfruit of that curios~tas which St. Bernard denounced as the father of sin." I do not want tO paint too bla~k a picture. Nor do I want to reject Abelard. It was not _all bad, and there w~ele some .6otable men who were both brilliant scholars ahd committed contemplatives, Jean le Charlier de Gerson (1363-1429) for example, of whom most people have never heard! He wrote a synthesis, On the Mountain of Contemplation, the power of which was.such that it was cited b~, Richard Baxter in The Saints Everlasting Rest (1653): "Read'this you Libertines, and learn better the way of de+otion from a Papist." '~ Dorothy Sayers, writing about the problems of understanding Danters ~ James Carpenter. ~ ,~ ' ~o Zaehner, op. cit., p. 280. ~' Louis L. Martz, The Poetry of Meditation, a study in English Religious Literature of the Seventeenth-Century (N. ew Haven: Yale University Press, 1954, revised 1962), p. 11.2. ~ Ibid., p. 169, quoted from The Saints Everlasting Rest (1650), part IV., Spirituality and Theology / 165 Divine Comedy today has three things to say whic,h are germane to the discus-sion in hand: , . first, theReformatio~, which tended to substitute an infallible Book f6r that of a liv-ing and infallible Chur~ch; fpllowed by the Counter-Reformation whic~h tended to make doctrine a more rigid, and inelastic thing--to objectify an~d pigeonhole it, and to take as one,may say, 'the poetry out of it.' Secondly, there was a growing obsession with scien-tific method, leading men to discount all values which whre not (in .the modern sense) "~scientific," so that no truth was held to be true if it could not be tested in the~labofatory. A third point., is the increasing segregauon of specialists in th6r own specialties, so that the scientist is not expected to study theology nor the ttieologtan to study scmnce, nor either of them to be an artist or a poet. ~ Dorothy Sayers' third point is, perhaps the most telhng from the point of view of this PaPer. Over-specialization has made ,us mistake the fake breach for a genuine one. We are like the heretics Farinata.' and Celvalcanti trapped in the same tomb in the Inferno, yet each oblivious iof the other's presence. It was not always so. For Anglicaris the seventeenth-century was a period when the basic unity between the cognitive and affective was affirmed. It can be seen in the Caroline divines and in the metaphysical, poets. The coming together of the intellectu~il and the affective is summed up in a characteristi-cally seventeenth-century word, sensibility: the union of thought and feeling. In the nineteenth centuWroyr,d s"w "o~rt h w a s c o n 'cerned with. developing the "feeling intellect." In Catholicism the split was formally repudiated during the Counter- ;Reformation and the establishment-of-seminaries after the Council of Trent with their curricula which divided theology up to include ascetical, ~mystical, and mor~l departments. I do not believe the repudiation went very deep, but there was, at least, some attempt to deny the gap.~Classical Protestantism, of course, had no u'~e for mysticism whatsoever, and it is interesting to find Richa~'d Baxter trying to justify papist practices of meditation to the puritans. Asceticism and mysticism of any kind suggested the terrible possiblity of earn-ing salvation. It smackedbf merit and not of grace. But how were the saints to grow in grace? Baxter tried to remedy the situaiion by producing the first puritan treatise 'on the art of methodical meditation to appear in England. Why did h~ want to see regialar meditation restored to puritan piety? Without meditation theology was mere theorizing. All the preaching, teaching, and reading is so much-dros~ if it be not internaliz~d,~if the inner reality is neither felt nor tasted. ~ | And why so much preaching is lost among us and profess rs can run from sermon to ser-mon, and are never weary of hearing or reading and yet have su~:h lariguishing, starred souls; 1 know of no truer or greater cause than their ~gnorance, and unconscionable neglect of Meditation." ~'Dorothy Sayers, Further Papers on Dante (Methuen, 1957), p. 88. " Martz, op. cit., p. 154. 166 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980 / 2 Baxter was not entirely successful in persuading his puritan readers. Enthusiasm was the mark of the elect, rather than the practice of methodical mental prayeL This seems to be just as true today. All efforts at prayer and meditation wbre doomed to fail. One had simply to"w~it!on the mysterious opera~tions of the Holy Spirit. I m~ention this'because_the suspicions0concern-ing mys~ticism and mystical experience run very deep.-When ~hey are repressed they come out in some other form, as Baxter himself realized. The puritan was led "to' expect 0nly Enthusiastick Consolatiohs.'''~ The answer tO wild and pathological charismatic exi~eriences is a sound'~ syst.emati~ and mystical theology. That iswhy t6day, in the face of "religious experiences,'?we need to redevelop and rediscover criteria for judging them. I believe taking seriously ofl~e again th~ study of mystical theology will be a step ifi achieving this. , .~O_ften it has been believed that ~mysticism ~ran ~th~ot~gh Christianity li~e a streak of insanity in the family. Every generation or so a mad man appeared who had to be put away or ignored. This was the prevailing x~iew, for examlSle, of Brunner, who brilliafitly, if unconv'indn~gly, a~rgued the Protestant case againstmysticism. It was a Pelagian aberration, a neo-pl~itonic impurity sully-ing the integrity of Hel~raic ~eality. A wedge was placed between the so-called prophetic religions and the so-called mystical ones: MystiCal religion was passive, ihactive, .quietist, not interested in ~he, world ~nd its sufferings." Ironically, of course, prophetic experience in the Old'Te~tamen( as an im-mediate experience of the reality of God is my.stic~l. What was Moses if not a myStic? Nevertheless,~ the vtew has long prevatled that mystical and propheti~ r.ehglons were opposed to one another. Anghcans took th~s up just before and Well after the Second World War in the pursuit of wl~at ¢vas theft called "BiblicAl Theolo,.gy." Iremember my old profes.sbr, Alan'Richardso~, ~i~n- ~ sistin~ in his gen'tle way that Christianity was essentially ant~-mystical. ~Fh~ puzzl6d me greatly at the time since I had the tempe~rament which took mystic)sm as a given of human experience. Richard.sob, no doubt,~meafit mysticism in the Brunner sense (as essentially monistic add pantheistic), but Brunne~:'s hssessmen~ of mysticism ,~s so one-sided and limited as to be~ in the end, unconvincing. Mysticism's only real ally amon,_g P(otestant theologians, as far as I can make out, wag Tillich. Without theological" undergirdings, mysticism be6om~s, .in Richard Norris' marvelous phrase, little more than th'e building and furnishing of a private little "hacienda of the soul.'"' There has been no stern~ ~ritic, in the " Ib;id., p. 157. ' . '~ See his Bicentennial Lecture, "Hunting the Transcendent," unpublished, but available from the Center for Christian Spirituality. His iconoclasm with regard to spirituality is thorough. I think he gives, implicitly at least, what R.C. Zaehner asks of the theologian: i.e., "not a theology of the Death of God. but a theology of the death of self, the death of the human ~'person,' who is not only our old enemy, the ego., but also the ego~who has 'got religion' because:he thinks he has found the 'true' self." (Zaehner, op. cit., p. 208). ., . ,° Spirituality and Theology / "167 best sense, of mysticism/spirituality-- call it what you will -- than Dr. Norris. He has certainly helped and influenced me in moving towards a~more critical approach to the subject. His" own introductory lectures in Systematic Theology at theGeneral Theological Seminary of New York, (a course which I once shared with him) were undergirded by what I would call "mystical theology." His whole thesis revolved around the-uflcovering of the structure of a relationship between God and the world. Mystical theology is about nothiiigqf.it is not about that. ~ Nevertheless, there are enormous odds against developing a rigorous mystical theology. Traditions are hard to break. Anglicanism gets the worst of both worlds. From Western Catholicism it inherits the'ancient, if false, cleavage between tl~eology and devotion; from Protestantism, deep suspicions with regard to any systematic, disciplined devotional life. There is one final obstacle to look at before we examine the state of theology today and try to negotiate for the reacceptance of mystical.theology as.an object of serious study. It is the obstacle of a peculiar mind-set: hard, obdurate, pseudo-scientific, fundamentalist. By "fundamentalist" I refer not only to a crass literalism with regard to the Bible, but to a crass literalism towards all "facts." - It was not accidental to find, during my days as an.undergraduate; that the Christian fundamentalist students were often, studying~scientific subjects like zoology and biology: subjects of observation and classification. I believe.there is a kind of academic fundamentalism wtiich is just as infectious and insidious as a biblical fundamentalism. It tends to see" facts" as flat, o he-dimensional. This~fundamentalism finds it hard to acknowledge that there may be more than one level ot: truth, more than one way of looking at, reality~ Some early biblical critics, for example, were no less dogmatic in telling us what a par-ticular periscope signified than the fundamentalist. There is little or no sense, in this mind-set, of the value of symbols in pointing to the inexhaustibility of "facts." : Tobe fair, this mind-set goes with scientific technicians rather than with the ,brilliant scientist who, like Einstein,~can make intuitive leaps like the mystic. The best description I havre come across of this mind-set is that of Edmund Gosse °writing about the a~titude of his parents to the Bil~le. It should be remembered that his father, Henry Gosse, was a zoologist. It involved: a definite conception of the absolute, unmodified, and historical veracity, in its direct and obvious sense, of every statement contained within the cove~'~ of the Bible. Further, " - and for my fatli~r, nothing was symbolic, nothi.ng allegorical or allusive in any part of scripture. Both my parents, I think, were devoid of sympathetic imagination. Hence there wa.s no,mysticism about them. They went rather to the opposite extreme, to the cultivation oi" a rigid and iconoclastic literalness.'7 'Edmund Gosse, Father and Son (Penguin Books, 1907, revised 1970, pp. 49-50). 168 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980 / 2 -Literalness of mind can attack the professor of any discipline, not least that of mystical theology. One has only to read Tanqueray and even Harton to realize how far the "~reification.of ideas" can go. Andditeralness is nowhere more dangerous than ~vhen dealing with "the anatomy of ~ouls." The question is, how do I harmonize (insofar as t want to) all my ex-periences, .all the bits and pieces of the self? I do not think it unreasonable of me to look to theology:.for guidance and help. My spiritual nourishment comes from all sorts of apparently strange places: the novels of Iris Murdoch, my downstairs neighbor banging away at the piano and singing at the top of his voice, our family meals, a stimulating lecture by a colleague, and a host of other things besides the more obvious,centers of Christian devotion. A rigid, literal mind will not help meointerpret and harmonize these differing experiences. Before'we mov~ on to examining what might be the structure and method of a mystical theology, let us look at.the study of theology as such. There has been a great deal written already about theological studies which suggests to me that mystical theology is being slipped in through the back door. Theology which is rooted in present experience or theology as biography suggest an ap-proach to theology-which sees it as a reflection on religious experience (which, to get ahead of myself, is William Johnston's definition of mystical theology). In other words, there is a tendency for theology to be experience-based. Theology is a living, reflective encounter with a living tradition, and not "an understanding which is~at several removes from, and well-insulated against, the reality of which the scriptures speak.'''8 1 think this is why there has been such a resurgence of interest in religious experiences of all kinds:=-some of them, it is true, dangerous and bizarre. The hunger, ,however, is'real enough. It is easy to see why the academic world so easily gets jaded, cynical, and tired. Frankly, we do'not have time to experience much, let alone reflect on it. Theology then becomes dealing with experiences always at second or third hand. A sabbatical such as mine provides an opportunity for what Charles Peguy called "pure reading." Pure readers are those "who read a work solely and simply for the sake of reading it or taking it in, to feed and nourish themselves on it as a precious foodstuff, in order to promote growthdn themselves, to promote their inner, organic~dignity, not at all to use it as something to work with, to promote one's social status in a secular society.'".9 Without this freedom to read and think for its own sake, the pleasure is sapped out of teaching. As R. C. Zaehner puts it, "The joy has turned into tedium, and it is the tedium that one is likely to transmit.''2° La chairest iriste, h~las!'" wrote Mallarme, et, j'ai lu tousles livres ("sad, sad, is the flesh, and 1 have read all those books"). Theology takes a certain amount of leisure, and leisure is ver.y expensive. It Trevor Ling, Buddha, Marx, and God (London: Macmillan, 1966), p. 197. Quoted in Zaehner, op. cir., p. 18. 2o Ibid. SpiritUality and Theology is, however, only meditative reflection that the mere curiositas which Saint Bernard railed against turns into astonishment and admiration. But admira-tion on its own will not do either.: Wonder needs an ihterpreter. Devotion needs theology, and that is why it simply~will not do to relegate mystical theology, to the rubbish heap, since_it_reappears in other._f.o.rms.(in-the-new jargon_~s ~f~co~t~xtu~al education and storytelling theology). Christian mysticism, insofar as it has been a mere interlope.r from Neo-Platonism,2' needs the severe censure of theology. When devotion is cut off from theology, curiositas does notomove towards admiration but to superstition. God becomes, for the theologian cut off, ,from devotion, a "pale, intellectual substitute for the God of Abraham, God of Isaac, God of Jacob"; for the mystic, God becomes either a crazed Oriental despot or To Hen, the great blob into which he longs to be absorbed. |n fact, the deeper one goes into the realm of mystical experience, the more vital is the critical eye of theological discrimination. Devotion to the point of ecstasy . can lead to a terrible moral indifference. Detachment can easily degenerate into disassociation and the wild inflation of the ego. The "1" that has beenJannihilated becomes "God"! In the Bhagav.ad Gita (18:7) we read: "A man who has reached a state where there is no sense of 'l',.whose soul is undefiled--werehe to slaughter [all] these worlds--slays nothing. He is not bound."22 This has tremendous social implications, as more and more persons long for just such an experience which annihilates the "I"~. and therefore annihilates moral responsibility. The rise in mindless acts of violence and un-motivated crimes points to a religious, as well as sociological disease. Depth p~ychology has taught us that we cannot help acting out our inner ¯ life, and it would be just as well if ~'e were to know something about.it. We might even learn to cultivate it,.not in the Norrisian sense of tending our own little "hacienda," but in the sense of cooperating with, and even co-creating of, our inner life. I cannot do this without the critical discipline of theology. But ~there is a further implication because, not only does the individual live out his inner life, but that same inner life eventually overflows and floods into social forms. The Church, of course, has been left out in the cold in that it has found itself largely bankrupt to offer alternatives to the hungry masses who feed on the spiritual, supernatural, ~ind often superstitious banquet provided by the ambient culture. Theology has done httle to ~nterpret these ~mpulses or ~ to help people develop a discriminating palate with regard to the various ¯ delicacies available. That some of them are deadly is beyond question. The mass suicides of the followers of the Reverend Jim Jones in Guyana point to the literal deadliness of some forms of "religion." So it is not simply a.matter 2, See Zaehner, op. cir., pp. 14Iff. ~ Ibid., p. 231. Zaehner goes on to give the modern instance of a totally unmotivated murder com-mitted by one whose mind is "still, pellucid, and free from occupation" (Andrew Gide, Les Caves du Vatican). 170 / Review for,Religious, Volume 39, 1980 / 2 of academic niceties. A strong, critical seminary faculty could mean a matter of life and dea~.~th,_.It coul~ave a,.strong-i~iv-'~'~'ffd:-~-~-diating-r~l~, par, ¯ ti-c~larly when it looks as if we.might be victimized inside the Church, as well as~without, by new fanaticisms and enthusiams. =, The reader may have'been,frustrated by the fact that I have gotten this far without, givinga definition of what Imean: by mysticism (except as "religious experience"). Dean Inge gave twenty-six definitions in his Christian Mysticism of 1899. Iread.that book (which is not about Christian mysticism at all, but about neo-Platonism), .but since 1899 there,~have been significanli developments to,warrant our adding a hundred more,to~,the "~gloomy dean's" twenty-six. William Johnston. has recently struggled¯ with this problem of definition in. his The Inner Eye of Love. ~ ~ o~' If we go back to the Middle Ages we find that there is no distinction be-tween mystical theology and mystical experience, Jean Gerson (1363-1.429), whom we have already mentioned, writes: Theologia mystica est experimen-talis cognitio habita de Deo,per amoris unitivi complexum (Mystical theology is.~xperimental knowledge of God through the embrace of unitive love).2~ From this Johnston points out. that 'Christian "mysticism,is wisdom Or knowledge that :is found through love; it, is loving knowledge.'??' It is also ex-perimental, knowledge. It is not abstract. It is personal. And as we shall see later, w.hen we take a brief look at Richard of St. ~Victor; mysticism comes to fruition only when it reaches out in love towards others and towards the world, .in what we would call social action or outreach.: Now in my plea for the redevelopment of the mystical theology, I do not wish to imply that nothing has :'been done to reflect theologically,~about mystical experienceiin a systematicway. Roman Catholics have been trying to do"this since,the thirteenth-century, and I have waded through the treatises of Poulain and Pourrat, ,Tanqueray and Garrigou-Lagrange. The trouble witch these works is,that~they are pre-Freudian and pre-Jungian in outlook. It seems to me that it would be hopeless to try to develop a mystical theology today without relying heavily on the insights of these two great pioneers. °.Johnston claims that. the call to loving contemplation is given to everybody. It is supremely human activity. He also affirms that mystical ex-perience (if we go deep enough) is "a passage to'the¯ordinary.''2~ I certainly found this true in my short month as a hermit. It was, quite simply, a move-ment into the wonder of the ordinary. Johnston relies heavily on Bernard Lonergan's, Method in Theology in order to find a definition for mystical theology. As .Lonergan writes, "Method is .not a set of rules to be followed metiEulously by a dolt. It is, a, framework for collaborative creativity.''~ Lonergan is searching for a "transcendental method" which seeks to include not only what is thought, See Johnston, op. cir., pp. 19ff. ~'.lbid~, p. 20. ~ Ibid., p. 37, Lonergan, op. cir., p. xi. Spirituality and Theology / 171 heard, and reflected~upon, but also who it is who thinks, hears, and reflects. Theology seeks a .place where we emerge as persons, meet one another in a common concern for values, seek to abolish the organization of human living'on the basis of competing e~oisms and to repla(e it by an organization on the'~iasis of mhn's pdri;eptiven~ss and intelligence, his reasonableness, and his responsible exercise'of freedom.2' ." ":' L~onergaii"goes o~'i0 define th.$o_Jl.qogy as "refl,ection on religion,"~while Johnstbn ~defines mystical theology_as reflection on mystical~experience. "M~,s'ticism is the experience{haystical theology is reflection on thig~:ex-perierice." 2s We need the latter to combat the ~endency to~anti~-in~elle~tua.lism today, particularly in areas where religidus exl~erience~is coficerned.'"We need," sa~'s Johnston, "to interpret mystical experiefice and fihdits meaning: We~ nebd to distinguish the ahthentic from the inauthentie. Then there is the practical need to guide people.''2~ ~" The data, then, of mystical theology are the experience of mysticism, past and present. The sources are the Bible and the varied witnesses of the Christian tradition. It is conc~erned with° research, texts, history, and doctrines, but is is interesting to note that when Lonergan comes to the foun-dation of theology as such, he speaks of reflection or conversion. ~o Mystical experience has always been the v~ery core of theology. The theology of the Fathers "welled up from their mystical experience. But [and this is very significant] it also led to mystical experience." ~' Johnston goes on to pinpoint the problem today: ~ ,~ The~great temptation of theologY' has always been to di{'orce itself from mystical ex-perience. This was a very real problem in the Middle Ages; and it is a very real problem today. Particularly so, since,m the:last, few centuries theology~has bee_n grea!lY pre- 0 . qccupied with controversial issues; has becomeoextrem~ ely~academic., .and has largely di~vgrced itself from spirituality. Contemplative experience has been relegated to the pious writers on pious books. This is scarcely a healthy situation; for a theology which is divorced from the inner experience of the theologian is arid and carries no conviction. ~' If Bernard l~onergan is rjgti~ ip t~hat the Present and the futurewill be characterized by "the switch to interiority" then we will need to heal the breach between devotion and theology if we are to speak to our generation. Can w~ speak not ofily from "a wealth of sound scholarship bu~ also from a° wealth of personal experience"?~ Johnston gloomily concludes that theologians as a breed s~em particularly resistant to conversion: "The~ theologians i'emain unregenerate.''~' I am not so pessimistic, for this has not Ibid., p. I0. Johnston, op. cir., p. 43, n. 1; Lonergan, op. cir., p. 267. ~ Johnston, op. cil. " Ibid., p. 58; Lonergan, op. cir., p. 130. Johnston, op. cir., p. 56. Ibid., pp. 56-57. ~ Ibid., p. 57. Ibid., p. 58. 172 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980 / 2 been~my experience. When Alan Richardson rejected mysticism he was plainly advocating it in another sense. When Richard Norris points tothe dangers of what can so easily be a non-subject, he lectures about the God whose being is only uncovered in relationships. He lectures about love. When a seminary dean slips in.a "dig" abou.t discrete disciplines, he unrepentantl~ sees that this non-subject is given i~riority in the seminary curriculum. '.'As conversion is~b~sic to Christian living, so an objectification of,~conver-sion provides theology with its foundations.''3~ So writ.es Lonergan. Priority is being given, at least implicitly, to Lonergan's definition of theology as reflection or,conversion in its intellectual, . moral, and religious dimensions. The latter dimension is the concern of mystical theology. The converted per-son is like someone in love "without limits or qualifications or conditions or reservatio,ns;i'36 Lon.ergan's counsel to theologians is in the form of four "transcendental precepts": Be attentive. Be intelligent. Be reasonable. Be responsible. Later he insists on adding a fifth: Be in love.~7 Lonergan's counsel comes to me almost as a command, as an antidote to madness. Coleridge (and I wish I could locate the reference) delineated two kinds of madness: the moral and the epistemological. Moral breakdown seems easy to discern, but what about the epistemological breakdown where nothing means anything and every human longing and aspiration is relativized out of existence? There is a saying attributed to Saint Anthony: "A time is coming when meri will go mad, and when they see someone who is not mad, they will attack him saying, 'You are mad, you are not like us.' ,,~8 What exactly do I mean by epistemological madness? It is a form of "in-sanity" which atta.cks true knowledge in two ways which are contradictory. " Lonergan, op. it., p. 130, see also,'p. 241; Johnston. op. cit., p. 58, n. I. -'~ Johnston, op. cit., p. 58;oLonergan, op. cir., p. 106. -" Johnston, op. cit., pp. 60, 61; Lonergan, op. cir., pp. 10ft. 1 do not have time, an such a short paper, to do justice to Lone~'gan. And I confess that it took Johnston's book to bring me to a sym-pathetic reading of Lonergan's. I had tried a few years ago and found it then indigestible! Lonergan goes on to say, "Now in a sense everyone knows and observes transcendental method. Everyone does so, precisely in the measure that he is attentive, intelligent, reasonable, responsible. But in another sense it is quite difficult to be at home in transcendental method, for that is not to be achieved by reading books or listening, to lectures or analyzing language. It is a matter of heightening one's consciousness by objectifying it, and that is something that each one ultimately, has to do in himself and for himself" (Lonergan, op. cit., p. 14). ~ The Sayings of the Desert Fathers, tr. Benedicta Ward, S.L.G. (Oxford: Mowbrays, Cistercian Studies #59, 1875), p. 5 §25. Spirituality and Theology The first way is to say that we can know absolutely nothing. Everything is relative. Nothing, in the end, signifies or matters. It is easy to see how'this form of madness leads to moral breakdown and corruption. The second way is to say that we can know' everything (at lea~t in principle). Knowledge is graspable and finite. This is manifested in the various ideali~sms, dogmatisms, and fundamentalisms which drive people mad. It is also easy to see how this leads to a moral bankruptcy of a different order: a bankruptcy of.legalism. Both ways of madness have a root cause: the lust for security (not unlike the two forms of gnosticism which were and are manifested in libertinism and rigorism). "Nagging doubts engender rigid certainties." One way invites us to get lost in a desert of nothingness of the°destructive kind. The other lures us into a jungle of moralism. Both are places where the human spirit soon dies. The dilemma is this: how to have something, to live for, an ideal, a goal, a vision, without our vision being deified, our ideal being the cloak for megalomania. There is a way to resolve.the dilemma. It is a hard way, however. It is the way of prayer. The Christian call to contemplation is an antidote to individual and collective madness, particularly to the epistemological madness, which is attacking our culture now. Lonergan's four precepts are, in effect, the structuring of an epistemology which covers our "knowing" from direct experience, to inquiry and under-standing, through reflection and judgment to decisive action. His sources and references are interesting--Horney, Maslow, Rogers, and Piaget. They all stress the social and historical character of human knowledge. Indeed, Lonergan is the first major theologian I have discovered who really takes the development of human consciousness seriously. Ironically, the only other place that I know of where there is an analogous.ascending scheme of epistemology is in mystical theology. There we begin with study, move into prayer, and end in contemplation. Most of what we call knowledge is really only the first form, study. It is very important and in no way to be despised. Contemplation is not simply the beholding of God in a non-vocal, non-discursive way. In the end, it is that. But it is also simply taking as large a view of things as possible: ltis a mode of knowing, a way of considering every kind of knowledge . It is a free and clear ~regard of the soul, directed to the object of knowledge, gathering in comprehensive-ly many single points, dwelling thoughtfully and poised in wonder upon its object.~9 Now tla~s is a contemplative method of approaching all knowledge. It is only a metho~l, not the method. Indeed, the analytical method is also very im-portant. But unless all our knowing points to a loving contemplative end we ar~ bound to fall into one or other of the traps of epistemological madness. ~ Kirchberger, op. cit., p. 39. '~ 74 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980 / 2 We.will find Qurselves either;among the libertines or among the rigorists: the know-nothings or the know-it-alls. Contemplation does not require sacrificium intellectus sorightly feared by philosophers and theologians. It does, however, require sacrificing the primacy of theintellect. Contemplation requires its dethronement. It seeks to reverse [he process~of its reification and deification. The intelligentia (for the Victorines, for examp!e, who were Catholic humanists, fundamentally op-timistic about the human condition) is the instrument of the contemplative act, suspended, it is true, during ecstasy, but essential afterwards for integra-tion and interpretation. Intelligentia here is, of course,, not so much the naked intellect of discursive reasoning, but rather an intuitive vision, a sort of unitive principle at the heart of the intelligence which.seeks to harmonize experience. Richard of St. Victor, _for example, says that: the character of contemplation varies in three ways¯ Sometimes it effect~ an enlarging of the mind, sometimes a raising and sometimes an abstraction¯The enlarging of the mind is when the gaze of the soul expands widely and is intensely sharpened, but this in no way goes beyond the limit~of human effort. The raising of the mind is when the activity of the intelligence, d!vinely.i/lluminated, transcends the limits of human effort but does not go over into ecstasy, so that what is sees is above its powers but the soul does not withdraw from its accustomed way~ of knowing . Ecstasy is when the memory of things present withdraws from the mind and it moves by a transfiguration divinely wrought, into a state of soul attainable'by"hunian effort . The first is caused by human effort, the third only ¯ by divine grace, the middle one by a mingling of both, namely human industry and divine grace. Our concern here as theologians is with the first mode of contemplation, with the first step in the third mode in our ascending scheme of epistemology. Richard. goes on to tell his readers that this first step (the enlarging of the mind) . ¯ can be dev~eloped in,three.ways: by art, by exercise, by,a,ttention. We attain the art of' doing someihing when we learn how it is to be done either from good masters or by in-vestigation. The exercise is when we put into practice what we learnt of the art and make ourselves quick and e'~fective in carrying out this practice. Attention is whi:n we reflect . with effort on what we have carried out with great diligence . By these three degrees., the depth,,of mind is widened and made more apt for any kind of Aear~ning or skill." This is not a bad description of educational method as rooted in a move-ment of contemplation which leads into the great knowing of "unknowing," to the knowledge which is love. But, aswe have seen, even this mystical ecstasy is not the end, nor is itthe sole object of our spiritu~al life (the furni.shing of our hacienda!) There is one more act of sacrifice required. "T, he.,la~s~ self-surrender to.God is the surrender of the self-centered desire for Go~, and the final possession o~God on.earth :comes.in union, with Christ's fruit-bearing Ibid., pp. 183-184(Benjamin Major V, ch. II). Ibid., p. 186 (Benjamin Major V, ch. 111). Spirituality and Theolo~,y. /175 life of sacrifice and gervice to the brethren and all 'mankind.'''2 The end of Christian contemplation, then, is always compassion. Presumably it is also the end of theology. As Lonergan says, man achieves authenticity in self-transcendence. One canlive in a world, have a horizon, ~ just in the meastJre that one is not locked up in oneself. As the question of God is ~mpllClt ~n all our questlomng, so being ~n love with God ~lS the basic fulfdlment of our conscious intentionality.'" ~ ~ I fully acknowledge the tendency of~.this strange subject to be.~a parasite on the backs~of the other disciplines. It seems to encroach on territory not its own~ Itcan be annoyin~ and vague and at the same' time'arrogant and preten-tious. It needs help an, d understan~ding ~f itis no(to be a Cuckoo lhying its eggs in the meticulous and well-constructed nests of others. In a way, Christian ~pirituality does not have a separate existence of its own. It exists only in rela-tion to other disciplines, but I would like to see it develop symbiotic rather than parasitic relationships. I repeat, the final end of Christian mysticism is compassion. In Richard of St. Victor's De Quatuor gradibus violentae caritatis (notice here that love is passionate!) he writes that there are four stages in the mystical ascent. There is knowledge of self (meditation). Then there is the ascent to God (contempla-tion). Thirdly there is absorption into God(whichRichard calls jubilation and which, alas, often gets identified as thepoint of mysticism). Fourthly, there is the going forth from God (compassio~n),." In the first degree, God enters into the s~ul and she turns inward into herself. In the second, she ascends above herself and is lifted up to God. In the third the soul, lifted up to God, passes over altogether into-him. In ~he fourth the s0ul gbes forth on God's behalf and descends below herself. In the first she enters~into h'~rsblf, in the second she goes forth from herself. In the first she reaches her own life, in the third she reaches God. In the first she goes forth on her own behalf, in the fourth she goes forth because of her neighbor. In the~ first' ~lie enii~rs in by meditationl.in the secondshe ascends bylcoi~templa-tion, in the third she is led into jubilation, in thefourth: ~she goes out by co~npassion." Theologyi~pushed by!its own p~o~bihg anffliv~ely'fin, certainties, ends either with compassion or with despair and cynicism. , Just as unrestricted questioningis our capacity for sdf-transcendence, so being in love in ~ an unrestricted fashion is the proper fulfillment of that capacity. That fulfillment is not the product of our kno.wledge and choice. On the contrary, it dismantles and abolishes the horizon in which our knowing and choosing went on and it sets up a new horizon in which the love of God will transvalue our values and the eyes of that love will transform our knowing.'~ _, But the very experience of transcendence raises the very issues which theology must continually face. Ibid., p. 46. Kirch'berger, op. cit., p. 224. '~ Lonergan, op. cit~, pp. 104-105. '~ Lonergan, op. cir., p. 106. 176 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980 / 2 Man's response to transcendent mystery is adoration . Accordingly, which mystery is not to be confused with problem, the ongoing contexts within whic~ mystery is adored and adoration is explained are anything'~ut free from problems.", Academic theology comes into its own' by probing those experiences which otherwise would rob Christianity of its giveness and strangeness.~ Rigorous theo!ogy saves Christi~.nity from becoming domesticated and f~mili~ar. Le! me end with a quotation from Diadochus Photic~:. . the theologian tastes something of the experie_nce of the contemplative, provided he is humble; and the contemplative will little by little know something of the power of speculation, if he keeps the d~isce~rning part of his soul free from error. But the two gifts are rarel§ found to the same degree in the same person, so that each may wonder at the other's abundance, and thus humility may increase in each." Ibid., pp. 344-345. " Louth, op. cir., p. 14. Now Available As A Reprint The "Active-contemplative" Problem in Religious Life by David M. Knigh~t Price: $.75 per copy, plus postage. Address: Review for Religious Rm 428 ¯ 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 Celibate Friendship Brian O'Leary, S.J. Father O'Leary is a staff-member of Manresa House; Dollymount; Dublin, 3; Ireland. He characterizes the present article as complementary to his first one, ~'Reflections on Apostolic Celibacy" (May, 1979), "dealing with the horizontal dimension where the other dealt with the vertical." One of the difficulties with using the word celibacy in the context of religious life is that .the primary meaning of the word is negative: abstinence from marriage, or the unmarried life, the state of .non-marriage. But if con- ~secrated celibacy is agift from God, then it cannot be so~ethi~.n.g negative. At most it :can have a negative aspect or side effect, aconcomitant frustration or ~'painful limitation. But the gift itself must be positive. Religious celibacy is for living, for loving. It has everything to do with interpersonal relationships: with the God of Abraham, 1.saac and Jacob; with Jesus, :the enfleshed and full revelation of that God; with peopib, men and women, near and far, good and evil. It has to do with love received and love given; with life lived to the full through carin~ and being cared fore through reachir~g o~ut and being reached out to, through c6mmitment to people and having peop!e committed to us. Our relationships with God and with people ai'e closely intertwined. Our Iexperience of being loved by God and loving God is somehow dependent on o~" exp'erience of being loved by people and loving people. St. John wrote: "Anyone who says, 'I love God,' and hates his brother, is a liar, since a man who does not love the brother that he can see cannot love God, whom he has never seen" (I Jn 4:20). We can also argue! a man Who does not experience the love of his brother whom he can see, cannot experience love of God whom he has never seen. We need to give and receive a love which is tangible in order to give and receive a love which is !ntangible. Remembei" the lines ot: William Blake: 177 178 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, .1980 / 2 i looked for my soul but my soul 1 could not see. 1 looked for my God but my God eluded me. I looked for a friend and then l found all three. ~ Religious are not usually exempt from this dependence on human love and friendship in their seai'ch for God. Celibacy itself, far from lessening our need of the experience of love, is offering us a greater freedom in loving, and conse-quently a greater facility in finding God. This latter ideal is well expressed in the Autobiography of St. Ignatius where we read: His devotion, that is, his ease in finding God, has always continued to increase and now more than in his whole life. Each time and hour that he wanted to find God~ he found him? This is the experience of a lover, but of one whose love had been purified since the immature days of his young manhood when his love for God and people had leaned more to the fanciful than the real. Describing his convalescence from his war wounds received :at Pampl.ona he says: Of the many vain things that presented themselves to him, one took such a hold on his heart that he was absorbed in thinking about it for two or three or four hours without realizing it: he imagined what he would do in the service of a certain lady, the means he would take so he could go to the country where she lived, the verses, the words he would say to her, the deeds of arms he would do in her service. He became so conceited with this ~ that he did not consider how impossible it would be because the lady was not of the lower nobility nor a countess or a duchess, but her station was higher than any of these.~ . ~ Because Ig'natius' experience of human love at that ti~me'was of this dreamy, romantic kind,'his way of loving God was similar: to undertake great and ar-dubus deeds and penances" such as his spiritual heroes had undertaken: St. Dominic did this, therefore, 1 have to do it. St. Francis did this, 'therefore, i have to do it.~ There was far more of Ignatius in that way of loviiag than there was of God. But gradually h~gi'ew both in human love and in divine love, parallel ex-periences keeping pace with° one another, inextricably intertwined, almost be~:oming one." Finding God in all things ahd all things in God. What then can b~ said about human love? A very great d~al if we judke by the' ~tmount that has been written about it from early epic poetry through lyric poetry, drama, thenQ~el and other literary genres. But .let us take just one series of reflecti6hs from a modern psychologist, Erich Fromm. The Autobiography of St. lgnatiu's' Loyola, Harper Torchbooks (1974), p. 93. Op. cit., p. 23. ~ Ibid. Cefibate Friendship What does one person give to another? He gives of himself of.the most precious he has, he gives of his life. This does not necessarily mean that he sacrifices his life for the other, but.that he gives him of that which is alive in him; he gives him of his joy, of his interest, of his understanding, of his knowledge, of his humor, of his sadness, of all expressions and ~a~ifestations of that which is alive in him. In~ thus giving of his life, he enriches the other person, he enh~ances the other's sense of aliveness by enhancing his own sense of aliveness. He does not give in order to receive; giving is in itself exquisite joy~' Fromin's emphasis here on one's aliveness that is giveri,~shared and enhanced reminds us of the statement of St. lrenaeus: "The glory of God is man fully alive." If wetake glory in its biblical meaning as a visible and tangible manifestatioff of God's presence, as in a broad sense of sacrament of God's presence, then'we can see how in truly human love God can be found and ex-perienced. It is not a question of arguing from the reality of human love to the realitY, of divine love, but rather of experiencing divine love through the ex-perience of human love. To shut oneself off from human love either through fear or inhibition or anxiety or some stoical ideal of spirituality is to cut oneself off from the p6ssibility of touching and being touched by thedivine. Strange as it may seem', mature human love does not come easily and spon-tane0usl~ to us. If left unreflected on and undirected, our loving tends to be egocentric, selfish, possessive, jealous--in a word, sinful.' Mature love demands all the patience and pain and even dying associate~l with growth. For most people, whether Christian or not, the normal ambience for such~growth to maturity is the family. This can be a schpol~o_f generous, self-g~ving love through_.the muluple relationships which kmt tts meml6ers tok'~lier. G~wng, receiving, sharing, each alter~ates--h~ i--~'~a~p-'~f~"~i|y that is closely united in love, yet otie that is not closed in u.p6n itself in a complacent, smug manner.~ The family itself has to. be open to others. It was in our own families that we first learned experientially about love, and we carry that gift with us throughout our lives. Conversely, we also carry the inevitable limita-tions and.deficiencies of that experience throughout our~ lives. Hence the need for being in touch with our past, for forgiveness and I~he letting go of resent-ments, and bitterness, for self-acceptance and the,~healing of memories. But now as adults we are called to a different life-style, one demanding the renunciation of any possibility'of founding a family of our own and bringing new human life into the world. This means that we are renouncing the use of the most natural and normal means for growing in mature, human love. Such a decision is not to be taken lightly. We must be sure that we can grow without such help. Ours is a minority kind of vocation,,~a minority life-style. But the call is still growth, maturity and love. The road may be,steeper, in many ways more solitary, but'it will also be less encumbered. There are two paradoxical 4~, requirements: to develop a capacity and even a desire~.for solitude, and to develop a capacity for deep and lasting friendships. Solitude and friendship ¯ The Art of Loving, Unwin Paperbacks (1975), p. 27. 180 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980 / 2 are the two keys to a'healthy, integrated, celibate life. In both we find ourselves, the other, and God. Friendship in the lives bf religious takes many forms,, is experienced in many contexts, and has many degrees of intensity. As we live in comm~unity we are first challenged to look for friendships there. Ideally, at least, some close relationships in this. arena should be possible. ~Then there are the people whom we serve in our direct apostolate and those others with whom we col-laborate; some friendships of depth' may well emerge from these sources. Finally, there are the friends ~wejust happen to form from chance meetings or strange coincidences. All of these together give us a wide range of relation-ships such as is healthy and envigorating for any person to hav.e. It~'is an enriching and broadening experience to have friends among many age-groups, different social classes, varied occupations, and so on. Through them we touch life and are touched by life. As we move across the spectrum from acquaintance to friendship to close friendship to deep, intimate love, the reality of our celibacy becomes moreand more pertinent. In a relationship of mere.acquaintance the fact of being a con-secrated celibate is almost irrelevant, but in.a relationship of deep loving it becomes central. Some religious feel safer hovering around the center of that spectrum--and undoubtedly they are. But for others the call to take the risk of deep loving is part of God's call to respond to His love.This they accept with joy, yet they remain aware that their celibacy is a fragile as well as a beautiful gift, and that it has to be guarded as-well as celebrated. Relation-ships of deep, intimate, .human loving can exist between a man and a woman, a man and a man, a woman and a woman. So let us reflect on the conditions in which a religious might feel free to sustain and foster such a relationship. 1. The religious must be mature. As we have seen, maturity is a process of growth, and so the requirement of being mature is 'in some sense relative. What it means basically is that the person be comfortable with his or her own sexuality, be able to know and accept himself or herself as a sexual being. Fur- ,ther, his or her desire must be to create an adult'relationship between equals, not one of emotional dependency. This latter could happen should someone Ibe searching for a deep relationship out of a need,'overt or latent, to relieve or escape from acute loneliness. ~., 2. The religious must be.well rooted in his celibate calling. This will include having a strong personal attachment to Jesus, to the Church, to the order or congregation, to the apostolate. It presupposes a sound and vibrant life of prayer. Deep relationships starting from an insecure commitment can lead one out of religious life, o~ toan alienated existence within. 3. There mustbe an awareness and understanding of the other person's sexuality, and of his or her capacities, weaknesses and needs. An awareness also of the inevitable tendency towards greater intimacy, physical as well as Celibate Friendship psych61ogical. Hence there has to be moderation in the bodily expression of tenderness, affection and love. Touch can be a. beautiful language of com-munic~ ition, more expressive than the spoken or written word, but it can also be a 'gateway to mere~ gratification. It is not enough for a religious only to avoid sexual sin, but he must be sensitiveto the truth of every gesture, and to questions such as: "What is this action doing to the other person? What is it saying to him? In what emotional state is it leaving him?" Self-knowledge and sensitivity to the other go hand in hand. 4. Besides being grounded in one's own vocation, the religious must also affirm and desire the growth of the other in his vocation. This means really wanting and working for the other's growth in celibacy (should he be a religious), or for the other's growth in married love (should he be married). Should the other person be single, the religious must be careful not to stunt the other's affective growth in relationships with other men and women, thus cut-ting off the chance of marriage. Finally, any giving in to a sterile fantasy: "If only things were different"; "if only we were free"; "if only we had met earlier in life," is dangerous, and constitutes a degree of unfaithfulness to our commitment to Christ. 5. The relationship must not be exclusive. The ideal is to be totally non-possessive, and in that sense truly free. The ability to make and sustain other friendships with either sex should be fostered. Celibate love is primarily universal in character. 6. The relationship must be open. This means'o(a) open to God. The two people involved should be able to pray with sincerity about their love both in-dividually and together. In such prayer ]hey will receive guidance and strength. But such guidance and strength is also mediated through people, and ~o such a relationship should also be (b) open io spiritual directors, superiors, mutual friends. There is n~eed of a.constant evaluatioffof such a relationship, and a third party (this can mean one or more persons) can be helpful and ob-jective. Any tendency to hide a relationship, to secretiveness and furtive behavior is a danger signal. 7. There must be a willingness to endure pain, to go through difficult times. This is required in all human loving, but it is especially necessary in celibate love 6f a deep kind because in such love we allow, to a greater 0r lesser extent, the frustrating aspect of.celibacy to surface and be experienced. To the degree that the dynamic towards exclusivit~y and sexual union develop, to that. degree will it become more painful to keep on choosing celibacy. The person unable to tolerate such pain either leaves religious life, or, as in no. 2 above, he endures an alienated existence within his community. 8. By their fruits you shah know them. A relationship such as this cannot be divorced from every other aspect of the celibate's life. If the loving is healthy, life,giving and creative, it will enhance the quality of the person's prayer, community living, apostolic commitment, other relationships, and in-deed his general well-being. By using these criteria it is to be expected that the 182 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980 / 2 relationship will aid positively to the growth of the person involved, ~n.o.tTbe something merely neutral' or indifferent,~but rather be a~strong contribut~ing factor to human and spirit.ual development. Thins aim is admittedly very,,high,. but one who is living the'qonsecrated life should be able and willing to accept. these criteria, demanding as they are, and eval~uate any intimate relationship accordingly . Now Available As A Reprint Psychosexual Maturity in Celibate Development by Philip D. Cristantiello Price: $.60 per copy; plus postage. .Address': Review for' Religious Room 428 ~ 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 Catherine of Siena: Mission and Ministry in the Church Suzanne Noffke, O.P. Sister Suzanne; past president of the Racine Dominican Sisters, having just completed a' new and unabridged translation, of the Dialogue of Catherine, dev?tes herself full time to ,research, writing, and speaking on Catherine and her thought.,. Sister Suzanne resides at 2070 Allen Blvd., #2; Mid~leton, WI 54562. atherine of Siena~ was a woman who knew to,an amazing depth who she was--because she responded with such amazing: fidelity to God's revelation to her of who he is. That revelation, was nev~er for .Ca,therine (nor is it for .any of us) one finished pa~ckage, oNo, she entered. Jnto, it ~lyvel by level throughout her life as she met each new insight and wrestled with its implications and demands. But essentially there were~always those two t~hreads: Catherine knew God as boundless Truth and Love, and she knew herself as limited and even sinful, yet°loved a~d gifted, o The dynamic of Catherine's growth could be very appropriately described in terms of~the classic "transcendental precepts": ~ , Be attentive. Be intelligent. Be reasonable., Be responsible. Her attentiveness to divine initiative in her life is obvious at every stage of her awareness; it was so sacred a matter for her, in fact, that she regarded any failure in that attentiveness as a breach in. fidelity. She was very conscious of, and delighted in,°the active play of her own understanding as an intelligent be-ing in ,re,,ceiving GOd's manifestation of himself. But the play and the deligl~t were never a short-circuited contemplationS: her reason searched out the im- 183 184 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/2 plications of what she saw; and her whole being owned and responded to thoge implications in her living, no matter what the cost to herself. It is so far the picture of a beautifully human, thoroughly moral and noble person, and a discussion of mission and ministry could legltimately be drawn from it. Yet if our model encompassed only these levels--even in faith--the total reality of Catherine, and the fullest ideal of Christian mission and ministry would be muted to a kind of drudgery of diaty well done. Such could conceivably be true and heroic holiness, but we are invited to so much morel Bernard Lonergan captured the sense of this "more" when he added to the four transcendental precepts a fifth: Be in love~' . Now we may love many people, but.to be in love is a much more rare and precious phenomenon. Catherine did not simply love God: she was madly (she herself uses that modifier again and again) in love. And it was one in love that she was attentive, intelligent, reasonable, and responsible. It was love that fired her urgent sense of being sent, her sense of mission to ministry. If we would learn about mission and ministry from Catherine, we must remember that we are looking at and listening to a woman in love. And we must remind ourselves that God is in love with us too~, and that we too are in-vited beyond simply lok, ing him to the mad sanity of being-in-love: "not that we have loved God, but that God has loved us!''2 A Question of Discipleship We are dealing here.with the whole question of dis.cipleship. A disciple is One who learns from another's person as much as from his body 0f teaching: And a disciple in the gospel t~'adition is ultimately and most imme~diately a disciple of Jesus~ Any others who are models and guides' in the Christian ~vay are such only because, and insofar as, they are, first, true disciples themselves. "Take me as your model," writes Paul, "as I take Chris~?'3 In the end, "you have only one teacher, the Christ."' " ' ¯ Catherine's ~rescription for those who would be guides to others describes well her understanding of her own role toward those who were her 'disciples: Be trumpeters of the incarnate Word, God's Son, not only with your voice but with your deeds. Learn from the Master of t(uth, who practiced virtue before he preached it. In this way you will produce fruit and be the channel through which God will pour his grace into the hearts of those who hear you? Catherine, true disciple that she is, can well be both model and teacher to us, for her life speaks as forcefully as doher writings, which could have grown only out of such a life. Method in Theology. LondOn: Darlon, Longman and T0dd,_1972, p. 13. 1Jn 4:'10. ~ I C6 11:1". Letter 226, to Raymond of Capua, c. i376~ ' Mt 23:10. Catherine of Sienb: Mission and Ministry in the Church The Context of Mission and Ministry for Catherine ~ , All of Catherine's life and all that she says about specific questions can be fully understood only/in the context of hei" m.ost bhsic convictions. In isolation from these, so muchwould be--and has been--~ubject to misrepresentation. So, even at the risk of distorting by over-brevity, let me at least summarize'the faith that most centrally dictated the shape of her interpretation of mission and ministry. ' The God with whom C~therine is in love'is at once "gentle first Truth" and "Love itself." Jesus, God's on'ly-begotten Son, God's Word, is Truth in-carnate, the one Way in love for sinful humanity to find reconciliation with the ~Father. Along this Way--Catherine describes him in her Dialogue as the bridge it is in the Church as in a hostelry.that God provides the food and shelter, the companionship and rest without which we pilgrims would surely faint or fall back long before we would reach our destination. In fact, the head of the Church is "Christ-on-earth." Only he holds~the keys to the wine cellar in which is stored :the blood of Jesus, the sole source of life and salvation. And, for Catherine, there-is nc~ other way to union with God but through the open heart of Jesus. God alone--in himself and in Jesus and, analogously, in the Church--is deserving of unqualified love (senza modo). Everyone and everything else is to be loved only con modo--with love that is qualified and conditioned and limited by its relationship with God. Because of this very strong'sense 6f relativity, issues which may loom large in our considerations often 'get from Catherine what may seem short shrift to us. Some of the difference,"it is true~ is cultural; but that fact should not allow us to miss the more signi.ficant difference that cbhaes from this underlying sense of relativity -- a 'sense that is still as ~valid today as it was in fourteenth-century Tuscany. When we are in love, all things are relative~tothe one we love. With this context firmly in mind we can turn as disciples to Catherine and let her person and her words speak to our own convictions about our mission to ministry in the Church. The Foundation and Principle of Mission and Ministry Basic to ~the who|e question of mission and.ministry-for Catheriiae was the same principle she applied to preaching: that we must practice virtue first, then preach it. Jesus, she writes in the Dialogue, never taught what he had not first lived himself. We are useless to others unless we have within ourselves what we would share with them. She writes of herself in the Prologue to the Dialogue that "she knew that she could be of no service to her neighbors in teaching or example or prayer without first doing herself the service of attain-ing and p~ossessing virtue.''6 "We will never be able to nourish our neighbors," she w'rites to a group of women in Naples, "unless we first feed our own souls with true solid virtues. 186 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/, 2 And we cannot be nourished with virtue unless we cling to the breast of divine chari~ty from which we draw, the milk of divine tenderness."~7 The image is a double one: the bre, ast of divine charity is t0e.open heart of Jesus. In prayer we look into this open heart and see "the secret of the bloo~"~--that God loves us so.madly that his Song's death was not too high a price to pay for_ our love--and seeing ourselves so madly loved, we o in response fall madly in love with God. But prayer itself is imaged by ~Catherine as a mother: it~ is prayer that conceives and gives b!rth to virtue within us, and with.gut prayer the virtue which ministers in love to our neighbors is im-possible . ,. Where, indeed, will we c~tch the fragranc~ of obedlence?~ In ffrayer. Where will we strip ourselves of th~ selfish love that makes us impatient in the face of hurt and other dif-ficulties, and clothe ourselves in divine love, finding our glory in the cross of Christ crucified? In prayer/. Where do we express love and faith and hope and humility? In prayer. In fact, we would not bother to look for what we did not love; but when we do love we always want to,be united with the objec.t of our love--and he_re that object is God.° Where, finally, will we catch the fragrance of coniinence and purity, and a hunger for martyrdom that makes us willing to give our lives for God's honor and the good of sot~ls? Always in th~s gentle mother, prayer . Truly, p~rayer i~ a nio'iher. If'is she who conceives virtues as her children in love for God, and ~ives them birth in love for our neighbors/° There is no ministry, then, without virtue; no~ is there virtue withbut prayer. It is in prayer, that we are sent out, missioned, into action. And once the dynamic has been set in motion by our response ~o God,s initiative, prayer and ministry ~feed;each other: 'prayer drives us out to serve, and our service drives us back into prayer. Indeed, if0both are genuine in themselves, each becomes in.a sense the other: prayer~is a ministry and ministry a prayer. There'ar~ two ways to pray (Catherine writes): The firsi way is that of Continualprayer; that is, ,that constant lioly desire which of itself .prays before God in everything a person does. Indeed, such desire directs all our actions, whether spiritual or temporal, to his honor. That is why it is called continualprayer.'~ Continual prayer, then, is nothing other than holy desire' and the gentle movement of iove.,~ , What fruit do we derive from this sort of prayer? A peaceful quiet within us to which nothing is a stumbling~block: . Nothing wearies or troubles it. Nor does it let us. be ~.Dialogue, I. (All quotations from the Dialogue are taken from the new translation of that work to be publis.hed by Pat~list Press in January, 1980.) See~also Dialogue, 29. Letter 356 .,to thr~e women of Naples. Letter 353, to three women of Naples, 1379. Letter 26, to her niece, Sister Eugenia, a nun in the monastery of'Sf. Agnes at M0t~tepulciah0'. ~ Letter 353. ~, ~ ~ " " Ibid. '~ Letter 22, to Abbot Martino di Pass, ignano of Vallombrosa. Catherine of siena: MiSsion and Ministr.V in the Church / 187 'ideceived when our soul hankers airier our~own room, tO bask there in consolation and peace. It does not even regret having to do something else when we ~,ould prefer to be actually at prayer. No, it extracts from that something else the perfume of humility and the firb of, love for our neighbors. ~ "i'he sec6nd way'is that of vocalprayer, that is, speaking wiih oiie's tong~ae to say the~Of-rice or other oral prayers. This way is designed to bring us to the third way, mental prayer. This is a~:complished when, with I~rudence and humility., we use our minds in vocal prayer--that is, when we pray in such a way that, while we.are speaking with our i~ngue, our h~art is never far from God. Indeed, we should alw~ays try, to set our heart firmly in the love of divine charity." . urging our mmd always to think of, to offer, and t6 receive the i~ pulse of God's love more than-the sound of the.words." It is ume to give honor to God and wear ourselves out for our neighbors: wear ourselves out physically by bearing with everything, a~nd.wear ou_rselve~ out spiritually by offering continual, humble prayer in Ggd's presence with angui~shed longing, with bitter tears and sweat. ' 6 The complementarity of prayer and action, then, is'one of integration, not of mere alternation. Catherine would not be at all at home with the image we have sometimes used, that of a car which needs to return perio~dically to the gas pump for fuel in order to keep running. Her own image of the fountain and the jfig, though she used it in another context, is much more app~'opriate. The fountain is God and his love and truth. "If you take your Jug out of the fountain to dri~k," she writes, "it is soon empty. But if y0o h01d your j~gin the fountain whild you drink, it ~ill~n0t get empty;~ifide~d, it will'always be full." '' In this image, the more we drink from this jug, the more r~om there is f6r it to be filled, and the more i~ is filled, the more we have to drink (or to share). ° What," then, determines" what time shall'be given to bxl~licit praye~, and w~at 'to the ministry of action'?. Precisely ~hat initiative from God which is called mission., Not simply our own inclinatibn,.but the action of the Spirit made kno~'n through oppoit~nit3~, obedience, ~3r dema~nds of lb~;e. Be very.conscientious and persevering in frequenting the holy place of prayer'as,often " .an, d as long as the Holy Spirit offers you the 9pportuni!y. Do not,avoid'it or run a~aYo ~;o from . it ,even if it should cost you your life. Never abandon,~ t,oht .of tenderness or com-passion for your body.~ You must not break away from holy prayer for any reason whatever except obedience or It is'Prayer, .therefore, that~ holds the place of primacy. But¯~ervice is its " Lettei 154, to'Brother Francesco T~baldi of Florence, i3"~8~ t, Letter 353. ~ ~ ~; '~ Letter 154. ~ ~ :, ,6 Letter 296, to Don Giovanni delle Celle, c. 1376. "Dialogue, 64. " Letter 187, to Don Giovanni Sabbatini of Bologna and Don Taddeo de' Malavohi Of Siena, monks of Certosa anti, Be riguardo, c. 1375. '~ Dialogue, 65. 188. /Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980 ,/2 , necessary fruit and touchstone. Effective love for others is the expression of true love for God. So God says in the Dialogue: I ask you to love me with the same love which I love you. But for me you cannot do this, for I loved you without being loved. Whatever love you have for me you owe me, so you love me, not gratuitou[ly, but out of duty, while I love you, not out of duty, but grati~itously. So you cani~ot gi~'e me the kind of love i ask of you. This is why I have put you among your neighbors: so thal you can do for-them wha! you cannot do for me--that is, love them without any concern for thanks and without looking for a~ny p[ofit for yourself. And whatever you do foi- them 1 Will consider done for me.2° We cannot, in fact, honestly claim to have even conceived .virtue if we never bring it to birth'for our neighbors. (Again God is speaking.) Virtue, once conceived, must come to birth. Therefore, as soon as the soul has conceived through loving affection,oshe gives bii'ih for her neighbors' sake. And just as she loves m~ in truth, so also she serves her neighbors in truth. Nor could she do otherwise, for love of me and love of neighbor are one and the same thing: since love of neighbor has its source in me, the more the soul loves me, the more she loves her neighbors.2' Catherine not onlY, preached this integration of prayer and virtue and ministry; she lived it more and more deeply as her intimacy with God deep-ened. Her three years 6f alm.ost total silence and solitude were more than merely ~ '°'filling of the fuel tank" for the life of service that was (o begin to blossom at their end. Catherine entered that solitude, one very much centered on the relationship between herself and God, and it was atime of growth fbr her in mystical union with him. But in that solitude was growingalso.the small seedling of another relationship. The ~ulmination of those three years came in a double-edged experience which puzzled Catherine herself. During the night of Carnival in 1368 she had reached a high pitch of inten-sity" in the p~ayer~that had--perhaps incongruously to us in vie~; of her mysticism--been her l~r~occupation for months: prayer foi" th~ gift of faith. Raymond of Capua iells us that she had consistently sensed in i'~sponse to her pleadings the promise voiced in the prophet Hosea: "I will e~pbuse you to myself in, faith.''~ Yet she had never been satisfied that her prayer had been granted. On this night, however, she knew that it had, ih the experience we know as her mystical espousals. Catherine's rapture knew no bounds: she would have been content to rest where she was forever. But just as un-mistakably as the intimacy of faith carrie the mission of faith--in terms of which, frustratingly, on the very heels of rapture, the very Christ who had finally drawn~her to his wedding-chamber began to drive l'ier out of solitude to service. But note that this was not'the end of the prayer of solitude in Catherine's life. Rather she began to learn the very integration of the two, an integration Dialogue, 64. ~' Dialogue, 7. n Ho 2:22. Catherine of Siena: Mission and Ministry in the Church / 189 of wtiich she would later speak so forcefully toothers. Prayer and ministry, love of God and love of neighbor are, Christ tells her, the two feet on which she must walk, the two wings on which she must fi~, 23 Neither. can be complete without the ~ther. And as the circles" of Catherine's involvement widened, her ministry in action intensified her need for prayer in solitude, while her very prayer drove her more and more to con-cern for others. She knew'with the thirst of the psalmist in the parched desert how essential it is to "hold one's jug in the f~untain even as one drinks." And if the call of olSedi+nce afid°lo~,e filled her days to a dizzying pace she would seize the opportunity' of ii~e night to bring it all with her" whole self in quiet before God. As surely as she knew that he was with her in her ministry-- for it was he who,constantly sent her--she knew that she needed time and space to be consciously in his presence in what she calls "the holy place of prayer." The Specifics of Mission and Ministry ~)ut of the dialectice of Catherine's prayer~ an~l action grew the strong specific convictions concerning mission and ministry that dictated her own pat.h :and.her .counsel to' others. She never, even in her Dialogue, attempted a ~systematic presentation of this or any other matt, er. Nor .will 1 attempt to. draw out of her works what could be considered a full "theology of ministry.:' But it is~possible and decidedly worth the effort to pull together in some logical order the bits of. her refle.ction on the question in both the Dialogue and her .letters, and to say something ,again of how she herself lived what she taught. For the implications of any given insight w.ere~for Catherine, very concretely and practically the call of obedience. What; then, has she to tell us?, First of all, and at the basis of any sense of mission, of being sent, is the reality that in his very gifts in us God commissions us to specific ministries. His gifting is,in itself,a call: ¯ - I have distributed [all my gifts] in such a way (he says in the Dialogue) that no one has all of thefia. ~hus I have given you rea~son-- hecessity, in fact to I~ractice mutual charity. For I could~well have supplied each of you with all your needs . But'l wanted to.make you dependent on one another ,so tha~t each of you would be my minister, dispensing the grace~ and gifts you have received~from me. So whether you will it or n~t, you cannot escape the exercise of charity!Z' In another part of the Dialogue the Father becomes even more explicit about'the providence of this interdependence he has built into the economy of creation by the variety of our gifts:°. . In this mortal life so long as y9u are pilgrims, I have bound you with the chain of.charity. Whether you want it or not, you are so bound. If you should break loose by not wanting to live in charity for your neighbors, by force will you still be bound by it. So, that you Raymond of Capua, Legenda Major, ch. 121. Dialogue, 7. 190 / Review for Religiousj Volume 39, 1980 o may practice charity-in action and.in will, I in my provid~ence did not~giveto any one,p_er-son or to each indivi_dually the knowledge for doing ever~y~hing necessary for human life., No, I gav~ something to one, something blse to another, so that each one's need would be a reason to have recourse to~ tti~ other. So thoukh yofi ?hay los('your 'wili for cl~i~:ii'y ° because of your wickedness, you will at least be forced by your o~wn ne'~d'to practice it in action. Thus you see the artisan turn to the worker and th~.workeroto theartisan: each has a need of the other.becaus~ neither.knows how to do what the o~th.e~-.~does. So also the j-0 cleric and rehg~ous' " havek need. of the layperson,.and~ the. layperson. ~r~ ,~ ofo. the religious; neither can get ~long without the other. And so with everything else. Could I not have given everyone everything? Of course. But in my~providence I wanted, to make each of you dependent on the others, so that you would be forced to exercise chanty In action andwl at once." ~ ¯ Catherine hers'~lf had 'a'kind of genius for matching ,her gifts (and .she knew hergifts as well a~ her limitations) with rieeds that wete~beii~g met by no one else. She was deeply sensitive, and she too.k on those cases among the poo( and the sick that called for more care than others were able or willing to give. Sh'~had aqaiercing and uncompromising vision which she shared with reluc-tant listeners as ~vell as with the willing~ what needed saying she ~would say! Whe6. it seemed that' som~ of her followers neededra cl0ister~and,,there was none tliat,matched their r~eed~,-she founded one.~When she~sensedothe gaping, lack ~of holines~ amid thb p~litics of the pope's 'advisers~ she,called °foro.'a "papal counciW of holy persons who would fill the vacuum. Notall of'her:~f-forts met with tangible success; some of her grandest d~eams ~.ame in crashing failure'tlowri on her head~:~ Yet she owned "the mission defined'~by~her:, gift6dness, and~never disowned responsibility for the resu.lts~--:-'~ though sh~ alsb had the ability, so very rare, to let go ofo~rojects that.,~;proved,counter-productive. She knew her own dependence on 6thers a~ Wellas shb knew .that others depended On her. She knew~what it means to be gifted and "missioned. But it is' notS'merely a natural interdependence that~constitutes~ mission: Mission is inseparable from the need of sinful humanity~for redemption, and therefore it demands entry into the redeeming life and passion of Jesus, not only for oneself, but for the,sake of others as well. Those in, m~ss~on const~t, ute more than the Red Cross or thecounty welfare.office,.and this larger perspec-tive (which must be no less than God's own) may put those,in mission in°the paradoxical position of encot~raging themselves and 6tliers in suffering as often as it puts.them in the effort of relieving it. Catherine c~lledit~'~th~ om-passionate'cruelty'and cruel conlpassion of the cross" and "feeding, on souls at. the table ofthe cr0~s." It is one of thoseoarenas where the truth of faithcan "blow" the mind of reason. The Father says in the Dialogue: . . it is by means'of my ser~,ants and their great sufferings thatl would be mei'cifu I to the world and ref6rm my bride [the Church]. ,r. Dialogue, 148. Catherine of Siena: Mission and Ministry in the ~Church '/~191 Truly these last can be called another Christ.crucified, my only-begotten Son, because they haye taken his task upon themselves. He came as a mediator to put an end to war and reconcile humanity to me in peace by suffering even to the shameful death of crucifixion. In the saine way must these b~ocrudfied and'become mediators ~n prayer, in word, in good holy living, setting themselves up as an exam pie to others. The precious stones of,. . virtue shine in their patience as they,be~ar others' sins. These are the hooks with which they catch souls?~ And Catherine writes to her friends and disciples: o You would be deceived if you wanted to feast at the ~tern~l Father's table while avoiding ~'~ feeding ~n souls at the table of the Son. It is, in fact, at this table'that we must eat this food, for it cannot be,had without suffering)' It is time to show whether or not we are lovers of Christ crucified, and whether we find our joy in.this food.28 One of the first indications o'~" this r~ederdptive sensitivify in Catherine sui'- faces at the tihae of her father's death in 1368. The sudden realization that even so good:a~person as her father may still not be fully purified of sinfulness cuts to the heart of her deeply human love for him, and she begs to be allowed to pay in her own suffering the "price" of this final purifi~ation:'~Later, as her real, felt, effective love reaches out to others,, so does thi~ d,esire to enter into their redemption. It becomes truly a hunger that she knows can be satisfied only on the cross. And her joy in being there is for that reason far t6o deep and much more meaningful than the masochism some have attributed to her. It is a fine line for discernment to'draw, ttiis kr~owledge of when suffei'ing (our 6wn or others') is part Of r~demptive providen(e," and when it i~ to be shunned,'c~onquerett, and alleviated.° Ironically, the issue probably~'~eem~ clearest to us at its extreme: "Proclaini the truth and let no fear silence it! 'Be liberal and generous, ready to ~give even your.life if necessary." Thus she wrote to Raymond of Capua,~9 and .the message probably does not strike us all that discordantly. There is no doubt that Chtherine longed to be allowed to enterjust 'that effectively into Christ's redeeming deatti. But is it one Of those face(s of t;eing madly in love with God that we perhaps take so for granted that we do not really sense its place in our own life and missibn'?. Are we not also called to live (and die) redemptively? But whatever the concrete circumstances oLthat redemptive.living and dy-ing may~be for each of us, Catherine reminds us again and again that Christian ministry demands integrity and courage. Cast from you any tenderness for yourself and any slavish fear. The dear Church has no need for that sort of person; she needs strong people who are merciless"when it comes to themselves and compassionate when it comes to her.'° Dialogue, 146. Letter 271, to Alessa Saracini, 1378. Letter 330, late 1378 or early 1379. Letter 373, to Raymond of Capua, February,25, 1380. Letter 296. 199 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980 / 2 The others' are not action people but wind people who whirl about like leaves, without any consistency or stability. There is not room for shame or embarrassment in regard to our Christian-ity, nor ~for fear of openly owning Christ. We are reminded of Catherine's own natural sensitivity, her embarrassment through much of her life whenever her holiness was "found out," though she eventually was able to share so completely and seemingly unself-consciously. The imagery she uses in writing of this need to be proud to be known as a disciple of Christ is strikingly ' reminiscent of that incident just before she entered the order when the urge to throw~ it all off was so strong that she was actually tempted to put on.her sister-in- law's "aft~er-the-wedding";.dress and parade around Siena in it. Once she had mastered the temptation, she tells us, Mary presented her with the wedd, ing dress that was to be hers, a~ garment from the very heart of Jesus. Years later she writes to her disciple, Gabriele di Davino Piccolomini: You need the armor-which is true charity, and over this armor the scarlet cloak of the blood of Christ crucified . The blood of Christ crucified needs to be revealed, not. hid-den. You must g~ve witness to it before everyone by your good and holy actions, and when necessary by yo.u.r words. You must not be like those fools who are ashamed to re-mind the world of Christ crucified and to testify openly that they are his servants. They are not willing to put on this scarlet cloak, the blood of Christ crucified." Ii isl in fact, not a burden, but our glory to be the ministers of Christ: Those we serve are our helpers, and even our masters insofar as it is their need that comman'ds us. °And even While we are a channel of Ctirist's redemptive love~to them, it is_the~ who in turn me~iiate our way to redemption and salva-tioh. Tfius Catherine writes to Cardinal Pietro Corsini: Be.magnanimous and generous in your charity toward your neighbors, both spiritually and materially. Remember that the hands of the poor are there to help you, as minister of the, blood, in carrying and offering divine grace.The blood of Christ crucifi.ed will teach you to distribute your possessions to the poor with the same generosity he has shown and continues to show to you. He will°make you consider the poor .and'~ those who find themselves in need as your masters." And to Monna Lodovica di Granello: You who have temporal possessions; do your duty by giving to the poor whatever yo~u can give Make yourselyes steward§ of your~wealth to the poor, for the poor are the hands that will grant us entrance to eternal life because of the loving charity with which we have given them alms." The Ministry of Social Justice ~ , Though Catherine herself never held a position of formal authority or had Letter 256, to M. Niccolo, a Tuscan official, after 1376. Letter 128, Gabriele was a layman, not a preacher. Letter 177, 1376. ~" Letter 304, 1378. Catherine of Siena: Mission and Ministry in the Church / 193 more than the most paltry alms to give in her own name, the ministry we today specifically call social justice was very much her concern, and we who sense a special call to this ministry would do well to look to her not only for inspira-tion but also for the criteria on which she based her stands. We have already seen how, in Catherine's view, the divine economy in-cludes the distribution--not always equal or even equitable in our sight--of goods and talents. She insists that there is also a positive providence in poverty and ill fortune, for her sights are always fixed beyond the limits of here and now and the standards of mere reason. Yet she is just as insistent when it comes to the obligations of stewardship imposed by the possession of wealth and power (it is God himself who speaks): 1 have shown you my generosity, goodness, and providence toward people. But they let themselves be guided by their own darksome weakness. Your bodily members put you to shame, because they all together practice charity, while you do not. Thus, when the head is aching, the hand he|ps it. And if the finger, that tiniest of members, hurts, the head does not snub it because it is greater and more noble than all the other parts of the body. No, it comes to its aid with hearing and sight and speech and everything it has. And so with all the other members. But those who are proud do not behave that way. They see a poor person, one of their members, sick and in need, and do not help. They refuse to give not only of their possessions but even a single word. Indeed, they reproachfully and scornfully turn away. They have plenty of wealth, but they leave the poor to starve. They do not see that their wretched cruelty throws filth into my face, and that their filth reaches down even to the depths of hell. I provide for the poor, and for their poverty they will be given the greatest of riches. But the others, ~nless they change their ways, will be severely reproached by my Truth as is said in the holy Gospel: "l was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat; I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink; I was naked and you did not clothe me, in prison and you did not visit me." And at that last moment it will do them no good to excuse themselves ¯ by saying, "! never saw you, for if I had I would have done it." The wretches know well enough--and my Truth ~aid that whatever is done to his poo~ is done to him?~ Injustice is a direct assault against God. It could hardly be stated more clearly: ".their wretched cruelty throws filth into my face"! Still, Catherine's ultimate judgments and action where poverty and wealth, good fortune and ill are concerned always come back to that most basic of prin-ciples: only God is unqualified Truth and Love. Nothing of human life is un-qualified or unconditioned except our love for him. Of everything and everyone but God we must discern the "ifs, ands, and buts" before making our decisions. This is where Catherine,s own vision often made her seem the naive fool in the face of political c0mplexities -- but that is the risk integrity runs. The force of the simple truth may seem sometimes to crumple under the weight of reality as reason sees it, but if we are true to the vision of truth (and willing to admit when we have not seen clearly or fully) we still stand as tall Dialogue, 148. 194 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980 / 2 and. whole as did Catherine ultimately--though the psychological burden of it all had literally done her in physically. Reform was badly needed in Catherine's day. She not only admitted that but proclaimed it to the most sensitive of ears! But she insisted that all reform must begin from within. She loved the Church as few have loved it, yet she criticized and castigated it as few have dared. If God was to show mercy to the world, the world must be reformed. But the world would be reformed only if the Church were reformed. And the Church would be reformed only if its leaders were reformed. And Catherine would be of no use to any of it so long as she held on to her own sinfulness. ;. Like Catherine, we are called not simply to preach--much less to con-demn- but to take the sins of others on ourselves. Her experience, toward the end of her life, of so feeling the weight of the ship of the Church on top of her that she could neither get up nor be lifted up from the floor of St. Peter's was more than figurative. Whereas earlier she had pleaded for forgiveness for others and even offered to suffer for their sins, in her last years she genuinely owned responsibility for those sins and considered herself truly (why would we prefer to see it as pious but exaggerated humility?) the cause of every evil in the world. Where would our burning issues be today if we could honestly own our sinful responsibility for them? Not that Catherine did not preach to others about justice. Her letters are full of very concrete, practical exhortations. To Ristoro di Pietro Canigiani, a Florentine lawyer: You may, in good conscience, seek and demand what is yours in ways that are just, for no one is obliged to let go of what is justly one's own. Anyone who is willing could certainly do the more perfect thing, but it is not an obligation unless one wants to do it of one's own free choice. But there is one thing I want to add: when any poor folk come to you (assuming they are clearly in the right) who have no one to defend them because they cannot pay, if you would work for them out of affectionate love, you would give very great honor to God?~ And to Andreasso Cavalcabuoi while he was Senator in Siena: We often see certain people in government having justice done only where poor are con-cerned-- justice which frequently is really and truly injustice--but they do not have justice done where the great and powerful are concerned.~' Further examples could be multiplied, but always the principles are the same. And always we must begin by doing justice to ourselves--the justice of repentance and virtue--and by reaching out first in response to God's call in the needs of those who are brought to touch our lives most nearly.38 God will see to the widening of the circle, probably much more intensely than we thought we had bargained for! Letter 258, 1378-79. ~' Letter 338, 1379. ~ Dialogue, 6. Catherine of Siena: Mission and Ministry in the Church / 195 The Ministry of Women in the Church We have not yet even touched specifically on the ministry of women in the Church. Yet much of what Catherine has to say and demonstrate of womanly ministry within the Church has in principle been related. She who did and said all we have spoken of is a woman. She did not speak, it is true, of the ordination of women: her culture would not have let that even be an issue. Still she does speak of the ministry of all of us(and the objects and modes of her own ministry were remarkable for a woman of her century and social class. It would be fascinating, in fact, to analyze the parallelism that seems to exist between her reflections on priestly min, i.stry and what she has to say of her own ministry! But easy as it is to point to Catherine as a woman who dared to preach to popes and princes, let us never forget that that preaching as well as her every other service rose out of her encounter with God in prayer. If we do nearly as well as she in our integrity on that score, we need have no further concern about the form or effectiveness of our ministry. We will often be frustrated as she was. We will often be misunderstood and criticized as she was. We may die in the effort as she did. But like her we will come out whole, and the Church ¯ will be nourished on our sweat, blood, and tears. And those we have been privileged to touch in our service will remember, as they did of Catherine, that we could smile through it all! Currents in Spirituality The Past Decade George Aschenbrenner, S.J. Father Aschenbrenner is presently engaged in a national spiritual ministryfor priests, religious and lay people, and works part-time in campus ministry at the University of Scranton, especially with the faculty of the university. His address: Scranton University; Scranton, PA 18510. In a stream there are always different levels of flow. An eddy or a swirl, which~i:loes not run so deep as the current, can either spin off and die on the shore or it can get caught up and become part of the deeper current of the stream. It is fascinating and instructive'to watch this process. The last decade has brought an enormous growth in interest and writing about spirituality. This article, focusing on some present issues and concerns of spirituality in this country, will be describing a variety of swirls, eddies, cur-rents and tides within the stream of contemporary spirituality. Generally, the article does not explicitly distinguish deeper currents from surface motions, but leaves this distinction to the reflection and judgment of the reader. The aim here is simply to list and briefly describe, without any prioritizing, some concerns within contemporary spirituality.' In doing this, I will be consulting both my own experience and the fruits of some conversation with experienced people across the country, At times, I will inject an issue which may not seem of much interest today, but which I ' For anotlier format and a more extensive treatment of individual thematic trends in spirituality, consult the series of articles.of Matthew Fox, O.P. in Spirituality Today beginning in the March, ! 978 issue. Currents in Spirituality: The Past Decade personally feel deserves attention. I am aware, of course, that the degree of in-terest or importance for various concerns will vary according to different geographical sections of the country. But any necessary local nuance is left to the reader. The survey nature of this article, besides severely limiting development of the various concerns expressed, also prevents any resolution of them. Sometimes, however, it is the present state of the matter itself which allows only a statement of the question and which requires that any resolution await further clarity in the Spirit. Part I of the article presents issues that affect \everybody in the Church. Part II treats some matters that touch specific groups: religious, bishops and diocesan priests, lay people. ~ Part i: Issues Affecting Everyone 1. Distinction between Monastic and Apostolically Active Spiritualities. Within the one fundamental Christian spirituality there have always been various spiritualities rooted in different orientations to the one God. Especial-ly since Vatican II, a most helpful clarification has stressed the distinction between monastic and apostolically active spiritualities. Generally speaking, the monastic experience of God depends upon some physical withdrawal from the world and upon as full an involvement as possible in the liturgy both of the Eucharist and of the Hours, which provides an essential regularity and a rhythm that will determine both the type of community support and the external activity appropriate to this spirituality. An apostolically active ex-perience of God, while deeplylocated :in the activity of the world, requires the difficult combination of an external mobility with dependable spiritual habits, so that one may serve wherever the need for God is greatest. Obviously, this ts pirituality will provide a different community support, together with both a different presence and a more extensive involvement in the world. To fail to understand which of the two basic orientations one is called to can cause personal frustration and apostolic ineffectiveness. Disregard of this clarification on the part of the diocesan priest, the religious or the lay person, whether in their training or in the living out of their vocation, may well pro-duce unrealistic expectations and. ineffective service. Taking seriously the dif-ference in the two approaches need not imply any superiority of the one over the other. Rather it may help the Church to be more present in the world ac-cording to its own fullness and to manifest God's loving designs across the whole spectrum of the human family. 2. Renewed Monasticism. After Vatican II there was much questioning and experimentation in reference to the elements of the monastic way of life: enclosure, Liturgy of the Hours, community, work, silence, travel, and external apostolic involvement. 198 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980 / 2 For a while, the very validity of the monastic life seemed at issue. Now, with its essential validity profoundly reaffirmed, many experiments are being evaluated. This'process of evaluation is not concluded but, together with a deep sense that the monastic ideal has been enriched by much of this .ex-perimentation, there is a concern as to whether some of the experiments were not motivated by trying too much to imitate the active life and whether they have not therefore risked: weakening the power of the monastic ideal for our age. It will always be a difficult matter to know how, without distorting or superficializing the monastic ideal, its powerful experience of God may be brought into contact with the city oLman. 3. An Integrated, Functional Spirituality for Active Apostles: Excessive fatigue, even to the length of "burnout,." at times seems almost synonymous with active apostolic work today. Countless demands from so many angles have over-extended and excessively complicated the lives of com-petent and conscientious men and women. They know the need for formal prayer and a profound, spiritual orientation. And yet there just isn't time for eve.rything. As a result there is not nearly enough formal, personal prayer on the part of many active apostles. And this has serious repercussions, both on the apostles themselves and on all the work they do. And so the search goes on for some functional spirituality that will work .for busy apostolic men and women by giving a sense of integration and unity to their lives. It is instructive that in the past ten years interest has moved from the topic of discernment of spirits to that of apostolic spirituality. To my mind, the con-tent is pretty much the same. But the orientation is very different. Discern-ment of spirits involves chiefly an interpretative sorting out in faith of inner, affective experiences, so that, through dealing properly with the experiences, one can find and be with God in every situation and moment of life. But this process runs ~he risk of generating a short-sighted interiority and a spirituality without adequate orientation to apostolic service. Apostolically active spirituality, it would seem, should involve the same decisive dealing in faith with inner, affective experiences, but now with a much increased realization that this faith-process within the person gives a special quality of integrated, peaceful presence in the midst of the most challenging, active situations--and that this presence, eloquent in its thrust toward God in itself, also leads to ac- .~tions which further his kingdom in the world. Dealing in faith with the daily consolations and desolations of life can integrate and unify our whole affec-tivity and person. And this faith-process certainly does not excuse the active apostle from a program of regular, formal prayer. Rather it reveals the need to discover the unique style of serious, formal prayer appropriate for each in-dividual. Such prayer will always be an essential means to that quality of human presence which reveals a loving Father in Jesus as the Beloved of our hearts and which can find and serve Him in everything. In this sense, current interest in apostolic spirituality seems very healthy Currents in Spirituality: The Past Decade / 199 and very likely to lead to an apostolic presence that is increasingly prayerful and where activity is therefore not seen as weakening the contemplative presence of prayer, but as a continuation of that contemplative presence beyond the limits of formal prayer. This integrated, apostolic presence will not decrease the demands made on us, but it can prevent the sense of being overly distracted and torn between the dichotomy of formal prayer and apostolic activity. This integrated spirituality can also lessen that sense of dualism against which we are so often warned today. 4. Renouncing the World to Serve It for God. ~, It is not easy for us to see the world from God's perspective and to serve its t needs in the light of his dream of justice. Finally, this can be done only by one who comes from an experience of God, an experience in God, back to the world. Though we are usually first led to know and love God, of course, in and through his creation, there must and does come, for those whose ex-perience of God matures, a moment of experiencing Him beyond this world's ~- wisdom and potentiality-- a moment of experiencing God as not simply equal to, but as far beyond, all the beauty and wisdom of this world. This moment of transcendence, of finding complete satisfaction and joy in a loving God himself, roots our identity primarily in God and gives his love a priority over any created reality. It is an experience that re-announces us before God, before ourselves and before the world as a people of God, a people in God. In this way our "renunciation," in the sense of a re-announcement of the world for God, puts the world in its true perspective, as seen in and from God.z Rather than lessening our interest in th~ world, this view dramatically in-creases our zeal to further God's Kingdom in the wo~:id and so bring it to its full potential. But serving the needs of our world properly, as part of our love of God, demands this kind of worldly renouncement. There are issues of some importance for ac, tive apostles today that relate to this renunciation of the world. Can this experience of renunication happen without some physical withdrawal from the worl~d? And since the renuncia-tion referred to here is a once-in-a-lifetime experience, what meaias will help active people to keep it alive and growing as a personal attitude? With much ~to leSs physical detachment from the world in most seminaries and novitiates (and much of this is good and in accord with the appropriately non-monastic raining of active apostles), how can we be assured that this necessary attitude f renunciation is taking permanent root in the apostle's consciousness? How do active apostles prevent their worldly renunciation either from turning into a withdrawal from the world which, while suitable for monks, is most un- See Karl Rahner, S.J., Theological Investigations, vol 3, The Theology of the Spiritual Life, tr. Karl-H and Boniface Kruger, "The Ignatian Mysticism of Joy in the World" (Baltimore: ~, H elicon, 1967), pp. 227-293. What Rahner describes as thefugasaeculi for a Jesuit is fundamental to any mature Christian life with and in God. 200 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980 / 2 suitable for them, or, even worse, from turning into an unChristian lack of concern for the world? The American Church is not finished with these ques-tions. We need more discussion, and better answers. For without this attitude of worldly renunciation, we may have active apostles busy doing many good things, but nov per~ceiving the world's full potential for beauty and goodness and not furthering the reality of a Father's Kingdom that is revealed chiefly in a dead Son's Resurrection. 5. Relationship of Spirituality and Morality. For too many people morality has been corrupted by an overly narrow, moralistic and rationalistic stress. This moralism, with its rationalistically detailed stress on casuistry, tends to cut'healthy morality off from its roots in the spirituality of God's revelation. It has caused much unhealthy fear, guilt and introspection. The "holy person" was described as one who avoided a clearly delineated list of mortal and venial sins. And, too often, this avoidance of sins seemed more a matter of stubbornly pelagian will power than a matter of prayerfully humble dependence on God's. grace. But today, it seems one could be taking means" for serious growth in prayer, faith and a spiritual life, and yet this spiritual seriousness need not ex-press itself in quite practical matters like the morality of public, social affairs or of a chaste sexual life. At times, neither certain social injustices nor something like masturbation is seen as unholy, thereby affecting one's love relationship with God. The intertwined strands of spirituality and morality are here become so unraveled that holy, prayerful Christian people may not be ex-pected to come to similar moral conclusions on various practical issues. A fuller view of both morality and spirituality, ho~vever, rather finds them mutually inclusive and affirming of one another, mutually accountable, while at the same time leaving to each its own, appropriately specific, stress. To view some practical matter spiritually is to judge its appropriatenes~ against the faith-ideal of a trust in God's loving power wonderfully filling our own weakness whenever it is exposed in self-emptying surrender. In this way cer-tain attitudes, dispositions and actions are unholy and unspiritual because they violate this trust in God's love. Only one's spiritual growth in union with God will provide this trust in the practical details of daily living. Much is being done these days in moral theology to construct a modern .version of full, healthy Christian morality and a spirituality as integral to each other. A very interesting issue in this new approach in moral theology is the role in moral decision-making which prayerful discernment of spirits plays in providing that moral knowledge whereby a holy person can know God's love in a concrete situation. 6. Sin ~ Forgiveness-- Sacrament of Reconciliation. Related to the previous consideration of spirituality and morality is another issue, that of our personal experience as sinners in the human recep- Currents in Spirituality: The Past Decade / 201 tion of God's vivifying forgiveness in and through the sacrament of recon-ciliation. Although there are unhealthy dualisms which de.ny integral human living and which should therefore be avoided, the dualism of a person saved in Jesus, but still with much affective evidence of sinfulness cannot be avoided. This dualism is the very setting for the Christian adventure of sons and daughters still gradually coming into their own. The seven capital sins, alive in our affective consciousness as dispositions, inclinations and impulses, provide us with our own version of the pauline divided heart? But we.have an in-destructible hope of ever more healing and wholeness in the crucified Son's discovery of his Father's blessing of resurrection. Continual conversion, so central to the Christian life, happens in the pain-fully purifying humiliation of a double acknowledgement: my personal sin-fulness, and the faithful love of the Trinity for me in the Son's Calvary experience, And this brings in turn a double awareness: we are never nearly so good as we try to make ourselves out to be; but we are far more loved in the Trinity's forgiveness than we could ever imagine. This process of personal assimilation of God's forgiveness is neither instantaneous nor superficial. The inner humiliation of an unqualified admission of personal sinfulness before our beloved Father in his crucified Son is something that we instinctively try to avoid. In this experience, a careful discernment of what is spiritually good for each person is needed.' Despite the reform of the rite of the sacrament of reconciliation I wonder whether people are being helped to deepen their experience of this growth to self-identity through forgiveness. The old superstructure surrounding the in-stitution of frequent confession has broken down--as it had to. Reconcilia-tion prayer-services have restored the communal dimension of sinfulness and forgiveness within the community of the Church, and a whole new format has been developed for the individual reception of the sacrament of reconcilia-tion. But there are ways in which a communal experience of the sacrament, without a carefully~ personal and individual experience, can superficialize or short-circuit the human process of receiving.God's forgiveness. As we grow to a more healthy and loving sense of ourselves, we can learn to find the in-dividual experience of the sacrament a helpful means of growth to the maturi-ty of humble trust in the fidelity of the Trinity's forgiving love always available in our weakness. 7. Faith and Justice. After the topic of prayer, this seems the theme most treated in today's spiritual writing. Many persons are much more sensitive today to the systemic network of social sin that is rooted in the individual sinfulness of human Rm 7:14-25. See my article, "Forgiveness," Sisters Today, Dec. 1973, pp. 185-92. 202 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980 / 2 hearts--that are radically social in nature. But we have a long way to go in developing a sensitivity to social sin and a social morality. And the insight that justice, in a sense much fuller than simply its social-political meaning, is in-tegral to faith badly needs to grow in the Church. Opportunities for such growth are being very well served by current studies in scripture~ and in Christology.6 Further study and reflection, however, is neede~l to recognize more precisely the sense of justice that is so centrally related to Christian faith-- the full paschal justice of God, motivated and revealed in us through a refined and decisive faith. It is the zealous faith of a great love of God that urges on us a passionate concern and practical involvement for the justice of God's Kingdom. For we are not urged on simply by a social theory about the unity of the human family, or about communal ownership of our earth's resources, or about the inherent evil of war. The fundamental and difficult question of how Christianity relates to various political ideologies--and to ideology, as such--arises here. In South America the question of the possibility of a Chris-tian marxism is very alive, whereas in this country there is a serious question-ing of the assumptions of capitalism. These are complicated questions about specific situations and activities. But we must remember that zeal for the justice of God's Kingdom can never be limited simply to the matter of a specific kind of activity that one is involved in. Rather, and with more far ranging, quite practical effect, it must grow to a vision that pervades and in-fluences everything we do. A few other aspects of this issue deserve listing. The tendency to an ex-cessively introspect, privatized spirituality needs the challenge of that zeal for justice which validates a person's faith.7 We must learn how to relate our zeal for justice to our contemplation. For active apostles in the heat of unjust, op-pressive situations, it is never easy to believe in the grace that could convert understandable angry feelings into the appropriate expression of tenderness and compassion. Much more than a matter of a given temperament, we must see tenderness and compassion not as unbecoming to either a man or a woman in certain situations, but as virtues contemplatively rooted by grace in a per-son's affectivity and will. Finally, many of us need new experiences to help us feel much more passionately the tangled questions this issue raises~ before we can even know the question, much less the answers. ~ See John R. Donahue, S.J., "Biblical Perspectives on Justice" in The Faith That Does Justice, ed. John C~ Haughey, S.J. (New York: Paulist, 1977), pp. 68-112 and Jose" Porfirio Miranda, Marx and the Bible, tr. John Eagleson (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1974), 338 pp. ~ J~irgen Moltmann, The Crucified God (New York: Harper & Row, 1974), 346 pp.; John Sobrino, S J, Christology At the Crossroads, tr. John Drury Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1978), 432 pp.; Leonardo Boll, Jesus Christ Liberator (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1978). 7 cf. Richard A. Blake, S.J., "'As the Father Has Sent Me'," America, Aug 25, 1979, pp. 66-69 and William J. Byron, S J, "Privatization--A Contemporary Challenge to lgnatian Spirituality," Chicago Studies, vol. 14, No. 3, Fall, 1975, pp. 241-251. Currents in Spirituality: The Past Decade / 20:3 8. Role of Women in the World and the Church. Another major concern in spirituality today is the role of woman. The issue, understandably en6ugh, is often so fraught with crusading passion and angry feelings that, as male and therefore one who surely does not feel enough the seriousness of the issue, one almost fears to say anything at all. Against a backdrop of past and present prejudice, the lea'dership role of woman in the Church slowly increases. But there is a long way to go. Attitude, rather more than qanguage, seems nearer the heart of the matter--and yet linguistic care both expresses and shapes our attitude. And the attitude of many leaders and other people in the Church must profoundly change before women will exercise a suitably influential role and make their unique contribu-tion (something any exaggei'ated uniformity and equality, of course, will not allow). In general, there seem to be three stages to this concern. First is an awareness of the fact injustice, however it is explained. This is often followed by a period of intense reaction, which is quite understandable; whether ap-parently exaggerated or not. Finally, a stage of peaceful service in the Church is often reached, as one doeg what is possible to correct the injustice. It is a process similar to Kubler-Ross's stages8 arid has been gone through by others when facing the deadly situation of unjust discrimination.~ Women's ordination to the priesthood is, of course, still debated. For many, however, it does not seem to be the heart of the issue at the present time. Much will continue to be accomplished without changing the present policy on women's ordination to the ministerial priesth6od. This does not deny-that there are painful situations, which can be paschally productive for all, in which women actually minister a "sacramentally" salvific experience without the acknowledged ministerial priestly capacity to formally celebrate the experience in the Church. A good example of this is the woman director of a retreat who cannot administer the sacrament of reconciliation after sharing a retreatant's graced experience of God's forgiveness. Many would feel--and many would not m that this is still an open question, about which the Church seems not to have enough light in the Spirit to know whether a change is called for or not. In the meantime, we all need to grow in a sensitivity to correct past in-jostice in our own relationships, to beg for light in the Spirit regarding what is the right growth in this issue for the future, and to pray for the humility and the urgent patience of Jesus in his passion to live and serve generously in the present situation. 9. Spirituafity and Psychology. Because spitituality involve~ the total human person in relationship to ~ Elisabeth K~Jbler-Ross, On Death and Dying (New York: Macmillan, 1969), 260 pp. 904 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980 / 2 God's saving love, it can be related to every area of human behavior. It is I~ especially appropriate and valuable to relate spirituality to psychology, and, over the past decade or more, interest in this relationship has 'increased enor-mously. As an overly rationalistic view of spirituality subsides, we investigate much more the role of the non-rational dimensions of our person in spiritual growth. Spirituality can be naive, and destructive too, when it flies in the face of healthy psycholggy. But spirituality loses its salvific power for the human person, and becomes even demonic, when it capitulates completely to psychology. A delicate balance is called for in this relationship--something not easily arrived at, or easily preserved. In turning to s'ome specific aspects of this general issue, it is obvious that much greater~ stress is now being placed on communicationskills, on affectivi-ty, on the role of the body, and on consciousness-altering techniques--all of which can enrich our prayer and further sensitize us to the many ways God's word an~d love come to us. The practice of spiritual direction often legitimb.tely ,~. overlaps with a type of psychological counseling. But the ultimate aim of ~ facili

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

Issue 35.5 of the Review for Religious, 1976. ; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS IS edited by faculty members of St Louis University, the editorial offices being located at 612 Humboldt Braiding, 539 North Grand Boule-vard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. It is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute; St. Louis, Missouri. Published bimonthly and copyright (~) 1976 by REVlEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Composed, printed, and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri. Single copies: $2.00. Subscription U.S.A. and Canada: $7.00 a year; $13.00 for two years; other countries, $8.00 a year, $15.00 for two years. Orders should indicate whether they are for new or renewal subscriptions and should be accompanied by check or money order payable to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS in U.S.A. currency only. Pay no money to persons claiming to represent REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Change of address requests should include former address. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Everett A. Diederich, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Robert Williams, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Questions and Answers Editor Book Editor Assistant Editor September 1976 I"olume 35 Number 5 Renewals,-new subscriptions, and changes of address should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELICtOUS; P.O. BOX 6070; Duluth, Minnesota 55802. Correspondence with the editor and the associate editor together with manuscripts and books for review should be sent to REVIEW FOrt REL~CIOt~S; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boule-vard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gailen, S.J.; St. Joseph's College; City Avenue at 54th Street; Philadelphia, Pennsyl-vania 19131. The Prayer of Jesus' Paul VI The Holy Father delivered the following address~ in the General Audience of June 14, 1976. The text is taken from Osservatore Roma/to, no. 26 (430), June 24, 1976. In these times, in these days so busy with human events, we are ~till mind- " ful of the spiritual cyclone that Pentecost was for the world and especially for the Church. We turn our thought again to prayer, to its legitimacy, its necessity, its procedure. We are well aware that the study of religions, the study of Christian prayer, the study of human psychology, have dwelt upon this expression of the human spirit. This almost places in a quandary one who, from such a great mass of experiences, customs and literature, wishes to draw a comprehensive and guiding idea,, sufficient for the modern secular man to classify in the summary of a mental index-card that which it is enough to know on this subject, now alien to his empirical and positive mentality. Accepting this imperious simplifying method, we conclude our reflection on prayer with two major propositions. These are: prayer, first, presupposes oft God's side an interest, a listening to the voices addressed to him by man, that is, a "Providence"; and, second, it presupposes on man's side, a hope, an expectation of being satisfied 'and helped. Thus we see that we have, it is true, constructed the essential pattern of prayer, that is, a possible con-versation betweeh man. and God, but that we still know very little, if any-thing, about the validity of this conversation. Is it an imaginary hypothesis, or does it really establish a relationship; a bilateral relationship, a bene-ficial relationship? Meaning of Prayer Well, among the greatest favors tha~t Christianity, faith, nay more Jesus 641 642 / Review lor Religious, Volume 35, 1976/5 Christ in person, conferred on mankind, there is precisely this real, valid, indispensable, very opportune prayer. Christ established communication between man and God; and this communication, which prevails over all our marvelous modern technical and social communications, has as its first, normal expression, prayer. Praying means communicating with God. Christ is himself this fundamental communication with the manifestation o[ himself. We enter the sanctuary of the exploration of who Christ is, the subject, today still, of tormented and, fundamentally, inevitably negative investigations for those who break with the Chalcedon definition of the one person of the Word, living in two natures, divinerand human (cf. Denz- Schoen. 301-302; Bouyer, Le Fils eternel, 469 ft.); the "bridge," as St. Catherine said (Dial 25, ft.). Jesus himself is the most luminous example of prayer, which, documented in the Gospel, becomes for us the highway to prayer and spiritual life. People who follow him and believe are still tireless students in this school. "By what way can I reach Christ and his message?", a well-known modern Catholic thinker asks himself; and he answers: "there is one very short and simple way: I look into the soul of Jesus as he prays, and 1 believe" (C. Adam, Cristo nostro Fratello, 37, see the fine chapter: "la preghiera di Gesh,"). And likewise the powerful synthesig on the "'Message de Jdsus,'" by L. De Grandmaison, Jdsus Christ, 1I, 347, ft.). Jesus Prays But, how and when did Jesus pray? Oh, how beautiful and instructive an excursion into the Gospel pages would be, picking like wildflowers the almost incidental references to the Lord's prayer! The" evangelist Mark writes: "And rising up long before daybreak, he (Jesus) went out (probably it was Peter's house, at Capharnaum, see V. 29), and departed into a desert place, and there he prayed" (1, 35). See, for example, after the multiplica-tion of the loaves: "And when he had dismissed the crowd, he went up the mountain by himself to pray. And when it was late, he Was alone" (Mt 14, 23). The Lord's prayers, about which the Gospel informs us, would deserve such long meditation. The famous one, for example, in chapter XI of Matthew, which lets us "enter the deepest secret of his life';: "At that time Jesus spoke and said. 'I praise thee Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that thou didst hide these things from the wise and prudent, and didst reveal them to little ones' " (verse 25). And what can we say of the prayer that concludes the talks of the Last Supper? "And raising his eyes to heaven, he said, 'Father, the hour has come!~-.Glorify thy Son, that thy Son may glorify thee', . " We recall it: it is the prayer for unity: "that all may be one" (Jn 17, 21-22). And then the triple groaning, heroic praye~" at Gethsemane, just before the passion: "Father, if thou art willing, remove this cup from me! Yet not my will but thine be done" (Lk 22, 42). The Prayer o] Jesus / 643 Union in prayer What a revelation not only of the drama of the Saviour's life, but also of the complexity and depth of human destinies, which even in their most tragic and mysterious expressions can be linked, by means of prayer, to the goodness, the mercy, the salvation deriving from God. Pray, then, like Jesus. Pray intensely. Pray today: always in the con-fident communion that prayer has established between us and the Father. Because it is to a father, it is to the Father that our humble voice is ad-dressed. So let it be, always. .O ¯ . . be silent now and try to listen within yourselves to an inner proclama-tion! The Lord is saying: "Be assured, i am with you" (see Mt 28:20). I am here. he is saying, because this is nay Body! This is the cup of my Blood!'. Yes, he is calling you, each one by. name! The mystery of the Eucharist is, above all, a personal mystery: personal, because of his divine presence-- the presence of Christ, the Word of God made man; personal, because the Eucharist is meant for each of us: for this reason Christ has become living bread, and js multiplied in the sacrament, in order 'to be accessible to every human being who receives him worthily, and who opens to him the door of faith and love. Paul VI to the Eucharistic Congress in L'Osservatore Romano, August 19, 1976, p. 3. Prayer Father Joris,, O.F.M. Father Joris (Heise) has taught scripture at St. Leonard's College in Dayton, has recently completed an as-yet-unpublished translation of the Gospel o] St. Matthew, and regularly contributes Old Testament exegesis to "Homily Helps" published by St. Anthony Messenger: he is presently on detached service in metropoliffan Washington. He usually signs his name simply Joris, in imitation of evangelical simplicity. Prayer is not a thing, not even an action. It is a quality, a dimension of living. Prayer is not the words you say. Jesus says for us togo into our cryptic place, and pray in the dark. He tells us not to say, "Lord, Lord!" He tells us not to go up front and rattle off repetitious or self-centered information. Prayerbooks--we will always have them. The Book of Psalms is the prayerbook, and it is a good one. It has in it litanies and moods and orchestras (Psalm 150); it stiggests common prayer and has some very pri-vate ones that are shared with the world. But no prayerbook is a prayer. Prayer is us, me, when I stop and my soul's face turns to God, when I really edge into desperation and need and joy. Prayer is that quality of openness that happens in response to discovery of newness, whether of pain, of belief, or sharing, or insight--into the real state of things. Prayer is that dimension when the person's bud blooms into a maturity beyond just coping, just drifting. For instance, when I talk with God (talking sort of to "myself) about how to treat some visitors who have complicated my life, really, and no particular answer is ready--that is prayer. When I find myself in a new territory where I do not have an answer at all, and I am waiting for onew that is prayer. When I discover someone else shares a shame or a wonder 644 Prayer / 645 or an interest--that discovering is itself a prayer. That edge-of-truth, like a blade that enters skin, is prayer. Established Prayer (the Pr,ayerbooks of Liturgy and Childhood) I received in the mail recen.tly a "prayerbook" that included many of my childhood prayers and songs: "The Way of the Cross," litanies, prayers to Mary, prayers to "Most Sweet Jesus." It served to remind me of the differences between Prayer and prayers, between the things, called "prayer" pointed to by Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount and the kind of prayer he thought was right. ,, I think that children need "prayers." They need to hear litanies and to memorize grace at meals. They need to hear the repetitions of Mass prayers, the "Our Father," songs that will be sung over and over as "old favorites." I think that the.child who continues to live inside us throughout our lives--that child--needs to hear old and familiar "prayers" that give us a comfortable feeling, a sense of belonging here to the club of tradition. I think that this set of simple prayers, memorized, repetitious and senti-mental, needs to be accompanied by other non-verbal features: stained-glass windows, incense, vestments, an intonation of authority in the priestly voice, familiar tunes that are even mawkishly sentimental (like some Mary-hymns based on old romatic or drinking songs). But it is essential that we remember that these traditional prayers, as they are done, are done so as to cater to the child-in-us. If these are the only prayers, the only forms of prayer we_ take seriously, then we are not adults who have "turned and become a child again," but rather we are simply immature persons. We never grew up in the first place; we "fixated," to borrow a term from psychological jargon. Furthermore, a person who limits himself to forms that just come close to these, a person not creating his or her. own forms of prayer, will not enter the Kingdom of Heaven, as Jesus warned. They are receiving their reward already: the comfortedness they feel, the sense of belonging, the nurturedness, the peace. These are all qualities, of the drug world, too-- qualities condemned throughout th~ Gospels. It is a false world, a self-centered, self-rewarding form of prayer. It is valid for children and valid to begin with. It is not valid to stay there. It is the validity of blossom that needs the autumn fruit. Conversation ~vith God All of us talk tO ourselves. Sometimes we really talk, in deep conversa-tion, with other people. We reach a stage of conversation that is just more than usual, it means something more than the day-to-day exchange of com-ments. Prayer is that talking--that talking when we have no answer, when our need or, question or wonder or shame or comments form into words but 646 / Review for Religious, Volume 35, 1976/5 without any answer ready,set and cut. Not ~rambling;~on the contrary, the words focus some human matter that is definitely bothering us--or helping us grow. It is a moment when we gather "it" together and say it, not know-ing what the answer is or whether there is an answer. That is prayer--that "talking out" of what is inside of me. It has that quality of truth-which-is-more-than-facts, more than honesty even, because "honesty" is "saying something that is true." This "talking out" is the very creation of truth, the appearance of truth that is discovery of it. Real prayer is the birth of the words of truth--it has been carried inside of oneself, but has not yet come to light. Everybody who matures, 1 think, begins this conversation with God, this phrasing of problems (and expression of wonder and they are often the same thing. They certainly have the same quality.) ~ This kind of prayer-~-these prayers--occur during moments of pause and work, during habitual actions. (like driving, scrubbing, planning jobs, parties, schedules). They touch .significant elements of life as well as little things. (God is interested in it all, of course.) ~The solitary person as well as the very active person can discover to their surprise that they both do the very same thing on the inside--and perhaps spend as much time at it. Some people do it with deliberate advertence to God: the words are ad-dressed to "You, God." (Both the Tevye of Fiddler on the Roof and Jesus used such ~xpressions of direct address--they half, praise God for such good-ness and half-haggle with God about the possibilities of the future.) Other people are officially atheistic. The conversations of such people may, surprisingly, contain references to "God" in the form of cursing or "bad language"; and the surprise is that the very reference indicates the quality of prayer that it really is. I have. known an agnostic administrator-- a Dr. Bill Fitzgerald--whose determination 'and decisions were colored by some kind of "swearing": "By God, . . o " or "Jesus Christ! We're going to . " I studied his habit and noticed that he used these words only in connection with this quality of truth, this edging into a real commitment, this formulating of a communion of the office people so that .action would result. It was a "creation of truth"--and I found it funny that the little '~flag of prayer" was his reference to God. Still others do not connect their serious self-conversations with "re-ligion" or God. But they are prayer, they are real prayer. They are truth emerging and commitment forming. They are care rising into practice. They are small and large crises--listening then for what is the "right thing to do." They are a turning on of the radio to the "station" of God. The very turning on is the listening for God, the words that come to mind are the presence of fresh truth; the coining of the phrases the way the situation appears--is itself the belief in solution, the belief that some intrusion, from somewhere, from Someone, can measure up to the words uttered. Prayer / 647 Into the darkness the words go, and a response is expected that may be beyond words. Such a "conversation" is of God, is prayer. Beyond Conversation with God Years ago, some monk wrote a book titled something like Common Mystical 'Prayer. His point as I recall it, was tO ~.say that "mystical prayer" is far more common than we suppose. I'agree with that monk. Prayer is a quality, a facet, of the good person, it is a habit or even a limb of the good person.In the end, 1 cannot picture a good person without a "side" that is prayer--a side that faces God nor-mally, continuously. Bye that I mean that, besides successful actions~ deliberateness, care, kindness, strength and truth, there is in the good person an attention to what is, right, an internal facing forwards that is nothing else but prayer. By prayer here I mean that quality of a person which is his or her validity-and-awareness, an aliveness that is more than simply living. To be alive is a gift. It happens to every human being born and growing. But prayer is the "choice to live" and the many ramifications of that choice --all the nobility and pain and acceptance which mark the person who is doing more than "suffering through life." In other Words, prayer is as~integral to the good person as blood; as thought, as the electrical charge of all the body's cells. Prayer is the mystery gurrounding someone who is "different" when we cannot quite say why he is different. Prayer is the "reason" for our feeling that this person is mature and that ~person is not; prayer is the quality bf deliberateness that makes some mistakes "all right," but other mistakes are in fact ',guilty" ones. Prayer is the humble honesty of a person who retrieves a mistake or failure, and converts it into a more valuable event than could be thought. Prayer is the, power to make decisions on a basis deeper than the facts would indi, cate, on principles beyond the conflicting, shallower principles of popular debating. Prayer is the way we are--the whole root of, and then reflection on the meaning of the decisions that we make. Prayer is the connection we keep making .between the momentary commitments and the larger ripples--and ultimate results, those commitments which we make in our lifetime and in our world. Prayer is the belief that everything I do has meaning--and mean-ings-- touching far beyond what I can see. And so i need a constant help in doing them. God, of course, is the you for whom this attention, this search for principles, this belief in. value, is done. It is not that we pay attention to a mere "god of tradition" out there. The One we are paying attention to in this silent discourse is our God. We are paying attention to a Mystery, to a quiet source of answers, of truth, to someone who is beyond being just a 648 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/5 person or a "non-im-personal." T.his "wail" we address with our very self, so often without even any words at all, is God, the very meaning of a god. This is the value-giver, the ultimate, the Final One we "bounce against" at the end. Community, Shared Prayer ~ Without living these previous forms of mature, complex, and human prayer, community-shared prayer is meaningless. When 1 go into a church on Sunday, I find so often that there is so little effort to connect community prayer with these other elements of--- "elemental prayer." No effort at all, sometimes. Such liturgical prayers then are the empty voicing of words, gestures "and pomposity which Jesus condemned so strongly. They are magic and not prayer. They are sleight of mind and hand; but not prayer at all. We have Great Traditions. ' We have the Gathering of People regularly and the wonderful gift of ever-fresh Scripture. We have the hierarchical leadership of order and the application of talents, such as in music. We have all the right elements to comprise a living body of shared prayer. But there is almost a conspiracy to suppress quality, to reduce Prayer to prayers, to eliminate human communication as though that hinders Holy Communion, to supply clich6s instead of truth, to repeat anything that once proved good in the past, without realizing that such a repetition is to freeze and kill prayer that is alive. Shared prayer--contrary to all of this--is the sharing of elemental selves, the gathering of the greatness of our past and pouring it into our present as a "way of life." (Incidentally, I hate "relevancy" as simply a plastic imitation of real prayer. Prayer is relevant, but because it is prayer, not because its ideas or words or stories or music are "relevant:") Shared prayer is the spirit of wonder ("What really does it mean?") at the traditional Scripture. The repetition of the act of Jesus in giving, breaking, blessing the bread needs to be seen as a strange and puzzling thing, a curiosity that makes our minds wonder what is going on. The readings from the Bible become praye~ in the exploration of what it means--not the assurance of what that meaning is. The readings--when read with appro-priate emotional and intellectual sincerity--are themselves prayer and beget prayer. (How tragically often the Bible is read in church with an over-pious tone of voice. The finest reading I heard, 6ver, was a boy of ten who read Genesis, chapter one, as though he was just discovering the whole wonder of how creation has happened.) The community at prayer needs to receive everything as wonder and gift--the words from the past, the songs with their emotional impact, the presence of one another (and the mystery we are to one another). Hassling about ~clothing and place, about whether to stand or sit or kneel, about themes or style--these are distractions, inappropriate, even sinful--is alien Prayer / 649 to the quality which is the prayer of the gathering group of people. Every-thing there is to serve the prayer of the praying persons. The leader of such prayer, the priest, is the uncommon person whose heart and eyes, are as a sponge absorbing the people here. The leader uses the p~ast and the future to focus on these people; this is the nature of his prayer. The leader draws the sacred attention of. all together towards the mystery where all the threads meet, where all the human wants and joys hunger for fulfillment, where all the quests for meaning meet in their com-monness. The persons who enter the praying community on Sunday morning come not just for religious reasons, but for their entire lives and the meanings hunted and mysteries encountered in day-to-day events. They need religious jargon--but only insofar as it enlightens and judges the unfolding of daily ,work and play, of marriage responsibilities and growth, of jobs and adoles-cent children and political choices, andso on. The person of prayer is in the habit of scrutinizing all these things for what they mean--or might mean. In coming together, this person is searching with others to find where they, the ones who pray, are, what they have concluded, how they are cre-ating and finding true directions for living. The coming together becomes a matter of "spirit" when this quest and this finding is perceived in other persons who care and ripen like oneself. Without some "communion" between people in church (not just the leader to each individual, or the past .words to the present--but sideways, one to another), the whole gathering is only partial towards its fulfillment. The facets need to interlock, the side of true prayer in each good person to fit the sides of others. We need one another. We need the surprising side of each other, the edging into revelation that is faith that there is someone worthwhile--someone godly--there. We need to hear the admissions of guilt which this truthfulness so often is. We need to hear the shared needs, the outspoken hungers that are new discOveries. We need to feed one another with a handed-on Bread, the sharing of the single Cup. (This physical act, so rarely seen i~nd' practiced in our churches, is designed [by Jesus, no less] to represent and facilitate the.~ore significant one of hand-ing on our care, our truth towards one another, our passion, interest, in-volvement- our love.) Essential Prayer , Prayer is not a concept. It is even "inconceivable." Prayer is a "person facing." Prayer is a reflectiveness outward. Prayer is a tone of our life, a "how" we look at someth!ng. Prayer is a deliberate meaning towards choices--a meaning not in words, and certainly not a meaning that comes afterwards! Prayer is the meaning I sense for doing something, the ~ood I am when I am about to make a choice. Prayer erupts'into words (but is 650 / Review for Religious, Volume 35, 1976/5 not the words afterwards repeated); it is the developing process (like a photograph) from a need into making a decision that is the "good reason why," as well as the commitmeni itself involved in the ~lecision. Prayer, in other words, is never simply something we do or say: Prayer, rather, is the quality with which we do something, the rootedness and hope-fulness involved in living, our deliberate Jiving. It is the thinking and thank-ing which is our delicate dialogue with our environment and with ourselves. Prayer is facing God as God really is (and not just' some religious, narrow view of God, a religious jargon about God). Prayer presumes an ultimate of truth for some issue I face--and God provides it. Prayer means confronting' this new edge of truth for me, this searching for it and into it, and believing it when it is found. Prayer means involving the best we can do in what we do. Prayer, then, is an "always-freshness" about our lives, a constant ripen-ing towards fruition. Prayer is .my opening to discovery, my lifting up of myself towards exposure of some divine light, my waiting for whatever comes next from God. Prayer is placing myself to wait for what God wants. I ~m black, but comely, daughters o] Jerusalem . . . Do not regard me only as one dark With sin, for there is God-like beauty here. Too easily i'm seen to miss the mark Of all my high resolves, and it is clear That dark 1 will remain. With angry scorn My loved ones gave to me a servant's place Which I have filled, with patient merit borne, A Quie.t joy upon my dusky face, Because I am beloved. Like to the tents of Kedar on the glowing summer sand 1 take from each day's gift the light from whence My shadowed beauty shines. Simply to know I am beloved of Him--this is the band Of golden hope that gives my life its glow. Cornelius Askren P.O. Box 783 Bothell, WA 98011 Centering Prayer--Prayer of Quiet M. Basil, Pennington, O.C.S.O. Father Pennington is a frequent contributor to these pages. He resides at St. Joseph's Abbey; Spencer, MA 01562. We live in one of the greatest moments in the history of the human race. We live in the Christian era when God has sent his very own Son to bring to us the fullest revelation of his love and his inner life and to share that life with us. We live" in the time of a council, when there is a special out-pouring of grace and light to enable the People of God to achieve a deeper and fuller insight into the Revelation, And certainly the Second Vatican Council was one of the more significant of the twenty Councils which the Lord has granted to his Church in the course of her twenty centuries of life. But over and beyond this, we live in the time of a Second Pentecost. The humble-Vicar of Christ, Pope John XXIII, dared to call upon the Father to send forth the Holy Spirit in that same powerful and unique way in which he did at the birth of Christianity. The Spirit is abroad new, among us as never before, enlivening us and calling us forth to ever fuller life. In a very real sense this is absolutely necessary. For the human family has made such strides forward that .it is only by a greater infusion of the Spirit that the Christian can hope to respond to the many new challenges of our times in a faith-full way. One of the more significant changes for Western civilization, where Christianity largely resides, is the evolution from a conceptual era to an experiential one. Since Gutenberg's wood-_cuts first touched paper, the printed word and the ideas it disseminated more and more dominated Western culture. But in these last decades audiovisuals have led men to seek an ever fuller experience of reality. Technology's success has awakened desires.; its failure to satisfy awakens yet deeper desires. The spirit of man has come alive in a way that now transcends cultures. And the man of the West finds that the stirring within him is the same as that which stirs within 651 652 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/5 his brothers and sisters in what has sometimes been considered the "primi-tive" culture of the natives of many lands and in the more ancient cultures of the East. The Christian nurtured in this climate is no longer c6ntent to ruminate on truths of dogma to develop motivating thoughts and feelings in an effort towards union with God. He wants to ex.perience God as present, loving and caring. And the Lord seems to be very willing to respond to this aspira-tion which ultimately springs from his providential care of those whom his love has created. I think this is the significance of the widespread charismatic movement. Among those who open themselves to the Spirit of God, he seems to be granting, in what is commonly referred to as the "Baptism of the Spirit," that experience of himself which the classical mystical writers have called a grace of union. ,But not all are attracted to seek the experience of God in the enthusiastic and communicative climate which surrounds most charismatic groups. Many are drawn rather to seek this experience in the quiet of their own inner sanctuary where the Word dwells in his eternal stillness. There is ample evidence of this in the multitude of Christians who are flocking to the masters from the East to learn the methods of Zen and Yogic meditation, especially the Transcendental Meditation taught by Maharishi Mehesh Yogi. Turning to the East A ~:ouple of years ago I had occasion to visit a Ramakrishna temple in Chicago. Here I found twenty-four disciples gatheredaround a relatively young swami. The man was not unusually impressive, but he lived what he taught and spoke out of a~ personal inner experience. His disciples were an impressive group, twenty-two to fifty-five years of age. They expected an-other twenty-four disciples to join them that year and were inaugurating a subsidiary ahsram in nearby Michigan. All twenty-four disciples were from Christian backgrounds. When I asked them what had drawn them to the temple, they invariably answered that they were not able to find anyone in their own Church who was willing to lead them into the deeper ways of the spirit where they could truly experience God. Then they met the swami and he was willing to do that. They still worshipped Christ, but now, un-fortunately, as only one of many incarnations of God. In their search they have somewhat lost their way because there was no Christian master (or, to be: more faithful to our own traditional terminologyi no spiritual father) ready to guide them, sharing with them from the fullness of his own lived experience. Over the years in retreat work I have talked to many, many priests and religious. I have found that in most cases, though not all, in the .seminary or the novitiate they have been taught methods, of prayer and active meditation. In many cases they have also had a course in ascetical and Centering Prayer--Prayer of Quiet / 653 mystical theology in which they have heard about the various stages of con-templative prayer. Unfortunately they have usually been left with the im-pression or have been actually taught that it is a very rare sort of.thing, usually found only in enclosed monasteries. To seek it is presumptuous. One must plug away faithfully at active meditation and perhaps some day, in the far distant future, after long years of fidelity, God might give one this precious but rare gift of contemplative prayer. In no instance have 4 yet found anyone who had been taught in the seminary or the novitiate a simple method for entering into passive meditation or contemplative prayer. This is sad. Especially in face of the fact that St. Teresa of Avila.had taught that those who were faithful to prayer' could expect in a relatively short time--six months or a year--to be led into a prayer of quiet. Dom Marmion believed that by the end of his novitiate, a religious was usually ready for contemplative prayer. One of the signs that St. John of the Cross pointed to as an indication that one is ready for contemplative prayer is that active meditation no longer works--an experience very many priests and religious do have. Faced with this experience, and ~vith no one showing them how to move on to contemplative prayer, many give up regular prayer. A faithful few plug on, sometimes for years, in making painful meditations that are any-thing but refreshing. Given this state of affairs, it is not surprising that Christians seeking help to enter into the quiet, inner experience of God find little guidance among their priests and religious. If a person desiring, to seek the experience of God. in deep meditation does go to one of the many swamis found in the West today, he or she will be quickly taught a simple method to pursue this goal. "Sit this way. Hold your hands this way. Breathe thus. Say this word in this manner. Do this twice a day for so many minutes." And if the rec'ipient does this, he usually has very good experiences. We can see this~ practice, up to a point, as a good thing. For often, whether the person kno~ws his name or not, he or she is in fact seeking God. And in carrying through this exercise, in devoting mind and heart to,this pursuit, he is actually engaging in a very pure form of prayer. The sad part of it is that his pursuit and his experience, probably of God's very real presence in him in his creative love, is not informed by faith. Sadder still is the fact that, in .not a few cases, grateful recipients, so helped by the swami's meditation-technique, begin to accept from him as well his philoso-phy of life, thus abandoning their Christian heritage. Some of the greater swapnis, such as Swami Satchidinanda and Maharishi Mehesh Yogi, certainly advise against this. But such advice can fall on ears deafened by an almost cultic veneration for a truly' selfless master. These good masters from the East are truly a challenge, whether they intend to be or not, and in more ways than one. For one thing they cer-. tainly remind us that the effective teacher, at least in the area of life-giving 654 / Review lor Religious, VoluJne 35, 1976/5 teaching, must be one who lives what he teaches. For a minister to try to teach the Christian Gospel with its strong bias for the poor' and its way of daily abnegation ("If you would be my disciple, take up your cross daily and come follow me.") and still to be busy pursuing the same pleasures and immediate goals as the wc~rldly'materialist is to condemn himself to a fruit-less ministry. We must teach more by what we are and how we live than by what we say, if we want our hearers to take us seriously. The swamis' response to seekers makes us ask ourselves, are there not in our own Christian tradition some simple methods, some meditation techniques, which we can use to enter into quiet, contemplative union with God? Before responding, I would like .to say, we Christians should not hesitate to make use of the good techniques that our wise friends from the East are offering, if. we find them,' in fact, helpful. As St: Paul said: "All things are yours, and you are Christ's and Christ is God's." Many Chris-tians, in fact, who take their prayer life seriously have been greatly helped by Yoga, Zen, TM and similar practices, especially where they have been initiated by reliable teachers and have a solidly developed Christian faith to giv~ inner form and meaning to the resulting experiences. But to return to our question: Do we have, in our Christian tradition, simple methods or techniques for entering into contemplative prayer? Yes, we certainly do. The Use of "Technique" First of all, "techniques," methods, are certainly not foreign to the prayer experience of the average Catholic. The rosary is a "technique"-- and certainly not one to be readily discounted. It has led many, many Chris-tians to deep contemplative union with God. The Stations of the Cross are another "techn!que." So are the Ignatian Exercises, which are directly ordered to contemplation. Well enough known in the West today, at least by name and reputation, is the ancient Eastern Christian technique of the "Jesus Prayer." We have, in fact, many Christian techniques. The use of a technique or method in prayer to help us come into con-tact with God present to us, in us, and to bring our whole selves into quiet-ness to enjoy that presence and be refreshed by it, is certainly not, in itself, Pelagian. Mystical theologians have not.hesitated to speak of an "acquired contemplation" (in distinction to "infused contemplation"), a state or experience which the contemplator has taken some part in bringing into being. All prayer is a response to God and begins with him. To deny this would be Pelagian. God's grace is not operative only in infused contemplation. When the little child lisps his "Now I lay me down to sleep . . ." if there is any movementi of faith and love there, any true prayer, grace is present and operative. Every prayer is a response to a movement of grace, whether we are explicitly aware of it or not, whether we conscious!y experience the Centering Prayer--Prayer of Quiet/ 655 movement, the call, the attraction, or not. God present in us, present all around us, is calling us. to respond to his presence, his love, his caring. We are missing reality if we think otherwise. When we use a technique, a method, to pray, we are doing so because God?s grace, to which we are freely responding, is efficaciously, inviting us to do this. That we have been taught the technique and have responded to the teaching is all his grace at work, inviting us, leading us, guiding us to have a deeper experience of our union with him. That iswhy it takes a certain courage---or foolhardiness--to learn such a technique. For it is, indeed, an invitation from the Lord to enter and abide within. The Prayer of the Cloud Yes, we do have in our Christian tradition simple methods~ "tech-niques," for entering into contemplative prayer, a. prayer of quiet. I would like to share one such method with you, drawn from a little book called The Cloud of Unknowing. This is indeed a.popular book in our time.1 At the time of our author's writing there was a vibrant spirituality alive and widespread in ~the Christian West. The swell had begun with the great Gregorian reform in the eleventh century and the ensuing monastic revival. This was followed by the enthusiasm of the sons of St. Francis and the other mendicant orders. All, even the poorest, the most illiterate, the vil-lainous, were invited to intimacy with the Lord. The fourteenth century was a high tide for the Christian spirit in the West. Unfortunately it would soon enough ebb. With the Reformation, the monastic centers of spiritual life would be swept away by the new currents that flowed through much of Europe. And on the rest of the continent the prosecution of Quietists and Illuminists by an overly zealous and defensive Inquisition would send contemplation to hide fearfully in the corners of a few convents and monasteries. A great movement of the Christian spirit flowed away with the undercurrent, only to surface and return under the impulsion of the mighty .winds of a Second Pentecost, These winds blow across the face of the whole earth. They certainly are not contained by the Church. But the Church, the Christian commuhity, cannot afford to be slow to respond to them: True renewal must begin with each .Christian, respond-ing to the call of the Spirit within, to the call to the center where God dwells, waiting to refresh, revitalize, renew. There is a simple method of entering into contemplative prayer which has been aptly called "centering prayer." The name is inspired by Thomas 1At p.resent the book is available in 'four different paperback editions. The one edited by William Johnston and published by D~ubleday is the best. The author is an un-known English Catholic writer of the fourteenth century. He could hardly have put his name to the work, for all that it teaches belongs to the common heritage of the Christian c~mmunity. 656 / Review Ior, Religious, Volume 35, 1976/5 Merton. In his writings he stressed that the only way to come into contact with the living God is to go to'one's center and from there pass into God. This is the way the author of The Cloud of Unknowing would lead us, although his imagery is somewhat different. The simple method he teaches really belongs to the. common heritage of man. I remember on one occasion describing it to a teacher of Tran-scendental Meditation. He repli,ed, "Why, that's TMo" I could not agree with him. There are very significant differences, but perhaps it takes faith really to perceive them. I can also remember, when I was in Greece a. couple of years ago, finding a Greek translation of The Cloud. The late Orthodox Archbishop of Corinth had written the Introduction. In it he stated that this was the work of an unknown fourteenth-century, English, Orthodox writer. He was certain it belonged to his own Christian tradition. If one reads The Cloud of Unknowing on his own, as perhaps many of my readers have, he is not apt effectively to draw from the text the simple technique the author offers. This is not to be wondered at. One would have the same experience reading books on the "Jesus Prayer." As the spiritual fathers on Mount Athos pointed out to me, no spiritual father would seek to teach this method of prayer by a book~ It is meant to be handed on per-sonally, through a tradition. The writings are but to support the learner in his experience and help him place the practice in the full context of his life. This, too, I believe is the case with The Cloud o] Unknowing. Simply read-ing it will not usually teach the method. And so let me try to spell out the "technique" of The Cloud of Un-knowing quite concretely, adding some practical advice and explanation. To do this I would like to sum up the method in three rules. Posture and Relaxation But "first let me say a word about posture. Some wonderful ways of sitting have come to us from the East. They are ideal for meditation. But unless we are 10ng practiced, and in most cases, have gotten an early start, our muscles and bones do not too readily adapt° themse.lves to these pos-tures. I think for most of us Westerners the best posture for prayer is to be comfortably settled in a good chair--one that gives firm support to the back, but at the same time is not too hard or stiff. As the author of The Cloud says, "Simply sit relaxed and quiet . " Most imprrtant, the body should be relaxed. When our Lord said, "Come to me all you who labor and are heavily burdened, and I will refresh you," he meant the whole man, body, soul and spirit--not just the spirit. But the body is not apt to be refreshed if we begin the prayer physically tense. Settling down in our chair ahd "letting go," letting the chair fully support the body, is sacramental of what is to take place in the prayer. In centering prayer we settle in God, "let ourselves go," let him fully support us, rest us, refresh us. Centering Prayer--Prayer o] Quiet / 657 Posture and relaxation-are important. It is good, too, if we close our eyes during this prayer.: The more we can gently eliminate outside distur-bances the better. That is why it is good, if possible, to make this prayer in a quiet place, a place apart, though this is not essential. More important is it that it be a situation in which we will not be disturbed in the course of the meditation. Quiet will usually be found helpful. Psychologically, also, it is experienced as helpful if one has a sort of special place for meditation--a place apart, even though "apart" may be only a corner of a room where there is a presence sacramentalized in Bible, icon or sacred image, and the going apart simply involves swinging around in our chair from desk to shrine. The physical set-up and the bodily movement itself reinforce the sense of passing now from the frenetic activities of the day to a deeper state of prayerful rest and divine refreshment. Three Rules the But now let us get on with the "rules" for entering into centering prayer, prayer of quiet, contemplation. Rule One: At the beginizing o] the prayer we take a minute or two to quiet down and then move in ]aith to God dwelling .in our depths; attd at the end oI the' prayer we take several minutes to come out, mentally praying the "Our Father." Once we are settled down in our chair and relaxed, we enter into a short period of silence, Sixty seconds can initially seem like a long time when we are doing nothing and are used to being constantly on the go. Better to take a little more time rather than less. Then we move in faith to God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, dwelling in creative love in the depths of our being. This is the whole essence of the prayer. "Center all your attention and desire on him and let this be the sole concern of your mind and heart" (The Cloud oI Unknowing, c.3). Faith moving towards its Object is hope and love--this is the whole of the theological, the Christian life. All the rest of the method is simply a means to enable us to abide quietly in this center, and to allow our whole being to share in this refreshing contact with its Source. Faith is fundamental for this prayer, as for any prayer. We will have no desire to enter into union and communion, to pray, if we do not have at least some glimmer in faith of the all-Lovable, the all,Desirable. But it is more especially a "wonderfUl work of love," a °response to him who is known, by living faith. -"It is true, some techniques like Zen call for keeping the eyes open. But these are usually effortful techniques. This method, however, is effortless; it is a letting go. "It is simply a spontaneous desire, springing from God . . ." (The Cloud, c.4). 658 / Review [or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/5 The Inner Presence When God. makes things, he does not just put them together and toss them out there, to let them fly along in his creation. "One is good--God.'':~ And One'is true, and beautiful, and all ':being--our God. And everything else is only insofar as it here and now actively participates in him and shares his :being. At every moment God is intimately present to each and every particle of his creation, sharing with it, in creative love, his very own being. And so, if we really see this paper, we do not just see the paper, but we see God bringing it into being and sustaining it in being. We perceive the divine presence. If this i~ true of all the other elements, how much more true is it for the greatest of God's creation: man, made to his own image and likeness. When we go to our depths we find not only the image of God, but God himself, bringing us forth in his creative love. We go to our center and pass from there into the present God. Yet there is still something even more wonderful here for the Christian. We have been baptized into Christ. We are in some very real, though mysteri-ous way, Christ, the Son of God, the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity. "I live, now not I, but Christ lives in me." As we go to the depths, we realize in faith our identity with Christ the Son. Even now, .with him and in him, we comeforth from the Father in eternal generation, and return to the Father in that perfect Love which is the Holy Spirit. What prayer! This is really beyond adequate conception. Yet our faith°tells us it is so. It is part of that whole reality that revelation has opened up to us. And it is for us to take possession of it. We have been made sharers in the divine nature by baptism. We have been given the gi]t of the Holy Spirit. We have but to enter into what is ours, what we truly are. And that is what we do in this prayer. In a movement of faith that is hope and love, we go to the center and turn ourselves bver to God in a simple being there, in a presence that is perfect and complete .adoration, response, love, an "Amen" to that movement that we are in the Son to the Father. This is what St. Paul was talking about when he said, "We do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit himself prays for us . " Coming Out 'of Contemplation In this prayer we go .very deep into ourselves. Some speak of a fourth state of consciousness, a state beyond waking, sleeping or dreaming states. Tests have shown that meditators do achieve a state of rest which is deeper than that attained in sleep. We do not want to come out of contemplative prayer in a jarring way. Rather we want to bring its deep peace into the whole of our life. That is why it is prescribed that we take several minutes :~See Mt 19, 17. Centering Prayer Prayer o] Quiet / 659 ~zoming out, moving from the level ot~ deep, self, forgetful contemplation to silent awareness and then a conscious interior prayer, before moving further into full activity. When the time we have determined to pray is over, we stop using the prayer word we have chosen," savor the silence, the Presence, for a bit, and then begin interiorly to pray the "Our Father." I suggest saying the "Our Father." It is a perfect prayer, taught us by the Lord himself. We gently let the successive phrases come to mind. We savor' them, enter into them. What matter if in fact it takes a good while. It is a beginning of letting our contemplative prayer flow out into the rest of our live~. A Valuable Asceticism I strongly recommend two periods of contemplative prayer in the course of a day. It introduces into our day a good rhythm: a period of deep rest and refreshment in the Lord flowing out into eight or ten hours of fruitful activity, and then anotho: period of renewal to carry us through (what is for almost everyone today) a long evening of activity. This is certainly much better than trying to base sixteen hours of activity on the morning prayer. Twenty minutes seems to be a good period to start with. Less tharl this hardly gives, one a chance to get fully into the prayer and be wholly re-freshed. Some will feel themselves drawn to extend the period to twenty-five or thirty minutes or perhaps thirty-five. On a day of retreat or when we are sick in bed, and our activity is curtailed, we can easily add more periods of .contemplative prayer. This might be better than prolonging individual periods. Those who are generally living a contemplative life'may find somewhat longer periods helpful. For most of. us, the real asceticism of this form ot~ prayer comes in scheduling into*our daily life two periods for it. Once we are going full steam, it is difficult to stop, drop everything, go apart and simply be to the Lord. And yet there is a tremendous value ,here. All of us theoretically subscribe to the theme, "Unless the Lord build the house, in vain the masons toil." But in practice most of us work as though God could not possibly get things done if we did not do them for him.The fact is there is nothing that we :are doing that God could not raise up a stone in the field to do for him. The realization of this puts us in our true place. Though, lest we do get too defeated by such a realization, let me hastento add that there is one thing that we alone can give God-- our personal love. The very God of heaven and earth wants, and needs because he wants, our personal love. And if, while we pray, someone 'has to wait at our door, for ten or fifteen minutes, he will probably learn a lot about prayer while he waits-- certainly more than if he were inside listening to us talk about prayer. 4See below, under Rule 2. 660 / Review Ior Religious, Volume 35, 1976/5 Actions speak louder than words. Those around us will not fail to notice, even though we might prefer they would not, when we begin to give prayer prime time in our busy lives. Rule Two: Alter resting ]or a bit ~it~ the center in ]aith-lull love, we take up a single simple word that expresses this response attd begiu to let it repeat itsel] within. As the author of The Cloud puts it: "If you want to gather all your desire into one simple word that the mind can easily retain, choose a short word rather than a long one. A one-syllable word such as 'God'. or 'love' is best. But choose one that is meaningful to you. Then fix it in your mind so that it will remain there, come what may . Be careful in this work and never strain your mind or imagination, for truly you will not succeed in this way. Leave these faculties at peace" (c.4,7). What we are concerned with here is a simple, effortless prolongation ~'or abiding in the act of faith--love--presence. This is so simple, so effort-less, so restful, that it is a bit subtle and so needs some explanation. A spiritual act is an instantaneous act, an act without time, "The will needs only this brief fraction of a moment to move toward the object of its desires" (The Cloud, c.4). As soon as we move in love to God present in our depths, we are there. There a perfect prayer of adoration, love and presence is. And we simply want to remain there and be what we are: Christ responding to the Father in perfect Love, the Holy Spirit. To facilitate our abiding quietly there, and to bring our whole being as much as 'possible to rest in this abiding, after a brief experience of silent presence we take up a single~ simple word that expresses for us our faith-love movement. We have seen that the author of The Cloud suggests such words as "God" or "love." A word in the vocative case seems usually to be best. We begin very simply to let this word repeat itself within us. We let it take its own pace, louder or softer, faster or slower; it may even drift off into silence. "It is best'when this word is wholly interior without a definite thought or actual sound" (The Cloud o[ Unknowing, c. 4). We might think of it as though the Lord himself, present in our depths, were quietly repeating his own name, evoking his presence and very gently summoning us to an attentive response. We are quite passive. We let it happen. "Let this little word represent to you God .in all his fullness and 'nothing less than the fullness of God. Let nothing except God hold sway in your mind and heart" (The Cloud, c.4). The subtle thing here is the effortlessness. We are so .used to being effortful. We are a people out to succeed, to accomplish, to do. It is hard for us to ',let go" and let God do. Yet we have but to let go and let it be done unto us according to his revealed Word. The temptation for us is to change the quiet mental repetition of the prayer-word (which simply pro-longs a state of being-present) into an effortfui repetition of an ejaculation Centering Prayer Prayer ol Quiet / 661 and to use it energetically to knock out any thoughts or "distractions" that come along.' This brings us to our third rule. Rule Three: Whenever in the course o[ the prayer we become aware o] any-thing else, we simply gently return to the prayer word. I want to underline that word aware. Unfortunately we are not able to turn off our minds and imaginations by the flick of a switch. Thoughts and images keep coming in a steady stream. "No sooner has a man turned toward God in love when through human frailty he finds himself distracted by the remembrance of some created thing or some daily care. But no matter. No harm done: For such a person quickly returns to deep recollec-tion" (The Cloud, c.4), In this.prayer we go below the thoughts and images offered by the mind and imagination. But at times they will grab at our attention and try to draw it away from the restful Presence. This is so because thoughts or images refer to something that has a hold on us, something wefear, or desire, or are in some other way intensely involved with. When we become aware of these thoughts, if we continue to dwell on them, we leave our prayer and become involved again in tensions. But if, at the moment we become aware, we simply, gently, return to our prayer-word (thus implicitly renewing our act of presence in faith-full .love), the thought or image with its attendant tension will be released and flow out of our awareness. And we will come into a greater freedom and peace that will remain with us after our prayer is ended. Should some thought go on annoying you demanding to know what you are doing, answer with this one word alone. If your mind begins to intellectualize over the meaning and connotation of this little word, remind yourself that its value lies in its simplicity. Do this and I assure you these thoughts will vanish (The Cloud o! Unknowing, c.7). We can see how pure this prayer is. In active forms of prayer we use thoughts and images as sacramentals and means for reaching out to God. In this prayer we go beyond them, we leave them behind, as we go to .God himself abiding in our depths. It is a very pure act of faith. Perhaps in this prayer we will for the first time really act in pure faith. So often our faith is leaning on the concepts and images of faith. Here we go beyond them to the Object' himself of faith, leaving all the concepts and images behind. We can see, too, how Christian this prayer is. For we truly die to our-selves, our more superficial selves, the level of our thoughts, images and feelings in order to live to Christ, to enter into our Christ-being in the depths. We "die" to all our thoughts arid imaginings, no matter how beau-tiful they may be or how useful they might seem. We leave them all be-hind, for we want immediate contact with God himself, and not some thought, image or vision of him-~only the faith-experience of himself. "You are to concern yourself with no creature, whether material or spiri- 662 / Review 1or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/5 tual, nor with their situation or doings, whether good or ill. To put it briefly, during this work you must abandon them all" (The Cloud o[ Un-knowing, c.5). "By Their Fruils . . ." There is another consequence of this transcending of thought and image. This prayer cannot be judged in itself. As it goes beyond thought, beyond image, there is nothing left by which to judge it. In active medita-tion, at the end of the prayer we can make some iudgments: "I had some good thoughts, I felt some good affections, I had lots of distractions, and so forth." But all that is irrelevant to this prayer, If we have rots of thoughts--good, lots of tension is being released; if we have few thoughts --good, there was no need for them. The same for feelings, images, and more. All these are purely accidental; they do not touch the essence of the prayer, which goes on in all its purity, whether these be present or not. There i~ nothing left by which to judge the prayer in itself. If we simply follow the three rules, the prayer is always good, no matter what we think or feel. There is, however, one way in which the goodness of this pra)Ter is con-firmed for us. Our Lord has said, "You can judge a tree by its fruits." If we are faithful to this form of prayer, making it a regular part of our day, we very quickly come to discern--and often others discern it even more quickly--the maturing in our lives of the fruits of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, benignity, kindness, gentleness--all the fruits of the Spirit. I have experienced this in my own life and I have seen this again and again in the lives of others, sometimes in a most remarkable way. What happens, ¯ the way the Spirit seems to bring this about, is that in this prayer we experi-ence not only our oneness with God in Christ, but also our oneness with all the rest of the Body of Christ, and indeed with the whole of creation, in God's creative love and sharing of being. Thus we begin, connaturally as it were, to experience the presence of God in all things, the presence of Christ in each person we meet. Moreover, we sense a oneness with them. From this ~flows a true compassion--a "feeling-with." This contemplative prayer, far from removing us from others, makes us live more and more conscious of our oneness with them. Love, kindness, gentleness, patience grow. Joy and peace, too, in the pervasive presence of God's caring love in all. Not only does contemplative prayer help us to take possession of our real transcendent relationship with God in Christ, but also of our real relationship with each and every person in Christ. 'Charismatic Spirituality and. the Catechist Johannes Ho[inger, S.J. Father Hofinger is well known for his work and writing in the field of catechetics. He resides at the Center of Jesus the Lord~; 1236 N. Rampart St.; New Orleans, LA 70116. The true value of any ramification of Christian spirituality must always be judged according to its potential of leading to authentic union with God in a life lived according to God's saving plan. Some valuable side-effects or some partial aspects of this basic criterion cannot ultimately determine the worth of a given spirituality. But good side-effects, too, have their value and deserve to be properly estimated, of course always in the light of the cen-tral aim: an ever closer union with God. With this in mind it may be worthwhile to ask what charismatic spiritu-ality can contribute to a fruitful-engagement in the apostolate of catechetics. A large percentage of religious serve the Kingdom of God in one or other activity'involving religious education. A continuously growing number of them also participate in charismatic prayer meetings. Thus the question may well arise: what can authentic charismatic spirituality contribute to their cate-chetical apostolate?. How can genuine charismatic spirituality dispose them to become ever more perfectly what Christ expects of them if they are to proclaim with him the Good News of God's saving love.? No one would say that all who regularly participate in charismatic prayer meetings have therefore grasped genuine charismatic spirituality and really live it, just as no one would contend that all who live in Jesuit communities have grasped and really live genuine Jesuit spirituality. Be-cause of this, it is definitely meaningful to make explicit inquiry into the apostolic values of the spirituality of Jesuits---or of charismatics. 663 664 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/5 The Pentecostal Origin of Christian Catechesis Before entering into an analysis of charismatic spirituality and its potential for the catechetical apostolate, it may be worthwhile to remember the pentecostal origin of Christian catechesis. The New Testament is very explicit in this regard. True, all gospels mention how, even before Pente-cost, Christ had commissioned his disciples to preach the Good News in his name, but John (14, 15-17) and Luke (24, 49; Ac 1, 8) insist that Christ explicitly promised them the indispensable assistance of the Holy Spirit in order to fulfill their difficult task. In Acts 2 we are given a detailed report as to how the first powerful proclamation of the Good News started with Pentecost. It may truly be said, then, that Christ formed his first messengers through the Holy Spirit. The catechesis of the primitive Church was plainly charismatic in character. To this historical fact Acts and the epistles of the apostles give irrefutable testimony. The starting point of the original evangelization is the pentecostal experience of the life and exaltation of the risen Christ, the emphatic proclamation that he is Lord. "All the people of Israel, then, are to know for sure that it is this Jesus, whom you nailed to the cross, that God has made Lord and Messiah" (Ac 2, 36). This experience of the apostles was so overwhelming that they could simply not cease to speak of what they had seen and heard (see Ac 4, 20). The extraordinary results of this apostolic preaching were not due to any particular method, but to the religious depth of their charismatic ex-perience and the power of the Holy Spirit which accompanied it. "When I came to you," St. Paul reminded the Corinthians, "I was weak and trembled all over with fear, and my teaching and message were not de-livered with skillful words of human wisdom, but with convincing proof of the power of God's Spirit. Your faith, then, does not rest on man's wisdom, but on God's power" (1 Co 2, 3-5. See also Ga 3, 1-5). Is there any indication in the Scriptures or in ecclesial tradition that God later on wanted to lose the original intimate connection of charismatic experience and the proclamation of his Good News? What does the testi-mony of history tell us about the spirituality of the most outstanding heralds of the Gospel throughout all the centuries? Surrender to Christ Even a good number of charismatics may not be sufficiently aware of what constitutes the basic charismatic experience. They may overrate some valuable, particular gift such as prophecies, healing, or the gift of speaking or singing in tongues, and not see these particular gifts clearly enough against the background of the much more' fundamental gift which consists in the total surrender to Christ under the impulse of the Holy Spirit. Surely we cannot blame the Scriptures for such misunderstandings. Although they were showered with the particular gifts we have just men- Charismatic Spirituality and the Catechist / 665 tioned, the e.mphasis of the primitive Church and of its leaders rested unequivocally upon the overwhelming experience they had of God's saving power and love as experienced in their Spirit-given encounter with Christ the Lord and Savior. This holds good not only for the very first disciples who personally have seen and heard the risen Christ, but also for the others who, on the word of the apostles, believed in Christ and accepted him as the Lord of their lives. The original preaching of the Gospel was the enthusiastic proclama-tion of God's saving power with the Christ-event at its very center. "It is the.Good News," St. Paul wrote to the Romans: "I preach, the message about Jesus Christ . . . the secret truth which was hidden for long ages in the past. Now, however, that truth has been brought out into the open" (Ro 16, 25f). It is "a message that is'offensive to the Jews and nonsense to the Gentiles; but for those whom God has called . . . this message is Christ who is the power of God and the wisdom of God" (1 Co 1, 23f). The effect which this faith-surrender to Christ should have on our lives is perhaps nowhere described as impressively as in the writings of St. Paul. In Chapter 3 of his letter to the Philippians--his favorite Christian com-munity- he described the first impact of this surrender to Christ as he experienced it in his own life. After his encounter with Christ (which was real, but definitely charismatic in character) he says, "All things that I might count as profit I now reckon as loss, for Christ's sake. Not only those things; I reckon everything ~s complete loss for the sake of what is so much more valuable, the knowledge of Christ my Lord. For his sake I have thrown everything away; I consider it all as mere garbage, so'that--I might gain Christ, and be completely united with him . All I want is to know Christ and to experience the power.of his resurrection; to share in his sufferings and to become like him in his death, in the hope that I myself will be raised from death to life" (Ph 3, 7-11 ). St. Paul leaves no doubt that he .expects a similar Christ experience in the lives of all His friends. Significantly he concludes this passage of his epistle with the remark: All of us who are spiritually mature should have this attitude . Keep on imitating me, my brothers. We have set the right example, for you, so pay attention to those who follow it" (Ph 3, 15-17). Admittedly every surrender to Christ isn't always charismatic to this same degree. The impulse of the Holy Spirit that leads to it is not always experienced with the same awareness and depth of experience that was Paul's. But any true surrender to Christ is in fact always the result of the impulse of the Spirit. "No one can confess 'Jesus is Lord' unless he is guided by the Holy Spirit" ( 1 Co 12, 3). . What is important here is simply this. On the one hand we know that genuine Pentecostalism, as we find it at the beginning of Christianity, has the surrender to Christ as its fundamental experience. On the other hand, we all agree that authentic catechetical activity continues the preaching 666 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/5 of the Apostles; thus, it, too, must have Christ as its center and it, too, must communicate an existential knowledge of Christ that leads to a life of union with Christ the Lord'. What does this mean for the spiritual life of the religion-teacher him- .self? Must he not first himself live in an exemplary way what he teaches others? Could not the charismatic renewal bring him the spiritual encounter with Christ which is indispensable for his catechetical apostolate? Herald of the Good News The first "Pentecostals" were also the first catechists of the early Church. Although Christ had commissioned the Twelve with the proclama-tion of the Good News, and although they must have been aware of their apostolic obligation, there is nothing to indicate that their preaching was primarily the discharge of an incumbent task, but was rather the spontane-ous consequence of their overwhelming experience of God's saving power. Their own deep and joyful experience simply compelled them to com-municate their own spiritual riches. In the pentecostal movement of our times there is question again of a very similar experience. Whatever one may think of this movement, it is impossible to deny the fact of its tremendous evangelizing power which results from the experience of God's forgiving love. For various reasons the pentecostal experience may not always be equally sotind, but we should not overlook its unusual power of communication. Fundamentally it is the joyful experience of liberation and salvation through the undeserved love of God. Fcr a long time we did not stress enough in Catholic catechetics and homiletics the essentially joyful character of God's message which, by its very nature, is the "gospel," the "Good Tidings." The way, for example, that the message was presented for a long time in the Baltimore Catechism surely did not do justice to the "evangelic" character of God's saving mes-sage. Sorry to say, very few priests and even bishops noticed that some-thing was wrong. The kerygmatic renewal of the late 50's and early 60's opened our eyes; yet there was still much to be desired. All too many re-ligion teachers considered kerygmatics only as a new "method," and did not even grasp its basic point. What kerygmatics intended before all else was a new religious attitude on the part of the teacher himself, not simply a change of textbooks. The teacher of religion is called to proclaim. God's message as Good News. But he cannot do this properly if he has not first in his own life experienced the Christian religion as a liberating power and as the source of deep, interior peace and joy. As long as Christianity for the teacher of religion ,means primarily a matter of inescapable duty or a complex of "good and venerable traditions" which, after all, still deserve to be kept, he will never become a true "evangelizer." His message may be correct, but Charismatic Spirituality and the Catechist / 667 it will not be the "Gospel" which God intended to be given to his beloved children. It would be naive to think that only within the charismatic renewal of our times can the Christian message and Christian life be experienced as the source and guarantee of deep and lasting joy., But it is sufficient ,for our purpose here simply to show that authentic charismatic renewal can make a valid and powerful contribution in this regard. Catechetical and Religious Concentration Before Vatican II Catholic preaching and religious observance often suffered from a deplorable lack of concentration on the essentials, a fact which caused real scandal to our fellow-Christians. That devotional themes, often presented in a sentimental way, could for so long a~ time hold a preferential position .before essential themes, such as the meaning of the Holy Spirit, of true conversion and justice--and this even in the priestly catechesis in the course of the Eucharist--was a fact which clamored for correction. This is not the place to demonstrate how much the Council was aware of this shortcoming, and how it tried to remedy it (see, e,g., J. Hofinger, Our Message is Christ/Notre Dame, Fides, 1974; pp. 6-8). Preconciliar religion teachers (priests, religious, and lay-teachers alike) were usually very cohcerned about the orthodoxy of their teaching. Their c6ncern resulted from the conviction that, in the teaching of religion, the teacher is acting as a messenger of. God whose saving word must be faith-fully transmitted from generation to generation without any falsification. (In fact, we religion teachers of today could learn much from our predeces-sors and their concern to be faithful messengers of God!) But, while giving full credit to the validity of this concern, we might also mention that authentic orthodoxy in the messenger was often understood in much too narrow a way. In order to transmit a given message correctly and faithfully, it is not endugh merely to avoid particular statements which contradict the original message. A faithful messenger must also concentrate upon the central idea of the message that is given to him. He must make sure that all who listen to him grasp at least the main message and act accordingly. Secondary e~lements must be relegated to the peril0hery, or even .omitted altogether in circumstances in which the solid presentation of the more important ele-ments might demand it. Teachers of religion who speak more about the Little Flower or about Fatima than they do about the Holy Spirit are not heretics in the technical sense. But they do commit, objectively, a serious fault against one indispensable element of' their role as conscientious messengers. Historical studies of the last thirty years have proven convincingly that the. evangelization of the early Church excelled in its concentration upon the core of the Christian message. In our times, we might almost be 668 / Review lor Religious, Volume 35, 1976/5 shocked by this resolute concentration, putting, as it does, its whole empha-sis on the core, while it remains surprisingly broad-minded in treating of the rest. The early catechesis forcefully proclaimed God's saving love "now," in the fullness of time, offered to everyone who accepts this love and believes in~.Christ the Lord and Savior. The center of the original message was, beyond any doubt, the Christ-event: tile exaltation of Christ crucified as the Lord of all. It is a joyful message of salvation, but it de-mands a thorough change of life. Ih the name of his Heavenly Father, the risen Christ calls his beloved brothers and sisters to a new life; he fills them with his Spirit; he unites them with himself in a communion .of life and love. The charismatic renewal has as its special purpose a ~horough renova-tion of Christian faith and Christian life in the spirit of its origins. Catholic charismatics are sufficiently aware that we cannot simply copy the primitive Church. Mere .pristine returns never work in history. But from the spirit of the early Church we can all learn. In dealing with the renewal of religious life, th~ Council rightly insisted that authentic renewal in a religious community must be characterized by the revival of the original spirit of the particular institute. This principle is equally valid for any authentic renewal in the Church as a whole. And the return to the original spirit of Pentecost and of the early Church includes, as one of its main points, a healthy concentration upon the essentials of both the Christian mes-sage- and the Christian life. Charismatic renewal in our times has under-stood this, and so has resulted in a noticeable improvement among its adherents precisely in this regard. It is only realistic to note the fact that many of our most dedicated religion teachers come from those segments of the Christian people who were deeply influenced by the earlier, more devotional approach to re-ligion. These individuals often excel in their abundance of good will. But, at the same time, in their spiritual life they lack this necessary concentra-tion which, thus, was also lacking in their catechetical activities. It is en-tirely possible that participation in one or other solid charismatic p~:ayer group could help them to develop still more what was best in their earlier experience and, at the'same time, introduce into their lives and into their teaching the concentration that is so necessary to any life of faith and of apostolate. Importance of Prayer and Religious Experience The concentration that characterized evangelization and life in the early Church was not the product of professional theological reflection, but rather the result of God's gracious outpouring of the Holy Spirit. This outpouring was received in a situation of personal encounter with God expressed, above all, in prayer. The Pentecostal experience, throughout, was distinguished by exuberant and powerful religious emotions, but 'not in Charismatic Spirituality and the Catechist / 669 the sense of a purposeless emotionalism in which emotions figured as ends in themselves. Rather the experience was the result of their vivid aware-ness of our Lord's presence among them and of their astonishment about the marvels God had accomplished in their midst (see Ac 2:11 ). The Acts and all the epistles of the canon present" in this regard a similar picture. Apostolic preaching and apostolic ministry'was not geared to the cultivation of exuberant but irrational emotions. Rather they were geared to the implantation of faith in the sense of an unconditional accept-ance. of the gospel which was then, under the guidance of the Spirit, to lead to an authentic r61igious experience with profound and vigorou.s emotions. Whenever it came to the point of an overflow of emotions, the Apostles insisted upon the necessity of discernment and balance (see, for example, 1 Co 12:3; 14:23, 33; 1 Th 5:19-22). The pentecostal movement of our century must be understood as a re-action against a one-sided rational approach to religion; one which did not do iustice to its emotional side. In this reaction, the movement may at times have expressed itself exaggeratedly in the opposite direction. Still, overall, it would be easy to show that Catholic charismatics have moved toward a sound balance of religious insight, commitment and sentiment just as they have also demonstrated an awareness of their Catholic identity, keeping themselves open to the recommendations and warnings of. the best Catholic spiritual traditions. Even in cases where groups have yet to reach this de-sired balance, we still have to acknowledge their valuable contribution to religious renewal in bringing so many people to a new appreciation and practice of genuine prayer, and through their insistence on more spontaneity in the expression of religious conviction and sentiments. The significance of this contribution for catechetics becomes immedi-ately evident as soon ~as we try to evaluate it against the backg~:ound of our present catechetical situation. An impartial assessment o1~ this present situa-tion would disclose an unprecedentedly low general interest in religion, which stems primarily from our present culture with its secularized outlook on life. In this kind of situation, we need a powerful catechetical movement, one which insists above all on a new awareness of God in life, one which helps those affected to encounter God again in a very existential way. Yet, in fact, we have to admit that the catechetics of the past ten years have more and more stressed the merely human aspects of religious education, that catechetics have quite often favored a secularized outlook on life in-stead of a genuinely religious approach to it. Misled by a wrong interpreta-tion of God's immanence in his world, teachers of religion today seem.to be inclined to content themselves more and more with the "discovery" of inner-worldly values and with a proper use of such values in life without ascending from them to God, to a personal encounter with God in genuine prayer. Thus, catechetics in the past ten years may often have neglected, the 670 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/5 vertical dimension in the process of religious education, but they have surely not neglected at ail to stress the great importance of spontaneity, of gen-uine human experience and emotions in all spheres of'human activity. Mod-ern man, growing up as he is in a secularized culture, may find great difficul-ties in discovering God. But whenever he does discover God and does come to personal contact with ~him, modern man definitely favors the kind: of dialogue which is characterized by great spontaneity and by 'the engage-ment of strong emotions. Especially among younger people, today's person shox~s interest only in a religious movement which gives a great deal of room for spontaneity, for emotional expression. The Spirit of Community The charismatic spirituality of the early Christians was distinguished by conspicuous spontaneity. But this spontaneity must not be misinterpreted as religious individualism! Their pentecostal experience united them inti-mately into a single, closely knit community. When Luke describes (Ac 2:42-47) the life of the first Christians, he may well have idealized somewhat the historical reality. But he certainly expressed well the ideal image which the early Church had formed of herself and which she labored to realize in the various Christian communities of those early days--of course without ever realizing this ideal. Luke, of course, is fully aware of the leaciing position of the Apostles and of their important task, and even stresses it in unambiguous fashion. However, as he portrays her, the early Church is above all a communion of life and of love. His pentecostal community is exactly the ideal of what we call now-a-days the "basic community." There is no ~need to enter here upon an historical investigation of the causes which led this initial ideal of the Christian life to lose its original ur-gency and attraction. Suffice it to say that the change definitely did not come from a change on the part of the Holy Spirit and of his basic in-spiration. Rather it stemmed from a change on the part of ~the Christians-who did not listen to the Holy Spirit in the same way as did the first Chris-tians. As a result of unfavorable influences from without, and from a faulty development within the Church, Catholic theology and its catechetics have, for a long time, overly stressed the ingtitutional aspect of the Church. It needed the assistance of the Holy Spirit in the last council to restore once more the right balance, to see the Church again as, above all, a "communion" (withou.t forgetting or minimizing the God-given aspects of its institutional character). The General Catechetical Directory, published by the Holy See in 1971 as a guideline for all catechetical work, tries to make teachers of religion aware of this shift in emphasis: "The Church is a communion: She herself acquired a fuller awareness of that truth in the Second Vatican Council" (n. 66). Charismatic Spirituality and the Catechist / 671 In order to experience once again the Church as a communion of life and love, there is need for more than a mere shift in catechetical emphasis. There is. need for the formation of relatiVely sma.ll but dynamic Christian communities which can truly come to this experience. Our typical mammoth parishes cannot achieve this experience unless they build up within their structure much smaller groups of deeply committed Christians. Since the begin~ning of this century, small groups have been forming themselves in this renew~il of pentecostal experience. For the most part non- Catholic, these bands have regularly shown strong cohesion within the par-ticular group, while at the same time manifesting little concern for the universal church, coupled with a noticeable tendency to split among them-selves into yet smaller groups with markedly~ sectarian attitudes. Many years' later, when the pentecostal movement began to lay hold of Catholic circles, many feared that something similar would happen among Catholic charismatics. In fact, however, just the opposite took place. Pre-cisely at the time when many Catholics began to waver in their loyalty to the Church, the overwhelming majority of Catholic charismatics "were giv-ing convincing proofs of their loyalty. In fact, through the charismatic move-ment,, many Catholics found a new and vital contact with the institutional Church. In fact, an impartial assessment would lead to the impression that, in the overall scene; there is more interest on the part of charismatic groups in the institutional Church than there is interest on the part of the parochial clergy to provide pastoral care for the charismatic groups within their area --and this at a time when we desperately need the development of such small groups within the Church. It is not impossible that participation in some solid charismatic group. could give to today's religion teacher a valuable experience of Christian community of precisely the kind that he would need in order to present the Church'as a communion! A Zest for Scripture One characteristic feature of pentecostal spirituality is a zest for Scrip-ture. We encounter this everywhere in pentecostal prayer-meetings and in the members' daily prayer-life. This zest for Scripture comes from the first "Pentecostals"; it is a basic element of the spirituality of the early Church. In fact, we can even say that it is a valuable heritage which the young Church received from the Synagogue. The painful break with the Synagogue did not affect Christian attitudes toward the Scripture. Rather, early Chris-tians continued in their deep appreciation and ardent use of them. In our own time, many Catholics found new access to Scripture through the charismatic renewal. True, long before the beginning of Catholic charis-matic renewal, there was in the Church a powerful biblical renewal which had a decisive impact on the discussions and decisions of Vatican II. Just a few years before the first Catholic charismatic groups started, the Council had 672 ,/ Review ]or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/5 already vindicated, with unusual emphasis, the role of the Scriptures in authentic Christian spirituality (see Constitution on Revelation, nn. 21-26). There is no need for us to decide here which had in fact brought more Catholics back once again to the Scriptures: the teachings of Vatican II or the later charismatic prayer-meetings, It is sufficient for our purpose simply to point out that a genuine zest for Scripture and its religious wealth is not just a fad among charismatics, but an indispensable element of the spiritual-ity which is to be expected from any true Christian, and, of course, most especially, from the teacher of religion who acts as a messenger of God. Vatican II tells us: "In the sacred books, the Father who is in heaven meets his children with great love and speaks with them; and the force and power in the word of God is so great that it remains the support and energy of the Church, the strength of faith for her sons, the food of the soul, the pure and perennial source of spiritual life" (Constitution on Revelation, n. 21). If the Council really meant what it so emphatically stressed, what must follow for anyone who would take the Council seriously? In describing charismatic spirituality, we are fully aware that any move-ment like the pentecostal renewal is going to include groups which express and live this spirituality with enormous differences of perfection. It could easily happen that a given individual sincerely appreciates charismatic spirituality, yet is not at all satisfied with its realization in the group which meets next door. In such a situation, his remedy may well be to seek out another, more congenial group. The ideal solution for teachers of religion who work as a team~would be to form their own group from the members of the. team. That wotild, be the best answer to their special needs and to their particular aspirations. The Rope When a man reaches the' end of his rope, he comes to the beginning of God. Edward A. Gloeggler P.O. Box 486 Far Rockaway, NY 11~91 On Burying Our Isaacs Sister Mary Catherine Barron, C.S.J. Sister Mary Cath~erine has been a frequent contributor to ,our pages, her last having appeared in the March issue. Her address in the coming year will be: St. loseph's Provincial House; 91 Overlook Ax;e.; Latham, NY 12110. Th~ word of God is something alive and active: it i~uts',like any double-edged sword but more finely: it can slip through the place ~vhere the soul is divided from the spirit, or joint.s from the mar~row; it can judge the secret emotions and thoughts. No created thing can hide from him; everything is uncovered and open to the eyes of the one to whom we must give an account of ourselves (Heb 4, 12-13). It happened Sometime' ,later that God put Abraham to the test (Gn 22, 1). Abraham was a vulnerable man. He could never-quite master the art ~of resisting God. Always, he was too available. Had he been a more pragmatic human being, he would have quickly cultivated a quality of deafness where God.was concerned---rr at least a fair pretense of it. But that was his weak-ness: he was too receptive. Whenever God called, he answered. Such alacrity can be dangerous, especially wtiere Yahweh is involved. He is all-consuming. And so when, after a short span of years of relative peace and quiet, God once again cried out his name: "Abraham~ Abraham," our Old Testa-ment forefather responded as could be expected: "Here I am." He should have known better. He should have realized toe incipient danger of those words, because he had uttered them before and they had cost him quite a bit of pain. In ~fact, they had brought him to where he was then: in a strange land of strange people with a young son, the fruit of his and Sarah's old age. It had been a weary journey to this destination, filled with suffering and hope, alienation and promise, discouragement and fulfillment. But today, existence was peaceful and ,.God was benign and Abraham was happy in the new life growing up around him: Isaac, his son. So he never should have " 673 674 / Review for Religious, Volume 35, 1976/5 answered with such openness, such literalness, when he said: "Here I am." Those three words capsulized a whole lifetime of givenness and surrender on Abraham's part and God knew that. He knew the implied depths of Abraham's response because long ago he had blasted his foundation, carved him out, and molded him in faith. So God was not surprised at Abraham's reply. Hehad tested him before. Purgation is a messy business. No matter how finely wrought the.instru-ment, there is always pain and a certain amount of blood-letting. Ironically, although we are quite familiar with the concept, we are never much at ease in the throes of the process. Double-edged swords are dangerous, especially the ones that slip into the hidden place "where the soul is divided from the spirit," because eventually they strike the heart. Abraham had been prodded and probed before. But he had also lived long enough to realize that there are always untouched recesses, crevices of the heart, where the finger of God has not yet been felt. One of those crevices contained Isaac. And so Yahweh commands: "Take your son, your only child Isaac, wh~m you love, and go to the land of Moriah. There you shall offer him as~a burnt offering, on a mountain I will point out to you" (Gn 22, 2). God couldn't have~ been more blunt nor, apparently, more unfeeling~ With near ferocity, he highlights the very nadir points involved in Abraham's sacrifice: '~'son," "only child," "Isaac," "whom you love." And then he conjures up a picture of that supple-limbed first fruit of endless expectation: blackened--a burr~t offering on a wilder-ness mountaintop. Abraham makes no response because he has already made the 'total one of "Here I am." We are. simply told that early next .morning he rises and begins the three days' journey to Moriah. Whatever the outcome, the journey itself is part of the purgation, is already a piece of the burnt offer-ing, and the fact that.it is leading to final consummation only intensifies the pain. Anguish is not a very communicable emotion. It is too deep for utter-ance. So insistent is it that all other~feelings.give way before its flood. So Abraham says little on the pilgrimage to holocaust, but in grim irony loads Isaac with the wood and himself takes the knife and the fire. In stolid faith, Abraham bears in his own hands the purgative instruments that will cut. and sear his son. But more deeply, he bears the instruments that will cut and sear himsel[.olsaac is to suffer a holocaust ,of body; Abraham suffers a holocaust of heart. iOutrage always accompanies the destruction.of an innocent---outrage on the part of the non-participants. But who can fathom the outrage Abraham feels as he binds his only son and lays him on the altar? We cannot begin to plumb the depths of his grieving heart that still believes in the~irrevocable word of Yahweh. "Abraham stretched out his hand and seized the knife to kill his son" (Gn 22, 10). On Burying Our "lsaacs / 675 Once again the cry comes: "Abraham, Abraham" and once again the familiar responseis given:. ','I am here." And then come the sal~,ific words: "Do not raise your hand against the boy; do not harm him, for now I know you fear God. You have not refused me your son, your only son" (Gn 22, 11~13). Isaac is spared. What about Abraham? The holocaust of the body does not occur; the holocaust of the heart is complete. We are accustomed to naming Abraham our "Father in Faith." Is he not also the ',Father of Freed Love!'? All the time he thought the journey was made to annihilate Isaac. Now he discovers that it was made to annihi-late Abraham. Father van Breemen in his book, Called By Name, offers the following analysis: When Abraham descends from tl~e mountai'n~ with his son, both he and Isaac have changed; something has happened on that hilltop . Like a tree which has been turned full circle in the ground, Abraham's~roots have been cut loose, and he has returned a new man (p. 19). in what does his newness consist?' Abraham comes down the mountain with a living Isaac: Yetsomething in both of them is dead. Because he wag bent over the prone Isaac on the altar, we Could not 'see the pain in Abra-ham'S eyes, the look of utter bewilderment at what he was about to do, the trembling terror at the death of love by his o~wn hand. But Isaac could see~ And in that look of love that 'was exchanged b6tw~en them--father and son--the holocaust of the heart is accomplished. In that inst"~n't, Isaac cedes over his life to his father in trust and surrender. And Abraham cedes over his heart to Yahweh in a similar fashion. Because part of Abraham's heart is Isaac, that part of Isaac in Abraham's heart dies forever on Mount Moriah. Abraham returns to Beersheba with a son, but no longer with his son. Isaac is irrevocably gone, yielded over to Yahweh. Isaac returns ~vith a father who is no longer solely his father, but more radically is father to Yahweh's people. Both lose and gain life; both surrender the other and are given the other in return--but transformed. In The Letter to the Hebrews we are told: It was by faith that Abraham, when put to the test, offered up Isaac. He offered to sacrifice his only son even though the promises had been made to him and he had been told: It is through Isaac that your name will be carried on. He was confident that God had the power to raise the dead; and so, figuratively speaking, he was given back Isaac from the dead (Heb 11, 17-19). Centuries later, when speaking of losing and gaining life, Jesus would use the analogy of the wheat grain dying in the earth to produce a rich harvest. We might say that out of.the seed of love for Isaac which Abraham allows to die in the holy ground of Yahweh, com~s the rich harvest of transformed life. For Abraham, indeed, has Isaac back from the dead, but only after he has first let him go. In a sense, he leaves Mount Moriah having buried part of himself and his son there. 676 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/5 So what does the story mean to us? Certainly we are relieved that Isaac is not slain. We are glad that: Abraham's faith was vindicated: And we hope that we are never put to such a test. It is just such a latter mentality that is our mistake and our misfortune. For we all have our Isaacs--those, hidden crevices of the heart.where we do not even realize that "the soul is divided from the spirit." Unless we are willing to bur), them (our Isaacs) in a holo-caust of: the heart, our faith is weak and our love is unfree. And to that extent We,are poor spiritual progeny of our great desert patriarch. ' The Book of Judith tells us: We should be grateful to the Lord, our God, for putting us to the'test, as he did Our forefathers. Recall how he dealt with Abraham, and how' he tried Isaac; and all that happened to Jacob in Syrian Mesopotamia while he was tending the flocks of Laban, his mother's brother. Not for vengeance did the Lord p,ut them in the crucible to try their hearts, nor has he done so with us. It is by way of admonition that' fie chastises those who are close to him (J~t 8:25-27), Admonition for what? Admonition, so that eventually our hearts in the crucible will be so tot~ally purified'that we will, indeed, have lai~ to final rest all our Isaacs. Admonition, so that eventually our hearts in the cruc!.- ble will be so totally free that we too will be able to respond as did Abraham to Yahweh's cali :~ "Here I am." "The @ord of God is something alive and active"--in Abraham'~ day and in our own.'~Will we let it pierce us, double-edged though it might be? Some Practical Reflections on the General Congregation Pedro Arrupe, S.]. Father, Arrupe, General of the Society of Jesus, originallY, gave this talk as part of a series of cbnferences on the 32rid General Congregation which was sponsored by the Centrum lgnatianum Spiritualitatis (CIS; Borgo S. Spirito, 5; C. P. 9048; 00100 Roma, Italy),~which ~s presently preparing the conferences (in the languages in which they were delivered) in book form. I would like to speak tO you about the last section of Decree 4 of the recent 32nd General Congregation of the Society of Jesus. As you know, Decree 4 was on "Our Mission Today," and the last section of it dea!.t with "Prac-tical Dispositions." These practical dispo~sitions are applications that follow from t,h~e general decisions and guidelines developed throughout the decree. When the, Congregation states~, in this.decree, that "the mission of the Society of Jesus today is the service of faith, of which the promotion of jus~tice is an absolute requirement," it is not in the slightest way restricting the purpose, of the Society. That Society was founded, as you know, princi-pally "to serve the divine Majesty and his holy Church, under the Roman Pontiff, th~ Vicar of Christ on earth" and "to devote itself totally to.~the defense and spre~ad of the holy Catholic faith." Those words are taken from the F'ormula ol the Institute, approved by Pope Julius III (MI [ser. 3] I, 375-~76). The Soci.ety's purpose thus remains the same as ever: the ex-pression that,the 32nd General Congregation used is.simply a reformulation to meet the needs of the present-day world, which is characterized by so many and such flagrant injustices. And so, in discussing this D.ecree 4, we are simply showing how the So-ciety i~sflu~f!,~ll!ng its overall purpose:, how it is living up to its mission. The principle~s, attitu~.es and methods that the decree proposes thus acquire a 677 6711 / Review for Religious, Volume 35, 1976/5 universal value much more far-reaching than the Decree itself, since every- ~thing is included in, and exemplified by, the way the Society carries out its purpose. The Originaiity of St. Ignatius The originality of St. Ignatius is to be found, not so much in the rea-sons that he "put down in writing, so as to be able to reflect on them" (Spiritual Diary, Feb. 11, 1544), as in "other illuminations" that he re-ceived from the Holy Trinity, with "feelings of intense emotion" (ibid.). 'Clearly, his originality will keep the same creativity and apostolic vigor down through .history, and the Society of today wants to continue to be--and should continue to be--what St. Ignatius made it. But there are certain moments in history when an inner force appears, stirring that originality to new external manifestations, and its dynamism acts with greater exuberance and creativity. Today is such a moment. In the aggiornamento that Vatican II called for, the Holy Spirit speaks more clearly to the Church (See Per- [ectae Caritatis, 2), and hence to the Society too, inviting us to a "thorough-going reassessment of our traditional apostolic methods, attitudes and in-stitutions, so as to adapt them to the changed conditions of our day" (De-cree 4:9). Our effort, then, after the congregation even more than during it, has to be to discern how we can provide the Society's distinctive service and carry out its mission with all its consequences. The new way of exercising this mission will require of the updated Society new or renewed attitudes, en-deavors, undertakings and institutions, which in turn presuppose new men, similarly reriewed fo~ today's generation. All these elements--"the Society of Jesus, its mission, its apostolate, its way of life"--are closely in~e'rrelated and cannot be considered or achieved separately. We cannot, therefore, discuss how the decree would have us carry out our apostolate, prescinding from our Order's special charism, or from the Jesuit'of today and his life style. In the constant advance of the pilgrim Church, which, vivified' by the Holy Spirit and under his impulse, comes ever closer to Christ (s~e LG 4), amid persecutions from the world" and consolations from God, the 32nd General Congregation is merely one episode in 'the life of this universal Church moving toward its eschatological perfection. The congregation too, as part of humanity and of the people of God, has felt itself inspired, guided and strengthened by that Spirit "who writes and impresses on hearts the law of charity and love" (Introd. to Constitutions, 1.) and keeps pressing toward "what is most conducive" (Sp. Ex. 23). A Return to Sources At this moment of history, the challenge the world offers has'brought the Society to a limit-situation, forcing it to go: back to the original soui'ces Some Practical Reflections on the General Congregation / 679 of Ignatian spirituality, to find there more effective means, to be able to face today's problems vigorously, not only in order to survive, but to come out of them purified and rejuvenated, and thus to.be more apt for giving the Church the service it desires. The return to Loyola, Manresa, Paris, La Storta and Rome was a .spontaneous movement in the Society of Jesus, and especially in the fathers of the General Congregation. We were, and we are, conscious that any renewal must always be inspired by those funda-mental :graces that St. Ignatius received for himself and the whole Society, by those mystical intuitions that begar~ with the spiritual infancy of Ignatius (.God treated him as an infant then, he tells us in his Autobiography) and continued through his full spiritual maturity, when he composed the Con-stitutions. The-me(hod that the congregation suggests for our ~practical applica-tion of what Decree 4 recommends is very simple, yet it is based on a deep theology and a logic and practical sense that give us the greatest guarantees. The Method Is the Message It has been said in another context that "the medium is the message." Here we may say that "the method is the message," because it includes such a wealth of elements that, though perhaps not altogether new, are under-stood and applied in so profound a way that their meaning and implications and correlations give them a great novelty. It is a method that uses new concepts, and when applied, sheds a new light on those concepts on which it is based. This method was not excogitated in an abstract or a priori way, but results fr6m a number of enriching ideas and concepts, of better studied, better tested situations. Thus it arose almost spontaneously, not so much as a logical deduction, but rather as the fruit of many vital° elements and their mutual Correlations, e.g., the concepts of mission, ofcommunity, of interpersonal relations, of service, of authority, bf poverty, and so' forth. It would be very easy to describe superficially thee manner of applying this decree, but that wa3~ we would not reach the real profundity of its method, nor would we catch the meaning and concrete manner of its application. It would b~ totally ineffective to proceed that way. Our deeper know!edge of certain concepts and circumstances enables us to work out a method v,e~ suited to the situations of this new world of ours. Thus, the application of this method, plus the experience, the intuitions and tile difficulties that contact with reality adds to it, enriches the ~concepts and gives them a greater r6alism. But that is not all: our new understanding of the ideas and their prac-tical apostolic applications call for renewed men~.who, incarnating this men-tality, will react in a fresh way, or at least will be able to adapt their ser-vice to the new needs of a Church and of a mankind we see rapidly becom-ing the great, universal human family. 680 / Review ]or Religious, l/olume 35, 1976/5 A Process of Reflection and Revision The final section of this decree, subtitled "Practical Dispositions," 6pen~ with a clearly Ignatian principle: "Considering the variety of situations in which Jesuits work, the°General Congregation cannot pi~ovide a single, uni-versally applicable program for producing this awareness and reducing it to 15ractice acco~rding to th~ decisions and guidelines gi,~en. Each province or group of provinces 'must undertake a program of reflection.and a review of our apostolate to discover what action is ,appropriate in each particular con-text" .(4.'71): It is the same princip!e that P.ope Paul stated for the whole Church in his Octogesima adveniens: "Faced with such varying situations, it is hard for Us~to formulate a single statement and propose a Solution with universal validity . It is for the Christian communities to analyse objec-tively their country's situation, to clarify' it in the light ofr'the unchanging words of the gospel" (4). ~ To find the appropriate mode of action, the congregation .gives us tWO basic principles that are implicitly contained in the Constitutions, the norms for the selection of ministries and those for the preparation of the instru-ment. We express these principles today by the terms "discernment" and "continuing formation." They are like two roads leading us to a personal knowledge, a conviction, and a more perfect pe~rformance of what God wants of us at each moment. Discernment , Discernment is, in all its profundity, the best way (I would say, con-sidering it in all its breadth, the only way) to be able to plan and choose among our concrete options, the proper apostolic strategy, in other words, to discover God's will for us here and now. The congregation recommends precisely this to us when it says that we need, "not so much a research program, as a process of reflection and evalua-tion, based on the.Ignatian tradition of spiritual discernment" (4:72). Psy-chological or purely t~chnical procedures are not sufficient; we need a deter-mination to .really "find God," using all the means, objective and subjective, indiVi~dual and collective, social, political, and so forth, through which he manifestos his will to us. A process of this sort requires a special divine assistance and a constant effol:t on our part to rid ourselves of every inordinate affection. For that reason, the °decree very properly underlines the word "indifference," when it tells us: "The primary stress is on prayer and the effort to attain 'indiffer-ence,' that is, an apostolic readiness for anything" (72). The seriousness of this discernment 6alls for thos~e perfect dispositions that St. Ignatius demands' inthe election, that culminating point in his Exer-cises. This .is a divine-human, personal, ecclesial act, inserted into the one plan of salvation that leads to the building up of the Kingdom of Christ in time, and comes, even now,~under eschatological judgment. St. Paul d~fines Some Practical Reflections on the General Congregation / 681 it: "Think+before you do anything; hold on,to what is good and avoid every form of evil" (1 Th 5,21~22)., .4 This~Pauline discernment is not~only a key to the New Testament; it is also a key for apostolic planning in the exercise of our :~'mission," remind-ing us of the interplay of divine grace and human freedom in Christian ilife. Thus the apostle feels integrated into salvation history, associated with the central kairos of the Incarnation and Resurrection, and:the final eschatologi-cal~ kairos. Understood in this,way, discernment explains and renews the meaning of,Ignatian solid pruden(e, "discreet charity," And thus the "mis-sion" received under0obedience can be applied concretely to the different and changeable situations of the problematic of today's world. At the same time, discernment is the great force that enables us" to grow spiritually,,in a rapid but solid way, since it obliges us to have our soul always inca disposition of total detachment from created things. As a conse-quence Of this active-passive "indifference,, discernment disposes the soul for the inspirations of the Spirit, no-matter .how they come or where ~they come-from. In particular, it disposes the soul for that basic inspiration of faith,~ hope and "discreet charity" that awakens it to desire the magis, i.e., to choose always what is better, what iS~"~.'God's will'here and now." An ac-tive indifference, always seeking the'magis, is, indeed, the Ignatian equiva-lent~ of ~"finding God in all things," or as Nadal put it in a dense and pro-found, phrase, the "contemplativus in actione" (contemplative in action). In addition to this inner disposition of Spirit, so necessary for a real dis-cernment, we also need as complete and deep a knowledge as possible of the reality that is the object of our .discernment, so that we can discover in that reality the expression of God's will f6r the world. To discover this, we need, first of all, a real "conscientization,, or critical contact with reality; and after that, an "insertion," an "evaluation," and finally an "incultura-tion." The basic elements of.,this process of discernment and conscientization, of insertion and inculturation~ are described briefly in Octogesima adveniens, which the 32nd General Congregation. quoted. They are: experience, re-flection, choices, action,, a constant reciprocal relationship. These are steps that lead, by their own inner force, to a "change in our.thought patterns and a conversion of souls and hearts so that we can make apostolic decisions" (4:73). ¯ Conscientization To know thoroughly the reality that we meet or in which we live, we need more than a superficial glance at it in a random contact, or a one-time experience of that reality. "Knowing thoroughly"means going beyond a mere spontaneous grasp, to a critical understanding. Real conscientization is a critical insertion into historical reality. This obliges man to accept the role of a subject who makes the world---or better, remakes it. It forces man to 6112 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/5 create his existence out of the material that life offers him. This is based, naturally, on the human capacity to work consciously on reality: hence conscientization necessarily includes the combination of our reflection on the world and our action on it. It also follows from this that real conscientization has to be a process constantly in act, so that the new reality that is evolving can in turn be grasped in a new conscientization, which again will produce a still newer reality. It is an ongoing process; conscientization is always creative. "Think-ing of the new reality as something-untouchable is simplistic and reactionary, just as much as saying that the old reality was untouchable; if men, as working beings, continue to accept a 'made' world, they will very soon be plunged into a new darkness."' And so, as conscientization increases, the manifestation of.reality also increases, and the penetration of its phenomenological sense. If we merely contemplate reality, we are no more than false intellectualists. Without the binomial action-reflection, there can be no conscientization; in other words, there can be no conscientization apart from practical action. The dialectical unity "action-reflection" will always be man's most distinctive mode of being, his only effective way of changing the world (see ibid. 30). There has to be, therefore, an insertion into reality 'and a reflection on reality. This double function enables us to know and act on re.ality, which in turn then acts on us. In other words, the external reality that we change then changes us in our very. depths, and that very change makes us become "agents for change." This interaction is a manifestation and an effect of the intimate action of the Holy Spirit, who integrates, simultaneously and har-moniously, the progress of a pilgrim mankind toward its true fatherland and each one's growth in divine life that the Spirit cbmmunicates to him. Insertion To~ know reality, to change our attitudes and achieve a true discern-ment, we must first be inserted into reality in an effective way, When I speak of insertion, I am referring to a real, critical insertion among the men of today, in order to create and shape society in an evangelical way. A genuine, insertion thus requires a change of personal attitude, the giving up, under many aspects, of our manner of being, thinking and acting, so we can understand and come closer to the new realities that we want to evangelize. It is a real problem of life and experience, which gives us a special profound and realistic knowledge which makes us solidary with men, particularly with the poor and the weak. Scripture itself and the entire theology of evangelization invite us to this insertion: "To become all things to all men" (1 Co 9, 22), to make other 1(See Paulo Freire, Conscientizaci6n [Sp. version], 2a ed., 30-36, in Coll. Educaci6n hoy, 4, Asociaci6n de publicaciones educativas, Bogot~i). ~ Some Practical Reflections on the General Congregation / 6113 people's problems ours, "to make ourselves servants of others" (Decree 2". 29), to. be "segregatus in evangelium" ["specially chosen to preach the Good News"] (Rom 1, 1), and to become the "salt of the earth" (Mt 5, 13). For that re.ason, the 31st Congregation recommended that our residences be built and set up among workers and the most downtrodden classes, so that Ours, spending their lives with the poor Christ, may [thus] practice their various apostolates (27: 8). This insertion or "incarnation" means solidarity with those who suffer, even to being identified with their lives. Here we find the most profound meaning of the poverty of the poor Christ, whom we want to imitate and follow. That phrase of the Exercises that describes our contemplation "as if I were actually present" (Ex 114)~-takes on a vivid meaning that re-flects the gospel words: "What you did to the least of my brothers, you did to me" (M~ 25, 40). If we juxtapose St. Ignatius's tw.o key lines from the Exercises: "What shall I do for Christ?" (Ex 53) and "being poor with the poor Christ" (Ex 167), with those words of Christ: "What you did to the least of my brothers, you did to me," everything takes on a new light, whose brilliance shakes our consience. It_is the apparition of Christ among the poor, his real presence among them.: This reality of Christ in the world of today plays a decisive role in our choice of ministries and in our lives. "Have we realized that conversion to Christ implies a conversion to our neighbor, particularly our most abandoned neighbor? This requires a change of mentality that is not at all easy, a change of attitude and of life on the personal, collective and apostolic level. In a word, it transports us. to the heart of the painful tension of the election" (ibid. 199). Not every insertion has~ the value and meaning of a truly apostolic in-sertion. To see if our insertion is apostolic, we will have to look for some of its characteristic features. First of all, it should be evangelical, i.e., inspired and guided by the Gospel, by the spirit of the Gospel, which we find in the Beatitudes, in the cross and the resurrection of Christ. On the contrary, an insertion inspired by radicalism or a revolutionary spirit, one seeking class struggle or vindica-tion, one that exalts itself, regarding itself as a model far better than any other, is not the insertion a religious should seek. In practice, we often lose sight of our evangelical spirit, even though we~protest that our aim is to "evangelize." Sec6nd, this insertion should be apostolic, i.e., inspired by an apostolic motivation and idealism, not by merely sociological or humanitarian con- ~iderations, which are a completely different thing. It has to be rooted in '-'(See J. ,Alfaro, "Ejercicios y Constituciones: Unidad Vital," in Mensajero, Bilbao, 1974, 195-199). 61~4 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/5 faith, built on prayer, purified of all,selfishness. Such an attitude cannot be had from natural forces alone, but comes only from the force of the Spirit. Third, the insertion of the religious has to be the expression of a mission, that is, something more than the fruit of one's own ideas or some project oil-one's own. It has to be the object of a mission that follows, under obedi-ence, God's will, rather than the whims of a self-appointed group thatmakes independent decisions, ignoring or opposing those of their superiors. It must be the result of mission precisely conferred or approved by Obedience. A true insertion requires a series of qualities in the individual or the community: ,. --First of all, it calls for humility and conversion, i.e.; the desire of leading a more evangelical life and the recognition of one's own limita-tions, without considering oneself superior to anyone--and especially without~judging anyone, even if exteriorly he may seem to be leading a less evangelical life. --Second,. such an insertion calls for a clear sense o] one's identity, inas, much as the harsh experiences that can come to those who live such an insertion, and the observance of others' sufferings and injustices can strike us in so forceful and passionate a way as to take away our re-ligious and evangelical sense and lead us to adopt' positions and atti-tudes foreign to the Institute to which we belong. --Third, to be truly and solidly inserted, we need a well'integrated personality, capable of resisting the "shock" caused by the effort of adapting to a very different set of surroundings. Not a few.religious~men and women, full of generosity but without a solidly integrated personal-ity, have lost their vocations because of this "shock," and h'ave then succumbed to irreparable crises. -~Fourth, we need a solid [ormation. Some'have to learn to experience this insertion in surroundings and situations that are not sufficiently formed for that level of hardship. A full insertion into new s.urroundings calls for a very'solid and balanced formation,'which'usually takes a long time and experience. Only a serious preparation can give su~cient maturity and ability to integrate all the elements of the apostolic pro-cess: experience-reflection-choice-action. With it, the insertion can be kept within proper limits and will allow the maximum .of productivity. --Fifth, it requires serious reflection. Experience alone is not enough; it has to be tested by reflection, without which we can never have opti-mum results and avoid the mistakes due to either excess°or deficiency. Reflection on the concrete experience will expand o~r understanding of the situation, and will suggest the proper options find the changes that must be made for a more. effective apostolate. That is, it will make our action not only tend in the right direction, but have some likelihood of continuing and succeeding; too. Some Practical Reflections on the General Congregation / 685 ¯ ---Sixth,~-we need~ close collaboration with others. A genuine insertion invites and produces such collaboration. It is a stimulus and an apt means for fitting into the overall pastoral plan and activities of other groups and sectors. -z-Seventh, we need pluralism. Insertion needs and introduces a broad pluralism in the sense that modes of service have to be different urider differing circumstances. Insertion is not limited to a particular social stratum, e.g., the poor, but takes in all worlds: intellectual, univei'sity, ~ ,.professional, cultural, infracultural, etc. ~ If all these conditions are verified, the insertion will be 'much more ef-fective, organic and "differentiated: W~ will avoidduplications--and 6mis-" sions--of projects and methods for ~vhich, others~ are better qualified; each one will ,produce to the maximiam, having found his plac.e in the overall pastoral' plan of the local and universal Church. This insertion can also resolve the tension betweenthose who learn and those who teach, because, as experience shows, p~articularly in times of rapid change, life and human contact, even with the less cultured and humbler," are a "marvelous school, in which we learn from others th~it very lofty science, the "science of man," which we can never acquire without this contact with reality and every-day life. Insertion will make us feel the need to be always in the posture of a disciple, which is indispensable .for the apostle working for contemporary man in the world of today. Eyaluation TO ~be able to make an objective and effective discernment, so we can give to our labors, 6ur projects and institutions a new orientation, we need not only conscientization iihd insertion, but an~evaluation of our activitie~ too. Decree 4 suggests this to us very clearly: "Where do'we live? Where do we work? How? With whom? What, in the final analysis, really is our in-volvement with, dependence on, or commitment tO ideologies, or to those who wield power? Is it only to the converted that we know how to preach ,Jesus, Christ? These are some Of the questions w~ should ask about ourselves individually, as well as about our commumtles and restitutions (4:74). It0is very important to evaluate~ our acti~'ities and our works. We are urged to make such an evaluation by Decrees 4, 6 and ]5: "Our Mission Today," "The Formation of Jesuits," and "Ceritral Government." Our evalu-ation would consist in analyzing the quantity and quality of the results we are obtaining, in relation to our.objectives, in, order to have some'idea of their effectiveness. Evaluation presupposes that we have'logically ~¢ell-defined goals, suffi-ciently recognized as such.- : o Unfortunately, the Society has not always stopped to evaluat~ its work, or at least it has not always done so with precision, scientifically. Usually, 6116 / Review ]or Religious, l/olume 35, 1976/5, it has.gone about this effort in an improVised and haphazard fashio.n, mak-ing obvious, superficial judgments that do not enable us to reach valid con-clusions. What is more, we seem to be afraid of such evaluations at least subconsciously, considering them a threat. When they are asked to rate their efforts, some feel threatened and called into question, as though such a re-quest implied a negative judgment or a challenge to the project in which they are engaged. But an evaluation is the indispensable means for being able to upgrade. our projects. If in certain cases it should turn.out that a certain project.ought to be revised or disappear completely because it no longer accomplishes its purpose,~ or because ~it blocks projects of ~greater importance, that is the moment for Ignatian indifference. Indeed, why should ~we keep a work going that once upon,a time was co~astructive, but now has become an ob-stacle? The sufferings we naturally feel when told to give up some work are not against indifference; they are an understandable human reaction, a normal manifestation of the love we feel for a project on which we' have ~pent.ourselves, perhaps for many years. But such an evaluation has to be made. The argument from authority comes into play here, since not only GC 32, but the Holy Father, too, wants such evaluations (Acta Romana XVI, 432). Moreover, experience a.nd the intrinsic value of making periodic evaluations also. urge us,to make them, if we want to be consistent with the Ignatian magis which bids us always to offer the greatest possible service of God. The 32nd General Congregation recommends, therefore, that "there should be a definite mechanism for the review of our ministries" (4:77). This mechanism is the indispensable condition,.for having an evaluation, and hence a rational "choice of ministries and sel~ting of priorities and pro-grams" (4:75). The congregation therefore added: "Now is a good time to examine critically how these arrangements are working and, if need be, to replace them by others that are more effective and allow for a wider participation in the process of communal discern, ment" (4:77). The data proyided by an evaluation of this sort will be most helpful and even essential for knowing thoroughly the works to be examined by an apostolic discernment, and they will enable u

Issue 28.1 of the Review for Religious, 1969. ; EDITOR ¯ R. F. Smith, S.J. ASSOCIATE EDITORS Everett A. Diederich, S.J. Augustine G. Ellard, S.J. ASSISTANT EDITOR John L. Treloar, S.J. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS EDITOR Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Correspondence with the editor, the associate editors, and the assistant editor, as well as books for review, should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 631o3. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; St. Joseph's Church; 3~i Willings Alley; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania ~9~o6. + + + REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Edited v¢ith ecclesiastical approval by faculty members of the School of Divinity of Saint Louis University, the editorial ottices being located at 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 63103. Owned by the Missouri Province Edu-cational Institute. 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Manuscripts, editorial cor-respondence, and books for review should be sent to REvlr:w rOa R~L~GIOUS; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint ~ouis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answermg should be sent to the address Gf the Questions and Answers editor. JANUARY ~969 VOLUME ~8 NUMBER t REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Volume 28 1969 EDITORIAL OFFICE 539 North Grand Boulevard St. Louis, Missouri 63103 BUSINESS OFFICE 428 East Preston'Street Baltimore, Maryland 21202 EDITOR R. F. Smith, S.J. ASSOCIATE EDITORS Everett A. Dlederich, S.J. Augustine G. Ellard, S.J. ASSISTANT EDITOR John L. Treloar, S.J. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS EDITOR Joseph F. Gailen, S.J. Published in January, March, May, July, September, Novem-ber on the fifteenth of the month. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is indexed in the Catholic Peri. odical Index and in Boo/~ Re. view Index. Microfilm edition of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is available from University Ml. crofilms; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. HILARY SMITH, O.C.D. Qgiet Prayer for Busy Busy religious today seem to be shying away from more contemplative approaches to prayer. The references to quiet and recollection in the older spiritual books are considered now to refer back to a time when every-one's approach to God was modeled on that of cloistered nuns and monks. Yet, outside the religious life people as diverse as Walter Kerr and about the importance of some we are to maintain our sanity. I think it might be helpful the approach to God through Harvey Cox are writing kind of quiet periods if at this time to see that recollection and periods of quiet is neither an approach suited only for monastic congregations nor simply a far out, naturalistic fad in-dulged in by flower children. I think it might be profit-able to examine the approach some of the busy fathers of the Church used in treating of prayer to show that traditionally the effort to find God through recollection was not a practice limited to people in monasteries and cloistered convents. It is interesting to see what a lofty concept of prayer some of the busiest fathers of the Church recommended to their equally busy congregations. While the fathers did speak of prayer as asking God for things, just as preachers a few years ago did, they did not hesitate to talk or write about prayer as a simple raising of the heart to God, as recollection. This might be expected among the monastic Fathers such as St. Basil. But I think it is significant that the more active fathers--bishops, teach-ers-- should tell their congregations--the same people they warned about fornication and drunkenness--about the higher kinds of prayer. It will be helpful, before looking at the works of the fathers, to establish a fairly clear idea of the notion of praye~ that we will be looking for. What we hope to find are suggestions on the part of the fathers that their ÷ ÷ ÷ Hilary Smith, O.CJ3., lives at 7907 Bellaire Boul-evard in Houston, Texas 77096. VOLUME 28, 1969 ÷ ÷ ÷ Hilary Smith, O.C~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS congregations of working men and housewives practice what we would call today, or at least would have called a few years ago, "mental prayer." In St. Teresa of Avila's classic definition, mental prayer "is nothing but friendly intercourse, and frequent solitary converse with Him who we know loves us." 1 This definition of prayer is broad enough to include methodical meditation and even vocal prayers said well, but I believe that it shows that the essence of mental prayer is not a systematic arrangement of considerations with a concluding resolution. Rather mental prayer consists essentially in "tratando," dealing with God, in a friendly way. St. Teresa presents a more specific method of mental prayer, sometimes called the prayer of active recollection. "It is called recollection because the soul collects together all the faculties and enters within itself to be with its God," St. Teresa says in the now quaint sounding language of faculty psychol-ogy. It is with this specific form of prayer, active recollec-tion, that we shall be especially interested. It is impor-tant for us today to understand that this approach to prayer was not peculiar to St. Teresa or to the medieval monastic tradition. It represents a traditional Christian approach to prayer recommended to busy Christians long before men and women with education and leisure were almost all found in monasteries and convents. I hope that the following few remarks of the fathers on prayer will show that the early fathers, not haunted'as spiritual writers a few years ago were, by the spectre of Quietism, did not hesitate to recommend to their congregations a form of prayer that we might think to be too lofty or too mystical. One. very good example of a father of the Church addressing himself to ordinary lay people yet recommend-ing a lofty prayer of recollection is St. Gregory of Nyssa. He was almost certainly married, since in his treatise on virginity he says that he regrets that he himself is pre-vented from attaining to the glory of this virtue. Al-though it is true that he lived in a monastic community for a while, he is most famous as the active bishop of Nyssa, a post he held for eight years., In his works es-pecially in his commentaries on the Lord's Prayer and the Beatitudes, he has in view the needs of the average Christian. Although he is inclined to the asceticism of the desert, he is not a desert father living in isolation from the world around him--a world that seems in many ways similar to our own--but rather a man living in the .1 St. Teresa, Way of Perlection, in The Complete Works o/ St. Teresa, trans. E. Allison Peers (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1950), v. 2, p. 115. world, steeped in its culture and interested in all it has to offer.~ In his treatise on the Lord's Prayer, St. Gregory de-scribes his idea of prayer: "First my mind must become detached from anything subject to flux and change, and tranquilly rest in motionless spiritual repose, so as to be rendered akin to Him who is perfectly unchangeable; and then it may address Him by this most familiar name and say: Father." a St. Teresa's description of the prayer of recollection in her commentary on the Lord's Prayer is closely parallel. She says: "The soul withdraws the senses from all outward things and spurns them so com-pletely that, without its understanding how, its eyes close and it cannot see them and the soul's spiritual sight becomes clear." 4 We must be careful to understand that neither St. Teresa nor St. Gregory is describing some form of mys-tical prayer. St. Teresa is careful to explain that what she is describing "is not a supernatural state but depends upon our volition; by 'God's favor we can enter it of our own accord." 5 Thus St. Teresa distinguishes this recol-lection from what the students of mystical phenomena called "infused contemplation." St. Gregory is not so explicit, but he gives us to understand that the mind lifts itself from created things and places itself at rest in God. There seems to be no question here of God effect-ing something extraordinary in communicating with the Christian. Less to the point is St. Gregory's definition of prayer in general. He says: "Prayer is intimacy with God and contemplation of the invisible." n Though not so graphic as the earlier description, this definition shows St. Greg-ory's lofty concept of prayer; and, found in a treatise written for laymen, it shows that he was not afraid of presenting his lofty ideas to ordinary people. Another early Christian writer who recommends a contemplative type of prayer to ordinary men and women is Origen. His treatise, De Oratione, one of the first Christian treatises of prayer, was written as a reply to questions raised by his friend and patron, the married deacon Ambrose. Although Origen does not describe a kind of active recollection as clearly as St. Gregory, he does indicate that married folk, such as Ambrose, need not confine their praying to the recitation of vocal pray-ers or to asking God for favors. His description of the preparation for prayer brings to mind St. Teresa's defini- = St. Gregory of Nyssa, The Lord's Prayer. The Beatitudes, trans. Hilda C. Graef (Westminster: Newman, 1954), pp. $, 8, 15, 19. 8 Ibid., p. ~8. *Peers, v. 2, 115. 5 Peers, v. 2, 110. 6 St. Gregory of Nyssa, p. 24. + ÷ ÷ Quie~ Prayer VOLUME 28 ~.969 5 4- Hilary Smith, O.C.D. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 6 tion of prayer as a friendly converse with God. He says that by the very way one disposes his mind to prayer, by the very attitude with which one prays, "he shows that he is placing himself before God and speaking to Him as present, convinced that He is present and looking at Him." 7 Further on he says: "When praying let us not babble, but let us speak to God"; and, "When we pray in this way [in secret] we shall be conversing with God." In another context, in his Contra Celsum, Origen speaks of approaching God in a similar, contemplative-like way. Celsus has complained that the Christians do not worry about the cult due to the national idols, nor do they erect temples for their own worship. Origen answers in a beautiful passage where he says that Christians carry the image of their God within themselves. Every Chris-tian, he says, "strives to build an altar and carve a statue himself, keeping his eyes fixed on God, keeping his heart pure, and trying to become like God." s Again in De oratione, Origen recommends that Am-brose find a quiet place in his home to pray: "If you want to pray in greater quiet and without so much. dis-traction, you may choose a special place in your own house, if you can, a consecrated place, so to speak, and pray there." 0 Origen might well have been speaking to today's busy sisters. Another Church writer known for his work on prayer is Tertullian. Scholars say that Origen very likely drew many of his ideas on prayer from a Greek translation of Tertullian's De oratione. Some idea o[ his realistic recom-mendations to busy people on prayer may be drawn from this remark in his treatise on marriage and remarriage. He has been speaking of the value of continence as an aid in attaining union with God. Then almost equating prayer and union, he says that "men must need pray every day and every moment of the day." This may seem like only a paraphrase of the command "Pray always," but in the context it can be considered as an elaboration of Christ's command. Tertullian does not take Christ's words to mean that we should be constantly petitioning God for help, but rather that Christians should be con-stantly united to God in prayer through much the same kind of converse or treating with God that St. Teresa recommends. One last remark, this h'om St. John Damascene, may serve as a summing up ot what we have seen in St. Greg-ory o~ Nyssa, Origen, and Tertullian about the possi-r Origen, Prayer. Exhortation to Martyrdom, trans. John J. O'Meara (Westminster: Newman, 1954), p. 37. Cels., 8, 17, 18; quoted in Jean Danielou, Origen (New York, 1955), p. 35. Origen, Prayer, p. 43. bility for a contemplative approach to prayer for busy people. It is true that at the time he produced his little work, Barlaam and Joasaph, he was more of a monk than an active preacher, but he says that he is summarizing the ideas of the fathers before him. He says that the fathers define prayer as "the union of man with God," "angel's work," and "the prelude of gladness to come." He asks: "How shalt thou converse with God?" and an-swers: "By drawing near him in prayer." And he ex-plains: "He that prays with exceedingly fervent desire and a pure heart, his mind estranged from all that is earthly and grovelling, and stands before God eye to eye, and presents his prayers to him in fear and trem-bling, such a one has converse and speaks to him face to face." lo Better known, and at the same time a perfect example of a man who was busy, prayerful, and ready to recom-mend prayer to his congregation was St. Augustine. The ditficulty in discussing St. Augustine's approach to prayer briefly is that he has said so much about prayer. I have selected a few passages in which he seems to be speaking especially to busy people and in which he seems to be dealing with what we would call mental prayer, and more specifically with the approach to mental prayer that we described above as active recollection. Shortly after his conversion, before his baptism, Augus-tine retired for awhile to the country where he might have the leisure for prayer. We know from his Con-fessionsix that at this time he began to pour out his soul to God using the words of the Psalmist. But his corre-spondence with his friend Nebridius reveals that at the same time he was trying to withdraw from the noise of the world to find God in the depths of his soul; that he was, in our terminology, practicing mental prayer. His withdrawal was not a flight into the desert or monastery. He still considered himself and Nebridius as "busy people." The recollection he recommends to Nebridius is a practice made easier by the.solitude and leisure he is enjoying for a time in the country, but it is a practice which he says will be helpfullin the midst of activity. First he tells Nebridius of the advantages of adoring God in the "innermost recesses of the soul." He promises him that this recollection brings with it a "freedom from fear," and "an inner peace which permeates our human activity when we return to activity from our inner shrine." Finally, he tells him: "You, Nebridius, are free 10St. John Damascene, Barlaam and Joasaph, trans. Gr. Wood-ward and H. Mattingly (Cambridge: Cambridge University, 1937), p. 295. ~ St. Augustine, Contessions, trans. F. J. Sheed (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1943), p. 185. + + Quiet Prayer VOLUME 28, 1969 Hila~J Smith, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS of fear only when you are inwardly recollected." lz From the Very beginning of h.is life as a Christian; St. Augustine shows, an attraction to solitary converse with God. His own prayer and the advice he gives his busy friend Nebri- ~lius furnish an interesting contrast to the prayer for-merly described in convent spiritual 'reading books. There is no question in St. Augustine's mind about re-pe~ iting many vocal prayers or following-some well-or-ganized meditatiOn plan. A few ~ears later, now a priest, St. Augustine con-tinued his exhortations, .encouraging a ~ontemplative approach to prayer, in The Lord's Sermon 'on" the Mount. He comments on Christ's words: "But when you pray, enter into your chambers." The chambers, h~ says, are our hearts.' We must close the door on things without, "all transitory and visible things which through our fleshly senses noise in upon us while we pray." Then there takes place a turning of the heart tO God; and this very effort we make in praying calms the heart, makes it clean and more capable of receiving the divine gifts. He says: "It is not words we should use in dealing with God. but it is the things we carry in our mind and the direction of our thoughts with pure .love and single affection." These ideas, coming as they do early in St. Augustine's life as a Christian, and very much like, in spirit, the teachings of the neo-Platonists on contemplation, may seem more like Platonism than Christianity. In fact, it might be argued that most of the people cited thus far, including St. Teresa, were influenced by.Platonism. It is not within the scope of this paper to discuss the influence of Platonism on Christian mysticism, nor is the question of great practical import. If authorities on prayer have found that they could effectively approach God in a way that resembles the approach of some philosophers to peace or wisdom, then the marvelous thing is not that some Christians are using a pagan philosophy in their prayer, but rather that there is such a universal inclina-tion in human nature to withdraw from the hustIe and bustle of the world from time to time and turn to loftier things. This inclination was recognized by the pagan philosophers and far eastern mystics, but it can find its best realization in a Christian context in which a personal God comes to live intimately with those who are really dedicated to Him. Later in his life, St. Augustine kept hi~ lofty concept of prayer, although, as a result of his struggle with the Pelagians, he seems to make more mention of prayer as petition. He has to explain that no one can receive ~St. Augustine's Letters, trans. Sr. WilIrid Parsons, S.N.D. (New York: 1951), v. 1, p. 157. grace simply by asking for it, but rather we ask because we have been moved by grace. Nevertheless, his classic definition of prayer in the ninth sermon on the Passion shows that he is not limiting the prayer of his congrega-tion to vocal prayer or meditation. He defines prayer as "the affectionate movement of the mind towards God." In the Enarratio in Psalmum 85, we find the idea ex-pressed above by St. Teresa that prayer is converse with God. St. Augustine says: "Your prayer is conversation with God. ~Nhen you read, God speaks to you; when you pray, you speak to God.'.' As St. Augusdnffbecame more and more imbued with the theology and language of the Bi, ble and more forgetful of Platonism, his thoughts on prayer at6 expressed more in Biblical metaphors than in philosophical abstractions. He had told Nebridius to turn away f(om created things and try to converse with God in the center of his soul. His descriptions of this contemplation of God are not too unlike the instructions of the neoPlatonists on the contemplation of true wisdom. In his later years, St. Augustine continues to instruct Christians on~ the importance of dealing With God through the heart, not just with the lips, of worshiping God in spirit, in truth, not simply in an external way. But now he presents his teaching more in the words of Christ, St. John the Evangelist, the Psalms, and less in the language of Plodnus. He frequently cites Christ's directive about praying in our own chambers, and he explains that the chambers are our hearts,is He quotes Jesus also on not using many words when we pray;14 He likes to point out that the Psalmist who so frequently calls or shouts to God is crying with his heart: " 'You have heard, Lord, the voice of my prayer. You heard when I shouted to you.' This shout to God is made not with the voice but with the heart. Many, with their lips ¯ sil.ent,~ shout with their hearts; others, making a great deal of noise with their mouths, have their hearts turned away and can ask for nothing. If then, you are going to shout, shout from within where God hears." ~ St. Augustine, then, all through his life recommended to his congregations a lofty form of prayer. He did not think it unrealistic to suggest that his people, who Were not cloistered nuns or monks, should strive after a prayerful, contemplative awareness of God's personal presence. Very likely he had achieved a contemplative union with God himself in the midst of his bu~y life and knew that it was possible for others. The modern, harried religious should not feel that his own contemplative aspirations are at all unrealistic. Rather he should see taEnar, in Ps, n. 5; Epis. 130. 14 Sermo 80. 15 Enar. II in Ps. 30, serm. 5. ÷ + ÷ VOLUME 28, 1969 9 ÷ Hilary Smith, O.C.D . REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS them as an important aspect of the Christian tradition in which he lives. Another great, active Church father with lofty ideas about prayer is St. John Chrysostom. He also defines prayer as a "conversation ~vith God." a6 He explains the first verse of Psalm 140, "Lord I shouted to you and you heard me," as the cry of a deeply prayerful man. The Psalmist here, he says, speaks of "an internal shout, from a heart of fire. He who thus shouts with his heart, turns to God with his whole heart." Always interested in the affective nature of prayer, he makes an important dis-tinction in explaining verse one of Psalm 5: "You hear my shout." The shout, he says, is not "an intonation of the voice but an affection of the mind." 17 To indicate the lofty nature of the kind of prayer he has in mind he says that it is a duty which we have in common with the angels. To pray with the proper rev-erence we must remove ourselves from worldly things and place ourselves in the middle of the choirs of angels. Although St. John Chrysostom has special praise for the life of monks he is anxious that everyone should give themselves to prayer, "both civil servants and private citizens, both men and women, both the elderly and the young, both slaves and freemen." as And he gives special instructions for busy housewives who would like to spend some time in quiet prayer. He reminds them that unlike their husbands "in the middle of the forum or before the tribunal, stirred up by external things as by heavy waves," housewives should be able to sit down for awhile in the privacy of their homes and recollect themselves. In this way they are like those who go out to the desert, bothered by no one: "Thus the housewife, always remaining within, can enjoy a permanent tran-quillity." Obviously St. John Chrysostom had the same notion of a housewife's life as many men today--and his ideas were probably received with the same disdain. But we are not citing John Chrysostom so much for his socio-logical data as for the importance he attaches to a con-templative form of prayer even for housewives. He ex-plains that even if she is forced to go out to Church or to the baths, once she has acquired the habit of recollection she need not be perturbed. What is more, the prayerful, recollected wife will be able to quiet a restless husband and help him forget the worries and cares of the forum.19 If we remember that St. John Chrysostom recommends a certain amount of solitude and prayer for everyone, ~ In Cap. X1 Gen., Horn. 30 n. 5. a7 Exposit. in Psalm. 5, n. 3. rs Homil. encomiast, in S. Meletium, n. 3. a~ In Jo. homil. 61, nn. 3, 4. we can profit from his commentary on Christ's prayer away from the crowds. St. John is not suggesting that everyone flee into a desert, but rather that everyone imi-tate Christ by leaving the noise of society for a little while to be able to pray and thus to return strengthened and fortified. It is thus that St. John explains the words of St. Matthew: "After he had dismissed the crowds he went up into the hills by himself to pray." ~0 "Why did Christ go up into the mountain? That he might teach us how appropriate is the wilderness, is solitude, for calling upon God. He thus frequently sought the wilderness and spent the night there that he might instruct us that we ought to seek out tranquil times and places for prayer." ~x St. John insists that the solitude necessary for prayer is not the physical solitude of the desert. Christians can pray everywhere because "God is always near." We can pray "in the bath [St. John seems especially interested in the possibility of prayer here] on the road, in bed, before the judge." ~ He says that it is not necessary to be rich or a philosopher to pray, but that even manual laborers can pray "as in a monastery: for it is not the comfortable-ness of a place, but an upright life that brings us quiet." ~3 St. John's insistence that everyone can pray everywhere at any time is b:.sed on two principles: First that God is always near to us, actually living in us as in a temple: "The grace of the Holy Spirit makes us temples of God so that it might be easier for us to pray." ~4 Secondly, we can pray always because in prayer, "the mouth makes no sound, while the mind shouts." Religious should understand, then, that aspiring to a more simple, contemplative approach to prayer, even in the midst of a highly active life, is not at all unrealistic. In fact it is more in keeping with the Christian tradition and the aspirations of human nature than the formalized meditations stressed so much in religious houses in the last two or three centuries. It is an approach to God long fostered by some of the most active fathers of the Church and recommended by them to their equally active con-gregations. .-o Mt 14:23. -~ In Mt. homil. 50. m Homil. de Canan., n. 11. ~ Ad llluminand. Cateches., I, n. 4. =4De Anna, serm. IV, n. 6. + 4- Quiet Prayer VOLUME 28, ]! VINCENT P. BRANICK, S.M. Formation and Task ÷ ÷ + Vincent P. Bran-ick0 S.I~I., is a mem-ber of the Maria-nist Seminary; Regina Mundi; gri-bourg, Switzerland. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS A dilemma confronts those charged with the forma-tion of religious today. A program of formation which encourages the spontaneity of the religious, one which minimizes regulations and concentrates on personal re-sponsibility seems to be the only valid method of forma-tion today. This is true not only for houses of formation but also for active community life where growth in per-sonal identity and in a way of life must continue. But in such a program of formation severe difficulties of vocation often arise. Self-doubt replaces original enthusiam. Scep-ticism challenges the very viability of religious life. And many leave. I believe these vocation difficulties are neces-sarily connected with this type of formation. In such programs administrators engage and direct the critical spirit of members to the interior structures of the life. Focusing on the life of the individual and the com-munity, this criticism strives to minimize the regulated activities and increase the optional elements of daily life. By allowing a religious to choose for himself the details of his life, the administrators hope both to develop per-sonal autonomy and help the younger member to identify himself fully with the life of the community. Seldom, however, do these great hopes materialize in a more vigorous religious life. In fact where superiors implement these reforms most whole heartedly, the greatest difficulties seem to arise. The critical spirit focuses on the interior structures of the life, and the agonizing questions begin. To what minimum should we limit our regulations? What is the basic concept of re-ligious life from which we can derive these minimum regulations? Can the present superiors be trusted to define religious life as it should be? Can a member rely on anyone but himself to conceive the definition and regulations of the religious life he is to lead? This distrust, self-doubt, and aggression generated by this type of criticism is isolating religious in an extreme individualism and is draining away real enthusiasm. The difficulty, however, is not with the criticism in itself, I believe, as with the notion of regulation implied both in this type of critical questioning and in the defensive at-tempts to answer. The basic difficulty consists in a loss of the practical sense of rule, in attempts to deduce rules from a defined concept of religious life rather than from a practical selection of religious tasks. Without an appreciation of objective task as the coun-terpart of rule, the efforts to criticize and modernize our programs of formation are developing an ex.ag.ger.a.ted self-consciousness. Our great emphasis on minimizing rules and developing autonomy is throwing out of bal-ance the dynamic but delicate dialectic of human life ¯ between self-consciousness and self-forgetfulness in task, between subjectivity and objectivity. "Responsibility," "fulfillment," and "freedom," the key words of today's personalism, pertain to subjective states of an individual, just as "minimum regulation" and "optional time" pertain to the subjective or interior conditions of a community. These terms indicate a re-flection of the subject on himself. As developing from this reflection, they are abstract and formal, belonging to a secondary thematic. As categories of human life they are certainly valid; but when taken out of their relation to a concrete activity in a concrete situation, they are deceiving. When considered outside of this relation, these terms appear very precise in. idealistic simplicity. They are ideals and in their simplicity, they evoke a radical response, a response that is immediate and totally absorbing. Men die for freedom. Priests leave their Church for fulfillment. But when these categories are not separated from their context in life, their simplicity is lessened by the com-plexity of daily business. Their radicalness is tempered by respect for the values of concrete situations. The re-sponse to these ideals can still be radical and totally ab-sorbing, but in a way that is more realistic, persevering, and in the end more effective. The objective and concrete counterpart of these sub-jective and reflex categories is task. Task is the creation of values that can be shared, values not simply of an individual subject but of a public world, where many can partake. Yet, task is more than a man's material work. It includes also his duty to worship God, his duty to be thoughtful and thankful of truth and beauty, because such duties are eminently public, even when accom-plished in silence. Task is the outward going service of that which is not self. By emphasizing task as the necessary correlative of subjectivity, we respect the nature of the human subject. Man is no't an enclosed container but an outward thrust to another. Human subjectivity is basically intention-ality. The self becomes self in becoming other. Here we 4. ÷ Formation and Ta~k VOLUME 28, 1969 + ÷ ÷ V. P. Branick, $.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 14 have the fundam.ental human paradox--a man finds himself through his interest in another, a man achieves personal autonomy by binding himself in love of the other, a man can reflecton ideals only when engaged in tasks. Only the altruistic love of a task can preserve and intensify personal autonomy in the unavoidable restric-tions imposed by daily choices. Choosing some goal or some means to a goal always restricts and limits, whether a person simply accepts, another's choice or whether he chooses for himself. A decision always ex-cludes a multitude of alternatives. But a person who loves his task in no way loses autonomy by this restriction. In his love he concentrates himself in the positive core of his decision, locating his life in the values he wants to accomplish. Without that love he remains scattered over all the alternatives so that the restriction of the al-ternatives becomes a restriction of self. For example, one who loves the task of community prayer can accept the restrictions of a community schedule. One who loves his task of witnessing to eschatological values can accept disengagements from some elements of the commerce of civilization. In these loves a person seeks the fulfillment of what is not himself, and by so doing he develops in and through the unavoidable limitations. Fulfillment by love of task is such a common occur-rence that we tend to overlook it. We find it in the suc-cessful professional man, in the loving parents of a fam-ily, in the dedicated missionary. Conversely, we are struck by the lack of autonomy in the person concen-trating on his own stature in a type of adolescent self-consciousness. The person concentrating directly on achieving his autoflomy is the person least capable of finding it. By centering his attention on himself he can-not maintain the intensity of his normal thrust to the outside without which he cannot live as a mature free man. The man without a task is a tragic figure. The soul searching into which he is forced only aggravates the loss of identity he suffers. He is caught in a closed circle until another comes to him and appeals for his cooperation. In our present appreciation of personalism, the notion of task has faded from importance. Task appears as an impersonal category, something to do rather than some-one to relate to. But in no way are task and person op-posed. Rather the two notions are inseparable in the understanding of human relations. A task has signifi-cance only in view of the person who will benefit from it. And relating to a person implies concrete action that is more than purely symbolic gesture. To limit our cor-poral activities in interpersonal dynamics to mere signs of interior attitudes is to attempt an angelic community and to end up in a gross sentimentalism. Our interper-sonal relations are not simply encounters between spirits. Human community demands the creation of values through corporal work as a medium of com-munication. Task as an impersonal category is an in-dispensable presupposition for a truly human person-alism. A human community receives its unity and its identity from its common tasks. No community can exist on its own substance. A community which concentrates only on interior community life will never attain the well being of its members. The cohesion and dynamism of a com-munity results from a common advancement toward a goal which transcends the community. The convergence of the members with each other results from the con-vergence of all the members on a common goal. In selfless striving for this goal, the members find them-selves united. Their mutual confidence rests on the con-fidence each has that the other' is striving for the com-munity goal, or at least is not surreptitiously seeking his personal advantage to the detriment of that goal. Dis-unities are constructive only if they occur in the context of a greater dynamic unity. If the members agree on their general task, their different ways of conceiving the specific work enter into a productive dialectic. Even adamant differences about the means to accomplish a task are not divisive in the context of agreement about the end. But where members disagree on the basic task of the community, where they dispute the primary pur-pose of themselves as a group, there can be no dynamic coherence. No amount of dedication of the members to each other as individuals can supply for this lack of dedication to a common task. No matter how much the members love each other as persons, they cannot function together. In such a group, accord can exist only by agree-ment not to work together. That is, accord can exist be-tween individuals, but not between members of a func-tioning community. After saying all this about the dependence of the in-dividual and. communitarian subject on its tasks, we cannot stop here without risking a onesided distortion. All I have said is open to the totalitarian interpretation that individuals and communities should uncritically accept and dedicate themselves to tasks handed to them from the past. This is not true. A continuation of the analysis of the relation between self and task indicates why this is not true. Our objective tasks are not fully intelligible in and by themselves. These tasks depend on the subject just as the subject depends on the tasks. Every task presupposes a certain readiness in the subject. Ira man is not ready to meet objective realities by a Formation and Task VOLUME 2B, 1969 15 V. P. Branick, $.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS certain sensitivity or openness to them, he will never recognize them when he comes across them. And with-out this recognition the objective task can never exist. An educational task exists only for an educated person. A religious task exists only for a religious person. Only by knowing his own religious demensions can a person articulate and thereby give reality to an objective reli-gious task. Besides depending on a subject's recognition, a task also depends for its existence on a subject's freedom in accepting or rejecting it. A task exists only as someone's task, and only in a person's free decision can a task be-come his. The automaton cannot create a task for itself because it cannot freely identify its good with the accom-plishment of the task. A free decision is thus necessary for the existence of a task, and such a free decision pre-supposes a subject who has already achieved.a degree of selfhood or autonomy. This dependence of the object on the subject holds also for communitarian dynamics. The recognition and free acceptance or rejection by a community of its task presupposes a level of coherence and self-understanding already .existing in that community. A task could never draw a group if the group could not direct itself through a group decision. We seem to have an unbreakable circle here. The autonomy of the subject presupposes a thrust toward its objective task, but this thrust presupposes the au-tonomy of the subject. In reality this mutual dependence exists more as a dialectic or oscillation between self and task, by which the subject grows in maturity and his work grows in precision and importance with each turning of the self to his task and from task to self. At the beginning of this dialectic lies, on the one hand, the basic openness of the human spirit, and, on the other, the original call of reality which can only be the direct appeal of God Himself. Task, as this dialectic reveals, has a role in human life which is at once relative and absolute. Any given task will be relative because it depends on the subject who can therefore criticize and change it. This dependence of the task on the recognition and decision of the subject refutes a totalitarian submission of the person to his work. The autonomy which the task confers on the subject is the autonomy l~y which he can dominate the task. But because this autonomy is indissolubly linked with task as such, task is absolutely indispensable to human existence. We cannot change or criticize our need to work as such. And this absolute need to give ourselves to task is present in a concrete way in any given task no matter how temporary or contingent it is. In all its provisional and contingent character, the task at hand remains the source of dynamism for the human dialectic of growth. In fact, the mature development of task requires a very delicate balance between self-reflection and outward-going service, between critical detachment and dedicated engagement, between autonomy and abnegation. Today in many areas of religious life, I believe, we have upset this delicate balance. The sudden wave of self-criticism which religious life has undergone has over-weighted the subjective pole of the dialectical balance. Individuals and communities have almost locked their sights on themselves in a direct concentration on their subjective fulfillment. The surging experience of the need to criticize and modernize the communitarian tasks is failing to issue into a more intense outward dedica-tion. This need to criticize and modify tasks has resulted primarily from the advances of Christian theology in the last twenty years, advances which in a way climaxed and received great publication in the Second Vatican Council. Modern theological insights showed the great horizontal expansiveness of Christian life, the great variety of ways in which Christianity can be :lived. The former theologies. tended to picture Christian life in a rather narrow ver-tical plane which allowed variety only in terms of hier-archic positions. The various tasks of Christian life dif-fered from each other because some were more perfect than others. This gave an absolute character to de-cisions in the selection of concrete tasks. In this narrow but precise view of Christian life, the various tasks of religious orders--their ways of prayer, their apostolic works, their degree of cloister--all seemed direct deduc-tions from the gospel following necessarily from a totally unlimited acceptance of Christianity. By showing the horizontal expansiveness of Christian life, modern theology has changed this view. We can now see many ways of acting and working as Christians, each way with a dignity proper to itself, a dignity that is not simply a limited edition of that belonging to a more perfect task. Modern theology has not depreciated the basic tasks traditional to religious life; but it has rela-tivized them by presenting them in the context of other tasks, thus showing that the acceptance of a task results more from contingent decisions than from absolute de-ductions. There are pressing needs for so many tasks that no necessity binds a community or an individual to one or the other. Seeing for the first time the contingent and provisional character of their tasks, many communities and individ-uals are experiencing a real crisis of identity. The tra-ditional tasks on which they built their identity seem 4- ÷ 4. Formation and Task VOLUME 28, 1969 ]7 ÷ ÷ ÷ V. P. Branick, $.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ]8 to have been depreciated because they have been rela-tivized. For people who tend to think always in ab-solute categories, this relativization of traditional com-munitarian tasks is anguishing. Many religiou.s have become worried about their fulfillment and autonomy through such tasks. This worry often leads to a search to reabsolutize the community tasks, finding a modern task that is the task of the Church today. Although opening new possibilities and purging re-ligious life of obsolete structures, this intense concern about personal antonomy and this criticism of all tasks at hand is impeding the turning outward toward work in self-dedication. By fixing attention on tile subject, this critical self-consciousness is obstructing the oscillation between selfhood and task and in this way is diminishing the general vitality of religious life. Houses of formation are especially susceptible to this loss of vitality becanse it is there that the dialectic be-tween religious identity and religious task must begin. Equipped with neither the subjective identity of a re-ligious congregation nor an understanding involvement in its present tasks, candidates arrive usually with simply a willingness to enter. At this moment of entrance only a vivid presentation of tasks can engender enthusiasm, a presentation of tasks which the person sees worthy of his dedication. Concentrating on such tasks a young religious will gradually develop a self-possession in the style of the congregation that will make him fully responsible for its works, that will allow him to live without thought of external pressure, that will enable him to criticize and modify his tasks. But if on entering religious life or during the years of formation, he sees in the administrators a paralyzing hesitation regarding tile most basic tasks, if his program of formation turns his attention constantly back to him-self in questions of autonomy, fulfillment, and minimali-zation of rules, the dialectic of growth can hardly begin to operate. There is certainly no facile answer to the problem of developing religious enthusiam in a time when all tasks of religious life are being revaluated. We cannot simply ignore the severe doubts that do in fact exist in the minds of administrators. But the present hesitation to present concrete tasks to religious is serionsly hampering the possibility for formation. A rehabilitation of religious task must take place on two levels. The first level is that of the Church as a whole. On this level we can recognize a permanence and uni-versality of tasks. In the life of the Church there is a permanent need for some people to pray in a way that disengages them from personal participation in the eco- nomics and politics of our world, just as there is a per-manent need for others to ~ray in a way that involves them person.ally in economic and political progress. These needs derive from the very nature of Christianity. On this universal level we can articulate a theology that shows the beauty and depth both of the traditional and. o~ the new tasks of the Church. Such 'a theology of the functions of the Church can present these tasks in such clarity that they engender enthusiasm and initiate self-dedication. The second level is that of the particular congrega-tion. On this level we must learn to understand the co,,n~tin, gent and limited nature 'of the congregation'~ en-traiace into the universal work'of the Church. From the expansive range of ecclesial tasks, each with its own theology and permanence, a" congregation must decide on specific tasks to assume. This decision is necessarily contingent on historidal and p~rs~nal ,circumstances, but this contingency need not prevent an intense adherence~ to the tasks. The decision by a congregation will be based on its continge~tt capabilities, as a result of a his-tory of insights and ~pecializatiops, but in that decision a congregation enters into theuniversal dimensions evangelization. A chosen task may not be the most cen-tial, the most perfect possible task of the Church today, but by accepting it with its limi(ations, a religious con-gregation can take its part in the whole work of the Church in all its depth and beauty. The only alternative' to this is a perfectionist idealism that paralyzes all forts. Although in the actual appropriation of a task the two levels blend together, each operates according'to its own rules. The first level is theological and universal; the second, historical and contingent. Formation to task takes place on both levels. It educates to a vivid aware-ness of the universal tasks of the Church and to an ac-ceptance of the contingent communitarian decisions by which a society shares in these tasks. By focusing attention on the fulfillment and spon-taneity of the individual, many programs of formation today run contrary to the needs of both levels. The tasks of the Church are being obscured. Relieving the anguish-ing needs of the people of the world, bringing all men to an intimate knowledge and love of Christ, worshiping God as a community~these tasks of the Church are being displaced by concern for personal development. At the same time, the emphasis on minimizing rules and foster-ing spontaneity is blurring the need to accept the con-tingent communitarian decision of a task and the struc-ture of authority that makes the communitarian decision possible. Certainly we should be pruning away obsolete Formation and Task 19 rules, rules which are no longer associated with a task. But the effort simply to minimize rules for its own sake is equivalent to the effort to minimize community tasks. For a religious dedicated to the community work, the minimization of rules is not a burning issue. The dis-tinction between what is regulated and what is optional is of secondary importance. Rules appear as means of coordinating community effort, as expressions of what the community expectsof an individual, how he can contribute to the community functions. Since contribu-tions to the community functions may vary in a contin-uous range, from indispensable activities to actions which have little relation to the community work, the categories of "regulated" and "optional" are simply in-adequate to divide the day. Endless discussions about the precise limits of regulations indicate that the ques-tion of task has not yet been resolved. Formation must begin and end with mission, a selec-tion and a confiding of tasks, an education of people to the realities of these tasks that evokes their love for the good to be accomplished through these tasks. Trying to educate people to self-direction without at the same time giving them tasks will always tend to a loss of self-giving. Educating people to love and know tasks, allowing the tasks to draw people will inevitably result in a develop-ment of responsibility and self-confidence. The dynamism of task is the only atmosphere conducive to human autonomy. ÷ ÷ V. P. Branick, S.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 20 JOSEPH FICHTNER, O.S.C. Religious Life in a Secularized.Age Vatican Council II, in its decree on The Appropriate Renewal of the Religious Life, analyzed our renewal as a twofold process and laid down two generic principles for the pursuit of that renewal.1 The first principle takes us historically backward, the second forward. The first principle is a continuous return to the gospel of Christ as a basic norm of the religious life, and the second is an adjustment or adaptation to the physical, psychological, cultural, social, and economic conditions of our day. But at this point already one should ask the question: Is not religious life caught in a false dilemma when it at-tempts to return and renew itself at one and the same time? 2 How can it move backward and forward simul-taneously? Is it possible for religious to draw their in-spiration from the gospel as well as adjust themselves within the context of a secularized age? The decree underscores the return to the gospel ideal first of all; this is why a concerted and communal effort is to be made to catch anew the gospel inspiration as a rule of life and conduct. Yet the gospel presents reli-gious with no stereotype of their life that is always and everywhere valid and that they can turn to when-ever they find themselves in religious straits. In order to re-evangelize we have to ask questions of the Bible out of our own concrete, contemporary life, because the religious life experience of 1969 presents us with prob-lems. The problems are compounded because we have till now developed only the embryo of a new style of life which shows very indistinct features of further growth. XN. 2. "E. Schillebeeckx, "Het nieuwe mens- en Godsbeeld in conflict met her religieuze leven," Ti]dschri]t voor theologie, v. 7 (1967), pp. 1-27. I have followed to a large extent the development of ideas in this article. See also Soeur Guillemin, "Renovation de l'espHt et des structures," Vie consacrde, v. 38 (1966), pp. 360-73; she covers much of the same ground from a more practical point of view. Joseph Fichtner, O.S.C., is a faculty member of Crosier House of Studies at 2620 East Wallen Roadi Fort Wayne, Indiana 46805. VOI'UME 28, 1969 - ~oseph Fichtner, O~.C. REVIEW F.OR.RELIGIOUS We are asking questions, therefore, which the past Christian generations could not have asked since they did not live in a secularized age. The gospel cannot reply to questions not put to it; nor does it await questions from us which were already put to it by generations past.,'It is inconceivable that we should inquire .intb the Sc'riptures from the same van-tage point, say, as Sts. Jerome and Augustine had to do for .their respective communities whose members did not take vows but simply pledged themselves to persevere in their religious purpose. The medieval monks interpreted the Bible in a much different way than we can, and they tended to encapsulate the religious life into a profession of the three vows, a notion retained by canon law in its definition of the religious state.3 The former tendency was to regard the religious experience as a form more or less of flight 'from the world, of self-denial; renunciation, the exclusive service of God. We must strenuously reject the identification of the evangelical community life with the fo~ms it has taken in a given period and locale. Perhaps~- though you will have to judge this for yourselves--the change with the times and places is harder for the woman religious because of her naturally (and in other respects advantageously) conservative spirit. The past.historical ~onception of religious life hardly coincides with the demands made upon'human life by a secularized society.4 If we are to research the gospel for goals and guides to present,day religious .life, then we will have to approach it with an open mind, not with the m~ntality of our forebears, founders or foundresses, most of whom lived in a pretechni.cal, preindustrial, pre-democratic age. We may e~,en, have to rephrase our. ques-tions once. we listen to the cadences of God's word. The gospel may. echo. to us the question whether we have been tuned in to the secularization process critically, whether our life context offers any guarantee of human values. The times we live in, with their alternate possibilities of. good~, and evil, do not simply call for an unqualified adaptation. .-Hence what the decree aims atis that religious.evaluate their world in the light of the gospel. Some kind of eval-uation has already.been done for the Church at large in the Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World; here the world is seen from a threefold view-point-- as created, as fallen and sinful, and as loved and redeemed.5 Religious life itself has to be reinterpreted 8 C. 487. ' ]. Bonnefoy, A.A., "Presence au monde ~an.s une vie religieuse," Vie consacr~e, v. 39 (1967), pp. 353-67. ; . ~ 8 E. Pin, $.J., "Les insfituts religieux apostoliques et le ~hang~- ment ~ocio-cultuel," Nouvelle revue thgologique, v. 87 .(1965), pp. 395-411. by means of a confrontation between the two, gospel and world. Without such a confrontation, the attempt either to re-evangelize or to adapt is empty and meaning-less; it is sold short by too much evangelization on the one hand and too much humanization on the other. The only way to arrive at a confrontation of the two is to examine human experience today in the light of the gospel and to understand the gospel from the viewpoint of contemporary human experience. Man today looks upon the natural world as the raw material out of which he can create his own world. The supremacy he feels over the things of the world is chang-ing his view of himself too as part of this world. Through his own scientific work he finds himself able to live a more human life; by humanizing the world round about himself he is discovering more human values. One of the values that he has freshly uncovered and that have prompted him to make the world more hu-manly livable is his freedom. Freely and creatively he would carve out of the world a home where the human community can exist in justice and love. He is filled with an indomitable desire to build a better world where men can live together in the solidarity of justice and love. But the humanization of the world by means of science and technology has also created, by way of a byproduct, the danger for man to render this world uninhabitable. The Great Society has been so organized by man that it has well nigh done away with other human opportunities such as the contemplative side of life offers him. He is forced almost to flee from the world in order to have the time and place for that contemplation which does not only regard the things of God but respects the dignity otr his fellowmen. Man risks the danger of treating his fellowmen as things and of overpowering them, of using and abusing them as he would the things of nature. If he loses his respect for his fellowman, he is liable to manip-ulate him, exploit him, and usurp his rights to human achievement.6 Of all the human qualities young people wish for themselves and expect of others the most out-standing are personal right, authenticity, trust, under-standing, loyalty, and honesty. They reject any and every sort of depersonalization. Man can so dominate the world socially, economically, and politically, that he runs roughshod over his fellowman. So the same scientific and technological progress can be both a boon and a threat to a more human existence, depending upon the use to which man puts it for his fellowman. The whoIe secuIarization process that has fallen into human hands has affected man's stance toward religion, 6S6eur Marie-Edmond, "Qu'attendent les jeunes filles de la vie rcligicuse communautairc?" Vie consacrde, v. 39 (1967), pp. 40-50. + Religious LiIe, Secularized Age VOLUME 28, 1969 23 ÷ ÷ Joseph Fichtn~r, 0~.~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS though primarily it is a social event that of itself need not lead to any irreligiosity. It does, however, set man upon the pinnacle of the temple of this world; it puts him into a relationship with the world which he never yet experienced. This change of relationship and his own understanding of it is bound to alter his view of God. While formerly the Church was the means of bringing his attention to God as He operated in nature, history, and society, now that man has asserted his creative power over the world, he has at the same time contrib-uted to its desacralization. God would seem to be left out; man comes to the fore. As a result the conclusion we can easily reach is that secularization and desacralization are pagan, heathen, or anti-religious. But the fact of the matter is that this proc-ess has both Christian and non-Christian elements and hence cannot be accept.ed unqualifiedly or uncritically. If anything shakes the younger generation, it is their fear for the destiny of a world so insecure in its secular struc-tures. To give the secularized world its due, we must ac-knowledge it with faith as God's creation to which he gave an autonomy and secularity. Our belief in His act of creation implies that the world be left wholly other than God---creaturely, human, worldly. 0nly if we recog-nize the world for what it is can we catch some insight into who God is, as Someone unworldly, transcendent, uncreated. The more we tend to sacralize the world, the less transcendence do we attribute to God and the less likely are we to worship Him alone. Acceptance of the world and everything worldly from a divine point of view means setting the world free for man; to secularize it is to allow it freedom, a created autonomy. In a sense, then, the secularization process follows from Christianity itself as a consequence of its refusal to commingle, confuse, or fuse God with the world. Chris-tianity has no intention of divinizing or Christianizing or baptizing the world from within, but rather of keeping the world humanized through the retention of its essen-tially human values. Christian secularity is precisely this, that Christians in a spirit of faith discern the dif-ference between the concrete Christian and the pagan elements which make up the world and allow it to be itself. Grace makes it possible for Christians to prepare for Christianization, that is, to secularize and humanize the world by means of a faith outlook. The Gospel does not sterilize the heart of man, emptying it of an appre-ciation of all earthly and human values; rather it opens to him the same full human perspective which Christ had in assuming and recapitulating humanity. Sin alone dims or eclipses the possibility of that perspective. This is the kind of world, its history and culture, in which we must situate the religious life, and this is the same world in which we can ask the appropriate ques-tions of the gospel for the inspiration of the religious life experience. A false understanding of the world will in-evitably lead to a series of false questions. It will incline the religious to view nature, the world, man, negatively, and argue for a flight from the world. The old concept of God.has undergone a change along with the old concept of the world. But the death-of-God theology has evidently failed to come up with a new con-cept of God. In the. past Christianity was always con-vinced that God is inaccessible and ineffable. Faced with the radical inability to express themselves about God or present him to their fellow Christians, theologians and mystics resorted to an apophatic or negative theol-ogy. They admitted to knowing less about who God is not than about who He is. Oftentimes God was popularly conceived as one who intervened in the world; such repre-sentations of Him in the ordinary theological manuals reflected the social and cultural milieu. The experience of faith in God was colored by the social and cultural context necessarily, but 'this did not render it less authen-tic than the experience of faith in our own cultural situation. 'If our era is less sure of and less concrete in its con-cepts of God, it is because we have turned God into a big question mark and into a popular conversation piece. Perhaps there has been more conversation about Him since his "death" than there ever was while He was still considered "alive." We would like to unmask all the former illusions about God and do away with all the pseudo-gods of the past, but in getting rid of all such idols we have not clarified or facilitated the making of God in our own image. By raising the problem of God in our own day, we are likely to forget our own human condition which threatens to falsify the truth about God. In searching for Him we run the risk of creating other idols .than those we just finished demolishing. One of our approaches to God which hides some of His reality for us and which we may be guilty of in the religious life is to think that we can dedicate our-selves to him directly and exclusively. This approach may be devoid of any real, concrete content, a sort of chase into empty space, a flight after some utopian ideal. The only way remaining for us to express ourselves about Him has to derive from our experience within this world and within this era of salvation history. God speaks to us through men, their world and history; this is the hearing aid by which we can listen to His voice. There r.eally is no opposition between God's word in Holy 4- Religious Lile, Secularized Age VOLUME 28, 1969 ÷ ÷ ÷ Joseph Fi~htner, O$.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Scripture and the authentic religious life experience of today, for the Scriptures provide us the norm whereby we can be faithful listeners to His word as it appeals to us in today's life experience. The latter feeds our under-standing of God, concretizes it, and gives content to our belief in God. To overlook this fact is to retrace our steps to the days when Christians felt it their duty to separate or alienate themselves from the world. We have no criticism to offer of their religious posture, be-cause it had meaning for them, but it leaves us without a real living God. Today we have the idea that to try to approach God directly and exclusively, without any worldly and human medium, is an unchristian illusion. We are inclined, if not theoretically then practically,, to distinguish between a Christian and a pagan secularity. We believe we come in contact with the living God in and through and with our fellowmen. This does not mean that as Christians we do not respond to God immediately and personally, but that our relationship with Him is real and concrete be-cause mediated through worldly and human realities. Christ experienced the immediacy of God's presence in Himself, in and through His humanity. He willed to be-come God in human form. In like manner we encounter God in the immediacy and mediacy of that image and likeness of Him which is man. What is immediate and what is mediate are not mutually exclusive but are linked together in our relationship to God. Against this modern background the religious life must examine the Scriptures to seek the solutions for the problems facing it. Sacred Scripture contains a number of evangelical counsels that simply are irreducible to the three classic vows the medieval monks or nuns pronounced. In fact, the gospel refers to only one counsel,7 one which was not expressly imposed or urged upon the early Christians.s It teaches that the perfection of love is attainable by all Christians, whatever their state of life, without their having to keep the counsel of celibacy.'° All Christians are called to an observance of the commandments and the other evangelical counsels in order to attain the per-fection of love. The one counsel alone is left to the free choice of every Christian and is the evangelical source from which the religious life has grown. Essen-tially, therefore, the religious life is a freely willed Chris-tian celibate life. This life is lived mostly in a community because few people freely will to live it in solitude.~0 7 Mt 19:10-2. s 1 Cor 7:25. ~ 1 Cor 13. ao Soeur Marie-Edmond, "Qu-attendcnt les jeunes filles?" The personal choice of this style of life is motivated by the gospel and makes sense fo~ alifetime only in virtue of the same~ The force of this motive is borne upon those young people who because of the instability and.change-ability of our age fear giving themselves to any style of life demanding continuity and stability. One who is will-ing to spend his entire life ~s a Christian celibate does.so because he is sensitive to the grace of 'God .cifll'ing. him in thegospel. He feels himself responsible to" God-who so strongly affects him that He becomes the source"of his religious life. But ~he particular form or structure of the religious life inspired by the gospel is ~as such a human project and a human construct. The whole human side of this life has developed in the course of history and is bound up with its vicissitudes. It,has t6 face the challenge of changing customs and cultures in older to survive arid renew itself. .We misunderstand the gospel message if.we base bur choice of a celibate life on a gupernatural motive alon~, as if we conceive the delibate life as a ctfoice between the natural good of marriage and .the supernatural good.of celibacy.11 Dedication of a celibat~ life to God has both immediate and mediate aspects about it, just a~ marriage itself. A couple united in Christian man'iage have an immediate duty toward God though they may mediate their love for Him through each other and thdy mayex-periefice tension and conflict in a way similar to what religious feel when they try to mediate their love for God through the world' and their fellowmen. The reli-gious life therefore has no immediate relationship to God without a worldly and human mediacy. Sometimes the immediacy of the religious life is more apparent, .'for instance, when religious live and work in community~ pray, celebrate the liturgy; at other times, in the apos-tolate, the mediacy of such a life comes into starker relief. Christian ~elibacy has also a human meaning, a natural value aside from its supernatural value, for otherwise, no matter how religiously or supernaturall~? motivated it is, it will somehow be left hanging in the air. Essen-tially it does not consist in a.chgice between God and 'a life partner; rather it is a positive choice of aw~y k)f life having natural and human meaning for those who have the iniier ability to embrace, it. Their choice, when you analyze it thoroughly, does not come down to one be-tween God and creature or between God and the world of man, but it is one which springs from the wholenes~ of his being. Celibacy of its nature permits the celibate to concen- ~ Schillebeeckx, "Het nieuwe mens- en Godsbeeld," p. 12. 4- +- +. Religious Ei~e, - Seculhri~ed Age VOL'U~E 2~, 4" 4" 4" Joseph FichOtn.Se.rC, . REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS trate upon a certain life value and to dedicate to it his entire life. He freely accepts celibacy because he is con-vinced this is the only way, special as it may be, for him to be totally expendable. The value he has discovered within himself so fascinates him that he is willing to remain unmarried to achieve it; he places himself at its service; he considers it a part of an authentic life. Christian celibacy, moreover, adds to the natural value a religious, charismatic value, especially if men and women would concentrate their whole life upon its value because they would be witnesses to the world of their conviction. Within the Church their witness to the value of celibacy is a more easily and understood sign. It is seen to be a means some men and women take for the sake of the kingdom of God. Religious give to the world an irreplaceable witness of a supratemporal element alive and at work in it. In a sense they transcend history, manifesting a supernatural value and significance--point-ers to a life beyond the present. The better they can serve mankind in this way of life, the better they are able to serve the God who founded His kingdom among men. Religious men and women will show to the world the. authenticity of their life only if they commit them-selves totally to it, convinced that their expendability makes their style of life worthwhile. Others may sacrifice marriage for the sake of a tem-poral career--scientific, social, political, cultural; but Christian celibacy on the contrary entails sacrifice for the sake of a religious value. In both instances there is a sacrifice of a human value, but in the latter a trans-cendence of the religious self becomes evident. The sacrifice points to a transcendence--men and women are willing to give up marriage not for some secular good but because they want to give evidence of the religious dimension of life.x2 The religious sign value of celibacy too easily fades out or is lost among those who engage solely in a secular career, good and beneficial to society as it may be. More than ever in the past religious must be a sign of the transcendence of God in the midst of a secularized world, even when at times this sign may appear to be nothing else than a protest against a world gone pagan. They give eschatological witness of a life that overcomes the temporality of this worldAa Christian celibacy has essentially a close affinity to the other evangelical counsels, poverty and obedience, in that they too contain positive human and religious values. Heretofore the general tendency has been to re-gard the counsels or vows too negatively and isolatedly. = Karl Rahner, "Reflections on the Theology of Renunciation," Theological Investigations, v. 3, pp. 47-57. 18 Lk 20:34-7. When a problem arises, we are prone to isolate it and to forget it may have far-reaching and entangled roots (the race problem provides a good example in those who advocate job opportunity for a cure-all). Perhaps we lose sight of that unity of purpose which brings all counsels together--the following of Christ in His kenotic life; and especially the unity of the person living a trinity of counsels. Like Christian celibacy, poverty and obedience are questionable because in our time and culture they seem to lack any positive value. Today's trend is to stress the need of getting rid of poverty and of accentuating free-dom, and thus to outdate them. The question then arises how are we religious to retain the positive, human values of the two at a time when they are considered caricatures or illusions of reality. For example, how are we to evaluate poverty in a society characterized by mass production, mass consumption, white-collar work, a so-ciety preferring to poverty a prosperity that promotes health, welfare, and education programs, and leisure? Religious poverty makes sense only if it is in keeping with the real poverty existing among peoples today. Its inherent demand is that we live on a similar basis with the poor and at the same time, precisely because we have pledged ourselves to be poor, join in the effort to better the lot of the poor. Religious poverty must square with the economical situation of society and must take into account the level or standard of living. Young reli-gious are filled with a sense of sha~'ing rather than econ-omizing (as formerly) material, intellectual, and cultural goods--a spirit more current with the times. A balance has to be struck between the means and the end of the religious institute which, in any case, will require a special moderation in food, clothing, recreation, and a determination to earn a communal living by hard work. In addition, various kinds of social work performed by religious may lend themselves to social progress. Religious community life can no longer model its authority upon the medieval feudal system. Religious authority that appeals for obedience in the name of God's will is old-fashioned; it dates back to that old era of the divine right of kings. It leads to a confused idea that superiors must reign and their opinion must prevail under the pretext of deriving their authority from God. On the other hand, wherever like-minded people are ¯ gathered into a community, however much they may be motivated by love, they will still have to hold to the inte-grating factors of authority and obedience. Faithful re-ligious do oblige themselves to observe the will of God. Such a spirit of obedience is all the more sensible when Religious Li]e, Secularized Age VOLUME 28, 1969 ~9 ÷ ,÷ ÷ Joseph FicOht~n.Cer., REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ¯30 it believes God speaks His will not only through the superior but within a life situation, within a community living together with love, friendship, dialogue, for the common good, and from within one's Own conscience. This type of obedience is not a blind following of the .superior's will rather arbitrarily determined or unex-plained, nor the keeping of meaningless, minute, mean commands, a routinized life without any commands at all, a perfunctory performance of duty without any pro-fessional competence, but an open-eyed observance of God's will as it is made known within an entire life situa-tion. The American practice of obedience functions best in an equalitarian atmosphere; Americans will not tol-erate supremacists in their midst; they are. used to bu-reaucratic (in the good sense of the word), consultative government. The religious life then consists not first and foremost in a negation, the exclusion of positive human and religious values, but in a special Christian, meaningful way of life. This life does entail the sacrifice of such values as wealth, marriage, independence which most Christians freely choose and cordially treasure. By the mere mention of the words "sacrifice" or "renunciation, we are likely to turn off people who think such practices .dwarf the human personality or stifle its spirit.14 Renun-ciations, however, are emphatically no evasion or escape f.r.om the world. The paradoxical fact about them is that they detach us to some degree from the world so as to allow fuller involvement in other ways.15 Religious do not directly choose to sacrifice earthly and human values, but they do choose a Christian way of life full of other and superior values accepted in a spirit of faith, hope, and love. Tertullian once re-marked: "Every choice implies a rejection." ~0 In choos-ing a kenotic way of lift Christ did not sacrifice human values m~rely for the sake of supernatural values; His prefere, nce was for a way of life out of various, meaning-ful messianic possibilities. Among other things His was a predilection for a celibate life because it left him free to establish the kingdom of His Father.17 Religious likewise are inclined toward a style of life which does not drive them from the world but enables them to orient their life, energy, and competence toward the world's future. Theirwhole thrust is to take the world with them to God, and this is the reason for their willingness to accept sacrifice or renunciation along with that a4 Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World, n. 41; Dogmatic Constitution on the Church, n. 46. ~ K. Rahner, "Reflections." 16 Apology, 13, 2. ~"~ Lk 9:23. faithful and unconditional service they would give to God and their fellowmen. The loving service they offer concretizes that self-emptying which contradicts an egotistic spirit. The love they dedicate to God and to the world of men expressly calls for self-criticism, sacrifice, and self-emptying. If there is any emerging feature of the new-style religious life it is the conviction of its' mem-bers that they have to be present in and open to the world. The fact that the religious life is a matter of lifelong choice makes it difficult for people of our times to recog-nize its value and meaning. They are quite well con-vinced, and rightly so, that man is so built as to be un-able to appreciate the unknown dimensions of a human act binding him for a lifetime. Human psychology is so complex that for one to make such a binding decision wonld oftentimes be irresponsible, lighthearted, an act tmcharacteristic of the human will. This attitude is exemplified not only in the modern outlook upon the religious life but upon marriage too. Can man morally commit himself to an obligation that, humanly speak-ing, seems to be contradictory to his very nature? No matter how free and knowledgeable his act may be today, he cannot foresee tomorrow--he may react differently to his choice once he is put into hard circumstances where he is likely to experience his failings. To validate and give meaning to his decision, his only alternative is to entrust himself to Christian hope. That this modern mentality has a glint of truth about it, there can be no doubt. But there are values which for the moment we cannot, certainly not [ully, appreciate or approve, which nonetheless surpass the momentary situation and are imperative for the integrity of man. They have an enduring value; they hold good in any and every situation (with some exceptions) which man has to abide by if he is to be true to his own nature. In the matter of the counsels and their public pro-fession, the vows, we are dealing with a choice that in the first place is not ethically binding, it is not necessary, it is not a matter of commandment. So why should anyone be obligated to keep his choice for a lifetime if he has freely willed it in the first place? Man has an intrinsic right to freely change his mind, to decide tomorrow against his decision today. But this human vacillation is obviously giving the world much trouble. The value of following the counsels for a lifetime lies not in a freedom of choice alone but in the free and faithful acceptance of a way of life. It evidences how a religious finds it pos-sible and meaningful to dedicate himself for life despite his failings and mistakes; he accepts a lifetime of service. Fidelity too, and not only freedom, is a basic human + Religious Lile Secularized VOLUME 28, 1969 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS quality, .substantiated by both the nature of man and his history. The will-to-fidelity must have meaning therefore; it is not a mere will-o'-the-wisp; it is the expression of the human self once and for always. Despite the fact that man can point to the vicissitudes of history and to the uncertainty of the future, that he can personally leave himself open to various possibilities for the sake of ex-periment, to see how he reacts to them in the process of maturing, still his human limitations tell him that he cannot experiment or vacillate in his decisions forever. His human limitations force him to make that decision to which he can devote the totality of his life. This is what psychologists have called the "fundamental op-tion," which has its correlative reality in a fidelity to grace and is motivated by a single love, the following of Christ. The fidelity, and integrity of a life of the counsels springs from our efforts, gradual and constant, to per-sonalize them, unify them, liberate ourselves thereby from the selfish impulses which may dominate our lives. Fidelity and integrity are ours to the extent that the counsels permeate us; taken together they add up to a complete style of life. I dare say one reason for religious discontent stems from the failure to bring the three counsels within the focus of the one fundamental option. The saying, "Divide and conquer," applies here: the more divided and disrupted a life, the greater the loss of personal energy and the less resistance to difficulties.18 To be a full man is to be faithful to the true self. It is by totally giving that each of us becomes totally him-self. The full Christian is one who gives a faithful re-sponse to that divine fidelity which never fails him unless he proves faithless to himself. The basic human reason for the inviolability of the religious life is the fundamental option, and not the pub-lic vow from which the religious can be dispensed. The religious who opts for the celibate life is a living em-bodiment of the counsels, particularly celibacy; they do not exist in the abstract or in vows or in constitutions. In making a lifelong choice man wants to be true to himself and thus to bind himself in the service of a basic value. This value is an enrichment to both the religious him-self and to his community. The value, as it were, me-diates between the person and the community, recip-rocally helping the person to serve the community and the community to respect and draw benefit from the per-son by warding off some risks of instability. In its wider scope, the value of a religious community extends to the unlimited horizons of the Church and society. When See Summa theologiae, 2-2, q.44, a.4, ad 3. a person publicly announces his fundamental option to live a celibate life in a religious community, he makes an appeal to the community to help him be a full man and a full Christian. He is helped negatively when the com-munity does not interfere with or hinder the realization of his fundamental option--the development of his personality under grace; he is helped positively when the community has a concern and care for his life ful-fillment. The binding force of a vow is derived immediately from the option one makes of God but mediately from the religious community and the Church in which the religious pronounces his vow. The religious .vow has a quality of reciprocity between the religious himself and the community of his profession. Between the two there exists a sort of two-way street of right and responsibility. In our sociotechnic world there still is much need of the other-directed spirit, of teamwork and a measure of con-formity and mutual respect to obtain the same goals. The religious cannot oblige the community onesidedly, nor can the community willfully or lightly discharge its duty toward the religious. Just as the religious can prove unfaithful to his community, so can the community fail the religious particularly if it does not renew or up-date itself. The human and Christian quintessence of the reli-gious life consists of a special concentration upon a lifelong value by means of a freely willed Christian celibacy. Whatever is added to this quintessence is of human creation and consequently is historically con-ditioned. The evangelical inspiration is subsumed into a variety of concrete forms and structures and institu-tionalisations, all of which are bound up with historical experiences and cultural patterns. None of them has eter-nal value, not even the form(s) the founder or foundress gave to the gospel message. Whenever the evangelical inspiration is found wrapped in a new life experience, its particular value can be questioned and criticized by the psychologist, sociologist, economist, hygienist, anthro-pologist, and others interested in the practical life of man. They compel us to rethink the religious life as it is time-honored and -bound in our constitutions. It is a fatal mistake to identify the latter with the gospel in-spiration. The Council fathers of Vatican II were not unmindful of the fact that religious institutes periodically revise their constitutions in order to adapt themselves to time and place. Surely in calling for a radical overhauling of the religious life they were thinking of the social and cultural revolution we are passing through, when slight and detailed changes and modifications are not enough. + + + Religious Li~e, Secularized Age VOLUME 28, 1969 33 + ÷ Joseph Fichtner, 0.$.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS There is much room for consolidating, deepening, and trimming. The crisis we face is deeper and graver than we know; it is clearly evidenced by the revolutionized concept of man and God in our secularized age. If the religious institute as we know it is to survive, we must make a heroic effort to restructure and revitalize it. It does not need a heart transplant, but it will need a series of blood transfusions. Needless to say, the religious institute that cannot or will not adapt will sing its own requiem. The gospel inspiration of the religious life offers no guarantee that the various traditional forms or structures have to endure forever. A religious institute may well have served its purpose and should go out of existence or coalesce with a more viable group. The life experience today is so new, so revolutionalized, so secularized, that in a sense all re-ligious institutes can be considered old which do not reinterpret the gospel in the light of the new life situa-tion. We have to bear a crisis so severe that only a radical restructuring of the religions institute will tide it over: This restructuring has to be more than an offscouring of antiquated practices, making our life easier or more sociable. It has to arise from a thorough re-evangelisation which asks questions of itself and of life as religious live it in a secularized society. Nobody can accomplish this tremendous task but the community itself, and especially its young members who are not baffled by the new life experience becat~se they have been born and raised in it. But one can hardly insist enough upon the duty of the entire community, young and old members, to enter into the restructuring phase. This is not a task divided between the young members pushing ahead with a crea-tive spirit and the old upholding the canons of ortho-doxy. Both have to be patient and indulgent. Nor is it a summoning of an endless series of meetings and discus-sions where members reflect upon their life, haggle back and forth over community life, the apostolate, the struc-tnre of authority, and what have you, yet in the mean-while make no effort at experimentation with new forms and are fearful of groping toward a reincarnation of the religious life. Who does not feel stymied by an inconsist-ency between thought and action, plan and life? Given plenty of room for experimentation, for pilot projects, not necessarily in every monastery or convent but here and there where local needs require it and the proper authorities are willing to assume the ultimate responsi-bility, where everybody enters enthusiastically and not merely tolerantly into the experimentations, thus mani-festing their loyalty to the institute, the religious life will blossom out anew, perhaps in an unsuspected way-- at least under the mysterious, unforeseeable guidance of the Holy Spirit. ANDRI~E EMERY Experiment in Counseling Religious When* I began working at the Hacker Psychiatric Clinic in 1961---on the staff of which I am the only Catholic, unless I count one doctor, who although baptized Catholic does not consider himself a member of the Church--the general opinion of the staff would have paralleled the oft-quoted but not sufficiently validated statement that many more religious than lay persons were mentally ill. At that time they thought, I guess, that most if not all religious must be at least a little crazy.~ In the past seven years the climate of opinion in our clinic has changed, not as a result of apologetic dialogu-ing but through every day, pragmatic experience. Today, if one were to ask our staff for an opinion, they would probably say that the problems of religious were rather similar to those of lay people but that on the whole the religious seemed to be more insightful, more intelligent, and more motivated toward resolving their problems. O£ course, except for the very ill, who constituted merely a fraction of our religious clientele, intelligence and moti-vation could be presupposed; otherwise they would not have asked for psychiatric help. The Hacker Clinic is not a subsidized agency but a private clinic with some 20 professionals on the staff, most of them psychiatrists (M.D.'s). Because of its private character, patients who seek help there are mostly middle-class, financially independent or well insured, and thus comparable to the well-educated and, sup-posedly, well-socialized religious. In the past three and one half years 156 religious--73 men and 83 women-- and 6 diocesan priests were seen in our clinic. I, personally, spent more than 3500 hours interviewing these men and women. Since each person * This is the text of a talk given on August 8, 1968, at the Ameri-can Canon Law Society's Workshop on Renewal at Notre Dame, Indiana. 4- Andr~e Emery, area director of the Society of Our Lady of the Way, is a sociologist and clinical counselor residing at 127 South Arden Boule-vard; Los Angeles, California 90004. VOLUME 28, 1969 ÷ ÷ admitted to our clinic undergoes a full evaluation, which includes testing and psychiatric consultation and in-volves interviews with at least three different profession-als, and since some religious were seen in therapy not by me but by other members of our staff, the total hours spent by our clinic with religious and priests could easily be three or four times this number. I did not include in my 3500 hours time spent in workshops, conferences, seminars, personal interviews during educational ven-tures, nor time spent evaluating aspirants before they were accepted into a community. Thus the 3500 hours, and some, were devoted entirely to direct clinical inter-views, either for evaluation or for therapy. The 156 religious seen in the past three and one half years--118 of whom were finally professed--represent 34 communities. Of the finally professed 66 were religious sisters, 5 were religious priests, 31 were major seminar-ians, 14 were teaching brothers, and two were members of a secular institute of men. One religious priest was on leave of absence, one woman religious was exclaustrated, and three were dispensed from perpetual vows shortly before coming to the clinic. Of the remaining 38 religi-ous, 21 had temporary vows--5 men and 16 women-- and 17 were novices, of whom 14 were men. Only about 10 per cent of these patients were diag-nosed psychotic and approximately another 10 per cent as severely neurotic. The majority merely had problems, probably not very different from those who did not seek our help. The median age of all religious men and women and diocesan priests whom we saw was 28 years. The median age of the men was somewhat lower than this figure, be-cause of the relatively large number of seminarians and novices among them, and that of the women was some-what higher. Only 19 per cent of the women and 8 per cent of the men were over 40 years of age. The services rendered by the clinic varied. 78, fewer than half of the total, were simply evaluated by us. Of these we recommended therapy or counseling for 37, but to our knowledge only in ten instances was our recom-mendation followed. The other 27 did not receive the recommended help. At present, there are 10 men and 10 women religious in therapy in our clinic, 7 of them for less than a year, 13 for more than a year, and there were 64 others in therapy who are no longer coming. 22 hospital patients were visited daily; the majority who were outpatients were seen once or twice a week, and a few follow-up cases were seen once a month. All were seen in individual therapy, but 15 were also in group therapy. Priests and brothers attended group sessions with lay men, the sisters had their own group. 86, or more than half of all the religious and priests seen by us in the past three and one half years, told us that they wished to leave the religious or priestly life. Had we had longer contact with those whom we have merely evaluated, the number might have been even larger. We did not ask them directly about this and not all volunteered unasked-for information in the first in-terview. Exactly half of those who mentioned leaving did leave, most of them shortly after evaluation and without hav-ing been given an opportunity for further counseling-- or perhaps not desiring it. Ten who were in therapy in our clinic left their communities after therapy was in-terrupted against their wishes or against our recommen-dation. Of the 74 whose therapy with us was not interrupted, only four left--three during therapy and one after mu-tually agreed termination of therapy. These figures speak for themselves: problems can and should be solved rather than run from. After listening carefully to a relatively large number of religious men and women, I asked myself the ques-tion: Are their problems similar or different from those that weigh down our other patients? We cannot separate our personal growth and our in-dividual crises from the historical development and con-temporary crises of the group with which we are identi-fied. There is no human being who is free from the influence of the society into which he was born and in which he has been raised. While we sift perceptions and experiences through our personal physical and psycho-logical apparatus that is very particularly our own and give them special emphasis and slant, our apperceptions, our symbols, our values, our conflicts, our likes and dis-likes, the very traits that we think of as most personal, most expressive of our individuality, are suprapersonal. They are consensual with the culture in which we are rooted; at least they must be such if we are to be con-sidered "normal" and not "odd" by our contemporaries. This was brought home to us rather early in our ex-perience with religious patients. At that time some of our non-Catholic staff still expected to find intolerable conditions triggering if not causing the acute problems of religious. (Off the record, I have seen conditions in religious houses of men which I, or most any woman, religious or lay, could not have tolerated, and I am sure that some men, in turn, would feel the same way about our houses.) But to come back to the clinic: Not more than half a dozen of our religious patients described without corn-÷ ÷ ÷ Counseling Religious VOLUME 28, 1969 37 4. Andr~e Emery REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 38 plaint, external circumstances in their convents that seemed intolerable to us. The remarkable thing was that. the communities from which they came were all foreign in their origin and rule and also in their membership. The conditions described would have seemed intolerable to most American religious, too; yet the religious who lived under these conditions, including our foreign-born patients, did not find it particularly intolerable. And so we had to face the fact that our judgment of what was tolerable or intolerable was made from' the point of view of national culture, which was the same for American doctors as for American religious from active congrega-tions. Taking this basic dependency on the culture group for granted, we cannot be astonished that many of the basic problems of religious men and women in the United States do not seem to differ greatly from those of other American men and women. The growth of Western civilization, together with its stratification and specialization, has created models of shifting, sectional, and contradictory prototypes, from Ronald Reagan to Martin Luther King Go Malcolm X. Ours is a mobile society, multi-valued, materialistic, outer directed, as the sociologist would say, easily brain-washed by mass media, advertisements, fads, and. ffish-ions. It is peer-group oriented rather than hierarchical and, at present, is plagued by rebellions, which while not necessarily more violent than those of the past are cer-tainly more ubiquitous. Change and not stability is the epitome of this kind of society even in human relationships, as the steadily in-creasing divorce rate dramatically shows. That time, and thus change, is a human dimension was already recog-nized by Heraclitus 2500 years ago. But the rate of change is not constant; some structures change slower than others; and there are periods when the same entity, be it matter, living being, or human society, slows down or accelerates. The period in human life when change is most evident is adolescence. Yet Erikson, who is perhaps the best known psychologist of this country, calls this period "moratorium"--delay of adulthood, which the young person needs to integrate earlier childhood experiences and to learn to conform to the larger society which will soon replace his immediate family environment. In our Western world--and, particularly in the United States which is considered the apex of it--this morato-rium on adulthood has become extended far beyond the period of physical and sexual maturation and," thus, adolescent problems he.avily "interlace and aggravate the problems that young adults, as a matter of course, must face. It is not that our young who marry or enter religion are much younger in age than were those in former generations, but their readiness to assume adult respon-sibilities, particularly continuing responsibilities, seems to be less. Young and not-so-young religious who were born and nurtured in our culture are no less exempt from this extended moratorium and its consequences than are their married counterparts. Is it really--as we often hear---~the hierarchical struc-ture of religious communities that keeps religious im-mature? More immature than their lay counterparts? We did not find religious more immature or more frequently immature. But, obviously, those who did not wish to assume responsibility, for whatever reason, had a better excuse, a ready-made rationalization. Still, the child wife, the happy-go-lucky husband are not rarities either. The impulsive adolescent who marries or enters religion, having "fallen in love," will back out quickly, and this will be less traumatic for the religious than for the married. But those who cling to the idealized image con-structed by their immature motivations and resist facing reality---even a reality not inferior to their fantasy, just different--will experience severe crises, in marriage or religious life alike--one, two, five, ten years after their initial commitment. The fantasy wears away bit by bit, leaving them numb, empty, and somehow feeling cheated. I was told with great feeling by a 25-year-old mother of four that she had just discovered that she was not a teen-ager any more but "mommy" and that she did not like it a bit. As a matter of fact, she did not know whether she liked children at all. And I had to listen to a very angry, very depressed young superior of 28, who "just wanted to do a good job," but whose ambition was thwarted by the non-cooperation of several sisters, in-cluding one severely mentally ill, and who found that she could not maintain the unruffled, cooly kind exterior that earned her the early appointment to office. The pedestal broke, both under the community where "such things could happen" and under her who could not live up to the fantasy ideal. But to go a step further: Not only does our culture extend the moratorium on adulthood, it openly vaunts that adulthood is not worth aiming for. We have a cult of youth--the historical development of which, though relevant, cannot be presented here. Youth has ceased to be regarded as a transition period in which adult living is learned, in which adult identities are crystalized. It has become an aim, an identity, a subculture, emulated in some ways by the broadest segments of society. Who wants to be an adult today? (And who wants to be a + + ÷ Counseling Religious VOLUME 28, 1969 39 A~dr~e JEnt~ry REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS religious superior?) The model wears a miniskirt not only on her hips but in her (or his) head. At the same time, in strange contradiction but with unavoidable logic, we have put terrible responsibilities and burdens on young shoulders, probably more so than did any former generation. One of the main characteris-tics that differentiate human from animal life is time binding: the ability to transmit experience from one-generation to another. To demand from young people that they learn all the answers "on the go," pragmati-cally, by experimentation, to pretend that in the few years of their lives they could and should discover or duplicate the accumulated experience of mankind is sheer hypocrisy, or what is worse, delusion. The im-mature cannot become mature in human society with-out guidance. To quote Erikson: "By abdicating, by abrogating responsibility, the older generation deprives the young from forceful ideals which must exist for their sake--if only so that they can be rebelled against." Ra-tionalizing our inconsistencies and vacillations, our cow-ardice and lack of principles, with the excuse that it frees them from dependency does not help the young to grow. Is the peer society of the street gang superior to the authoritarian family still found in urban minority groups and in farming areas? If we elected (or, God forbid, appointed) only religious under 35 years of age into all offices, would that really guarantee a better gov-ernment than when we acted according to a different cultural pattern and gave the offices only to the old and supposedly "wise"? Are the younger more tolerant, do they show more empathy, more Christian virtue than the old? Or the other way around? No. The generation gap is legitimate only as an ado-lescent phenomenon--as a pause (though a very active pause) in which the young person has left childhood behind and has not yet reached adulthood. Otherwise the gap is mostly semantic: personalities clashing because they do not use the same symbols, same words, for the same concepts. Interestingly, now it is the old who are expected to learn the jargon of the young and not the other way round. I still smile when I remember a recent conference attended by some 200 people where no one was less than twice 16, and most three times that age and more, and where we had to sing Ray Repp songs during Mass--which in my opinion are both poor music and poor theology--just to show that we were "with it." To this point I have spoken only of a basic social fact--I don't like to call it problem--that affects both lay people and religious in our culture and which is at the root of many symptoms that we encounter in the clinic. There is an important facet of the present confusion that (oncerns religious and priests in particular. At a recent discussion in our clinic I was asked whether I could specify the ideal, the model of a religious--his own concept of his role or identity. I had to admit that had I been asked this question ten years ago, or even five, I would have thought it answerable--but not now. Incidentally, I have asked this same question of several major superiors and received just as vague a reply. It becomes more and more clear that the theology of religi-ous life still needs to be written. Up to the time Pope John opened the windows of the Vatican, we have had--and to some extent we still have--a subculture of religious institutes, distinct though related to othe~ subcultures of the Catholic Church. In the United States the religious subculture was colored by Irish-French, or rather 'French-Irish Ca-tholicism. This religious subculture, this cultural island, was well defined, stable, hierarchical, in contrast to the mobile, multi-valued, peer-oriented culture that sur-rounded it. It had not only a particular philosophy but also its own symbolism and language--understood only by the initiated but understood by all of them much in the same way. Because of its confidence-inspiring stability and the idealism of its teachings, it greatly appealed to many: to the searching, to the young who wanted to cut the apron strings but still needed support, to those who needed status, or those who wished to leave behind materialism, competition, and self-seeking. In a sense it was all to all: it provided security and challenge, asceticism and freedom from cares, opportunity for self-development and oppor-tunity for self-sacrifice. Or so it seemed. As we have been a nation on wheels for some time, not only the present generation of religious but at least two previous ones had to do quite a bit of adjusting to this distinctly delineated structure when they left their families of origin. Perhaps the children of foreign-born parents found it easier to adjust--perhaps not. It de-pended on how much they introjected or, conversely, rejected the values of their primary group. But whether first, second, or fourth generation of Americans, all who entered attempted to adjust to religious life as they found it. I said, attempted to adjust, because our early up-bringing cannot be completely eradicated and conflict patterns will persist. Many of our seriously ill patients were older men and women: some chronically ill with symptoms of chronic frustration in attempted adjust-ment; some acutely ill, with primary processes breaking through the surface of more or less successful controls exercised for years. Adjustment to the religious life, however, has not been 4- Counseling Religious VOLUME 28, 1969 4] ÷ ÷ ÷ A~tdr~e Emery REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS entirely a one-way street. Needs and values which the individual member brought from his primary culture had also an effect on the religious institutes. These slowly changed, became more American in character, sought some kind of equilibrium with the broader society around them. Still, on the whole, they remained distinctive. Thus, the young person who entered might have found it more or less ego syntonic, more or less cor-responding to his personality and early upbringing, but rarely found it completely so. The religious way of life always demanded sacrifice, self-denial, rejection of some earlier values. At the same time it offered sufficient re-wards to enable the individual to exist in it. And then, if I may say so without offending, after Vatican II we suddenly changed horses mid-stream. The point here is not whether the change was for the better or for the worse, and most of us hope and trust that it will be to the better; nor am I questioning the need, in some respects the overdue need, for change. I merely wish to underscore the unavoidable problems that arise from such a massive and headlong change. For the sake of illustration, imagine that you are a teacher, nurse, or drill-press operator and on short notice you are told that your job description and the require-ments for employment have been redefined and that the procedures as well as the rewards have been changed. Moreover, not only are the old role definitions super-seded, but you are told that you must get new directives and guidelines--except that you are not sure from whom or what. Would you not get upset? As one of my patients said: "Formerly we knew that if we got on the boat that went in the right direction and didn't get of[, we were ok. Now we are made personally responsible to get where we are going, but no one has yet thought it through how to get there." Under such circumstances it is understandable that severe conflicts develop. You will say that most of the changes were thoroughly discussed and dialogued, that they were not sudden, that opinions were polled, votes were taken. No one's good will and integrity are being questioned. But even if experiments Were discussed beforehand, did we evalu-ate them thoroughly afterwards? This conference is an attempt to do so. Just how long is it that we have been discussing them? Two years, three years, five years? If we cannot integrate complex childhood experiences during the normal years of adolescence and must extend the moratorium, just how long do you think we need to sift and integrate the huge mass of divergent opinions, rules, roles, and behavior that has been sprung on us in the recent past? A frequent consequence is panic, and not necessarily among the old timers who now have an excuse to remain passive, to leave the initiative to the young, and, if they cannot resist temptation, to sit back and criticize. It is more often the young who panic, because the responsi-bility is too great. Hence exodus of many young progres-sives. Willy-nilly, they accept re.sponsibility for them-selves, but not for the groupl And one cannot blame them; the rules of the game are equivocal and they do I . not know what will prove rewarding. When the religious role is merely a thin veneer on the .I personality, under the abrasion of uncertainties and clashes it wears off. Religio6s ,,who s'eeme,d, to be well adjusted now revert to tlaeir real selves--and since public disapproval has diminished--leave the subculture with which they were not fully identified. It is only lately that we have come to recognize that ¯ I keeping young religious isolated for long periods in the exclusive company of their peers, even for the sake advanced education, did not help them develop ~rich human qualities and did not foster community spirit. They tended to remain a sepa, rate group which out of psychological necessity had to f, ancy itself better and dif-ferent from others, inside and outside the community. The unreality was further inflated when the young sisters were assigned, strmght from school, into positions which their lay ¯counterparts ~could achieve only .after many years of hard work. We liave seen the young Ph.D. who was made a full professojr right after she received her degree leave the community when she encountered the first serious obstacle; the[ young R.N., supervisor without ever having been a rookie nurse, getting doctors, staff, and patients into turmoil land feeling "defeated for good"; the young priest, promiiing member of his order, going literally on a sit-down strike because he could not do all that he expected from hi~nself and from others. Into this group belong also t~e men and women whose delayed adolescence led to so-cAlled "late blooming" and who leave religious life because of real or purported .I sexual oroblems. In our experience, there were far fewer of .these than generally assumed, at least among the women religious. Here I must stop and quali[y~ what I have just said. In the last two months 78 case histories accumulated on my desk, of clients not seen by us in the clinic but about whom I was consulted by a non-sectarian adoption agency. These are cases of seventy-eight ex-religious, most them college graduates, many with advanced degrees, who left their convents 6 to 18 months ago and who are expecting a child out of wedlock. They are mostly in their middle thirties, and most of the fathers of the child ÷ ÷ ÷ Counseling Religious VOLUME 28, 1969 Andr~e Emery REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 44 to be are members of underprivileged minority groups. Not one was a victim of rape. Practically all said the same thing: our community did not change fast enough with the times; our community is not involved with the poor and underprivileged. We wanted to get dose to people in a personal apostolate (none of them were trained social workers); we wanted to live with them in the inner citymand get involved. And so they did. A few of them stated that they were advised by priests to leave the celibate life and get married. But, one of them added bitterly, they never warned her how few eligible men there were in her age bracket. Not knowing these women personally, I cannot judge how many had serious sexual problems, for which this certainly was not the answer, and how many were naively following fashions or using broadly preached but not sufficiently thought through slogans to excuse their im-mature acting out. As regards the quoted advice, it seems to be freely given to both men and women religious, as if marriage were a cure for sexual problems, to be used on prescriptionmwhich incidentally doesn't work rather than a sacrament and a responsible human relationship requiring maturity and mutual respect from the part-ners. ~Arhile some of the foregoing is a regrettable but pre-dictable reaction to stress, enhanced by a cultural incli-nation to buy what is advertised or what is in fashion, irregardless, there is an additional psychological com-ponent in the existing confusion among the religious. When a person searches for a new identity or new iden-tification, by definition he ceases to act in the role of a mature adult. He regresses to quasi-adolescence, to turmoil, indecisiveness, influencibility, impulsive acting out. We have seen this syndrome frequently in refugees and adult immigrants when they tried to adjust to their new country and its culture. The search for new mean-ing, new relevance, new identity in the religious life, whether to the better or worse, per se increases the turmoil caused by other individual and social factors. Perhaps the present quasi-adolescent upheaval of the religious is unavoidable, and hopefully it will lead us into a more and better integrated religious adulthood; but it is painful for those who go through it and more often than not embarrassing for the onlooker. Having become aware of widespread immaturity in comtemporary society and of its consequences, we are now inclined to fall into another pit. We are tempted to demand the impossible: that the girls and boys who enter our institutes, seminaries, convents, be mature. Per-haps maturity could be demanded if we would up the entrance age by some 20 years, in the hope that someone else would give the young the necessary guidance and would develop their personalities for religious life. We cannot stock novitiates and seminaries with sure bets--we have to take chances. We cannot screen out all who are immature, because if we do we abdicate as religious educators, as adults who take the responsibility for nurturing and forming the young. And certainly we should not screen out anyone on the basis of one test, given in absentia and scored by someone who never saw the applicant in person. On the other hand, we should not let young religious take perpetual vows when there is a serious question regarding their suitability. Severely neurotic persons, not to speak of psychotic or potentially psychotic ones, should not be burdened hy commitments which they will not be able to keep. But, when a professed member of a community be-comes disturbed or mentally ill, do we have a right to say that he should never have entered, that she never had a vocation, that they should be let go if at all possible? Are only the perfect seated at the banquet of the Master? Father Orsy last night said that St. Peter would not have been canonized--I don't think he would have been ac-cepted into a novitiate. Are our disturbed brothers and sisters very different from us but for being harder hit by suffering? Who is my neighbor? Only the under-privileged in the inner city? These troubled men and women in our communities are our closest neighbors. They are our poor: we have accepted them, we formed or tried to form or deform them, and we must bear their burden if we are to be called Christians. There are great differences in attitudes toward disturbed religious in their communities. Trying to get rid of them, with the shallow excuse that they never had a vocation and never should have been accepted, is injustice, even if there should be some truth in it; sending them from house to house or cramming them into the motherhouse is no answer to the problem either, and neither is the plan to live in an apartment with chosen friends the solution. When I said good-bye to the chief of our clinic, he said: "You will make a theological point, won't you? [He meant some reference to religion.] After all, you will be speaking to religiousl" I am tempted to belabor for a couple of minutes the often heard remark that no one wants to commit him-self today--which is true to a certain extent. But more often than not we found that persons, religious or lay, are desperately hungry for commitment. They want to give themselves to something or someone. They so very much want to entrust themselves to some group or indi-vidual. But they have not learned to trust because they Counseling Religious VOLUME ~'8, J.969 + ÷ Andr~e Emery REVIEW'FOR R'EL'~G IOUS ,t6 have not found anyone really trustworthy in their young years. Therefore they want and need some tangible evi-dence of appreciation, something in exchange--love or ~uccess--and they want a way out if things do not work out. Their needs are unfulfilled childhood needs; their reservations are rooted deep down in bone and marrow. The concept of commitment is not easily reconciled with such reservations--certainly not Christian commitment which must be an adult act of self-giving. I know that the saints and particularly the mystics are not "in" now, but rarely have I found a better description of the "perfec-tion of charity" (if I may use such an antiquated term) than in one of St. Catherine of Siena's mystical dialogues when she heard our Lord say." I have placed you in the midst of your fellows that you may do to them what you cannot do to me, that is to say, that you may love your neighbor of free grace without expecting any return from him. Someone asked how to tell whether a tree brought good fruit? We are too often inclined to think of success as good fruit. From where did we, Christians, get this notion anyhow? Of instant success as a must? Or even as hard-earned reward of the just? Christianity always was a losing cause, at least in the short run. Few apostles have reaped where they have sown. There was a small item in the Los Angeles morning paper the day I left home. I cut it out because of its deep significance for us. The follow-ing is an excerpt from it: The finest sermon he ever heard, said Dr. Eugene Carson Blake, was just three sentences long. It was delivered by Miss Kathleen Bliss of the Church of England, before the Central Committee of the World Council of Churches last year. In a very brief closing service we had sung the ancient hymn, "Veni Creator Spiritus". Dr. Bliss then read from the Gospel of Luke in the 4th Chapter, the account of Jesus returning to Nazareth and entering into the Synagogue and opening a book where it read, "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me because He has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovering the sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed, to pro-claim the acceptable year of the Lord." ,, Then Dr. Bliss spoke her three sentences. Our hymn was a prayer in which we dared to ask for the presence and guid-ance of the Holy Spirit. We never know whether He will come or what He will do to us if He comes. I remind you that the scripture account which we have just heard goes on to tell us that Jesus' neighbors in Nazareth then tried to kill Him." .There is another variation on the success theme that is even more disturbing than the naive expectation of in-st~ int reward. In our work with religious we frequently came face to face with a man or woman, capable, tal-ented, "who was deeply angry, resentful, depressed, be-cause he or she was not omnipotent. Some wanted to change others, some wanted to change themselves, some sought external success, recognition, others the persdnal satisfaction of achievement, or, occasionally, material goods. None of them faced "this carnal reality," the limits of human existence, in themselves and outside. They wanted something and therefore it had to be. If it did not happen, they went on a "strike" or they became negative, withdrawn, maneuvering-~each according to his personality. Passive-aggressive? Not always. But what-ever the pathology or the character structure, with one's "third ear" one perceived the echo of the ancient pro~nise: And you will be like God--all knowing, all powerful. When the promise did not come true, there came forth the even more ancient answer: Non serviam. I will not serve. Familiar? Some years ago it was thought that emotionally dis-turbed and mentally ill people were often preoccupied with religion. Actually, in certain crisis periods of life, such as 5-6 years in childhood, in adolescence, in the so-called change of life, when approaching death, people become preoccupied with basic human problems: life-death, love-hate, God or the void. There is a certain logic in that people should turn to God in periods of suffering and turmoil--though sometimes this might be expressed in the form of cursing. I might have misunder-stood one of the earlier speakers, and if I did, I apolo-gize, but it seemed to me that she said that the suffering and the dying are always completely self-centered. Not always, as many concentration camp cases have shown, to mention only extreme instances. When an individual is deeply rooted in a culture that recognizes the tran-scendent, and if his childhood trust was permitted to grow into adult faith, even if he experienced shorter or longer periods of emotional fatigue (to use an euphe-mism) in high and low periods of life he will return to God. This is why I was deeply shaken by the fact that of the 161 religions and priests to whom I have listened for several thousand hours, only two, one priest and one brother, mentioned God. No matter how much I would like to shun it, how can I avoid asking the question: What tragic lack in us, Christian parents of the present generation, religious men and women, teachers, nurses, social workers, catechists, what tragic lack in us has buried God so deep that even the suffering and the troubled cannot reach Him today? Indeed, there is a need for renewal that goes far beyond adaptation. + ÷ ÷ Counseling Religious VOLUME 28, 1969 ANDREW J. WEIGERT Social Dimensions of Religious Clothing Andrew J. Wei-gert is a faculty member of the De-partment of Soci-ology and Anthro-pology at the University of Notre Dame in Notre Dame, Indiana 46556. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS The Catholic experience as presently interpreted in America is undergoing many changes.1 In the midst of such widespread change, there may be a danger in under-valuing certain sociological dimensions of clothing in the case of the religious orders, both men and women, and to some extent for the diocesan clergy as well. The prob-lem is no doubt most pervasive in the religious orders of women. At the same time, there seems to be some un-clarity and lack of simple sociological principles to in-form the discussion and aid in the decision making. A folk adage has it that "the cowl does not make the monk," but the resistance offered to changes in religious garb from certain quarters makes it apparent that some may think differently. Nor is such resistance always to be attributed to unthinking conservativism. It may be based on a well founded respect for the "reality" and social, power of appearances. These realistic bases for questioning the advisability of change for the sake of change deserve respect and should be distinguished from various traditions which grow around uniforms (for example, saints appearing in a certain habit) as attempts to legitimize and sanctify a uniform for all times, places, and social orders. The present discussion of religious clothing will focus around two value orientations which are taken to be more or less conflicting: witnessing for other-worldly (transcendent) values, and identifying with this-worldly (immanent) values. In order to witness for other-worldly values, an individual must be recognized as standing for such values; and the sign, for example, a uniform which cannot be identified with contemporary cultural styles, which enables him (throughout this paper, the him will refer to the "religious," both male and female, with all wish to thank Sisters Rosina Fieno, C.S.J., and Mary Margaret Zaenglein, I.H.M., for criticizing .an earlicr version of this paper. II due respects to the latter) to be recognized as a witness also sets him apart from non-witnessing persons. Simi-larly, in order to be identified with this-worldly values, an individual must be recognized as belonging to the group which shares these values. Social recognition, as mediated by clothing, is a cognitive process whereby the viewer classifies and labels individuals according to his interpretation of their tailored appearance. An in-escapable social-psychol0gical dimension of every social order is the necessary visual "giving off" of information about his place and identity in that society which each individual proffers in his appearance. Stated aphoris- ~tic.ally, a member of society cannot not "appear," tha

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

Issue 17.6 of the Review for Religious, 1958. ; A. M. D. G. Review Religious NOVEMBER 15, 1958 Plus Xll: St:at:es ot: Pert:ecfion . John Carroll I~ut:rell .! Current Spiritual Writing . Thomas G. O'Callaghan Preliminary t:o Adapt:at:ion . Sister Maria The General Chapt:er . Joseph F:. G~llen Book Reviews Questions and Answers Index t:or 1958 Roman Documents about: Mary and World Needs Catholic. Workers Spiritual Assistanc~ [or Soldiers VOLUME 17 NUMBER 6 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS VOLUME 17 NOVEMBER, 1958 NUMBER 6 .CONTENTS PIUS XII (1939-1958) AND THE STATES OF PERFECTION-- John Carroll Futrell, S.J . 321 OUR CONTRIBUTORS . 325 CURRENT SPIRITUAL WRITING-- Thomas G. O'Callaghan, S.J . 326 SUMMER-SESSION ANNOUNCEMENTS . 338 PRELIMINARY TO ADAPTATION Sister Maria . 339 MEDICO-MORAL PROBLEMS . 350 SURVEY OF ROMAN DOCUMENTS~R. F. Smith, S.J . 351 THE GENERAL CHAPTER--Joseph F. Gallen, S.J . 358 BOOK REVIEWS AND ANNOUNCEMENTS: Editor: Bernard A. Hausmann, S.J. West Baden College West Baden Springs, Indiana . 370 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS: 35. The Right to Refuse an Elective Office . 380 36. Limits of Extension of Hands at Mass . 381 37. Manner of Receiving Communion . 381 INDEX FOR VOLUME 17 . 382 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, November, 1958. Vol. 17, No. 6. Published bi-monthly by The Queen's Work, 3115 South Grand Blvd., St. Louis 18, Mo. Edited by the Jesuit Fathers of St. Mary's College, St. Marys, Kansas, with ecclesiastical approval. Second class mail privilege authorized at St. Louis, Mo. Editorial Board: Augustine G. Ellard, S.J.; Gerald Kelly, S.J.; R. F. Smith, S.J.; and Henry Willmering, S.J. Literary Editor: Robert F. Weiss, S.J. Copyright, 1958, by The Queen's Work. Subscription price in U.S.A. and Canada: 3 dollars a year; 50 cents a copy. Printed in U.S.A. Please send all renewals and new subscriptions to: Review for Religious, 31|5 South Grand Boulevard. St. Louis 18o Missouri, Plus Xll (1939-1958) and t:he t:a!:es ot: Perl:ect:ion John Carroll Futrell, S,J. THE DEATH of Pope Pius XII was a great loss for the whole world and for men and women in every walk of life. Successor of St. Peter and hence divinely guided teacher of religious truths, he spoke out dearly on topical dog-matic and moral questior~s. "Pope of Peace," he appealed to people everywhere to practice the justice and self-control essential to the establishment of a harmonious world ordbr. To the faithful he was ever a father, the gentle Vicar of Christ who gave a radiant example of personal holiness and a true reflection of his divine Master. Nevertheless, perhaps it is the men and women dedicated to God in states of perfection who feel most indebted to this great pontiff and who most deeply mourn his passing. For he understood the special difficulties and problems of those endeavoring to carry out the duties oi: the states perfection in the modern world, and the acts of his pontificate are a lasting monument to this understanding. It is the purpose of this article to give a summary of the major contributions of this great pope to the welfare of the Church's states of perfection. Sacred Virginity To all the men and women who have embraced the evan-gelical counsels this Holy Father, who was called the Pastor /lngelicus, gave a new charter of praise and a ringing affirmation of their choice of vocation in his magnificent encyclical Sacra Virginitas, issued on March 25, 1954. Meeting current exag-gerated claims of the primacy of the married state, the Pope explained and lauded consecrated virginity freely elected for the love of Christ. Granting .that holiness can be attained without virginity, the Pontiff nevertheless showed the greater excellence of this state of exclusively divine love. He recalled to religious 321 JOHN CARROLL FUTRELL Review for Religious the necessary means and cautions to preserve chastity and recom-mended better presentation of the ideal of the celibate state to youth and greater support for it by Catholic parents so that vocations might flourish. Secular Institutes During the first decades of the twentieth century, fervent men and women in the world manifested a desire to lead lives of religious perfection while remaining in the world. Many of them took private vows to keep the evangelical counsels and dedicated themselves to apostolic activities within their secular environment. The canonical status of these men and women was obscure, and many tradition-minded ecclesiastics felt that they should be compelled to join approved associations of the faithful. In his apostolic constitution Provida Mater Ecclesia of February 2, 1947, Pope Pius XII gave these groups of men and women formal canonical recognition as secular insti-tutes and laid down laws to govern them. To facilitate the natural development of these institutes, the Holy Father left these laws in very 'broad outline. The members of secular institutes are not religious, as a general rule" have no com-munity life, take no public vows, and usually do not wear distinctive garb. But as the Pope made clear in a motu l~ro/~rio on March 12, 1948, and again in a talk to the International Congress on States of Religious Perfection on December 9, 1957, the secular institutes lack nothing of the elements con-stitutive of Christian perfection; they have their own nature and form, and their members need not join other associations of the faithful. The Training of Religious The late Holy Father, himself a man of extraordinary intellectual attainments and broad cultural and scientific inter-ests, was deeply convinced that religious priests and teaching sisters and brothers should receive an education which would fit them for the needs of the times. In his exhortation Menti nostrae of September 23, 1950, Pope Pius insisted upon the 322 November, 1958 Pius XII AND STATES OF PERFECTION importance of adequate seminary training and continual intel-lectual pursuits for the promotion of priestly sanctity. Six years later he fully developed this ideal of clerical training in the apostolic constitution Sedes Sapientiae, which laid down principles and statutes to govern the formation of religious candidates for the priesthood. The Pontiff insisted that the religious priest must be the perfect man in Christ Jesus, broadly cultured, intellectually the equal of men in ~he world, and equipped to refute modern errors and meet modern needs. Special note was taken of the necessity for a graduated train-ing in p.astoral technique which should culminate in a year's apprenticeship under experienced guides. In June of 1958 a Pontifical Institute of Pastoral Work was established in Rome to foster the pastoral development of priests, with courses aimed at practical work and at the preparation of seminary instructors. Nor was it only religious priests who were the object of Pius XII's concern. At the First International Conference of Teaching Sisters at Rome in. September, 1951, the Holy Father exhorted the sisters to prepare themselves well for the apostolate of education. The extent of the pontiff's solicitude for this preparation, especially for the teaching of Christian 'doctrine, was strikingly manifested on February 11, 1956, when he erected the pontifical institute Regina MunJi~ for the intellectual training of women in states of perfection. The Pope also recognized the importance of special training for mistresses of postulants, novices, and young religious; and by" a decree of the Sacred Congregation of Religious in March, 1957, he established the school Mater Dibi;~e G.i~ati~e at Rome to offer a three-year course in such training. Teaching brothers were greatly encouraged by an apos-tolic letter of March 31, 1954, wherein the Holy Father affirmed that the brothers are religious in. the full .sense of canon law, possessing a divine vocation approved and pro-tected by the Church to engage in the apostolate of education. 323 JOHN CARROLL FUTRELL Review for Religiot~s This includes a mandate to teach Christian doctrine within the limits prescribed by canon law. In July, 1957, a decree of the Sacred Congregation of Religious erected the pontifical institute JeSlCS ~Iagisler with a program of training to pro-mote the self-sanctification of the brothers and to better pre-pare them to lead their students to Christian truth and virtue. Contemplative Nuns Sponsa Christi, the apostolic constitution of November 21, 1950, on the vocation of contemplative nuns, marked a milestone in the understanding of the place of this high state of perfection in the modern world. The Pope laid down general statutes governing solemn vows, gave a preliminary clarification of major and minor papal cloister, and reaf~rmed the essentially monastic and autonomous character of the indi-vidual houses. Nonetheless, he strongly urged the organiza-tion of federations of monasteries for the fostering of religious spirit and the alleviation of economic problems and suggested limited apostolic activity even to strictly cloistered groups. Later, in March, 1956, the Pontiff promulgated definitive legislation regarding the cloister of nuns. One of the last acts of the life of Plus XII was a beautiful allocution to contemplative nuns delivered over the radio in July and August, 1958. The Pope urged the nuns to know and love their contemplative life. He exhorted superiors to plan carefully the formation of young religious in the contemplative life and warned that this formation must be adapted to modern girls. Finally he taught once again that certain types of apostolic activity such as the education of the young, retreats for women, and works of charity toward the sick and the poor are compatible with the essence of the contemplative life, provided the interior striving for union with God continues uninterrupted. New Things and Old Perhaps the most constant desire of Pope Plus XII for the states of perfection was that they would return to the fervent spirit of their founders and at the same time adapt 324" Novc~bcr, 1958 Pius XII AND STATES OF PERFECTION their customs and practices to contemporary ~circumstances. In allocutions and letters from 1939 to 1958 he stressed the need for this accommodation to modern needs and for the simultaneous deepening of the original spirit of each institute. Speaking to the First General Congress on States of Perfection, Decem-ber 8, 1950, he exhorted modern religious to imitate their founders in examining the beliefs, convictions, and conduct of their own contemporaries, adopting .those elements which are good and proper; and he warned that without this adaptation they would never be able to enlighten and guide the men of their own time. Speaking to the First International Congress of Teaching Sisters, September, 1951, and again to superiors general of institutes of religious women, September, 1952, Pope Pius specifically suggested accommodation of religious habits, manner of life, and asceticism to modern needs in order to stop the alarming decrease of vocations by removing the barriers set up by stubborn adherence to usages meaningful in another cultural situation but now empty formalism. Finally, in February of 1958 the Holy Father spoke to superiors gen-eral of religious orders and congregations of the ever-present necessity of drawing upon the spirit of the founders of each institute. Nov~? el ve/er~--this was his constant theme. Religi-ous must learn to live in their own world and in their own time with all the fervor of their founders. These, then, were the major contributions of Pope Pius XII to the states of perfection. He has left a rich legacy to the members of these states, and his memory will live on in their faithful following of his directives. OUR CONTRIBUTORS JOHN CARROLL FUTRELL is completing his theological studies at St. Mary's College, St. Marys,. Kansas. THOMAS G. O'CAL-LAGHAN is professor of ascetical and mystical theology at Weston College, Weston 93, Massachusetts. SISTER MARIA is a Sister of the Humility of Mary, whose teaching field is Spanish language and litera-ture. R. F. SMITH is a member of the faculty of St. Mary's College, St. Marys, Kansas. JOSEPH F. GALLEN is professor of canon law at Woodstock College, Woodstock, Maryland. 325 Current: Spiri!:ual Writing Thomas ~o. O'Callaghan, S.J. Charles de Foucauld CHARLES DE FOUCAULD (1858-1916) has certainly been one of the most impressive and striking figures the Church in the last half century. After a worldly life as a French army officer, he was converted to a sincere Christian life. Shortly i~fterwards he entered the Trappists. After seven years of a dedicated Trappist life, he felt himself called to a still more literal imitation of Jesus. Especially did he desire to live the. life of a poor workingman in imitation of our Lord's. hidder~ life at Nazareth. This led him ultimately to the desert, to the life of a poor priest, a wanderer, sharing the life of the poorest nomad tribes. But P~re de Foucauld was a wanderer burning with a love of Jesus whom he desired to bring to these people in a silent way, through his loving and kind friendship. Just as Christ Himself did during His hidden years .at Nazareth, P~re de Foucauld desired to preach the gospel in siler~ce, to reveal to others in a silent way something of Christ. Although he had hoped to found a religious congregation --he wrote two different Rules for one--before his plans could be fulfilled, he was murdered by Touaregs in the Hoggar desert. In fact, it was not until ten years after his death that his first disciples, attracted by the example of his totally evan-gelical life, began to gather. Since 1933 three different con-gregations have been founded--the Congregation of Little Brothers of Jesus and two congregations of sisters; and today these three count more than nine hundred religious. What is characteristic of the spirituality of P~re de Fou-cauld and his followers? This has been answered in a most 326 CURRENT SPIRITUAL WRITING " interesting article by R. Voillaume, the Prior General ot~ the Little Brothers of Jesus.1 The Little Brothers of Jesus--the same is true of the Sisters--have three dominant characteristics. The first is their poverty. P~re de Foucauld could not, as he said, "conceive of loving Jesus without a constraining need of imitation or without, the sharing of each cross" (p.~ 29"2). He pictured Christ and the Holy Family as quite poor, working hard among the poor inhabitants of Nazareth. That was the life which he wanted, toil and poverty; he wanted to be socially a poor man and to be treated as such, and he did not want to .be given the social rank usually accorded to priests and religious. His love of Christ dictated "a need to imitate Jesus, to live as Jesus lived at Nazareth, sharing ~he life, the circumstances, the burden of the worker and the other poor" (p. 294). The second characteristic is adoration of the Blessed Sacrament. In each fraternity there is a chapel, and usually at the end of each day the Blessed Sacrament is ex16osed for adoration. The Little Brothers offer "their lives of work and poverty every day, in order to save their brothers in union with Jesus' own offering in the Eucharist" (p. 294). Because their .chapels are so frequently situated in the midst of the masses of the p~ople, the brothers are able~to combine their contemplation with their "presence to men" (one of their favorite expressions). Could they not live this life of poverty and adoration in a monastery, as so many other religious do? No; P~re de Foucauld felt forced to go to the poor, to bring Christ to them, more through hisway of living than by preaching. This is their third characteristic: "a silent apostolate through their mere presence in a very simple, unobtrusive and fraternal kind of friendship, an apostlolate meant more particularly for the more abandoned strata of society" (p. 292). It means z"P~re de Foucauld and His Fraternities," Blackfriars, XXXIX (1958), 290-99. 327 THOMAS G. O'CALLAGHAN Review for Religious making oneself a little brother to others, loving men for their own sake, as God would, and thus helping others to discover something of the love which Christ has for them. In this way they prepare hearts to receive the Gospel, or to under-stand it better. This article is most enlightening. Those who might desire a fuller account of the spirituality of the Little Brothers of Jesus will find it in Father Voillaume's very interesting and excellent book, Seeds of the Desert. Lourdes Since this is the centennial of the apparitions of the Blessed Virgin at Lourdes, there have appeared during the year a few books and numerous articles on the young girl who was favored with those apparitions, St. Bernadette. Of all the articles on this charming young saint, certainly one of the most delightful was written bp Father James Brodrick, s.J., undoubtedly one of the most polished of modern hagi-ographers, z Bernadette, who was canonized twenty-five years ago, is rather an extraordinary saint, precisely because in so many ways she was so ordinary. Yet perhaps it is her very ordi-nariness which is her great charm. Apart from the apparitions themselves, her life was quite simple. She neither said nor wrote anything profound or sublime; she was not known for remarkable penances; she had not followers or disciples, nor was she marked by an outstanding zeal for souls; she really did nothing very uncommon. Yet she was truly a saint, pos-sessing, as Father Brodrick claims along with Dr. Rend Lau-rentin, a "sanctity free of accessories and reduced to its essence, the sanctity without human grandeur or accidental charms, which was that of the Holy Family at Nazareth" (p. 271). If one gazes through the spontaneous simplicity and un-starched charm of this young girl, the clear signs of heroic z"St. Bernadette," T/~e Mont/s, XIX (1958), 271-82. 328 November, 1958 CURRENT SPIRITUAL WRITING virtue are clearly discernible. One of these signs_ was the constancy of her witness, her quiet tenacity in holding to the simple and unadorned truth in the face oi~ the ~l~reats and menaces, the coaxing and flattery, of both ecclesiastical and civil authorities. Even when she was threatened With prison by the commissioner of police, she gave simply and bravely her now famous answer: "So much the better. I shall be less expense to my father, and while I am in prison you will come and teach me the catechism." (p. 278) Regardless as to how people tried to cajole and inveigle her into telling the three secrets which .the Virgin had asked her to keep, she never weakened. This calm and quiet constancy of her wit-ness reveals the great strength of grace in her soul. Another clear indication of her heroic virtue was her humble thirst to be forgotten. She shunned attention, found the veneration shown her a bore. Although invited and en-couraged to attend, she even stayed away from the solemn consecration of the basilica at Lourdes in July, 1876, lest she be recognized and attract attention. So humble was her con-tinual way of acting that Father Herbert Thurston, S.J., surmised that one of her three secrets was "a pact with the Blessed Virgin never under any circumstances to try to draw to herself the attention of the world . . ." (p. 281) . Bernadette is truly a charming saint, and this article is a delightful portrait of her unself-conscious sanctity. The celebration of the centenary of the apparitions of the immaculate Virgin to Bernadette at Lourdes is an occasion for asking what role these, as well as other apparitions of our Lady, play in the life of the Church, and what attitude Cath-olics should have toward them. These important questions are answere.d very satisfactorily by Father DeLetter, S.J.3 The first~ thing which strikes one about the attitude of the Church towards these apparitions is her prudent caution; she avoids the extremes of either unenlightened enthusiasm "The Meaning of Lourdes," The Clergy MonHHy, XXII (1958), 3-16. 329 THOMAS G. 0'CALLAGHAN Review for Religious or skeptical scorn. She does 'not distrust God, but she knows very well from experience that man can be mistaken and that the devil can deceive even saintly men. Before she gives her approval to apparitions, therefore, she prudently demands a thorough and painstaking examination of the evidence. If, upon examination, she finds sufficient historical evidence for the authenticity of the apparitions, then she gives, her approval. But what does this approval mean? "Everything con-sidered, an ecclesiastical approval of a divine communication implies the three following statements: First, that it comprises nothing contrary to the faith or to morality. Secondly, that it may be made known in publications. Thirdly, that ~he faith-ful are given explicit permission to believe it with caution." (pp. 5-6) (It is a question here of human belief, not ot~ divine faith.) What role do these apparitions and the private revela-tions connected with them play in the life Of the Church? Father DeLetter, in answer to this question, states and develops the theology of these apparitions under five headings: 1) These apparitions are signs of the divine presence and action of Christ in the Church today. 2) These divine interventions have an apologetic value in both strengthening the faith of believers and inviting non-believers to accept the faith. 3) While not changing or increasing the deposit of faith, these divine interventions do have doctrinal significance. They are signs, drawing attention to some element of the Catholic faith which is an answer to the particular needs of the times, e.g. a call to prayer and penance. 4) Many of these apparitions of our Lady, such as Lourdes and Fatima, help to make us more aware during this Marian age of the role which the Blessed Mother plays in ~he economy of the Redemption. 5) "Lourdes in particular came as a heavenly confirmation of the definition of the Immaculate Conception . . ." (p. 9). This article, if carefully read, will be very profitable for all, since the place of apparitions in the life "of the Church 330 November, 1958 CURRENT SPIRITUAL WRITING and the attitude which Catholics should have towaid them is often not well understood. Especially, however, will it be helpful to the extremists who are either overenthusiastic about apparitions or superiorly scornful of all that "mystical and pietistic nonsense." Liturgy and Scripture Father Balthazar Fischer, a professor of liturgy at Trier, Germany, and a member of the commission which drew up the German Ritual, delivered at St. Patrick's College, Maynooth, Ireland, a lecture on Christian psalm-praying. The lecture was printed in The Furrow.4 What he primarily discussed was: first, a fundamental presupposition for praying the psalms in a Christian way, that is, how to give the psalms a Christological meaning; second, the four basic attitudes of soul one should have in praying, the psalms. Concerning the first point, he wrote: Th'ey [the people of the early Church and of the Middle Ages] had two ways of finding this Christological meaning in the Psalter. Sometimes .they saw Christ as the one who prayed the psalms, the Just One /~ar excellence: and so they joined Him in praying to the Father: Psalmus vox Ecclesiae cu'm Christo ad Patrem. This was the way that St. Augustine loved so much. The other way was not to look upon Christ as the one who prays the psalms but as the God of the psalms, and so address them directly to Him: Psalmus vox Ecclesiae ad Christum. This was the way which St. Benedict seems to have pre-ferred, and a way which was also known to St. Augustine and his predecessors in the Christian interpretation of the psalms as ~ar back as the second century. (p. 68) . If we use this double principle in praying the psalms, either praying them with Christ to the. Father, or, perhaps what is the simpler way, directing them to Christ, we will have the consoling experience of having the Psalter, as Newman said, "breathe Christ." The greater part of the article, however, is a development oi~ the four fundamental dispositions which are necessary for a fruitful praying of the psalms. The psalms must be sung 4"Praying the Psalms," IX (1958), 67-78. 331 THOMAS G. O'CALLAGHAN Review for Religiot~s in a spirit of tranquillity, humility, childlikeness, and joyful-ness. "These four principles are valid for all praying; but they are valid in a special m~nner for him for whom the Psalter has become a Christian prayerbook" (p. 69). Those interested in the liturgy and Scripture will find some very interesting matter in an article by Paul Doncoeur, S.J., "Bible and Liturgy: Fruitful Tension.":' The liturgical and scriptural movements have both developed noticeably during the last few decades. Although in many ways they have developed independently, nevertheless, because each was correctly orientated from the beginning, they have converged. The liturgy has been most clearly enriched by scriptural studies; and it is becoming more and more evident that Scripture can receive new meaning from the liturgy. Each has helped and strengthened the other. Inversely, however, if the biblical movement should ever try to propose to the faithful subtle exegesis in place of the substantial word of God--which has happened to some degree in the past--then Scripture would never nourish the interior life as it should. But also, if the liturgy should ever be emptied of the substance of the Scriptures, then it would relapse into sentimental devotions. An important point for liturgists not to forget, says Father Doncoeur, quoting Louis Bouyer, is that " the first requirement for a liturgical movement that will lead to an authentic revival of the Church's true piety is never to bring liturgy back to the peopl~ with-out, at the same time, giving them greater access to the Bible" (p. 97). . . Father David M. Stanley, S.J., who teaches Sacred Scripture at Toronto and is one of the outstanding New Testament scholars in North America, has been, esp.ecially during the past year or two, a very frequent con'tributor to Worship. One of his recent ai'ticles was on the meaning of the wedding feast at Cana.~ :' Worshil~, XXXII (1958), 89-100. ~"Cana as Epiphany," XXXII {1958), 83-89. 332 November, 1958 CURRENT SPIRITUAL WRITING The wedding feast ,at Cana was one of the three principal epiphanies of Christ. Our Lord's baptism was His epiphany as the Christ, the awaited Messias; the Magi story was His epiphany as universal King, even of the pagan nations; Cana was His epiphany as God's incarnate son on earth, and therefore as Mary's son. What role does Christ give to His Mother at Cana? Our Lord's reply ("What wouldst thou have me to do, woman? My hour has not yet come") to His Mother's request for help ("They have no wine") indicates something of the part which Mary is to play in the redemptive work of her son. The interpretation of our Lord's answer has always been difficult for those not familiar with the Semitic idiom. But, according to Father Stanley, what our Lord tells His Mother is that here and now ". He must act independently and without her help. However, when the 'hour' par excellence, the crisis upon Calvary, arrives, she will play her part . In that supreme moment, the Mother of Jesus will collaborate in the final struggle with Satan and share the victory over evil." {pp. 86-87) Our Lord, then, by His answer, predicted implicitly--as the article shows in greater detail--Mary's role as co-redemptrix and her future motherhood of all His disciples. ~ St. John of the Cross There appeared in a recent issue of Spiritual. Life an article outlining the spiritual teaching of St. John of the Cross.7 Among the points of St. John's doctrine which the author touched upon, there was one which usually is not sufficiently stressed: the Christocentric character of the saint's teachings. In the teaching of St. John of-the Cross, spiritual per-fection consists in the complete and perfect union of love between God and the soul, that is, in transforming union. It is to this perfect union that he is always directing a soul, and it is on .this union that his whole spiritual teaching con- 7 Paul of the Cross, OoC.D., "St. John of the Cross," IV (1958), 47-61. 333 THOMAS G. 0'CALLAGHAN Review for Religioz~s verges. He calls this union spiritual marriage. But in this union who is the bridegroom to whom the soul is ,united? It is Christ. In the doctrine of St. John it is the Incarnate Word who is the spouse of.the soul. St. John's notion of perfection, therefore, has a Christocentric character. John here is speaking of Christ as .God, it is true; but it is still Christ. Christ as man, or the humanity of Christ, also has a very dear and definite place in the doctrine of the Carmelite saint. Briefly, the way to transforming union is by the perfect imita-tion of the humanity of Christ ,out ;of love for Christ. The perfect imitation of Christ as man, espedidlly Christ crucified, leads to perfect union with Christ as God. Even when St. John is directing souls into a prayer of obscure contemplation, he does not teach them to abandon the humanity cote Christ as they put aside their discursive meditation. Although it is true that the soul's gaze may be centered more .directly on Christ's di¢inity, it is still going out to the whole Christ, to the Incarnate Word. So also, when the contemplative soul is loving Christ, it is not the divinity alone which it loves, but the God-man, the Incarnate Word, the whole Christ. For St. John of the Cross, Christ truly holds a central place. He is the way according to His humanity, and the end in His divinity. For St. John, as we just mentioned, spiritual perfection consists in union with God. This union of the soul with God comes to pass, he says, ". . when the two wills--namely that of the soul and that of God--are conformed together in one, and there is naught in the one that is repugnant to the other.' '~ Can a total consecration to the Blessed Mother be har-monized with such a concept of the spiritual life? It certainly s .'Isrg'Zll" of llloltt~! (:~lrttlrl, II, ch. V, 3 (translated by" E. Allison Peers: West-minster: Newman,~1945, I, 80). 334 November, 1958 CURRENT SPIRITUAL WRITING can, says Father William G. Most.'~ In explaining how this may be done, he suggests a point which is ~)ell worth consideration and reflection. The will of Mary is always in perfect unisor~ with the will of 'God. To conform one's will to the will of GOd then is objectively to conform it also to the will of the Blessed Mother. If one stressed more consciously this latter aspect, the Blessed Mother couli:l easily be given the all-pervasive role in the spiritual life which she deserves. One would then be able to live a life not only of conformity to the will of God, but also at the same time of conformity with the will of the Blessed Mother. New Date for the Last Supper The date of the Last Supper has always proposed a serious problem for Scripture scholars. The problem consists mainly in reconciling St. John's Gospel with the Synoptic evangelists. In their attempted solutions scholars have usually placed the Last Supper on Thursday. But this leaves some serious difficulties still unsolved. The most recent and satisfying solution to the problem has been that proposedby Miss A. Jaubert' of Paris. Accord-ing to her the Last Supper took place, not on Thursday, but on Tuesday. If this theory is accepted, then obbiously the chronology of the events of o'ur Lord's Passion will have to be revised. Miss Jaubert's theory, together with her revised chronology of the Passion, has been neatly summarized in a recent article by George W. MacRae, S.J.1° Beginning with the Saturday before Good Friday, this would be the order of the events of the Passion. Saturday: In the even~ing Jesus is anointed during supper at Lazarus' home in Bethany. Sunday: Christ makes His triumphal entry into Jerusalem. During the day Judas first approaches the chief priests about betraying our Lord. Later that day Christ returns to ~)"Consecration to Mary," S/,iritual~Life, IV (1958); 108-17. New Date for the Last Supper," /Imerican Ecclesiastical Re*sie~, CXXXVIII (1958), 294-302. 335 THOMAS G. 0'CALLAGHAN Review for Religious Bethany to pass the night there. Monday: Jesus leaves Bethany and curses the fig tree. Tuesday: In the morning, after spending another night outside the city, ~he apostles notice the withered fig tree as they pass by. Later they ask Christ where He wants to celebrate the passover, and in the evening the Last Supper takes place. Later that night, after the Agony in the Garden, Christ is arrested and is brought to the house of Annas for interrogation. While this question-ing is going on, out in the courtyard .of Annas the denials of Peter are taking place. Annas then sends Christ bound to Caipha_s and Christ spends the rest of the night there. Wednesday: At daybreak the elders, chief priests, and scribes gather for the first legal trial. After the trial, since the Jewish law forbade rendering the verdict the same day as the trial, Christ passes another night as captive. Thursday: In the morning Christ is condemned by the Sanhedrin. Then He is immediately brought to Pilate who questions Him. It is on this occasion that the chief priests refuse to enter Pilate's court lest they be defiled. Pilate sends Him to Herod, and Herod in turn sends Him back again. Thursday night Christ spends as a prisoner in Pilate's fortress. It is .during this night that the incident of the dream of Pilate's wife occurs. Friday: In the morning Christ appears again before Pilate. Then He is ~courged, condemned, led through the streets, and crucified. ". this chronology of our Lord's Passion appears to do far more justice to the series of events in the Passion itself than does a shorter period of time . There are still difficulties in understanding the Gospel accounts that it does not resolve. But so long as we regard it as a possible explana-tion, while awaiting further confirmation we may find it an aid to a clearer picture of the Passion of our Lord." (p. 302) Priestly Virtues What are the key qualities which Christ demands of His apostle-priests? The basic ones, says Father Spicq, O.P., draw- 336 November, 2958 CURRENT SPIRITUAL WRITING ing his answer from three major scriptural passages, are those of the three theological virtues.11 The fundamental virtue required of an apostle-priest is faith. For it is through faith that he will posses the truths of the kingdom which he must preach to the world; it is faith which brings him into contact with the mysteries of the divine life and the "unfathomable riches of Christ" (Eph 3:8) of which he must be a witness. It is not that his faith is different from that of the faithful; but it must have the solidity of rock. It must give him those qualities of steadfastness and stability which are needed in a man who has been chosen to bear witness and to preach. His life must be rooted deeply in the solid truth of firm faith. In the mission given him by Christ, the priest knows that without Christ he can do nothing, but that with Christ he can do all things. In the Lord, then, he must hope.The Lord has spoken to him: ". take courage; I haveover-come the world" (John 16:33). So the priest must place his unshakable confidence and hope in the triumph won by Christ. To receive, however, from "Christ the strength and help which he needs, the priest must also pray. He is not exempted from prayer merely because he hopes in the Lord. Prayer is an integral part of his vocation. "A man of flesh and blood can do divine work only with this effective means [of prayer], by harnessing God's own power to the task" (p. 14). Prayer, therefore, must also be joined to firm hope, if the priest is to be a true apostole of Christ. In a priest's life, even more central than faith and hope, there must be love. The priest must surrender his whole heart to Christ, both to the person of Christ and the work I, "Priestly Virtues in the New Testament," Seril~t',*re, X (1958}, I0-16. The second installment of this article appears in the July issue, pp. 84-93; and in it Father Spicq treats of some of the other priestly vit:tues: compassion, fidelity, prudence, purity, etc. 337 THOMAS G. 0'CALLAGHAN ,9~ ~Chris.t, the ,salvation of souls. "The heart of the priest, l~cked in t, heo'embrace of Christ's love (2 Cor. 5:14), will therefore love souls as Christ loves them and because he loves them (John 15:12)" (p. 15). For a priest, however, this l~ve of souls will mean.the humble service of souls. Such was the life and love of Christi such must also be the life and love of the priest. SUMMER-SESSION ANNOUNCEMENTS For many years we have been publishing announcements of summer sessions. Our purpose in doing this is to help our readers to know where they may attend courses or institutes of special pertinence .to religious. Directors and deans of summer sessions who wish to avail themselves of this service should carefully observe the following points: 1} Only courses of special pertinence to religious should be listed. The 2le) nTghthe aonf nthoiusn pcaermagernatp shh oisu ilrdr eblee vliamnti,t epdr otov iad esdin igt lceo pnatraaingsra opnhl.y matters of special pertinence to religious. 3) The paragraph should be triple-spaced and prepared in such a manner that it can be sent to the printers without re-typing or editing. 4) There should be a reasonable minimum of capital letters, and no words should be typed entirely in capital letters. 5) The dates of the summer sessions or institutes should be clearly specified. 6} The best time for publishing these announcements is our March number. The deadline for this number is January 5. The next-best time is the May number. The deadline for this number is March 1. 7) The announcement should be addressed to our editorial office, g~vfEw FOR RI'HAGIOUS, St. Mary's College, St. Marys, Kansas. By way of postscript we should like to call attention to a note that we found it necessary, to publish in March, 1957. There we stated that most deans who had sent in announcements had either completely or partially ignored our specifications. One reason for this may be that the deans themselves (especially if they are not priests or religious) do not read this REv1~\v. We therefore urge that some member of the community show the summer-school dean this announcement; 338 Preliminary t:o Adap!:a!:ion DURING THE PAST decade religious have been urged to consider how their mode of life might be adapted to meet the specific needs of our times. Here in the United States various groups ha(,e been working to effect the adapta-tion and renovation of religious life which the Church has rec-ommended. The I~EvlI~\~ FOR I,tELIGIOUS, one of those deeply inter-ested in fostering needed changes, has, in many issues, made available to its readers papal and ecclesiastical statements about adaptation and renovation. "Roman Congregations and the Religious Life," a collection of statements of Roman congrega. tions, dignitaries, and officials of the Holy See, made by Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. (November 15, 1956, pp. 309-27)~. points to the need for studying the spirit and mind of the founders as a first step toward reform and intensification of religious life. Articles and commentaries in the I~EVIE\V have also indi-cated that religious orders ought to study their constitutions, directories, and traditions to determine what directives ,might be eliminated, modified, or changed in order to accomplish more fruitfully during this century the purpose or end of religious life. This article, which diaws heavily from the Acta 'of the Congress of the States of Perfection (Rome, 1950), makes the point that the study of th.e spirit of one's order is a neces-sary preliminary to. adaptation and renovation and suggests some techniques which might be used to arrive at a more exact understanding of this spirit and of the ways by which it can be produced in the members of a given order. 3~9 SISTER MARIA Review for Religious The revision of constitutions ordered by the Sacred Con-gregation of Religious in 1922 did not put an end to consti-tutional modifications. As the most Reverend Arcadio Lar-raona, C.M.F., indicated to the mothers general at a congress in Rome (REVIE\V FOR RELIGIOUS, November 15, 1954, p. 297), "Rome is ready to consider the advisability of [consti-tutional] changes on certain points, provided the individual communities show good reasons for the modification they wish to introduce." In regard to changes of custom, he counsels superiors never to fear to request change because such change might be considered disloyal to community traditions. Modifications of dress and of horarium, elimination of class distinctions within an order, these and other changes of custom and constitutions have been directly urged by the Pope as ways in which religious life can be adapted to better accom-modate those who enter religious life and those among and with whom the religious labor. These needed changes in non-essential elements must be made with care in order not to destroy that which makes an order a distinct entity: its spirit. The number of distinct orders, institutes, congregations, and other religious groups in existence today gives evidence of the variety of ways in which the Holy Spirit expresses Himself in different places and at different times according to the needs of the Church. Each order does have a characteristic spirit, peculiar to its work and its specific virtues. I. Van Houtryve, O.S.B., gives an example of this variety among religious orders with the following illustration of the different approaches orders make to asceticism: St. Benedict sees asceticism from the angle of humility; and he is, in the Church, the legislator of filial obedience; daughter of humility. St. Francis sees it all from. the point of view of poverty . St. Dominic borrows from monastic life fasts and abstinences, the hard bed and silence--but all these practices are seen as reparation, sus-tenance, and food for the contemplative life; and they are ordered to the apostolic life . Most modern congregations devoted to 340 November, 1958 PRELIMINARY TO ADAPTATION action owe to St. Ignatius the spirit of their work--the interior strug-gle, sacrifice, and the need to give the apostolate its only possible solid base: abnegation and the carrying of the cross. (Acta. p. 463-64) Many similar contrasts of religious groups might be drawn in order to make evident the way in ~vhich one differs from another. Religious orders differ because their functions vary; their unique character stems in part from the particular work to which they are ordained: the divine liturgy, the spiritual works oi: mercy, or the corporal works of mercy. As St. Thomas explains (Summa, II,II, q. 188, a. 1), " . . . religious orders may be differentiated in two ways. l~irst, according to different things to which they may be directed . Secondly, there may be various religious orders according to t~e diversity of prac-tices. ." Even in religious groups dedicated to the same type of work, teaching, for example, one notes marked differences. One religious order may be distinguished from another not by its work but by the specific virtues which are characteristic of its approach to the religious ideal. This religious ideal is our Lord, but as there are hundreds of paintings of Christ--and each different because of the way in which the painter conceived his model--so there are countless ways of striving to imitate this ideal. In an article on the spiritual formation of the educators of religious, Graziano della Madre di Dio, O.C.D., stresses the dual nature of the individual order's approach to the religious ideal: In Jesus the great molders of souls who were the founders of religious orders and institutes found their ideal. How interesting it would be to point out in them, besides the generic element, the characteristics of the personal mode. St. Benedict, St. Francis, St. Dominic, St. Ignatius, St. John of the Cross, St. John Bosco, and many others had an educative-form of their own that was actualized in the highly differentiated formation of their first spiritual disciples. Consequently all educators of religious, studyirig the prototypes of their own religious family, besides the essential exemplary form of Jesus, ought to individuate and to bring out the specific char-acteristics with which every founder of an order or institute approved 341 SISTER MARIA Review for Religio,,s by the Church, and therefore willed by God, has made detailedly more refulgent, varied, and rich the archetype of the Master. (Rio vista de Vita Spirituale, January-March, 1954, p. 37) If there is variety in the work and in the virtues stressed by different orders, then there must also be variety of spirit or personality so that it can be asserted that each religious order has a distinctive spirit which is not the same as that of another order. This spirit--peculiar to a particular order--developed from the thought of the founder about the type of religious group needed to meet the demands of his place, time, and circum-stances. It is well to recall that he was inspired to provide for the needs of his own age, but not for the needs of all periods of history without some adaptation by his order as conditions changed. As Abbot Peter Bassett, O.S.B., explains, Every religious order worthy of this name is born of the coming together of a great religious genius and of a spiritual need of a given time . IThisl fundamental religious intention, valid, no doubt, for all time, found its spiritual efficacy only in incarnating itself in a religious form which responded perfectly to the spiritual needs of the age. And the secret of the continuance of these insti-tutions could not have been and will not be able to be in anything but a fidelity to the spirit which created them, joined to a constant care to remain in contact with the history of the Church among men. (Acta, pp. 128-29) It is fidelity to the spirit of one's order that one must strive to maintain when one attempts to follow papal and ecclesiastic directives to adapt rules and customs to twentieth-century life. One cannot be faithful to the spirit of one's order unless one knows with some degree of certainty what rules, what customs, what aspects of life in a particular order are essential to the development of that order's distinctive spirit. The purpose of this discussion is to focus a~tention on the need for seeking such knowledge about one's own constitutions and customs and to suggest some means of indicating a sturdy of the spirit of one's order. Thet:e is available in Spanish~ a worthwhile discussion of the fidelity which~ a religious superior owes to the founder, . to the 342 November, 1958 PRELIMINARY TO ADAPTATION spirit of the Institute, and to tradition .(Semana de Oracidn y Estudio para Superioras Religiosas, Editorial Oculsa, Madrid, 1950, pp. 76-92). One of the points which Gregorio Mar-tinez de Antonana, C.M.F., the author, makes in his discussion of "The Superior and the Institute" is that superiors in newly formed congregations or institutes ought to consider carefully what it is that constitute~ the spirit of their own order so as not to stifl~ the development of this essential quality by seeking to cultivate the spirit of older orders along with or rather than their own. He urges superiors of these recent foundations to take special care to be docile to inspiration and not to make changes based on their own personal whims in matters and problems of government. Before one can determine what the spirit of one's order is, one must have a clear notion of what. is meant by the term spirit when it is used in reference to a religious order. In a paper given at a French congress for religious sisters, Victor de la Vierge, O.C.D., states that "spirit' is what characterizes and gives" the order its reason fo~ existence." (R~ligi0us. Sisters, Newman Press, pp. 253-54). He points out two aspects, the objective, which is "the divine inspiration the founder crys-tallized into rules which provide for the attainment of the end in view," and the subjective, which is "the Characteristic and un-changing way of thinking, understanding, and willing which tradition allows us to observe in an order as an institution and in the life and teaching of the members who have gon( before." Th~ rules are the first definite statement of the spirit. Living ac,c.ording to the rule produces the spirit. The spirit itself, like any entity, defies definition. One can state what causes th~ spirit to develop and what it in turn effects, but to say what spirit is in itself is difficult. For all practical purposes, one can identify it with the rules. To equip Oneself for more judicious adaptation, one must: search for that in the rule which fosters the development, of the spirit. At times one can observe rather tangibly the effects of the uniqtie spirit 343 Review for Religio.s of an order in the characteristic acts and virtues of individuals in whom the same spirit has been developed through a specific program of formation based on the thought of the founder. In adapting rules, directories, and customs, one must be careful not to destroy that which develops the spirit. As an aid to superiors and councils, Ricardo Lombardi, s.J., indicates a norm of action for adaptation: Let superiors therefore keep two objectives in mind. They must carefully preserve unchanged the essence of their institute, without which it cannot endure--at least as long as some useful reason for its endurance remains. But at the same time they ought to promote a reasonable evolt~tion in those things which do not pertain to the substance of the institute, and which, if stubbornly kept un-changed, will themselves lead to its death. Let us consider now what ard the essential things which can be enumerated in brief summary: 1.) the end or fundamental rea-son for the Institute, 2.) its peculiar spirit which has been praised by" the Church, 3.) all those things which are necessary for attaining the end or preserving the spirit. These features are to be maintained unaltered. Those things which were selected for some peculiar reason or for a certain time and circumstances as more suitable then to attain the end and promote the spirit, are to be subjected to continuous examination, and whenever a real necessity occurs, they can be changed. Indeed they are a means, not an end, and means are to be fitted to an end--certainly the end should not bend to the service of the means. (Acta. p. 117) Our times demand that religious have the courage to make changes in their mode of life. The Pope and the hier-archy have gradually initiated and effected great changes in the liturgy in order to facilitate twentieth-century man's ap-proach to the sacraments. The call for adaptation in religious life aims to enable the religious to achieve greater success in bringing Christ's message to the modern world. To adapt effectively one must know what one is adapting and why and how one is to do it. Adaptation requires knowledge of the unique personality of one's order. To arrive at a greater degree of self-knowledge, one studies what man is, what he can become, and how one man differs from another; and then one judiciously compares this knowl- 344 November, ~58 PRELIMINARY TO ADAPTATIOI~ edge with one's knowledge of self to determine what manner of man one is. In similar fashion those who wish to study the spirit of their order should delve into the historical devel-opment of religious life. To attain a better understanding of the ~'al".~otl ~t'~lre of their own order, they might consider the foundation and growth of various religious orders, the regula-tions the Church has made in regard to religious orders, and the development of the religious ideal up to the present time. Thus they will be able to discern how contemplative, active, and mixed religious orders fit into that "variety which surrounds the Queen." One might begin a review of the foundation and devel-opment of religious orders by examining the four rules, Bene-dict's, Augustine's, Basil's, and Anthony's. Of particular interest would be the one from which one's own rule has evolved. After having considered themeaning ofthe term spirit in its application to a religious order and afthearving surveyed the historical development of religious ordeirns general, one would be ready to proceed to the ktudy of thefoundation and development of one's own order. A study of the growth of one's order implies examination not only of the history of its schools, monasteries, .hospitals, and other ins.titutions; but more important still it implies consideration of the historical devel-opment of the founder's thought as it has been applied, modi-fied, and define'~ through the centuries by superiors, chapters, bishops, and thd Holy See, or even by members of the order who have studied and written about the founder, rule, consti-tutions, patrons, works, virtues, and achievements of the order. Many orders have writings by their founders which are similar to the Interior Spirit of the Religious of the Visitation (Newman Press, 1943). Having such a book at hand, the religious should .e.xamine it to ascertain what is essential and what is not. For exa-Kaple, the Religious of the Visitation might make a profitable study"by determining how they have applied 345 SISTER MARIA Review for Religio~ts and defined the thought of St. Francis de Sales and of' St. Jane Frances de Chantal through the centuries up to the present time. Janet Erskine Stuart has done such an analysis in her pamphlet The Society'-of the Sacred Heart. Her work exempli-fies a step in the historical development of the thought of the founders of her society. Today, perhaps, still another analysis might be made by her society. In such consideration of the historical development of the order and of the thought about the purpose and spirit of the order, what one is striving to learn is what is essential in the rule, in the customs, and in the formation and life of the given religious society. One wishes to discover what must be preserved when making recommended adaptations. .Painstaking research and thought are only preliminary steps. More is required than writing carefully docurrlented histories of the order. Study of the spirit of one's order should mean group discussion, perhaps .by the general chapter, per-haps by the newly appointed superiors, or by all superiors periodically. Such a study might even lead to inter-congre-gational discussi'on on points of rule and implementation of rule, especially bn matters that might concern several orders of similar work or characteristic virtues. The congresses and conferences (Vbcation Institute, Sister Formation gro~lp in th~ NCEA, the Sisters' Institute of Spir-ituality) i~Iready being held annually or moi'e frequently all show the value of inter-congregation discussion on specific topics of common interest. It might prove profitable, for example, for several congregatibns having St. Vincent de Paul as a patron or a founder to analyze together points from his writings that are a common source of inspiration. Perhaps orders dedicated to the Blessed Mother might consider how they each honor her in a particular way. Through such con-ferences of several or of many orders of similar work or ideal, 'it would seem that all might become more aware of how thi~y differ from and are similar to their fellow-congregations. Such 346 Novembe~', !9.58 PRELIMINARY TO ADAPTATION conferences would be of ben.efit if nothing ,more were accom-plished than a renewal of the religious spirit, the renovation which is 'being urged. /,~l.GreaTr and more precise knowledge oi the distinct per-sona tty or one's order should enable the individual order to foster with greater skill, then, the growth of this characteristic spirit by careful adaptation, by renovation through the means peculiar to its own development, and by a program of :forma-tion which would have greater likelihood of achieving its goal because the educators of the young religious would be better informed as to the characteristics they were seeking to cultivate in their students. Over-preoccupation with the spirit of one's own order, however, or over-emphasis on the thought of one's founder can 'give rise to certain evils. Members of an order might de-velop the wrong kind of loyalty to the order and to the founder, They might adhere too closely to the letter of his thought, rather than to the spirit of it. They might even adhere to the thought of the founder when the Church clearly indicates another course of action. An order's growth can be stifled by the "party spirit" which develops by exclusive clinging to the ideal of one's order as if there were only that one approach to the religious ideal. Such procedure keeps the "spirit" locked up in an ivory tower and does not permit it to. profit from the energizing influences that honest contrast with the ideals of other religious orders might give. Such contrast would bring out ever more distinctly the personality peculiar ,to one's order rather than distort it. This undue clinging to one's specific way of life leads to the wrong type of loyalty to one's order. As A. Trape, O.E.A.A. points out: The common good to the love of which, we are dedicated by religious profession is not the good of a monastery or a given order . . but the good of the Body of Christ which is the Church . 347 SISTER MARIA Review for Religion,s Greater unity and cooperation is to be fostered among religious families . The love therefore of one's own religious house or province; since ik has as object a particular good, though one com-mon to many persons, can be immoderate and can stand in the way or retard the more universal affection which is owed to the order or congregation and in this way the strength and unity of an order or congregation can be weakened. In the same way, but indeed in a. stronger sense, love toward one's own order or con-gregation can foster a certain party spirit and detract from the charity by which we are ordered to love the universal Church. {Acta, pp. 248-49) Another aspect of this undue respect for one's own ideal is a narrow holding to the letter of the founder's thought. As Canon Leclerq remarks, "By this fidelity to the letter of the law religious end by doing the reverse of what their founders wish . The happy milan is to be found in great fidelity to the spirit in which the orders were founded, combined with considerable flexibility as regards material forms;, such flexibility will be the product of detachment." (Leclerq, The Religious Vo-cation, pp. 64-66) .~. By applying too rigidly every minor prescription of the constitutions, religious would run ashoal on those difficulties against which the Pope and theologians advise when they rec-ommend adaptation. Religious (particularly superiors, councils, and chapters) ought to develop a habit of standing back and determining the general' principle the founder was applying to his given time and circumstances and then launch bravely forth to apply the same principle to their own times and needs regard-less of whether such application means one more hour of sleep daily than the founder prescribed, an annual vacation, a rather complete change of h oraril~m, or the abandonment of the diet and clothing which the founder thought suited to his century and purpose. Archbishop T. D. Rbberts, S.J., states a truth that the religious of our times must master: " 'Reform' is not heresy even when it faces boldly up to the truth that Our Holy Mother Foundress was not given by God to speak the last word of wis- 348 November, lg58 PRELIMINARY TO ADAPTATION dom for all times. Nobody ever was~-not even Our Holy Founder." (Black Popes, p. 40) A third evil to be guarded against in seeking to develop the spirit of one's order would be adherence to the founder's thought when the Church herself commends or even commands modification. Undoubtedly the prescription {after the pro-mulgation of the new Code of Canon Law) that all rules were to be submitted to the Sacred Congregation of Religious for re-examination brought changes in the rules of orders that had been living by those rules for centuries. Some of these modi-fications might not have seemed in line with the thought of the founder of the order, but it is to be remembered that the life of an order flows first from the Church to whom the founder and his followers turned for approval and recognition of what they believed to be inspired by the Holy Spirit. "Our subjection to the Church ought to be so great and of such a kind that we take away nothing from her, and cer-tainly not the owed reverence with which we observe all the holy rules," s,ays Father Lombardi, S.J. For these things, indeed, are rules for us riot because they were written by a certain holy man (because no one can impose rules on us in virtue of the fact that he is holy}; they" have the force of juridical norms and impose an obligation because they derive their force from the approbation of ecclesiastical authority. To this au-thority, then, which is a fountainhead of our obligations and which remains a living thing (whereas the holy founders are dead) we surely owe greater reverence than to any internal constitutions of our institutes. To this authority we should subject ourselves wholly in all things which concern the vow and we should do this according to the same contract by which we subject ourselves to Jesus, king of all saints. And finally, it is from this authority that we ought to look for a renewal, with courageous spirit, of all things which are necessary, when internal power is not strong enough to prev~.il. (Acta, p. 122) When one initiates a study of the spirit of one's order, one ought not fear these evils which spring from a wrong emphasis on the spirit of one's order, The purpose for deter-mining what this spirit is is to facilitate adaptation to the needs of our time and our world conditions. Such adaptation, judi- 349 SISTER MARIA [~iously ran.de according to the mind of the Church, would tend to free the order of the very errors to which the wrong kind of preoccupation about the spirit might lead. There is, indeed, reason today for the study, review, analysis, clarification, and understanding of what is meant by the spirit of one's orde.r: The changes of this century require adaptation and renovation. Out of loyalty to their founders, religious must heed the advice of Arcadius Larraona, C.M.F.: By doing today what they I the .foundersJ would do in our place, what they would do if they were living in our own times, we shall continue their work. They live; they have a right to live in us; and we have the'sacred obligation to carry on their work and to live in their spirit. (Larraona, C.M.F., Religious Community Life in the United States. Proceedings of the Men's Section of the First Na-tional Congress of Religious in the United States, pp. 232-35) By the spirit an" order lives. By careful adaptation and fervent renovation according to the spirit of the o~der, religious groups will meet the needs of oiar times. Such adaptation and renovation can be initiated by thorough study of the distinctive spirit of one's own order. MEDICO-MORAL PROBLEMS The Catholic Hospital Association announces that the series of booklets entitled Medico-Moral Problems, by Gerald Kelly~ s.J., have been revised and are now available in a single volume. The revision entailed dropping obsolete matter (e.g., on the Eucharistic fast), bringing all medical facts and opinions up to date, adding chapters on recently discussed topics (e.g., the use of hypnotism as an anesthetic}, supplying a list of pertinent papal documents, and com-posing a comprehensive index. The new volume--also entitled Medico-Moral Problems--in-cludes most of the moral principles and practical problems with which members of the medical profession, especially those associated with Catholic hospitals, should be familiar. The price is three dollars per copy, with discounts for quantity orders. The book, as well as information about it, can be obtained from: The Catholic Hospital Association, 1438 South Grand Boulevard, St. Louis 4, Missouri. 350 Survey Roman Documents R. F. Smith, S.J. [The following pages will give a summary of the documents which appeared in Acta Apostoiicae Sedis (AAS} during the months of June and July, 1958. Throughout the article all page references will be to the 1958 AAS (v. 50).] The Encyclical Meminisse luvat ON JULY 14, 1958 (AAS, pp. 449-59), the Holy Father issued the first encyclical that he has published during the current calendar year. Recalling that. it has always been his custom, as well as that of his predecesso~rs, to implore the help of the Virgin Mother of God at times when special dangers threaten the Christian people, His Holiness then pointe.d out that such a time or danger exists in the world today. For, as he remarked, we are living at a time when latent discord among the peoples o~ the earth holds the entire world in the grip of anxiety; and the tension is only increased by the fact that men have now discovered terrible weapons of destruction whicl~ can bring ruin not only to the vanquished but also to the conquerors and even to all of humanity. If, the Vicar of Christ continued, one searches the reasons for this state of affairs, it will be seen that the present situation exists because men have forgotten the authority of God and love for one another. These in turn .have been forgotten because men have ignored the Christian religion which alone teaches the fullness of truth, authentic justice, and divine love. Indeed in large sections of the world the Church is suffering cruel persecution. Bishops have been driven out, Catholic publications have been silenced, schools have been closed, mis-sionaries have been ~xpelled, and above all every attempt has been made to rupture the union of the local churches with the H01y See,0the source of all Catholic uni~y. 351 R. F. SMITH Rcvicw for Religioz~s ~. Just at$hle Pope added, Christians of apostolic times would join together in prayer for their brethren who were being per-secuted, so too today's Christians in Europe and the Far East who have so long endured persec.ution should not be deprived ,~,°f. the help and the prayers of their fellow Christians. Conse-quently the Holy Father asked that prior to the feast of the Assumption a novena be held during which all Catholics of the entire world should plead to God through the Blessed Virgin for the persecuted Christians of ,those regions. To these prayers Christians must also add a reform of life without which their words will never be pleasingto God. In this way, the Holyo Father concluded, Christians of today ivill once more manifest the truth of the words of the Letter to Diognetus: "Christians are in the flesh, but they do not live according to the flesh. They live on earth, but their true citizenship is in heaven. They obey the lairs which are promulgated, but by their way of life they surpass all such laws . " The Consistory of Cardinals In the issues of AAS considered in this survey may b~ found the proceedings (AAS, pp. 393-440) of tl~e first con-sistory of Cardinals held since May, 1954. The first session was a secret consistory held on June 9, 1958. At that session Cardi-nal Tisserant was made Camerario of the College of Cardinals, replacing Cardinal Ottaviani in that position. Two of the Car-dinals, Cardinal Mimmi and Cardinal Costantini, changed their eardinalatial churche~ in Rome. Afterwards the Holy Father published a list of all hierarchical appointments made since the last consistory; the appointments included 2 patriarchs, 123 arch-bishops, 635 bishops, 9 prelates nullius, and 1 abbot nullius. After the reading of these appointments and after His Holiness had confirmed the elections made by the synod of the Chaldean bishops as well as those made by the synod of the .Maronite bishops, the cardinals listened to a report from Cardinal Cicog-nani, Prefect of the Congregation of Rites, concerning the life and miracles of Blessed Charles of Setia and of Blessed ]uana 352 November, 1~58 ROMAN DOCUMENTS Joaquina de Vedruna de Mas. At the conclusion of the report each cardinal was asked to give his opinion on the possibility of canonizing the two blessed. The consistory closed after recently appointed archbishops had sul~mitted their petitions for the pallium. Immediately following the secret consistory, a public con-sistory was held on the same day; this session consisted in further consideration of the causes of the two blessed mentioned above. On June 16, 1958, a semipublic consistory was held. oHere the Holy Father asked the cardinals their considered opinion on the advisability of the canonization of the two blessed already men-tioned. Since all the cardinals favored the canonization of the two, the Pontiff closed the consistory by announcing his inten-tion of canonizing the two blessed on November 23, 1958. ¯ . Four Allocutions and a Message On April 28, 1958 (AAS, pp. 361-64), the Vicar of Christ delivered an allocution to the members of an Italian group interested in caring for orphaned children of the working class. After telling his listeners that the ideas of justice, of respect for each human, person, and of pity for the humble come from the gospel and not from the doctrines of materialism and individ-ualism, the Pope pointed out to his listeners that their work for orphans must be animated by an intense sentiment of charity, for orphans are in greater, need of the warmth of intimacy and goodness than they are of food and clothing; orphanages, he said, must be father, mother, brother, and sister to the orphan. The Pontiff concluded his talk by urging his listeners to continue their work, since already in the beginning of Christianity (James 1:27) it was noted that care for orphans is an important function of the Christian religion. On the Feast of St. Joseph the Worker,. May 1, 1958 (AAS, pp. 365-69), the Holy Father addressed an assembled group of 20,000 Italian workers. At the beginning of his allocution His Holiness thanked God for the happy changes 353 R. F, SMITH Review for Religion, s that have occurred in the world of labor during the last 100 years. A hundred years ago, he remarked, no one would have thought that there would exist in so many nations a working class equal in rights and dignity to the other classes of society. Similarly, too, a hundred years ago no one would have dreamed that one day troops of workers would be gatherdd around the Vicar of~ Christ to celebrate with him the day of labor in a Christian way. The Pope, went on to warn his listeners that whenever and wherever social reform has been attempted without Christ and against Christ, all the real rights and the true liberty of the worker have been lost; for solutions based on materialistic principles neglect that which is best and most important in the worker: his .soul and his eternal destiny. In the second part of his allocution Plus XII encouraged his listeners to continue their support of associations of Cath-o! jc workers, These associations in turn should provide the workers with everything that is necessary to perfect them as men, as workers, and as Christians. Moreover, such associa-tions of Catholic workers should assist their members in times of abnormal circumstances such as sickness. However, the Vicar of Christ concluded, the charity of such associations should not be restricted to their own members; rather it must extend to all men, especially to those other workers who, ~ssailed by a daily propaganda of hatred and violence, are exposed' ~to the danger of lo~sing their sense of human pity and their conception of the humlln race as one family. On May 16, 1958 (AAS, pp. 369-70), the Pope spoke tb the members of the NATO Defense College, expressing his regret ~it ~he stateof the world th~it forces them to teach alert-ness against attacks from other human beings and telling them to continues their work in the confident hope that the day will Come~ when protection and defense can be ensured with a m,mmum of force and~ when truth and justice are the guide p~bstg'-bf 'those who lead the peoples of the world. 35~4 November, 1958 ROMAN DOCUMENTS On May 21, I958 (AAS, pp. 370-73), the Holy Father addressed a group of Italian women engaged in giving spiritual assistance to the members of the armed forces of Italy. In the first part of his allocution, the Pontiff outlined the teaching of the Church with regard to war. The Church, he said, has never accepted the doctrine of those who maintain that power is the 0nly foundation of international relations. War, he said, is not the promoter of the highest masculine qualities nor is it the stimu-lator of fecund initiative, even if at times it is the occasion and catalyst for growth in science and technique. In short, war is not something that the Church regards as licit in every cir-cumstance. Nevertheless, the Church has never taught that war is always reprehensible, for under certain conditions a nation may justly take up arms to defend itself. The struggle between Cain and Abel, the Pontiff con-tinued, marked the beginning of the history of war. Since then the entire~history of mankind has been a history of wa'r, a history which culminates in the present time when war is a conflict between entire peoples and when every physical, mor~l, economic, and industrial force is utilized for the prosecution of war. It is for this reason, he added, that every nation today seeks an army proportioned to its needs, one that lacks nothing from the viewpoint of a strong, ready, and energetic defense of the country. The Pontiff Concluded this 'first'part of his allocution by telling his listeners that Italy too~has ~a right to such an army for defense, even though there is no doubt that Italy sincerely desires peace, In the second part of his .allocution the Pope gives his listeners warm encouragement.to continue their work of giving spiritual assistance to the members of the Italian armed forces, It is true, he admitted, that army life helps physical develop-ment and aids in self-assurance and mat~urity; nevertheless the life also presents many evils and moral dangers, which .may destroy in the soldier the divine life within him. ~Hence, he 355 R. F. SMITH Review for Religious added, one of the prime needs in the army is that of priests who have a profound knowledge of a soldier's life; accordingly chaplains for the armed forces should be chosen from among the best priests and then given every preparation that will train them for their work. In conclusion the Pontiff told his lis-teners that in their work they must take the place of mothers and sisters to the soldiers and pointed out to them the many opporunities they will have to save the faith of many of the soldiers as well as lead others of them into the Church. On June 10, 1958 (AAS, pp. 446-48), the Pontiff sent a written message to a Paris meeting of an international con-gress on family life. In the message he pointed out that a strong civic and social order must be based on a conception of marriage and of the family that is conformable to the order established by God. Consequently he urges the members of the congress to spare, no effort to achieve those conditions of a decent and happy family life in which the exigencies of morality are not sacrificed to the satisfaction of the individual. Other Documents By an Apostolic Constitution dated June 3, 1958 (AAS, pp. 460-64), the Holy Father announced the founding in Rome of a Pontifical Institute of Pastoral Work. The new institute, whose purpose it" is to foster the pastoral develop-ment of the diocesan and regular clergy, will be part of the Pontifical Lateran Institute and will provide two distinct courses of training. The first course, of one year duration, will be intended for the training of the ordinary priest in his future pastoral work; the second course will consist of a two-year program leading to a doctorate in sacred theology; this second course is intended for those who will be future teachers of pastoral theology. Statutes for the new institute are to be published later; the institute was placed by the Pontiff under the patronage of Our Lady, Queen of the .Apostles, and under 356 November, 1958 ROMAN DOCUMENTS that of two popes noted for their zeal tCor pastoral care: St. Gregory the Great and St. Pius X. In another apostolic constitution, this one dated June 10, 1957 (AAS, pp. 345-47), the Holy Father set up an Apostolic Exarchate in England and Wales for Ruthenians of the Byzantine rite living in England. Archbishop Godfrey of Westminster was made exarch of the group. On November 19, 1957 (AAS, pp. 386-88), the Sacred Congregation of Rites approved the introduction of the cause of the Servant of God, Mary Teresa Zonfrilli (1899-1934), professed member of the Congregation of the Daughters of Our Lady of Mount Calvary. On January 7, 1958 (AAS, pp. 388-90), the same congregation gave its approval to the two miracles necessary for the canonization of Blessed Charles of Setia (1613-1670), lay brother of the Order of Friars Minor. On March 28, 1958 (AAS, pp. 486-87), the congre-gation issued the decree that the'canonization of Blessed Charles could be safely proceeded with; under the. same date (AAS, pp. 488-89), it issued a similar decree with regard to the canon-ization of Blessed Juana Joaquina de Vedrur~a de Mas (1783- 1854), widow and foundress of' the Carmelite Sisters of Charity. On November 21, 1957 (AAS, pp. 375-83), the Sacred Congregation of the Consistory issued legisl'ation which hence-forth will govern the Apostolate of the Sea; the group, first approved by Pius XI, was founded in Glasgow to work for the spiritual, moral, and social welfare of maritime personnel. On January 23, 1958 (AAS, pp. 480-83), the same congregation issued a decree establishing a military vicariate in the Dominican Republic. A later decree of the congregation dated February 11, 1958 (AAS, p. 483), appointed Archbishop Pittini as the military vicar of the republic. 357 The ener l Ch p!:er ,Joseph I=. G~llen, ~.d. QUESTIONS AND CASES are frequently received on the general chapter. A complete article on this matter would be of prohibitive length. It would also be excessively de-tailed and technical. We believe that the practical purpose of such an article will be better attained by presenting the matter under the form of questions and cases. The following ques-tions are the third and last part of a series. VII. Counting Ballots 33. There were twenty-nine valid votes on the first balloting for the election of our mother general. Sister A received an absolute majority of fifteen votes and was therefore elected. However, if she voted for herself, her vote was invalid (c. 170), she did not receive an absolute majority, and consequently was not elected. Should we have done any-thing to make sure that she had not voted for herself? An invalid vote does not of itself invalidate an election or a balloting. The invalid votes are simply not counted in any way. An invalid vote does invalidate the election if it is certain that the person would not have attained the required number of votes without the invalid vote (c. 167, § 2). The only invalidating effect that can cause a practical difficulty is a vote for oneself. This difficulty occurs, as in the present case, when the election was decided by only one vote. Some institutes demand that each elector place an identifying symbol, chosen by himself, on his ballot, e. g., a cross, star, name of saint, etc. Another form of the same type obliges the elector to write his own name on~ the ballot or voting ticket, seal it within a fold, place his symbol within another sealed fold, and write his vote within the last sealed, fold. If the present case occurs, the one elected is obliged to identify his vote to the president and tellers to determine whether he voted for himself. In a few institutes, ~a,n added vqte is required when the one elected is a member 358 THEGENERAL CHAPTER of the chapter. Thus Sister A would not have been elected in the present case unless she obtained sixteen votes. Outside of a most fare exception, none of these forms is in use in lay institutes. The elector writes only the name of the person he votes for on the ballot and folds it. Therefore, Sister A cannot be obliged to identify her vote in the present case. The constitutions do not impose this obligation, and she is presumed to have acted rightly, not evilly. The election is to be held as valid, unless it is not merely probable but certain that she voted for herself, e. g,, from her own voluntary declaration. If she actually gave her secret vote to herself, all of her acts as mother general will be certainly valid, since canon 209 supplies also dominative power in com-mon error. However, she is obliged to refuse the election or to petition its sanation secretly from the Holy See. Cf. De Carlo, Jus Religiosorum, n, 137; Parsons, Canonical Elections, 163; Beste, Introductio in Codicem, 214. 34. What is the meaning of our constitutionsl which say of all elections that in a tie on the last balloting "the senior by first profession is elected, but in a parity of profession, the senior by age"? For example, I, Brother A, took my vows first in our profession band, but the one who took his vows immediately after me, Brothe~- B, is four yearsl older than I. If the two of us were tied on a last balloting, which would be elected? Brother B wo'uld be elected. The pertinent words of canon 101, § I, 1°, on this case are: "if the president does not wish to break the tie by his vote, that one is elected who is senior by first profession or by age." The constitutions of lay institutes practically never give the president the right of break-ing the tie in an election. Therefore, with the exception of this clause, your constitutions are the same. as the canonical norm of canon 101, § 1, 1°; but the sense of this canon is the day of profession and the day of birth, not the hour, minute, or second of profession or birth. The p~oof is as follows. 1'. From the usage in other canons. Canon 635 staCes that religious transferring from one monastery ~to~ another df the 359 JOSEPH F. GAI~LEN Review for Religion, s same institute lose all rights of theformer monastery and assume the rights and obligations of the latter from the day of the transfer. Canon 640, § 2, declares that a secularized religious who is readmitted into religion, assumes his seniority from the day of his new profession. The Code Commission replied that the precedence of a suffragan bishop in a pro-vincial council was to be determined from the day of his proclamation or election (Bouscaren, Canon Law Digest, I, 88). 2. From the nature of the matter. This canon gives a universal norm that is to settle ip.~o ]:ac/o and immediately a tie on the last balloting. Therefore, it is a norm that is uni-versally applicable, readily knowable, and applicable absolutely, not conditionally, e. g., seniority by age considered objectively is to break the tie, notif it is known who is the senior by age. From the nature of the matter, age is to be taken as the day', not the hour,, minute, or second, of birth. How many" know the hour or minute of their birth? How often is the hour or minute of birth noted even in ecclesiastical or civil records? If this is true of age, it is to be affirmed also of first: profession, since the two are expressed in a parallel manner in the canon. The same argument is verified for first profession considered ir~ itself. It is at least ordinarily possible to determine the order of professions of the same day in the province or institute that has only one novitiate, even though I, with many others, do not recall whether I was third or eighth in taking my first vows. However, the norm is universally applicable. If two religious who are tied made their first profession on the same day and in ceremonies that began at the same hour, but one in New York and the other in California, how could there be certainty of the minute ~at which each profession began? Did each Mass begin on time? What was the relative rapidity of the priests in saying Mass? What was the length of each sermon? How many institutes keep a record of the hour, minute, and second of each profession? 360 November, 1958 THE GENERAL CHAPTER 3. From the practice of the Holy See. In approving constitutions, the Sacred Congregation of Religious almost constantly words the canon: "if they made their first profession on the same day, the senior by age is elected." 4. From the. doctrine of authors. Practically no author has °adverted to the difficulty presented in this question, but the following at least implicitly affirm the solution given abovi~: Schaefer, De Religiosis, n. 258; Jone, Commentarium in Co-dicem Iuris Canonici, I, 114; Muzzarelli, De Congregationibus Iuris Dioecesani, 216, note 5 ; Parsons, Canonical Elections, 154; Bastien, Directoire Canonique, n. 48; Fanfani, De Religiosis, n. 366; Abbo-Hannan, The Sacred Canons, I, 156. The hour, minute, or second may be followed in other mat-ters for determining precedence; but in elections, except in the very few lay institutes that establish their own norm, the constitu-tions' are only stating canon 101, § 1, 1°, and must therefore be interpreted in the sense of this canonical norm. 35. What is the meaning Of this article of our ~constitutions on the elec. tion of the mother general: "If, when the ballots have been counted, it shall appear that-no-one of the sisters has received a majority of.the votes cast, they shall proceed to a second or third ballot; if then the required majority of votes should not yet have been obtained, a fourth ballot shall be taken in which only those two sisters have passive vote who on the third ballot had received the larger number of votes. If on the fourth ballot, an equal number of votes is given to both, the senior by profession or, if they are equal, the older in yeat~s shall be considered elected"? There is no doubt that the article is .obscure. An absolute majority is a number that in any way exceeds half the valid votes cast, even if by only a half vote, e. g., nine out of seventeen, ten out of eighteen. A relative majority is a number of votes for one person larger than for any of the others singly, although less than for all the others taken together, e. g., ii~ seventeen valid votes are cast and Sister' M. Agatha receives seven, Sister M. Bernice six, Sister M. Callista three, and Sister M. Damien one, Sister M. Agatha is elected on a balloting in 361 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for Religious which a relative majority is decisive. Active voice is the right to vote in :a chapter; passive voice is the right to be elected ir~ a chapter. Passive "vote" in this article should be passive voice, and "senior by profession" should be "senior by first profes-sion." Therefore, the sense, of the article is that an absolute majority is required for an election on any of the .first. three ballotings. If an election has not resulted, a fourth and last balloting is to be held. 0nly the two sisters who had the highest number of votes in the third balloting can be voted for in this last balloting, i. e.,. they alone have passive voice. This article does not deprive these two sisters of active voice on the fourth balloting, as is now the universal p~actice of the Holy See in approving constitutions. Of the two, the sister who receives the larger number of votes on the fourth balloting is elected. If this balloting results in a tie, the sister who is senior by first professio~ is elected; if the two made their first profession on the same day, the senior by age is elected. 36. Our constitutions state of the elections of the general officials: if in neither the first ballot nor in the second ballot an absolute majority of votes is obtained, a relative majority will be di~cisive on the third ballot." Who is elected according to this norm when two or more are tied on the third ballot? The full canonical norm (c. 101, § !'~ l°)'is that the president of the election has the righ.t to decide the tie on the third balloting by his or her. vote; but, if he does not choose to do this, the tie is broken in a lay institute by seniority of first profession or by age. If your constitutions give the president this right in other elections, he has the same right here. If they do not, as is almost universally true in lay institutes, the president does not have this right; and the tie ig broken only by the day of first profession or the day of birth. 37. According to our constitutions, a tie on the fourth and last ballot-ing for the office of superior general is broken in this way: the older by first profession is elected superior general and in case the religious made their profession on the same day, the older in age is elected. The article for the elections of the general offcials states that a relative.majority is 362 November, 19~58 THE GENERAL CHAPTER sufficient on the third and last balloting but that, if there is a tie, the older in profession is elected. The latter article says nothing about age. Who is elected in the latter case when two or more religious are tied on the third balloting but all made their first profession on the same day? As in the preceding case, the second article has merely omitted part of the canonical norm. This is clear also from the fact that age is included in the first article. Therefore, the question of the tie is to be decided by the canonical norm of seniority by the day of birth. VIII. After the Election 38. The constitutions of our diocesan congregation of sisters say simply that the local ordinary has the right of confirming the election of the mother general. What is the meaning of this authority? In virtue of canon 506, § 4, the presiding local ordinary has the right of confirming the election of the mother general in diocesan congregations. Therefore, three things are required to complete the election in such a congregation, the required number of votes, acceptance, unless this is commanded by the constitutions, and the confirmation of the local ordinary. (a) Competent local ordinary. The right to confirm an election is the authority to ratify or rescind the election. Con-firmation appertains to the ordinary of the diocese in which the election is held, not to the ordinary of the motherhouse as such. The ordinary may delegate his power of confirming or rescinding the election, e. g., to the priest he has delegated to preside at the election. (b) Norm for giving ~:onfirmation. The general canon on elections, 177, § 2, enacts that the competent superior must give the confirmation if the election was legitimatdly performed and he judges the one elected qualified for the office, even if in his judgment this person is not the more or most qualified. However, canon 506, § 4, treats specifically of the right of the local ordinary to confirm or rescind the election of a mother general in diocesan congregations and describes this right as the 363 JOSEPH f. GALLEN Review for Religious authority to confirm or .rescind the. election according to his conscience," This last phrase has led many canonists to hold that the ordinary is given a wider power in this case than in the general canon, 177, § 2. In this opinion, the local ordinary may not licitly act on mere whim, human motives, or personal preferences, but only on reasons based on the common good of the congregation. This being"presupposed, he has the right of rescinding 'the election also if he judges that the more or most suitable person was not elected. Other canonists hold that the ordinary must conform to the general canon, 177, § 2, also in confirming the election of a mother general. The opinion grant-ing the ordinary the wider power is at least more probable, if not certain, from the clearly distinctive wording of canon 506, § 4. The right of confirmation and rescission is not a right of ap-pointing the mother general. If the ordinary refuses the con-firmation, the chapter proceeds to .a new election. (c) Confirmation of other elections. Canon law demands confirmation only for the election of the mother general of a diocesan congregation, not for that of any other religious superior or official. By the law of the constitutions, confirma-tion is required for the election of the superioress in some monasteries of nuns and usually the confirmation of the mother general wi~h the consent of her council is ne.cessary when the mother provincial and ihe provincial officials are elected in the provincial chapter. The competent superior for such a monas-tery is the local ordinary, if the monastery is subject to him, or the regular superior, if the monastery is subject to regulars. The confirmation in all such cases is to be given according to the general norm of canon 177, § 2. 39. The constitutions of our pontifical congregation give a form of words by which the local ordinary is said to confirm the election of the mother general. Is ~his in accord with canon law? The right of confirming an election is the authority to ratify or rescind it. In virtue of canon 506, § 4, the ordinary ot: the place of election has the right of confirming the election of 364 Novc~nbcr, 1958 THE GENERAL CHAPTER the mother general in diocesan congregations only. Canon law does not require confirmation for the election of any other religious superior or official. It is true that confirmation can be demanded by the law of th~ particular constitutions, e. g., in the case of the election of the superioress in some monasteries of nuns. However, the Holy See does not grant the local ordinary the right of confirmation in approving the constitutions of pontifical congregations. Furthermore, the constitutions in question contain no article granting this extraordinary right to the local ordinary. Therefore, ~the word "confirm" in these constitutions is to be interpreted as a wide use for the accurate word "proclaim," i. e., when an election has resulted, the president of the chapter announces this fact and the name of the one elected (c. 174). Cases of such a wide use of "confirm" are found in other documents of the Holy See and in authors. Cf. Battandier, Guide Canonique, n. 382. 40. The president at the election of our mother general was a priest. delegated by the local ordinary. At the end of the first balloting, the president proclaimed the election, i. e., announced that an election had resulted, with the name of the one elected (c. 174). He did not an-nounce how many votes this sister had received, whether other sisters had received any votes, nor obviously the number of votes received by such other sisters. 1. Was this omission of the president contrary to canon law and thus illicit? 2. Was the election thereby invalid? This question has been proposed several times and has already been answered in the REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. On this occasion, we shall strive to be more complete, even though this implies a cumbersome burden of citations. There is no doubt whatever that the omission of the president was contrary to canon 171, § 2, and therefore objectively illicit. This canon commands that the names of all voted for and the number of votes each received must be announced in every balloting ("palamque faciant quot quisque retulerit"). The canon per-mits that the announcing be done in either of two ways, i. e., the vote on each.ballot, or voting ticket or slip, is announced to the capitulars or the names of all voted for and the total 365 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review ]or Religious received by each are announced only at the end of the balloting. It is much better and is the usual custom to announce the votes in both ways. The further question can be and is now again asked whether an election is invalid (1) if the numbe~ of votes received by the elected candidate is not published to the capitu-lars or (2) the number of votes received by the other candidates is not so published. Most authors do not even mention in-validity with regard to either case in their explanation of the pertinent canon, 171, § 2. Most also implicitly deny invalidity, because they list the causes of the invalidity of elections without including either of these cases. (Schaefer, De Religiosis, n. 527; De Carlo, Jus Religiosorum, n. 150; Vermeersch-Creusen, Epitome Iuris Canonici, I, n- 288; Fanfani, De Religiosis, n. 116; .Pruemmer, Manuale Iuris Canonici, q. 79; Bouscaren-Ellis, Canon Law, 127; Claeys Bouuaert-Simenon, Manuale Juris Can-onici, I, n. 331; Brys, Juris Canonici Compendium, I, 263; Sipos, Enchiridion Iuris Canonici, 129; Geser, Canon Law Governing Communities of Sisters, n. 341) Some deny or doubt the in-validity in these two cases. (Vermeersch-Creusen, 0p. cir., n. 293, 2; Jone, Commentarium in Codicem Iuris Canonici, I, 177; Ellis, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, 8-1949-159-60) Therefore, there exists no common opinion of authors that invalidity is verified in either case. Furthermore, several of the authors who maintain invalidity express themselves so obscurely that it is difficult to understand what they mean by the publication they require for validity. Goyeneche, Quaestiones Canonicae, I, 50-51; Coronata, Institutiones Iuris Canonici, I, 278-79; Creusen, Religious Men and Women in the Code, n. 76; Parsons, Canoni-cal Elections, 151-52, 200; and Lewis, Chapters in Religious Institutes, 127, affirm invalidity at least with regard to the first case. Their first argument is that publication of the votes is an essential element of a canonical election. This argument is not certain, since it is admittedly difficult to ascertain what are the essential elements of an election in the code. The second argu- 366 November, 1958 THE GENERAL CHAPTER ment is that the code is here merely reassuming the law before the ~code, which demanded publication for validity. This argument al~o is not certain. Canon 171, § 2, does not: state expressly that. publication of the votes is required for the validity of .a balloting. If the intention was to reassume the former law, i~ seems strange that an invalidating clause was not expressed in the canon, as it is in so many of tl~e other canons on elections, e. g.~ 162, §§ 3, 5; 165; 166; 167, § 2; 169; 170; 171, § 3; 172, §§ 2-3; 1.76, § 3; 181, § 2. There-fore, since there is a doubt of law about invalidity in both cases, all such elections are valid (c. 15). 41. The constitutions of our pontifical congregation contain the follow-ing ~rticle: "In the ordinary chapter, the mother general going out of office shall act as mother vicar until the elections have lawfully taken place." Isn't she out of office entirely as soon as the election of the new mother general is' completed and before the elections of the four councilors, the secretary general, and the bursar general? Yes. The wording of your constitutions follows the Normae of 1901, article 225. The sense, however, is that expressed in the question, i. e., the mother general loses all title to the office, also as mother vicar, on the completion of the election of the mother general. The election is completed in a pontifical congregation by the attaining of .the requisite number of votes and acceptance, or by the former alone if acceptance is imposed by the particular law of the institute, and in diocesan congregations ~ of women by the added ~equisite of the confirmation of the ordinary 'of the place of election (cc. 174-77; 506, § 4). This interpretation is otherwise evi-dent from your constitutions, since the newly elected mother general immediately assumes her office by presiding at the elections that follow and at the chapter of affairs. The retention and prolongation of the office under the title of vicar is to take care of the case of an election delayed beyond the expiration of the term of the present mother gen-eral and of a suspension of the chapter. This occurs when 367 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for Religious the choice of the chapter is of one who cannot be elected but only postulated as mother general, i. e., because of a lack of the age, years of profession, or legitimacy required by canon 504, or an election beyond the number of terms permitted by the constitutions. The postulation for the last impediment in a diocesan institute is addressed to the ordinary of the place of election; but in all other cases, whether the institute is pon-tifical or diocesan, it must be made to the Holy See (c. 181, § 1). In a postulation for the office of mother general, the chapter is suspended until notification is received of the accep-tance or rejection of the postulation. A suspension can also occur in a diocesan institute of women when the confirmation of the local ordinary is delayed. It is better to word the con-stitutions that all elective officials retain their offices until the election to the same office is completed in the following chap-ter. Cf. Normae pro Constitutionibus Congregationum Iuris Dioe.cesani a S. C. de Propaganda Fide De.pendentium, aa. 142, 153. IX. Chapter of Affairs 42. The constitutions of our pontifical congregat.ion, of brothers state with regard to the chapter of affairs: "All these matters are decided by an absolute majority of secret votes." A secret vote takes more time, and I see no reason for secrecy in many of the matters that uniformly come before a chapter of affairs. The practice of the Holy See in approving constitutions demands secret voting in the chapter of affairs. This voting may be done by a method such as black ~ind white beans. It is admitted doctrine that the voting need not always be secret. If the matter is of little importance or the discussion has made it clear that there is little opposition, the voting may be public, e. g., by rising or raising the hand. A capitular may always request a secret vote on such a matter. If so, the superior general will put this question to a vote. If the absolute majority by a public vote, e. g., rising or raising the hand, favors a secret vote on the matter, this must be had; otherwise, the voting 368 Novcmber, 1958 THE GENERAL CHAPTER will be public. A few pontifical constitutions ordain that the voting is always to be public, with the exception of the request for secrecy described above. It is difficult to see why a secret vote should be generally prescribed for the chapter of affairs. There is no general reason for secrecy in the matters listed in the practice of the Holy See as the more important affairs of this chapter. 43. What is the duration of the ordinances of a chapter of.affairs in lay institutes? In constitutions, the acts of the chapter of affairs are variously termed ordinances, enactments, regulations, decrees, and decisions. According to the practice of the Holy See, the ordinances of a chapter in lay institutes are temporary. The Normae of 1901 stated that the ordinances of the general chapter remained in force until the next chapter (a. 250). In its present practice, the Sacred Congregation of Religious states that these ordinances remain in force until the next general chapter, in which they may be confirmed, modified, or abrogated. The temporary character of the ordinances has therefore beeia imposed by the Holy See in the approval of constitutions; it does not certainly follow from the nature of such ordinances nor from canon 24. To avoid any difficulty, the superior general should propose a declaration that all the acts of past chapters are confirmed by the present chapter except insofar as they will be or have been modified or abrogated by this chapter. The temporary character of the ordinances does not demand an explicit confirmation for their continuance; an implicit or tacit confirmation suffices. If a previous general chapter has approved so important a measure as a directory, the sum of the dowry, or the extraordinary expenses for which local superiors must recur to higher superiors and the subsequent chapter omits all action on the matter, it is the implicit or tacit will of this chapter that such a measure is confirmed. Van Hove states this principle as follows: "Many ordinances enacted from dominative power continue to exist on the cessation from office 369 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for Religious of the superior who established them, because they are implicitly renewed by his successor, who is presumed to intend that the customary order in a community continue to be observed until he changes it" (De Legibus Ecclesiasticis, I, n. 359, note 4; cf. Jone, C0mmentarium in Codicem Iuris Canonici, I, 46). Furthermore, from the practice of religious institutes, it is the presumption that all existing acts of previous chapters are implicitly or tacitly confirmed by a later chapter except those that it changes or abrogates. 44. Do monasteries of nuns have a chapter of affairs after the elections? A chapter ~f affairs is held more frequently and separately from elections in monasteries of nuns, since the chapter in such an institute has a vote in several matters that appertain solely to a higher superior and her council in a centralized institute. These matters vary in different constitutions, e. g., the alienation of property and the contracting of debts, admission of an aspirant into the enclosure, admission of a religious from another institute or monastery, admission to the novicesl~ip and pro-fessions, the declaration of fact fo~ an ~/~so faclo dismissal, the erection or suppression of a school, and other important matters of the monastery. A chapter of affairs is consequently held after the elections only if any such matters are to be discussed at the time. 45. Are higher superiors obliged to obey the enactments of the general chapter? Evidently. The general chapter is the supreme authority within the institute. Book Reviews [Material for this department should be sent to Book Review Editor, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, West Baden College, West Baden Springs, Indiana.] MERCY UNTO THOUSANDS. By Sister M. Bertrand Degnan, R.S.M. Pp. 394. The Newman Press, Westminster, Maryland. 1957. $6.50. Sister M. Bertrand began collecting data fo~ Mercy unto Thou-sands in 1945. The years of study, labor, and research have pro- 370 November, 1958 BOOK REVIEWS duced a masterpiece. This book is at once very scholarly and very interesting. The life of Mother McAuley is so well told, in fact, that the vast amount of research into primary sources is almost forgotten till one begins to study the references. Such scholarship and appeal are two qualities often sought, but seldom so well achieved. As the author traces the life of Mother McAuley, the Divine Providence which guided her life b~comes more clearly delineated at each step of her career. At least in its major aspects, God's plan for Catherine McAuley was clear to her religious superiors, if not entirely clear to Catherine ~erself. That a religious order should be the logical consequence of the charitable work of Mercy House on Baggot. Street, Dublin, seemed to be clear to everyone but Cath-erine. And that the order, once founded, should spread so rapidly was hardly strange. In fact, given the time, place, and other cir-cumstances it would have been strange had the order not so developed. For Mother McAuley was dedicated above all to doing" God's work. Her surrender of all her time, wealth, and talents to God, made her a perfect instrument in His hands. So step by step He l.ed her to the accomplishment of a great work--the foundation and propagation of the Sisters of Mercy. The gifts and talents of Mother McAuley were rare. Sound-ness of practical judgment, ability in financial matters, intellectual acumen, grace of manner, and perseverance, to mention but a few of her qualities, marked Catherine McAuley as a woman destined for success. Many of these talents, of course, found their fulfillment and perfection in the supernatural order. For the charity, humility, and patience of this great woman were exercised to a degree seldom achieved in the life of a religious. But the outstanding natural gift of Mother McAuley was her exceptional charm. Her letters, poems, talks, and conversations portray an attractive person. Her ready wit must have supplied many pleasant hours for the sisters in the recreation room. For Mother McAuley's irrepressible optimism and humor always gave her a glimpse of the bright side of life even in her darkest moments. The tenderness and warmth with which she treated the other sisters manifested a woman with an extremely affectionate heart. But she could scold when the occasion demanded it. Her corrections, how-ever, were always temperate; and offense was never given. In sh, ort, this is the life of a very attractive and charming religious very attractively written. Mother McAuley could not be 371 BOOK REVIEWS Review for Religio~cs better presented or represented than she has been in Mercy unto Thousands.--J. M. KUNTZ, S.J. PHILIPPINE DUCHESNE, Frontier Missionary of the Sacred Heart, 1769.1852. By Louise Callan, R.S.C.J. Pp. 805. The Newman Press, Westminster, Maryland. 1957. $8.00. This life is, as it should be, a monumental work; for it deals with an epic theme. Its story begins about the time of the fall of one nation and ends about the time of the rise of another with the life story of a heroine filling the interval. Mother Callan has laid Catholic readers under an undying obligation for her scholarly yet simple presentation of a heroic woman and dauntless religious facing the rigors of frontier life in the American midwest in the first half of the 19th century, with no other purpose than to make known the glory of the Heart of Jesus. The volume is largely made up of Philippine Duchesne's correspondence with her friend and religious superior, Mother Barat, with the members of her family, and with religious and ecclesiastics with whom her zeal brought her into contact. There is hardly a page in this large book without some extract from Philippine's correspondence. Mother Callan has woven this cor-respondence into her text to illustrate it and carry it forward, with the result that it is largely Philippine who tells her own story, and does so magnificently. The letters themselves are very interesting, but they are never introduced for themselves, and the reader is never aware that the story being told is arrested or delayed in its progress. Mother Duchesne was in fact no ordinary letter-writer, where she describes the angry moods of the Atlantic as she crosses it, the picturesque banks of the Mississippi as she ascends it, or the dirt and muck of a Missouri farmyard as she trudges through it. The pictures come alive and tell us as much of the writer as of the subject of her writing. One cannot help being deeply impressed by the dogged per-sistence in the face of difficulties, discouragement, and even of opposi-tion shown by Mother Duchesne in the pursuit of her purpose, the salvation of souls through devotion to Christ's own Heart. This she never lost sight of. Lack of means, lack of help, lack of interest on the part of others never deterred her. Poverty, frequently grinding, only opened up new resources of courage. Even failure could not stop her. In fact, her life seems to have been one succession of failures, from her first attempt at religious life which was cut short in her girl-hood by the French Revolution, down to her belated excursion to the 372 November, 1958 BOOK REVIEWS Potawatomi in her old age. She had come to teach the Indians the way to God, and the only Indians she met were converts of many years. She had come to a land where the language was other than her own, a language which baffled all her attempts to master it; and when she could not teach, she stitched and sewed and mended. One foundation after another was given up; and she moved from place to place, always beginning anew, until she came to spend her final and fail-ing years at St. Charles, on the banks of the Missouri, where she had begun her work--reluctantly, since she found no place awaiting her in St. Louis where she had hoped to be established. Behind this unalterable courage and determined will, there was a tender heart. One marvels at the strength of the affection she shows for those she loves, and she loved nearly all she met. Remark-ing on the lack of letters from France with news of her loved ones, she exclaims: "There is not a single religious from France in the community here. But we meet at the s~ime center--the Heart God . " She loves solitude, but there is a note of poignant loneli-ness in this cry from the heart. There was much she met in the pioneer society that repelled her. If we remember that she was of gentle birth, had known the refine-ment and culture of 18th century France, we can better understand the revulsions she must have felt for the coarseness she met with in the society of the frontier. In her letter to her cousin Josephine, she recalls: "Those happy evenings in Grandmother's house; the simple but charming dinners on Sunday--and those on Monday; the presents given out gradually to each of the younger children. All this comes to my mind. Those happy days in the big family were surely prefer-able to the prdud disdain, the indifference, the affected languor, by which people think they make themselves important and attractive. I continue to live in the same convent a peaceful retreat suited to my age and tastes. My thoughts are often with you and about you, for you are so dear to my heart." The proud disdain, the indifference, the affected languor--simple religious as she was, she was shrewd enough to penetrate the shallow shell of sophistication in the society about her and expose its essential pride. Philippine was no gloomy ascetic, although she was of a naturally seri6us disposition. "Yet she was," as Mother Jouve, a niece, testi-fied, "always joyous and animated at the community recreaSons or when religious came for little visits with her in her room." She had severe interior trials to undergo, but these she kept entirely to herself. She could spend long and happy hours before the Blessed Sacrament, 373 BOOK REVIEWS Review for Religious and she was never more pleased than when she was allowed to live in close proximity to the chapel. Her life had become completely and perfectly integrated in God, "because' she realized," as Mother Callan tells us, "with astonishing clarity that He is first, and also last~Alpha and Omega--and that between Him and all else in the universe, there is, there can be, no comparison." However else she failed, in this she succeeded supremely: she loved God with a consuhaing devotion and her neighbor with a tire-less affection.~WILLIAM J. YOUNG, S.J. THE TEMPTATIONS OF CHRIST. By Gerald Vann, O.P., and P. K. Meagher, O.P. Pp. 127. Sheed and Ward, New York 3. 1957. $2.75. The climate of modern opinion, abetted by the word of Freud and others, may well influence Christians to think that the devil's day is over. Fathers Vann and Meagher show conclusively that Satan's neatest trick is this widespread disbelief in him. Why was Christ tempted? The authors believe that Christ saw Satan for the shrewd opponent that he is and went forth eagerly to confront him, thus giving us an example of how to cope with tempta-tion and also exposing the devil's wiles at t~ieir roots. The book is a psychologico-ascetical study; reading it cannot fail to improve one's understanding of the un.derlying "predominant passions" which rise to the surface of everyday life in such myriad forms. The authors first point out that we should not expect to be free from temptations--such perfectionism is already unconscious pride. They then show how Satan waits his chance to attack us when we are weakest and where we are most vulnerable. It is a discerning person who does not allow himself to be so wasted away by fasts and penances that he falls easy prey to the schemes of the Prince of Darkness. Going through the three temptations individually, the authors show a deep knowledge of "what is in man" as they analyze the appeal of the °devil in each situation. Thus they take the temptation to turn stones into bread as an indication of the desire for that sense of security which an abundance of resources can provide, making it difficult even to wish to be poor in spirit. The "perils of the pinnacle" .is a temptation highlighting man's excess of trust in himself; it shows how many think they avoid "immorality" by skirting sexual sins only to be heedless of such things as calumny, cruelty, bitterness, and pride. 374 November, 1958 BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS The third temptation brings into the open the thread underlying this entire episode in our Lord's life. Satan's implication is that God is a poor provider and that the devil himself will give us prosperity and glory. And that indeed is the case--unless one takes a long-range view' beyond the frontiers of the immediate here and now. The book is more than a description of a scene from the life of Christ; it is a profound introspective study of what lies behind much of man's action. As such it cannot fail to give better knowledge of oneself and of the ways of the devil.--R.~LeH J. IL~ST~A~, S.J. BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS THE BRUCE PUBLISHING COMPANY, 400 North Broadway, Milwaukee 1, Wisconsin. Fathering-Forth. By John H. McGoey, S.F.M. A book by a priest for priests. In it Father McGoey evaluates what he has learned of the life of a priest both from personal experience and from observation. He has many a criticism to offer, but they are all of the constructive kind. Priests will find much matter for serious consideration in these pages. Pp. 188. $3.50. DAUGHTERS OF ST. PAUL, 50 St. Paul's Avenue, Jamaica Plain, Boston 30, Massachusetts. Glories and Virtues of Mary. By the Very Rev. J. Alberione, S.S.P., S.T.D. Translated by Hilda Calabro. The book is divided into three paits. The first deals with the glories of Mary; the second, with the virtues of Mary; and the third, with devotion to Mary. Each chapter concludes with some striking incident in the lives of great men and women illustrative of their deep devotion to the Mother of God. The book is well illustrated with full page reproductions of famous masterpieces. Pp. 251. Cloth $3.00. Paper $1.50. Mary, Mother and Model. Feasts of Mary. By the Very Rev. James Alberione, S.S.P., S.T.D. Translated by Hilda Calabro. The Roman Missal contains thirty-seven Masses in honor of our Lady. Not all of them are for the universal Church. Thirty of these feasts are considered in this volume and presented as meditations. At the end of each meditation there is a commentary on the cor-responding Mass of the Missal. The book is illustrated with full page reproductions of photographs of famous paintings or statues of our Lady. Pp. 237. Cloth $3.00. Paper $1.50. 375 BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS Review for Religious Religious Life. Life of Courageous Souls. Extracts from Medi-tations and Conferences of the Very Rev. James Alberione, S.S.P., S.T.D., to the Religious of his Five Congregations. Compiled and translated from the Italian hy the Daughters of St. Paul. This is an excellent introduction to the religious life and a notable con-tribution to vocation literature. Pp. 107. Cloth $2.00. Paper $1.00. MESSRS. M. H. GILL & SON, 50 Upper O'Connell Street, Dublin, Ireland. The Story of the Hospitallers of St. John of God. By Norbert McMahon, O.S.J.D. In the United States this order of brothers dedicated to serve the sick poor is little known. Yet they have a tradition and history of heroic achievements in many parts of the world which only God can reward. How many martyrs of charity have died in their ranks we shall know only on the last day. During the civil war in Spain, ninety-eight Hospitaller Brothers were brutally massacred by the Reds out of hatred for religion. Yet despite their heroic achievements, their history is one of great trials and much persecution. More than once the order was all but extinct, only to rise again more vigorous than before. Perhaps their greatest trial came from the Holy See itself. Four days after his election, Pope Clement VIII published a bull which took from the Hospitaller Brothers their status as a religious order. The brothers were de-prived of their three vows of religion. They were to serve the sick in the hospitals as lay nurses under obedience to the local bishop. But Divine Providence watched over them. Today, after four-hundred years of existence, they have 209 houses, almost all of them hospitals, and 2,464 religious. You will want to read all about these athletes of charity. Pp. 187. 16/-. Ideals to Live By. Some of the Principles Which Moulded St. Ignatius Loyola. By Robert Nash, S. J. This is the latest book from the prolific pen of Father Nash. He wrote it with lay Catholics chiefly in mind. It is about the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius and makes suitable reading, either public or private, for times of retreat. Pp. 175. Paper 8/6. Cloth 12/6. B. HERDER BOOK COMPANY, 15-17 South Broadway, St. Louis 2, Missouri. The Three Degrees. A study of Christian Mysticism. By Conrad Pepler, O.P. A knowledge of mysticism can be very useful to all who lead an interior life. For the director of souls it is at times necessary. 376 November, 1958 BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS Father Pepler offers a brief but sound introduction to this most diffi-cult subject and does so in language which the modern reader can understand. Unless you are already an expert in mystical theology, you can learn much from this little book. Pp. 256. $3.50. Introduction to the Philosophy of St. Thomas Aquinas. Vol. II, Cosmology. By H. D. Gardeil, O.P. Translated by John A. Otto, Ph.D. This is the second volume of a four volume set. The purpose of this volume is "to give a true account of Aristotle's understanding.of the physical world, and mainly of its philosophical content, the abiding feature of his study." Pp. 218. $3.75. P. J. KENEDY & SONS, 12 Barclay Street,-New York 8, New York. Autobiography of St. Th~r~se of Lisieux. Translated by Ronald Knox. When L'Histoire d'une Ame first appeared, it had been edited to suit the canons of that day. The editing consisted in changing the chronological order, omitting about one fourth the whole, and making many changes in the text. All these edi-torial changes have now been eliminated, and we have the manu-script as it left the pen of the saint. It is this reconstructed manu-script that Father Knox has translated for English readers. In its light the heroic virtues of St. Th~rSse are more brightly illumined, and we get a better and a truer picture of the saint. Pp. 320. $4.50. THE MESSENGER PRESS, Carthagena, Ohio. Bought at a Great Price. Reflections on the Precious Blood. By Mother Mary Aloysi Kiener, S.N.D. If you are looking for a book of meditations to help you along the way of affective prayer, you would do well to examine Bought at a Great Price. There are thirty-two meditations, each divided into two parts. The average length of each meditation is eight pages. Pp. 271. $3.50. THE NEWMAN PRESS, Westminster, Maryland. A Manual for Novice Mistresses. Edited by Albert Pl~, O.P. Translated by Patrick Hepburne-Scott. This is volume nine in the "Religious Life Series." In content it is a selection of the more important papers read at a conference of French Dominican novice mistresses. The book dealg concisely with many of the major prob-lems which confront a mistress of noviceg in any order or congre-gati6n. Pp. 152. $3.25. The Christian Approach to the Bible. By Dom Celestine Char-lier. Translated from the French by Hubert J. Richardson and 377 BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS Review for Religious Brendan Peters. 'Through the Bible God speaks to men on matters concerning man's salvation. It is therefore the most important book. Yet it is not an easy book to read. Fruitful reading pre-supposes certain intellectual, moral, and religious dispositions. These the author would help his readers to acquire. He does not write for experts but for the average Christian, who, no less than his learned brother, is to draw from the. Bible power to transform his life. Pp. 298. $4.00. Valiant Heralds of Truth. Pius XII and the Arts of Communi-cation. Compiled with a Commentary by Rev. Vincent A. Yzer-mans. The most authoritative source for a Catholic philosophy of the communication arts is our Holy Father, Pius XII. He has written and spoken on this subject frequently, and the compiler has gathered all these utterances between the covers of one volume. Pp. 201. $3.75. Christian Perfection and Married Life. By J. M. Perrin, O.P. Translated by P~ D. Gilbert. To show how perfection can be achieved in the married state is the purpose of the author. Marriage counselors, directors of Cana conferences, and priests engaged in the ministry will find here much valuable material. Pp. 92. $1.95. A Father Faber Heritage. Selections from the Writings of Rev. Frederick William Faber. Edited with an Introduction by Sister Mary Mercedes, S.N.D., de Namur. Father Faber of the Oratory was one of the outstanding spiritual writers of the nine-teenth century, and one who achieved a notable measure of well-deserved popularity. T

Issue 8.3 of the Review for Religious, 1949. ; Review for Religious MAY 15, 1949 Mary's Place in Our Life T.~: Jorgensen Mystical Life--Mystical Prayer . M. R~ymond Reception of Profession . Joseph F. Gallen In Praise of Prayer--II . Augustine Kla~s (.~onformlty to the Will of God . CL A. Herbsf Books Reviewed Questions Answered VOLUME VIII NUMBER 3 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS VOLUME VIII MAY, 1949 NUMBER 3 CONTENTS MARY'S PLACE IN OUR LIFE 'T. N. Jorgensen, S.J . 113 MYSTICAL LIFE--MYSTICAL PRAYER-~M. Raymond, O.C.S,O. . 121 " RECEPTION. OF PROFESSION--Joseph F.~ Gallen, S.J . 130 IN PRAISE OF PRAYER--II--Augustine Klaas, S.J . 139 CONFORMITY TO THE WILL OF GOD--C. A. Herbst, S.J. 150 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS-- 18. Postulants Begin Novitiate on Last Day of Retreat . ¯ . 157 19. Sign of the Cross at Benediction . . . . 157 20. Delegate to General Chapter in Place of Superior; General Coun-cilor as Local Superior . 157 21. Interruption of Canonical Year of Novitiate . 158 22. Use of Cuttings from Altar Breads . 159 23. Religious Communities Accepting Widows .~ 159 24. Votes to Be Announced after Each Scrutiny . 159 25. Filling Unexpired Term of Local Superior . 160 BOOKS . 161 OUR CONTRIBUTORS . 165 FOR YOUR INFORMATION-- Summer Sessions . 166 Gethsemani Centennial . 168 Catholic Action Booklet . 168 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, May~ 1949. Volume VIII, No. 3. Published bi-monthly: January, March, May, July, September~and November at the College Press, 606 Harrison Street, Topeka, Kansas, by St. Mary's College, St. Mary's, Kansas, with ecclesiastical approbation. Entered as second class matter Jafluary 15, 1942, at the Post Office, Topek, Kansas, under the act of March 3, 1879. Editorial Board: Adam C. Ellis, S.J., G. Augustine Ellard, S.J., Gerald Kelly, S.J. Editorial Secretary: Alfred F. Schneider, S.J. Copyright, 1949, by Adam C. Ellis. Permission is hereby granted for quotations of reasonable length, provided due credit be given this review and the author. Subscription price: 2 dollars a year. Printed in U. S. A. Before writing to us, please consult notice on inside back cover. / ary s Place in Our Life T. N. Jorge,nsen, S.J. NAS Mary the prominent place in our life th.at God wishes her to have? What He thinks of her imp6rtance to us is revealed by the following points: I. The Proto-Evangel "I will put enmities between thee and the woman, and, thy seed and her seed. She shall crush thy head, and thou shalt lie in wait for her heel." (Gen. 3:15.) This potent prophecy summarizing the history of our race is spoken by God Himself. At the dramatic moment of our exile from Eden, it foretells Mary's part in God's victory over hell. Each of us throughout life necessarily shares in this world-wide struggle, for all of us are children of Adam and Eve. By ourselves we are no match. for Satan. But under Mary's banner, fighting with Mary's Son, we are sure of winning. Though Christ Himself is our sole Redeemer, we emphasize Mary's union with Him in this struggle because God emphasizes it. What He has joined so dearly, solemnly, even dramatically, we must not separate. Whatever His reasons may be, it is God's idea, not yours or mine or Mary's, that He make her His mother and give her an out-standing place in this fundamental struggle between good and evil. That Mary and her seed will crush the head of the s~rpent is our ¯ pledge of glorious victory if we seek it through Jesus and Mary. This vigorous, unqualified prophecy, given at the time of the Fall, is God's wayof urging us to remember Mary when we search "for Christ. 2. The Types, Symbols. Figures, and Other Prophecies of the Old Law The Old Testament reveals God's preparation for the coming of Christ and His mother. Some of its Marian references are prophe-cies, such as Isaias' "A virgin shall conceive and bring forth a son." Some are things, such as the ark of incorruptible wood, which held the manna in the Temple as Mary Was to hold Christ. Some are per-sons, such as Judith, .who cut off the head of the hostile Holofetne's as Mary was to crush the head of Satan. Many such references, writ-ten by God's inspiration for our instruction, show His interest in 113 T. N. JORGENSEN Review for Religious Mary through the centuries before her birth. 3. The Immaculate Conception Since sin is our greatest evil and grace our greatest good, the Immaculate Conception is a most desirable gift. Of all the billions born of Adam, Mary alone was conceived without sin. This gift manifests her complete victory over Satan and her leadership of the rest of the redeemed by her more perfect redemption. Through this fullness of grace she stiares generously in God's own life. And all thi) was given to her not only for. her own sake but also for the sake of us, .her children. 4. Mary's Presentation in the Temple Mary as queen of all saints is an inspiration to all. She is a shining model not only for those who live in the.world but also for those called to the cloister. She lives in God's world; selfish wbrldli-heSS and the world which Satan sways she conquered from the begin-ning. The Temple in Jerusalem was God's dwelling place, the place for prayer, the home of the manna foret~lling the Eucharist. Through the centuries God calls I-1]s favorite children to the cloistered life, calls all to conquer worldliness, calls all to prayer and devotion to the Eucharist. Mary leads us on this wonderful way by giving herself to the Temple, to praye~, to God. 5. The Incarnation This is the most important point of all. God chooses Mary for His mother from among all women, actual or possible. He honors her by sending one of the sacred seven who stand before His throne to deal with her. Gabriel, his message and explanation given, awaits Mary's consent. No one but God could choose hi~ own mother; mother but Mary accepted a definite, well-known Person to be her Son. This mutual acceptance of each other in a relationship more complete and eternal than even the bride-groom compact means that Mary shares willingly in Christ's work and sufferings. It leads neces-sarily, as she knew and accepted, to her sorrow on Calvary and her glory in heaven. Christ is eternally Mary's Son, His Body (though glorified now) is still the one He received from her, His love for her is still a filial love. We know that the mother of a great hero rbceives more praise ~han the mother of a lesser hero. We know that as a man advances from mayor to governor to president, the honor and influence of his mother increases proportionately. What limits, then, can be assigned 114 May, 1949 MARY'S PLACE IN OUR LIFE to the power, dignity, and glory due to the beloved mother of Oni~ who is Infinit!! The Incarnation is God's chosen way of uniting us to Himself. The manner of the Incarnation shows Mary's share in His plans. Cardinal Newman writes (Discourses to Mixed Congregations. p. 348) : "She, as others, came into the world to do a work, she had a mis-sion to fulfill; her grace and her glory are not for her own sake, but for her Maker's; and to her is committed the custody of the Incarna.- tion; this is her appoqnted office . Asshe was once on earth, and was personally the guardian of her Divine Child . . . so now, and to the latest hour of the Church, do her glories and the devotion paid ber proclaim and define the right faith concerning Him as God and man." The Church is an extension of the Holy Family and needs Mary as Nazareth needed bet. St. Augustine reminds us that Mary is the mother of the Mystical Body, bearing the whole Christ, the Head and the members. Her divinely appointed task is not finished until all the members are fully formed. 6. The Manner of Christ's Birth By the miraculous virginal delivery God preserves Mary's physi-cal integrity that it may be in harmony with her spiritual perfection. The other circumstance~ of His birth--the angelic songs calling the shepherds, the star guiding the Magi, the words of Simeon and Anna, the murder of th~ Innocents-~-all seem to attract premature attention to One who wished to stay hidden for another thirty years. But these manifestations during Christ's infancy serve to give the mother prom-inence. By bringing Christ to 3ohn the Baptist, to the shepherds and the Magi and ~-imeon and Anna, and soon to Egypt, Mary is the first Christopher, the first to offer Christ to ignorant and learned, to rich and poor, to Jew and Gentile, in Jerusalem and in pagan lands. God, who plans all ~t-hings carefully and lovingly, planned it thus. 7. "He went down to Nazareth and was subject to them" (Luke2:51) Gbd spends thirty-three years on earth t~eaching by word and example; thirty of these are spent leading Mary to higher sanctity. He serves her lovingly day after day and year after year, and inspires Luke to write of it that we may follow Him in this service and love. 115 T. N. JORGENSEN Ret~ieto for Religious ,~. Cana and Calvary Although Mary naturally stayed in the background during Christ's public life, God did arrange that its miraculous phase be-gin at Cana at her request and that it be finished on Calvary as she stood beneath the cross. On Calvary Mary, who had accepted Christ at the Annunciation on His own terms as tI~e Lamb to be slain, sur-renders her mother's rights lovingly, willingly though heart-bro-kenly, that her Lamb may die to remove the sins of the world. We are grateful to priests for their share in bringing us the Eucharist with Christ's real presence and His symbolic death. We must not be unmindful of Mary's great part in the first coming and the actual death of this same Christ. .9. Pentecost This is the birthday of the Church. As the Holy Spirit comes to abide with us permanently upon earth, Mary is present to welcome Him (Acts 1:14 and 2:1). Her presence when Christ sends His Spirit of Love to dwell with us is as necessary for the full harmony and development of God's plans as. her presence on Calvary had been. She is the first and perfect member of the Church, its most glorious jewel on its birthday and throug, h all of its days. She is so much at one with the Chtirch that both are described simultaneously by ,John's "a womati clothed with the sun"; both are the beautiful Spouse of ChriSt admired in Solomon's Son9 of Sonqs. I0. Mary's Assumption and Coronation : If we love a person greatly, we wish to be as r~uch like him as possible, to share our possessions and honors generously with him. Christ's Ascension into heaven as King of angels and men is paralIeled by his gift 'to Mary of her Assumption and Coronation as heaven's Queen. The mother of the Creator is made queen mother of creation. This reveals God's love for Mary and His wish that we acclaim her glory and power. Naturally He wishes us to honor her whom He honors, to love her whom He loves, to know and praise this master-piece of His creation and redemption and exaltation. God's judgments are true; one worthy of His honor and trust and love is worthy of ours. Mary is Christ's gift to us; to slight her is to wound Him. I I. The Church's Devotion to Mary The Church honors Mary greatly. The Mass, for instance, be-sides other prayers to Mary, starts with th~ Confiteor's ".I confess to 116 Ma~, 1949 MARY'S PLACE IN OUR LIFE Almighty God, to the Blessed Mary ever Virgin," continues with the Communicantes' "honoring in the first place the memory of the glo-rious and ever Virgin Mary, Mother of God," and closes with the Salve Regina's "our life, our sweetness, and our hope." Besides the many Marian feasts spread through the year, the Church dedicates to Mary the months of May and October. It urges . ¯ the wearing of the scapular, the saying of the Rosary, the making of Marian novenas. Think of the variety of religious orders dedicated to Mary, the number who have taken her name, the host of books written about her, the many hymns sung to her, the countless altars bearing her statue. All this devotion is a true manifestation of God's love for Mary, for the Church is guided by His Spirit of love. 12. Her Mediatrixsbip of All Grace Tbig gift means that God grants no grace to 'us except through Mary's mediation. All of' our supernatural activity depends upon grace. At every moment we have power to do good, to avoid evil, to increase our glory for eternity, to help save other soulS. At every moment, therefore, Mary must be interceding for each of us with all of her great love and prudence. Since God orders all things harmoni-ously and justly, the lower for the higher, the temporal for the eternal, the physical an~t mental for the spiritual, Mary's charge of the spiritual life of all on earth means that this is Mary's world in a won-derful way. To her more than to any other creature is addressed that promise of Christ, "Well done, good and faithful servant, because thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will place theeover many things; enter thou into the joy of tby lord" (Mr. 25:21). This position of Mary's means as much to us who need the grace as' to her who gains it for us. Our superiors and teachers and parents and closest friends all taken together do not enter into our life as intimately, deeply, fully, endlessly as Mary does by her universal mediatrixship. The twelve points just enumerated show that God loves and favors Mary exceedingly and wishes us to give her a prominent place in our search for Him. The often repeated statements ."God wants us to go to Him as He comes to us--through Mary" and "To God through Christ, to Christ through Mary".are true and impqrtant guides for us. As Father Faber writes: "Devotion to Mary is not an ornament in the Catholic cult, 117 T. N. JORGENSEN Reoieu~ lot Religious something superfluous or a means among many others that we may use or not as we choose. It is an essential part of Christianity . a definite arrangement of God . Devotion to Mary is not half 'enough preached, not the prominent characteristic of our religion which it ought to be. Hence it is that Jesus is not lo~'ed . He is obscured because Mary is kept in the background. Thousands of souls perish because Mary is withheld from them.", A deeper knowl-edge of Mary brings the Incarnation into clearer focus. For one who wishes to understand Christ more fully, reading about Mary is not a waste of time or a roundabout way any more than putting on glasses is a waste of time or a hindrance to a nearsighted person. It is a direct and effective means. Father Leen writes: "Without Jesus no salvation, without Mary no Jesus. And as without Mary it is impossible to have Jesus, so too without~a knowledge of Mary it is impossible to have a knowl: edge of Jesus . The cause of all the heresies that have ravaged the Church, the explanation of all failures in the spiritual life, can be traced to a lack of recognition of the spiritual maternity of Mary." (Our Blessed Mother, p. 103.) This is strong and sweeping language, but the spiritual maternity of Mary is a broad and vital gift deeply affecting the spiritual endeavork of all who seek to find God through the Incarnation, our God-given way of finding Him. God desires that we love Mary. Knowledge of her does much to foster this love. Therefore we should study Mariology. Su.rely that is a logical conclusion. We cannot love one deeply whom we know but vaguely, and even educated Catholics often know but little of Mary's greatest gifts. Devotion to Mary is great and growing, but its very growth increases the need to protect it from all super-stition and error. The widespread study of Mariology will bring many more to Mary, and at the same time it will place their devotion firmly on a Correct intellectual and a safe emotional basis. We are creatures of both head and heart, and God wishes us to serve Him according to our full nature. Too much emotion and too little dogma is ineffective and dangerous. Emotional religion, a transient turning to prayer in time of stress and a multiplication of novenas or other prayers for the novelty, fosters superstition and selfishness. On the other hand, too much intellect, a dry and imper-sonal study of theology, fails to warm the will. Advance in theo-logical knowle~tge, if it overemphasizes the head approach, may make us proud instead of holy. The gre~it heresiarcbs often knew much 118 May, 1949 MARY'S PLACE IN OUR LIFE the'ology. Many Christians know enough about their faith to be ~aints, but they still live in sin because they know these truths only in a cold, detached, theoretical manner. The will needs a nice balance of the two win~s of knowledge and love to carry it safely to God. The study of Mariology brings us a devotion with the perfect head-heart combination, the correct union Of thought and emotion. It is firmly based on fundamental dogma, for Mariology leads us .to study the mysteries of the Trinity, the Incarnation and Redemption, the horror of sin, the glory of grace, and so forth. Think of how much dogma is needed, for instance, for an understanding of the mysteries of the Rosary. True Marian devotion also offers a strong heart appeal. What is more moving than the sight of the Virgin Mother in quiet adora-tion beside the crib or in ,courageous adoration-beneath the cross? The theme most popular in world literature is the Cinderella plot. No variation of it cari be more moving or amazing than the story of the little girl of Galilee become God's mother and queen of.heaven. And it increases in appeal when we realize more deeply our own part in her story. This great queen who charms the angels serves us lovingly every moment of our lives! Truly Mariology offers us a devotion in which both head and heart work energetically yet har-moniously and safely together to carry .us to God. Studying Mariology gives help to all of our prayers, but espe-cially to our Rosary and Eucharistic devotions. When meditation on the mysteries of the Rosary is successful, it reveals G~d's love for us, teaches us ~ working answer to the problem of pain, keeps our eternal reward vividly in front of us, and leads us to meet the joys and sor-rows of life.wlth a deeply supernatural viewpoint. A Mariology course aids greatly in gaining this success. The Eucharist is the center of our spiritual life. A devout under- .standing of it depends mainly upon grace. Union with Mary secures this grace. We seek Mary because sl~e is Christ's mother; we fi~ad her to find Him. He is distant to those who slight her but gives Himself lovingly to those who seek her. This is true for all devotions to Christ but most of all for our Eucharistic devotion, for "the flesh of Christ is the flesh of Mary." She gave of her flesh that God might become man and dwell among us. The study of Mariology will enable us to please Christ by defending the honor of His mother and by bringing her love to others who need her. "Why did Christ seem to snub Mary? Why T.N. JORGENSEN does Scripture seem to say so little of her?. How can one who is free from concupiscence fully understand our trials, or one who is free from sin understand our weakness? How can we find Christ more quickly and fully by studying Mary and Jesus together than by studying Christ alone?"--if such questions are asked of us, can we give good answers? In the day-after-day study of the classroom, the answers to all such questions can be so throughly learned that they will always be remembered. One who has studied Mariology will gladly and effectively speak about Mary, encouraging her friends, converting her enemies. We all need Mary's strong help in our hourly struggle against the world, the flesh, and the devil. She is truly our spiritual mother and wishes to enter fully into our spiritual lives. Because of.her position, her virtues, and her sufferings for us, she has a right as well as a duty to aid us. We have the right and duty to discover her for ourselves and for others. These are some of the reasons why Mariology courses should be available to all students, strongly urged upon all. Our work for the introduction and success of these courses will delight God and bring ¯ His blessings to us, to the students, and to the school. If we cannot work directly for this, we still have a vital part to perform--we can pray for the success of such courses. These prayers will be our share in fulfilling Mary's Fatima desires and will bring great help to count-less souls. The generals of religious orders, the bishops, and the Pope strongly urge all to be devout to Mary. If many thousands of our Catholic students took Mariology courses each year, think of the help Jesuits would have in running sodalities, Dominicans in spreading the daily and meditative saying of the Rosary, Carmelites in moving all to a persevering and devout wearing of the scapular, the Marian-ists and Montfort Fathers in leading all to make and keep an act of full consecration to Mary, pastors in fostering May and October devotions and membership in the Legion of Mary, those interested in Fatima in securing great numbers for the First Saturday Com-munions, and the Pope in sharing with all his great devotion t6 Mary. What virtue and wi?dom and power this would bring to the Church on earth, what joy and peace to the world. Considering God's great love for Mary, we can have all this and heaven too-- if we praise her tO please Him. 120 °/V yst:ical Life .-tV ys!:ical Prayer M. Raymond, O.C.S.O. [There are three theories concerning the normal development of the Christian life. According to one theory, the normal culmination is mystical prancer; according to another, it is a mystical h'fe,'but not necessarily mystical prayer: and according to a third, mysticism is outside the normal development. It may well be that the differ-ences represented by these theories are more verbal than actual. But it seems advisable to note that, even though the differences be real, each theory is tenabl~ within the scope of sound Catholic spirituality, and none of them is certain. In the present article, Father Raymond strikes a vigorous blow for the second theory, the mystical llfe. W'e believe that his article should produce the effect he desires: namely, afford consolation to religious engaged in the active life who may wonder how theg also, without enjoying infused contemplation, can become mystlcs.--ED.] THIS little effort was almost titled "Thanks to Carcinoma," for it was one carcinoma that took me from Gethsemani to St. Jo-seph's Infirmary, Louisville, and another that brought Father Carl Miller, S.,I., all the way froha India to the same hallowed spot. So in very truth it ~vas thanks to carcinoma that I saw theory borne out in practice and have been urged to tell you the consoling truth that the distinction between, mystical life and mystical prayer tells of a very real differenc!! As [ have watched my monastery these late years become over-crowded and have seen foundation after foundation made from this Ladybouse, I knew there was a definite drift toward the contempla-tive life. As I .read letter after letter from earnest souls in almost every stratum of society, however, I began to suspect that too many were confusing contemplative prager with the contemplative life. But it took a carcinoma to show me that my suspicions were very well grounded and that the world of religious needed to know the distinc-tion made by Dora Lehodey, O.C.S.O., and Jacques Maritain. It is unquestionable that every Christian is a potential mystic; but it is not true to say that all baptized persons are destined to develop into mystics of prayer, are to know the heights of infused contempla-tion, and are to have an experimental knowledge of the Triune God dwelling and working within them if they will but live the ascetical life to the hilt and nurture the growth of the "seeds" planted in their souls when they were reborn from the womb of the water and the Holy Ghost. 121 M. RAYMOND Review/:or Religious I had read much about the "'normal development of the spiritual life" in books, brochures, and articles that have enjoyed wide popu-larity. I had seen the possibility of too many becoming confused and thinking that be or she alone had developed properly who had reached the state of mystic prayer, or infused contemplation. But it was St. Joseph's Infirmary tbat convinced me that it is not enough to point out to people that when John of the Cross and the three great Western Doctors, Augustine, Gregory, and Bernard, say that "con-templation is the normal and natural issue of the spiritual life" they may be talking of "acquired contemplation" and not of that highest limit of contemplation which involves an experimental perception of God's Being and Presence. No, one must go further and state clearly that there are three distinct mysticisms. -- But don't let me run ahead of my story. Father Carl Miller, S.J., was only skin and bones when I was called to his bedside. Cancer of the pancreas had eaten away all his flesh, but had left his mind as alert as flame. God graced me with four days filled with short visits to the side of this man who had spent twenty-four years of his life amongst the aborigines of the Patna Missions in India, and who was still burning to go back there in order to bring God to these benighted peoples and these benighted peoples to God. Secretly I wondered if the great St. Paul, with his longing to be "an anathema" for his brethren, excelled the zeal and love that fired this skin-covered skeleton called "Father Carl.". And yet our conversations seldom touched India, for once be learned that I was a cloistered contemplative he had but one topic for discussion. One morning he brok~ out with an exclamation that can be described on.ly as hungry. "Oh, father," be cried, "if I had my life to live over again I would go to India, of course, but I would devote ever so much more time to contemplation!" I chuckled softly, and even more softly quoted: "Our hearts were made for Thee, O Lord, and they will never know rest until they rest in Thee." A wondrous smile flamed in those luminous eyes that looked at me from a skull that had but a transparent skin tightly drawn over it. Then a voice that was colored fire said: "Exactly! Exactly! Won't you tell me now how to become a contemplative; how to be a mystic!" That last word made me laugh aloud. How often had I heard it since leaving my monastery just a few days before! And didn't its 122 May, 1949 MYSTICAL LIFE--MYSTICAL PRAYER every use connote a confusion! Weren't all these earnest souls--the nursing nuns," the teachers from our best academies, the priests from the neighboring parishes, and even some of the more advanced lay-men- weren't they all thinking of infused contemplation when they used that word? Weren't they all unacquainted with, or forgetful of, the distinction between the mystical life and mystical pra{ter, properly so called? Naturally I was thrilled to find so many souls athirst for God, for I am in hearty agreement with the man who had written "the. strength of Religion at any period of history is to be measured by the number and quality of its mystics, of its 'God-intoxicated' men and women." But I was both amtised and a bit alarmed to find so many of them thinking of only~ one kind of mysticism, one kind of "God-intoxication"-- that found in infused contemplation strictly so called. There is real danger in that delusion, for discouragement is still the devil's most pot~iit weapon in his campaign against religious. Had I not spent so much time at St. Joseph's Infirmary, I might not now feel the urge ~o tell the truth about the three mysticisms so pressing, nor know the truth itself to be so pulsingly practical. I believe that God allowed me to see each of the mysticisms in action; I know he allowed me to see that there are quite a few souls'who will know no peace until they have been persuaded that infused ~ontem-plation is not for each of us, nor is it the normal, natural, inevitable outcome of an ascetical life lived with utmost generosity. I understand the longing in these souls. I exult in its genuine-ness; for I know that Augustine of Hippo struck off a universal truth when he said that we shall "never know rest until . "' Yes, I re-joice in the strong drift toward .mysticism so manifest in our day'. ,But I would like to keep some from drifting too far, and others from wrongly resisting the drift. So, in the wake of the authorities men-tioned above I first give a word of encouragement. I say: Fathers, Sisters, Brothers, don't be disheartened if you have never known anything like infused contemplation. Don't be deluded into thinking you have not lived the religious life properly just because you cannot now call yourself, or be called by competent authority, a mystic in the sense that your prayer has been or is manifestly passive. And, above aI1, do not for a single moment consider yourself abnormal or subnormal because you have not reached that develop-ment which some b'ooks on prayer, or perfection, or contemplation say is the normal development of the spiritual life, namely, infused 123 M. RAYMOND Ret~iew for Religious contemplation. For it simply is not true that the ascetical life, lived to the utmost, inevitably leads to mystical prayer in this sense of word. Normally, you cannot be a mystic Without first having been an ascetic; but you may well be a true mystic without ever having known infused contemplation. The question which has caused more than one controversy in the past--"To what does the spiritual life normally lead ?"--seems to me to have received its final answer in the reply: "Not into mystical pr~tyer, but into the mystical life.'" This is the reply I found in the appendix to the French version "of Dom Lehodey's Wags of Mental Prayer. He felt forced to add this explanation because his name had been used to support both sides of the controversy ~eferred to above. He very carefully, and even somewhat laboriously, moves from premise to premise until he is finally able to say we must distinguish between mystical life and. mystical prayer if we are to avoid serious error. Having reached this conclusion he supports himself by numer-ous quotes from Jacques Maritain and Father Garrigou-Lagrange.* Briefly the thesis resolves itself to the .old dictum that "Practice makes perfect." Their teaching is one that leaves little room for doubt or questions. They see grace, the virtues, and the gifts. They watch them in action. In the beginning of the spiritual life they see that grace remains bidden--though operative; and we, it seems, have to take the initiative. Grace here seems to adapt itself to our "hun~an mode" of acting in prayer and in all other things. We are now definite!y i6 the ascetical lif~. But as the spiritual life deepens and develops, the gifts take the ascendancy over the virtues. When this happens one is in the mysti-cal way. When the gifts dominate habitually and in a manifest man-ner, then, unquestionabiy, one is in the mystical life. Hence, Dom Lehodey defines this life as "a life lived under the habitual direction of the gifts of the Holy Ghost in what St. Thomas calls their 'super-human mode.' " And for the consolation of all let me cite Maritain to'the effect that "the precise moment at which the mystical life begins cannot be ascertained in practice, but every Christian who makes progress in grace and tends toward perfection will, if he or she lives long enough, enter the mystical life." XTo avoid misunderstanding, it should be added here that Garrigou-Lagrange, while admitting this mysticism in action, would hold that normally the mystics in action should also be mystics in contemplation. 124 May, lP49 MYSTICAL LIFE--MYSTICAL PRAYER That would sound not only like a large statement but like an erroneous one if we looked at history and believed that the mystical life was synonymous with mystical prayer. The list of mystics who enjoyed infused contemplation is not so long! What does Marltain mean then? He means that there are three mysticisms, each of which constitutes a separate vocation. There is the mysticism of prayer, the mysticism of action, and the mysticism of suffering. On what do these men base their thesis, you may ask. It is on the unshakable fact that there are seven gifts of the Holy Ghost, only two of which are pre-eminent in the lives of the mystics of prayer. They very wisely point out that most of us have not been cast in the mold of the contemplative mystics. Our native endowments run cgunter to the requisites of temperament, disposition, and a multi-tude of circumstances independent of our own wills which must be had befbre one is an apt subject for the special infusion. Dom Lehodey clinches this point by telling how he has seen souls of equal good will and generosity, in the same environment and under the same director, develop differently. One is seen to reach contempla-tion very rapidly, another very slowly, another not at all. He says the ultimate explanation lies in the fact that God wishes to remain Mas-ter of His gifts, and distributes them according to the design He has on each soul. That truth coming from such a master should stop each of us ¯ from thinking the "grass is so much greener in our neighbor's yard!" Those in the "mixed life" should not "envy" cloistered contempla-tives; nor should cloistered contemplatives "begrudge" the active ones their work with and for and on souls! His further remark should come as silver waters to slake our God-thirst. He rather forcefully states that prayer and perfection are not synonymous, and that con-templation is not the prayer of the perfect alone. Many who are very imperfect have been graced by God with infused contemplation, while many truly perfect souls have never known that boon. Any experi-enced director, he says, will tell you that he has met souls further ad-vanced in virtue than in prayer and others that are much further ad-vanced in prayer than in virtue. The practical conclusion seems to be, then, to rest satisfied with the native endowment that is ours, to rejoice that God has given us so much, and to concentrate on our efforts rather than to be studying their effects. It will do us little good to be continually taking our spiritual temperature, feeling the pulse of our souls and counting our 125 M. RAYMOND Review for Religious mystical respirations. The truths to remember are: we are called to be rngstics (but not.necessarily'mystics of prayer); and secondly, that if we advance in grace and tend toward perfection we shall inevitably enter the mystidal life. Variety is the spice of life, and God the Holy Ghost likes the mys-tical life spicy. Granted that this life is fundamentally one, it re-mains patently true that it can'assume the most varied forms, not only because there are seven gifts, but also because the Holy Ghost, their lnltiateur babituel, can set them in motion according to His good pleasure and have the same gift shine out differently in different souls. Who cannot distinguish Catherine of Sienna from Teresa of Avila; Teresa of Avila from John of the Cross; John of the Cross from Paul of the Cross; Paul of the Cross from Ignatius of Loyola; Igna-tius of Loyola from Francis Xavier; Francis Xavier from Francis of Assisi: Francis of Assisi from Francis Borgia, etc., etc.?--all mystics of mystical prayer, but each as different from the other as star from star and individual from individual. If the Holy Ghost should wish your sanctification to assume a distinctly contemplative character, He will make use principally of the gifts of wisdom and understanding; but should He desire your life to be less contemplative and express itself in a mysticism that is pre-dominantly actlve--e.g., in the perfection of humility, or obedience, or some other religious virtue; or in the suffering of trials along with holy abandonment; or in zeal for souls along with an intense interior life--He will call upon the active gifts rather than the contemplative, and you will be a mystic truly, though not one of mystical prayer. Now don't mistake me. These active mystics will be prayerful souls; 'their prayer will be simple, tender, and childlike. But, re-markable though they be as pray-ers, the m6re remarkable trait about them will.be their mysticism of action. Wisdom and understanding will not be as manifest in their lives as will be counsel, knowledge. piety, fortitude, or fear of the Lord. Would you not tl~ink that you had seen this thesis verified in fact had you stood beside Father Miller and heard him ask everyone who came to his bedside to pray that he "might give God cheerfully, promptly, and without reserve whatever God asked of him"? Is not that fortitude that is extraordinary, that works effortlessly, that dominates a life? Would you not recognize real knowledge in the man when he joyfully cried: "My best work for the Patna Missions began when I arrived at St. Joseph's Infirmary." And what would 126 Ma~l, 1949 MYSTICAL LIFE--MYSTICAL PRAYER you have thought of his mystical life if you had heard him. say: "Father, I want everyone who meets me to meet Christ desus"? Do you see now why I laughed aloud when he asked me to teach him how to become a m~jstfc? Is it not obvious that he had lived the mys-tical tffe of action in Patna Mission and was crowning i~ by a mysti-cal life of sufferfhg in Louisville? The moment I saw the light in this man's eyes I knew I was viewing something that had not been kindled on this earth; and now that he has gone to God, I know I spent four days with a real mystic who had never known mystical prayer. As I watched the nursing nuns in that medical center I shook my head and said: "Indeed you are right, Dora Lehodey: Mystical prayer is not for all, though the mystical life is!" How could I refrain from such a statement when I saw these women pui in day after day of a service that could be motivated only by extraordinary lo~)e? .They were up at ten minutes to five every morning, and I know some of them seldom retired before ten minutes to eleven. They gave eighteen hours, crowded with service, to Christ in His mystical members. And they did it with an ease and effortlessness that made me conclude that the lnftfateur babftuel was working in their souls every moment with His gifts. The tho.ught of these nuns suggests the insertion here of a very true paragraph from the brochure What Is Contemplation? written by my confrere, Frater Louis, known to you as Thomas Merton. He rightly remarks: "The great majority of Christians will never become pure con-templatives on earth. But that does not mean that those whose vocation is essentially active, must resign themselves to being excluded from all the graces of a deep interior life and all infused prayer. There are many Christians who serve God with great purity of soul and perfect self-sacrifice in the active life. Their vocation does not allow them to find the solitude and silence and leisure in which to empty their minds entirely of created things and lose themselves in God alone. They are too busy serving Him fn His children on earth. At the same time their minds and temperaments do not fit them for a p'urel~j contemplative life. Complete isolation from all temporal activity would upset their souls. They would not know what to do with themselves. They would vegetate and their interior life would grow cold. Nevertheless theft hnoto how' to find God by devoting themselves to Him in self-sacrificing labors in which they are able to 127 M. RAYMOND Review [or Religious remain in His presence all the day tong. They live and work in His company. They realize that He is within them and they taste deep, peaceful joy in being with Him . Without realizing it, their humble prayer is, for them, so deep and interior that it brings them to the threshold of contemplation." (Italics mine.) My confrere uses the word contemplation in the restricted sense of infused prayer throughout his work. But you can see how neatly his theory fails in with the correct thesis of the authorities I have quoted throughout. You can see that those whom he calls "quasi-contem-platives" would be called by Lehodey and Maritain "mystics (or con-templatives) of action." I cited the passage because it fits my nursing nuns so perfectly. I had seen much of the mystical life in action and in suffering on St. Joseph's "First East" and "First West," but it waited for my re-turn trip home to show me the mystical life in prayer. It was in, one of the large motherhouses of our nuns where I was asked to bless the sick in the infirmary. I gladly acceded, but soon saw that God was blessing me through the sick Sisters much more than He was blessing the sick Sisters through me. I was ushered into a tiny room where an old, old Sister lay awaiting death. The atmosphere of that little cubicle struck me like a blow. What I have said about the light in Father Miller's eyes, I say about the atmosphere surrounding this aged, prayer-filled nun: It was not of this earth! If you had heard her cry of joy when I softly said: "You know God loves you, Sister," you would have realized that you were listening to a soul, who knows God intimately, become articulate. If you had seen the light that suffused her coun-tenance when I added: "And you love God dearly, don't you?" you would understand why I wanted to kneel and receive her blessing rather than raise my hand to trace over her the sign of the cross. My escort did not need to whisper: "This is our saint. She never stops praying." I knew! As I said in the beginning, I belieoe that God allowed me to see the three mysticisms in actuality. You do not have to agree with me on that point. But I beg you to agree wholeheartedly with the truth of the thesis I have been propounding: We are all called to be mystics; but not all to be mystics of prayer. There is a mysticism of action and a mysticism of suffering. Each of us is to fit into some one of those mysticisms; some of us perhaps in all three. But do not grow disheartened just because your temperament, disposition, and present 128 Ma~l, 1949 MYSTICAL LIFE--MYSTICAL PRAYER occupation militate against anything like the mysticism of prayer. And now I know you have only one question: "How can we in the active life become more contemplative or mystic?" Well, Dom Lehodey ended his appendix with the advice that we "examine ourselves, in a peaceful and childlike manner, to ascertain Whether or not we are doing what is necessary to keep our souls free for the divine action." He then urges us to obedience and humility, saying, "It is by obedience and humility that the soul enters spiritual childhood." You can guess the rest. "He who humbles himself shall be exalted" (Mt. 23:12). Or, as Divine Wisdom had said long before: "Si quis est parvulus, veniat ad me" (Prov. 9:4). Dora Lehodey concludes: "To make ourselves little, and to let ourselves be made little, is the means par excellence of keeping our souls open for God's action. If He finds us little, He can lead us, according to Hid choice, either by the mysticism of action, the mysticism of suffering, or the mysticism of prayer; or, if He prefers it, by all .three together.'" If that does not appeal to you might I dare the.suggestion that you remember but one thing? Just remember: We are His members! That's all. For it is by living the doctrine of the Mystical Body that we become true mystics; since the best description of a mystic I have ever read runs: "A mystic is a Christian fully cbr~scious of himself,'" That means to be conscious of our dignity as members of Christ Jesus; conscious of our supernatural endowment of grace, virtues, gift~, divine indwelling, adoption, elevation,, etc., etc., etc.; very con-scious of our duty to "fill up what is wanting to His Passion"; and conscious of the destiny of all men to be members of that Body of which Christ is the Head; conscious of our own destiny. Let me conclude with a few words from Father Walter Far-rell, O.P. In his Companion to the Summa he says: "The first con, dition of contemplation is love.'" The contemplative is to be visua-lized as "a gallant lover reckless of the cost of his love.'" "Contem-plation begins in love, endures by love, and results in love . This love of a contemplative is a holy, clean, beautiful love; for holiness, cleanliness, beauty are conditions for contemplation." So if you would become a mystic--fall ir~ lover. But remember that love not only adores--love serves; love Suffers; love sacfi£ces! Now don't ask me if it is legitimate to desire mystical pr~yer; for the answer is that it is inevitablet. We all want to see God. That urge is as deep as our instinct for self-preservation, if not deeper. But let us remember that the "face to face" vision is for the other 129. JOSEPH F. GALLEN Religious life, and that we who are not cast in the moId of Teresa of Avila or John of the Cross can say with the Founder of the Sanguinists, "If it is so sweet to tire ourselves for God, what will it be to enjoq Him?" and go along in our active mystic lives as happy as angels. Reception Prot:ession Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. THE receiving of the vows is subject to misunderstanding in itself, and its importance can be overlooked by the priest pre-siding at the profession and by religious superiors. Any priest knows the necessity of delegation for a marriage at which he assists: he may not be as keenly aware of the equal necessity of delegation for the vows that he receives. The principles governing the recep-tion of the vows are applicable to both clerical and lay institutes. The following discussion is explicitly concerned with lay religious congregations of Brothers and Sisters. The subject is treated directly as it exists in congregations of Sisters, since these are the more numerous. Distinction between Admission and Reception Reception of the vows is often confused with admission to the vows. These are two distinct ideas and acts, but both are required for the validity of the profession. Admission is the juridical act by which the competent superioress decides that a person may and should be allowed to make a religious profession. The act of admis-sion appertains to the higher superioress designated in 'the constitu-tions and bet council. The Code of Canon Law permits that the vote be of either the chapter or the council, but this power will not be given to the chapter except in institutes that have the govern-mental structure of an independent monastery. Admission to the vows, therefore, is an act that precedes profession, an act in which the future professed has no personal part. By admission the subject does not become a professed but is only rendered apt for making a future profession. Reception of profession is the act by which the legitimate supe-rior, in the name of the Church and of the particular institute, ,130 May, 1949 RECEPTION OF PROFESSION accepts the profession. Reception appertains solely to the superior designated for this act in the particular constitutions. The Code gives the council or chapter no part in this act. R~ception is thus concomitant with profession. At the same time that the subject makes profession, the competent superior accepts the profession. Canon 572, § I, 6° clearly states that the vows are invalid if not received by the competent superior personally or thr6ugh a delegate. There are two reasons for this law: (I) religious vows are public vows, and canon 1308, § I defines a public vow as one that is received in the name of the Church by a legitimate ecclesiastical supe-rior; (2) religious profession is also a quasi-contract between the professed and the particular institute. A contract demands the con-sent of both parties, and thus the institute also must consent. Practical applications.--It is possible that the distinction between ~dmission and reception is not universally realized. This case can occur not only from a misunderstanding of the constitutions but also I~ecause of omissions in the constitutions. There are three articles of the constitutions that are at least helpful in emphasizing reception and in ascertaining the person competent to receive the vows: (1) the general requisites for the validity of every juridical profession; (2) the formula of the vows; (3) the article on signing the declaration of the profession. There are a few constitutions that omit the first and third articles and that mention neither a superioress of the institute nor the local ordinary in the formula of the vows. It is not of obligation that either of these be mentioned in the formula. Another difficulty that can occur under this heading is the con-fusing of a juridical renewal of vows with a devotional renewal. All religious realize that the first temporary profession and the perpetual profession are not the same as a devotional renewal. However, if we take the example of an an institute that has three professions of temporary vows for one year instead of one profession for three years, it is possible to find religious who do not distinguish, at least adequately, either these annual juridical professions or the profession consequent upon a prolongation of temporary vows from a devo-tional renewal of vows. This is a serious error. All of these annual professions, as also the profession in a prolongation of temporary vows, are as strictly juridical professions as the first temporary and perpetual professions. A juridical renewal is a new profession of vows that have already expired or will soon expire. A devotional renewal may be made at any time, whether the vows are temporary 131 ¯ JosEPH F. GALLEN for Religious or perpetual. No new obligations are assumed in a devotional renewal, whether it is made individually or in common. The sole purpose of a devotional renewal is to reinvigorate fidelity and fervor in fulfilling obligations assumed in the past. A devotional renewal, inasmuch as it is not a strict emission of vows, does not have to be received. Any juridical renewal is a real religious profession and must be received. A moment's thought shows us that the second annual profession.of temporary vows is as strictly a religious profes-sion as the first annual profession. All of the general requisites demanded by canon 572 for a valid religious profession must be observed also in the juridical renewals and in the profession of a Sis-ter whose temporary vows have been prolonged. Who Is Competent to Receioe the Vou)s? Canon 572, § 1, 6° states: "That it be received by the legitimate superior according to the constitutions, either personally or by dele-gate." The constitutions, therefore, are to determine the sfiperior who is to receive the vows. The Code of Canon Law leaves this superior undetermined. In pontifical institutes that are not divided into provinces the constitutions almost universally prescribe that the vows are to be received by the mother general or her delegate. This is also the prevailing practice in pontifical institutes that are divided into provinces, but in these the legitimate superior is also frequently prescribed as the higher superioress or her delegate, the mother pro-vindial or her delegate. Different superiors may be assigned for the various professions, for example, the mother general for the perpetual profession and the mother provincial for all professions and renewals of temporary vows. The constitutions could also assign the recep-tion of profession to local superioresses. Constitutions that contain determinations such as those listed above cause no difficulty. They clearly and accurately determine the legitimate superior. This determination should be made in the article that lists the general requisites for a valid profession and that reproduces'canon 572. The part of this canon, given above, that treats of reception should read, for example: "That it be received by the mother general either per-sonally or by delegate." In diocesan institutes also it appears to be the prevailing practice for the vows to be received by th~ mother gen-eral or her delegate. It is most unusual for these institutes to be divided into provinces. The constitutions that cause practical difficulties are those that 132 Ma~l, 1949 RECEPTION O,F PROFESSION fail to determine the superior for reception Under the general requisites for a valid profession. This is an inaccuracy; in the compiling of the constitutions, since the Code of Canon Law clearly presupposes that the constitutions determine this Superior. The usual case of this lack of determination is found in constitutions that merely repeat the words of canon 572, § 1, 6°. Thus one set of constitutions reads: "that it be received by the lawful superior either personally or by delegate according to the constitutions." The article of the constitu-tions that primarily should determine the superior competent for reception has failed to do so, and the problem now is: Who is the legitimate superior? The Code Commission has given a reply on such cases and stated implicitly that the secondary source of deter-mination of the competent, superior is in the formula of the vows. According to this reply, the local ordinary is the one competent to receive the vows, if he alone is mentioned in the formula of the vows. The reply did not go beyond this case, but if we apply logically the principle that is implicit in the reply, a superioress of the institute who is the only one mentioned in the formula will be the person competent to receive the vows. The case becomes more complicated " when both the local ordinary and a superioress of the institute are mentioned in the formula. The reception in this case appertains to the superioress of the institute mentioned in the formula, since the receiving of the vows is the act by which the subject is incorporated into the institute and thus by its nature appertains to the superiors of the institute. We cannot say that this last rule is universally true. It is not impossible to find such an institute in which the local ordinary has always received the vows, and it can be held that he was the one intended in the expression "legitimate superior" of the constitutions. Finally, there are constitutions of this type that mention neither the local ordinary nor a superioress of the institute in the formula of the vows. In this case it seems that we shoul(i resort to the article of the constitutions on signing the declaration of the profession. Canon 576, § 2 commands that the declaration of the profession be signed by the professed and by the one receiving the vows. Therefore, this article also should specify the one competent to receive the vows. If this article reads: "and the mother general or her delegate and the professed Sister herself shall sign it," we may hold that the mother general is the superior competent to receive the vows. However, in actual practice this article is often ambiguous. In the absence of any other determination, the superioress of the institute who has the right 133 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for Religious to admit to the particular profession is also the competent superior for the reception of that profession, since reception is the complement and execution of admission. The principles given above apply equally to pontifical and diocesan institutes, since reception of the vows is by its nature and by the laws of the Church a matter of internal government. The practical conclusion of this discussion is that no institute should tolerate obscurity in its laws concerning the person competent to receive the vows. The Local Ordinartj as Recipient of the Vows There are a few pontifical and a greater number of diocesan con-gregations whose constitutions prescribe that the professions are to be received by the local ordinary or his delegate. The reply of the Code Commission, mentioned above, makes it evident that the ordinary in such cases receives the vows only in virtue of a general mandate or commission given to him in the constitutions of the institute. The facuity to receive the vows in either a pontifical or diocesan congre-gation does not appertain to him in virtue of the fact that he is local ordinary. In these institutes the local ordinary either personally receives the vows or delegates another to do so. It is the common practice for him to delegate a priest. Therefore, a priest who is invited to preside at a profession is to be vigilant when the constitutions prescribe that the vows are to be received by the local ordinary or his delegate. He will receive the vows; and he is to make sure, before the professions, that the superioresses of the institute have secured delegation for him to do so. He will not be overcautious but only prudent if he asks to see the letter in which the delegation is given. He may find that the local ordinary was asked merely for the faculties for the retreat before professiori, or for faculties to preach, and that the letter contains nothing about delegation to receive the professions. It is the practice for the local ordinary to delegate a priest to receive the vows, but the Code of Canon Law does not oblige him to do so. He could delegate a superioress of the institute, since the reception of the vows is an act of dominative power, not of jurisdic-tion, and thus does not presuppose the clerical state. The constitu. tions would oblige him to delegate a priest if they prescribed that the vows were to be received, "by the local Ordinary personally or by a priest delegated by tiim." This is rarely found in constitutions. Even in such a case a priest would not be required for the validity1 of 134 May, 1949 RECEPTION OF PROFESSION the reception, unless the constitutions clearly and certainly demanded a priest for validity. It is very unusual in the constitutions of lay institutes to find anything purely of their own law prescribed for validity, with the exception of matters that demand the deliberative vote of a council. When the institute has houses in several dioceses, it is the local ordinary of each diocese or his delegate, and not the local ordinary of the mother house, who receives the professions in his diocese. The local ordinary receives the vows only in virtue of a general commission given to him by the constitutions of the institute. The question can thus arise: Have the superioresses of the institute, by granting such a commission, completely abdicated their native right to receive the professions? At least four authors (Coronata, Schaefer, Vidal, Muzzarelli) deny such a complete abdication and hold that the religious superioresses could validly receive the vows. It is not the practice of religious superioresses to do this, but the doctrine of these authors ~annot be said to be improbable. None of these authors specifies the superioress who would have the right to receive the pro-fessions. This would be the superioress that is mentioned in the formula of the vows or, in the absence of such mention, the superior-ess who has l~fie right to admit to the particular profession, since reception is the complement and execution of admission. Religious Superioress as Recipient of the Professions When the constitutions prescribe that the vows are to be received by a superioress of the institute or her delegate, it is the universal practice for the superioress to receive the vows personally or to dele-gate another Sister of the same institute for the reception. In such a case the officiating priest says the Mass and presides over the cere-monies, but he does not receive the vows. The Code of Canon Law permits the competent superioress to delegate either the local ordinary or a priest for the reception. Such a delegation could be forbidden by the particuIar constitutions. For example, one set of constitutions reads, "that it be received by the Superior General either in person or through a delegated Sister." To delegate anyone except a Sister in this institute would be illicit but not invalid. The original approved text of the constitutions is to be examined closely wih regard to the delegation of the local ordinary or a priest. In at least one set of constitutions, the "'per alium" of canon 572, § 1, 6° was changed by the Holy See in ;the aigproved text to "'per aliam.'" The general 135 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review/:or Religious norm of canon 490 states that in matters concerning religious the masculine gender applies also to women, but the feminine gender does not apply to men. Therefore, the correction in this set of constitu-tions would exclude a licit delegation of men. Delegation of Faculty to Receioe the Vows The Code gives to the legitimate superior, whether the local ordi-nary or a member of the institute, the power of granting to another the faculty of receiving the vows. Therefore, this power of delega-tion is possessed, even if the particular constitutions do not explicitly grant it. Habitual delegation may be given.--Tfie legitimate superior has what may be called ordinary power of receiving the professions. Such,a power may be delegated in whole or in part. For example, if the mother general is the legitimate superior, she may delegate the mothers provincial to receive all professions in their provinces, the local superioresses to receive all professions in their houses, the mis-tress of novices to receive all professions in the novitiate. The local ordinary, if he is the legitimate superior, could delegate his vicar for religious to receive all professions within his diocese of institutes that prescribe that the vows are to be received by the local ordinary or his delegate. He could likewise delegate the chaplain to receive all pro-fessions in the convent to which he is attached. He could also dele-gate for all professions of an institute the priest designated by the superioresses of the institute to say the Mass or to preside at the cere-. monies of profession. A few institutes grant habitual delegation in the constitutions. Tl~e following articles are taken from constitu-tions approved by the Holy See: "The vows shall be received by the Superioress General or her delegate. Regional Superioresses in their region, and the local Supe-rioresses of the house where the vows are made, are habitually dele-gated." "that it be received by the Superior General either in person or through a delegated Sister. In virtue of these Constitutions, the Superior of the house where the profession is made is considered delegated unless the Superior General has stated otherwise." Delegation and subdelegation may be git)en for particular cases.- One who has either ordinary power or habitual delegation may dele-gate others to receive the vows in particular cases. Delegation for a particular case is that given for a determined case or for several deter- 136 May, 1949 RECEPTION OF PROFESSION mined cases. Thus a delegation to receive all the professions at a determined ceremony is a delegation in a particular case. If we sup-pose that a local superi0ress has been habitually delegated to receive the professions in her house, she can subdelegate another to receive all the vows at a determined ceremony, e. g., that of August 15, 1949. If the chaplain has been habitually delegated by the local ordinary to receive all the professions in a novitiate house, he can subdelegate another to receive all the professions at a determined ceremony. However, one who is subdelegated to receive the vows cannot again subdelegate his power unless he has expressly received the faculty to do so from one with ordinary power (canon 199, §5). Person delegated.--As explained above, unless the particular con-stitutions declare otherwise, the person delegated may be amember of the institute or one who is not a member of the institute. The legitimate superioress may deleg~ite the local ordinary, a priest, or a Sister of her own institute. The local ordinary, if he is the legi-timate superior, may delegate a priest or a Sister of the institute to receive the vows. Manner of delegation.--The delegation may be given orally or in writing, but the latter is much preferable. The letter of delegation should be retained in the files of the institute. When the vows are received by a delegate, it is advisable to note that fact in the register of professions together with the date of the letter of delegation and the name of the one who gave the delegation. Manner of Receitaing the Vows The act of receiving the vows does not have to be expressed in words but is understood to be sufficiently externally expressed by the physical presence of the one receiving the vows. Reception and pubticit~l of the vows.--The vows of religion are public solely by the fact that they are received by the legitimate supe-rior in the name of the Church. The Code does not demand other witnesses nor that the profession at least ordinarily be made in the presence of the community. These are frequently prescribed by the particular constitutions. Rite of profession.--The rites and ceremonies of profession are foreign to the present subject. One point of the rite, however, may be noted. It is more suitable that the formula of any juridical pro-fession should be pronounced separately by each Sister. This is not 137 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Reuieu~ for Religious required for the validity of the profession but is of obligation when prescribed by the particular constitutions. The reason for the above doctrine is that the decree of the Sacred Congregation of Rites on the rite of profession during Mass stated that the juridical profession was to be pronounced individually. Some constitutions approved by the Holy See. explicitly command that the formula be pronounced individually. Signing the declaration of profession.--Canon 576, § 2 reads in the Vatican translation: "A written declaration of the profession, signed by the person professed and at least by him in.whose presence the profession Was made, must be preserved in the archives of the institute." The clause, "at least by him in whose presence the pro-fession was made," is a literal translation of the Latin, "'saltern ab eo corarn quo professio ernissa est.'" This clause can have but one meaning, that is, "at least by the one receiving the vows." This sense is evident from the fact that the Code is here speaking of a witness to the profession, but in the canons on profession that pre-cede canon 576 the Code has prescribed only one witness to the pro-fession, namely, the one receiving the profession. Therefore, the one who receives the vows must always sign the declaration of the pro-fession, whether this is commanded by the particular constitutions or not, since it is an obligation of the Code. If the local ordinary personally receives the vows, he must sign the declaration, and not any other priest who, may have been present at the ceremony. It is evident that this article should be of help in ascertaining the person competent to receive the vows. It is of such' help when it specifies properly the person who is to sign, for example, "by the Mother General or her delegate." It is oftentimes of no .help, since the article merely repeats the unspecified language of the Code, enumerates with-out distinction many witnesses who are to sign, or omits entirely any indication that the declaration must be signed by the One receiving the vows. This same clause is sometimes mistranslated in constitu-tions, for example, "by the person who presided at the profession." It is licit to prescribe, and some constitutions actually prescribe, addi-tional witnesses who must sign the declaration, such as the officiating priest, the local superioress or her delegate, or two Sisters who were witnesses to the profession; but the constitutions should not omit the prescription of the Code that the declaration must be signed by the one who received the profession. The Code does not demand that either the professed or the one 138 May, 1949 IN PRAISE OF PRAYER receiving the profession sign the declaration immediately after each profession. 'This may be done for all the professions after the cere-mony is finished. This does not exclude the custom, which exists in some institutes, of having each professed sign the document of profession immediately after her profession. In Praise ot: Prayer--II Augustine Klaas, S.J. m~HE Fathers and ecclesiastical writers of the first seven centuries | have already told us of the nature, excellence, e~cacy, and r~ecesslty of prayer. (Cf. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, Vol. VI, No. 6, pp. 363-371.) Pursuing further our study of these early Christian writers we flote that they held that the amount of formal prayer for each will yary with his peculiar circumstances of life and work, of nature and grace. Thus the his(orian Palladius (d. circa 425 A.D.) tells of a certain monk, Paul, who came to Abbot Saint Macarius for some pertinent advice on this point. "Uninterrupted prayer was his work and his asceticism. He said daily three hundred formulated prayers. Collecting as many pebbles, he kept themin the bosom-pocket of his garments and then threw away one at each prayer recited. Coming to Saint Macarius, called the Statesman, to speak with him, he said: 'Abbo~ Macarius, I am despondent.' Urged to give the reason, he replied: 'In a certain town there lives a virgin thirty years old, given to the ascetic life. Many have told me that she eats nothing except on Saturday and Sundays . She does seven hundred prayers a day. When I learned this, I chided myself that I couldn't do more than three hundred.' Saint Macarius answered: 'For sixty years I have been doing one hundred set prayers a day, but also working for my food and holding confer-ences with the brethren. My conscience does not accuse me of being negligent. However, if you, who do three hundred prayers a day, " are reproved by your conscience, you clearly show that you either do not pray perfectly or can do more than you are doing now.' " (PG 34, 1070B.) 139 AUGUSTINE KLAAS " Ret~ietu for Religious VI Time of Pra~ler The best times for prayer are indicated by Tertullian (d. circa 222 A.D.) in this striking passage which reveals the prayer customs of the primitive Church. "As for times of prayer nothing at all is prescribed unless, of course, it be to pray always and in every place. But how in ever.q place (1 Tim. 2:8), since we are forbidden to do so in public? Every place, he is saying, where opportunity or even necessity demands prayer . As regards the time, it will not be fruitless to observe certain hours, those common hours, I mean, which mark off the peri-ods of the day--terce, sext, and none, and which are found in Holy Scripture to be more solemn. The Holy Spirit was first infused into the assembled disciples at the third hour. Peter, on the day he saw the vision of the whole community of Christians in that small con-tainer, had gone upstairs at the sixth hour to pray. At the ninth hour he with John went up to the temple where he restored health to the paralytic . In addition to those appropriate prayers which without admonition are required at dawn and at evening, not le~s than three times at least do we pray every day, since we are debtors to the Trinity, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Nor should the faithful take food or bathe without a prayer. Refreshment and food for the spirit take precedence over those of the body, and heavenly things over earthly." (PL 1, 1192 A.) Saint Ambrose (d. 397 A.D.) recommends prayer at night and confirms it from Holy Scripture. "If students of secular subjects indulge in very little sleep, how much more musi those who desire to know God not be hindered by bodily sleep, except what is needful for nature. David washed his bed with his tears every night; he arose in the middle of the night to confess his sins to God; and do you judge that the whole night should be given to sleep? Then is God the more to be prayed to, then is help to be asked for and sin avoided, when one seems to be alone. Then, especially, when darkness and walls encompass me on all sides, must I consider that God beholds all hidden things. Do not say: 'I am surrounded with darkness; who sees me or whom do I fear, enclosed and hemmed in as I am with walls? For perilous is his frown for the wrong-doers (Psalms 33.17).' And so, if you do not see a judge present, do you not see yourself? Are you not afraid of the testimony of conscience? Do you not know that the darkness of 140 ~ May, 1949 IN PRAISE OF PRAYER night is not a cover but an enticement to sin? Night it was when Judas betrayed and Peter denied. Above all, at that very time must the judgments of God be revolved in the mind and the exhorting commandments be gone over again. Let not those precepts of chas-tity be absent, in order that, concerned with them, the soul may extinguish the fires of concupiscence and the lust of the flesh. Take this to heart: euer{j night tears bedew m{j bed and drench roy pil-low (Psalms 6:7)." (PL 15, 1291 C.) We must likewise pray in the hour of tribulation and tempta-tion, as Saint Augustine (d. 430 A.D.) advises. "We are taught, brethren, that we belong to the body of Christ, that we are members of Christ. We are admonished in all our trials not to think how we should answer back our enemies, but rather how we may propitiate God by prayer, especially that we may hot be vanquished by temptation, and also that those who persecute us may be returned to reasonable justice. There is no greater, no better thing to do when in trouble than to withdraw from all outward distraction and enter into the inner sanctum of the soul. To invoke God there where no one sees the beggar and the Donor, to close one's door against all exterior disturbance, to humiliate oneself in the con-fession of sin, to glorify and praise God both when He .corrects and when He consoles: surely this is what must b~ done." (PL 36, 884.) Saint Antony, in his quest for the more perfect way, withdrew from the world and prayed continually, as his illustrious biographer, Saint Athanasius (d. 373 A.D.) relates. "Monasteries were not yet so numerous in Egypt, neither was any monk familiar with the vast desert, but if any one wanted to be free to work at his perfection, he did it in solitude not far from his own village. There was at that time in a nearby village an old man who from his youth had led the life of a monk. When Antony had seen him he was on fire with holy zeal to imitate him and soon he began to dwell in various places near the village. If he heard of any one elsewhere living a life of strenuous virtue, he sought him out like a wise bee, nor did he come back again to his own dwelling until he had seen him and thus, after receiving as it were an alms for making this journey for virtue, he came back home again. While dwelling there, he first strengthened his determination not to return to his father's possessions, nor to be mindful of his relatives, but rather to tend to the perfection of the ascetical life with all his will and effort. Hence, he worked with his hands, for he had heard the words: 'If 141 AUGUSTINE KLAAS Ret,~ew ~or Religious any man work noL neither let him eat'; in this way he bought bread, some for himself, some for distribution to the poor. He prayed often, for he had learned well that one must pray without ceasing. So attentive was be to spiritual reading that nothing of the authors escaped him, but .he retained it all, so that for him his memory finally served him in place of books." (PG 26, 844 A.) Later the Apothegms of the Fathers of the Desert (6th century) quaintly recounts how the Abbott Lucius prayed without ceasing. "Some monks once came to Abbot Lucius . The old man asked them: 'What manual work do you do?' They answered: 'We do not touch manual work, but, as the apostle commands, we pray without ceasing.' The old man: 'Don't you eat?' They: 'Yes, we eat.' Old man: 'When you are eating, who prays in your place?'-- Again he said to them: 'Don't you sleep?' They shot back: 'Cer-tainly, we sleep.' Old man: 'When you are sleeping, who prays in your place?' And they didn't know what to answer to all this. Then he said to them: 'Pardon me, but your actions are not in accord with your speech. I will show you how I pray without ceasing while I do my mariual work. When I sit dipping my twigs into water for God and then weaving them into mats, I say: "Hat2e mercg on me, 0 God, according to thg great mercg. And acco. rding to the multi-tude ot: thg tender mercies blot out mg iniquitq." That's a prayer isn't it?' They answered: 'It is.' Again the old man: 'When I thus work and pray all day, I earn sixteen coins, more or less: of these I bring two to the door, the others I spend for food. Whoever receives the two coins prays for me while I eat or sleep; and so by the grace. of God I put into practice that "pray without ceasing.' . (PG 65, 253 B.) But Saint A.gustine objects and then tells of a practical way to pray always. "And whose tongue can stand praising God allday long? Isn't it true that when conversation becomes a little lengthy you get tired? Who can endure praising God the whole.day ? I suggest a method by which you can praise God all day, if you so wish. Whatever you do, do it well, and you have praised God. When you sing a hymn, you are praising God; what are your tongue and conscience doing if they are not praising God? Have you stopped singing the hymn and are going out for refreshment? Don't drink to excess and you have praised God. Are you doing business? Don't cheat and you have praised God. Are you tilling a field? Don't get into a quarrel and .142 May, 1949 IN PRAISE OF PRAYER you have praised God. By the blamelessness of your works prepare yourself to praise God all the day long." (PL 36, 341.) VII Place of Prayer Prayer need not be restricted to any particular place, but rather, as Saint Ambrose says, should be made everywhere. "The Savior teaches also that you should pray everywhere when be says: 'Enter into yqur room" (Matt. 6:6). Understand by room, not a room circumscribed by walls, by which the members of your body are enclosed, but rather the room that is within you, in which your thoughts are enclosed, in which your senses dwell. This prayer room of yours is with you everywhere a6d everywhere it is secret; its judge is none other than God alone." (PL 14, 335 D.) Saint Athanasius wants virgins who 'are following the more per-feet life to pray in a certain way at mealtime and gives incidentally some rules of religious etiquette. "After None eat your bread thanking God at table with these words: 'Blessed be God Who has mercy on us and nourishes us from our youth, Who gives food to ever~ living creature. Fill our hearts with joy and gladness, that having a sufficiency in all things, we may abound in every good work, in Christ 3esus our Lord, with whom glory, power, honor, and adoration are due to Thee, together with the Holy Ghost, for ever and ever. Amen.' . . . "Now, when you are about to sit down to table and begin to break bread, having thrice made the sign of the cross, thus give thanks: 'We thank You, Father, for the holy resurrection which you revealed to us through Jesus Christ: and just as this bread, which is on the table, once was scattered far and wide, but by baking has been made one. so may Your church be gathered from the ends of. the earth into Your kingdom, because Yours is the power and glory for ever and ever. Amen.' This prayer you must say when you break bread at the beginning of the meal. When you put it back again on the table and are about to sit down, recite the whole of the Out Father. The above:mentioned prayer Blessed be God we also recite rising after the meal. If there are with you~two or three other vir-gins, let them give thanks over bread and pray along with you. If a catechumen is present at table, let her not pray with the faithful and do not sit with her when. you dine. Likewise you must not sit down to eat your food with women who are somewhat careless and 143 AUGUSTINE KLAAS Review for Religious facetious, unless it be necessary. For you are consecrated to the Lord your God and your food and drink are sanctified, sanctified indeed by prayers and holy words." (PG 28, 264 D, 265 C.) VIII Manner of Pra!cer How should we pray? What bodily posture should we adopt when we pray? Listen to Origen (d. circa 255 A.D.) "I think that he who is about to pray becomes more alert and attentive throughout his prayer, if for a moment beforehand he stand still and recollect himself. Likewise when he has cast off all worries of s6ul and distracting thoughts; when he has called to mind as best he can the majesty of Him whom he is approaching, and how irrev erent it .is to offer Him oneself so lax, so remiss, and almost con-temptuous; when finally he has laid aside all else, thus let him come to pray, his soul straining as it were beyond his hands, his mind visibly intent on God. Before he stand in prayer, let him raise up the superior part of his soul from the earth and place it before the Lord of all; let him so far forget the insults he thinks he has suffered from another as any one might wish God to be unmindful of his own evil deeds . "Since there are many bodily postures, that one in which the hands are extended and the eyes raised to heaven, is surely to be pre-ferred above all the others by him who also bears in his l~ody the image as it were of those things which suit the soul in prayer. This we say should be especially observed when no circumstance interferes, for in a particula.r circumstance it is sometimes permitted to pray seated, for instance, on account of considerable pain in the feet; and even lying down, because of fever or such like illnesses. For the same reason we may pray doing neither of these things, for example, when we are traveling, or when business does not allow us to withdraw for prayer." (PG 11, 549 B.) Saint Augustine observes carefully the posture of those praying in the Holy Scriptures. "We are informed.by examples that there is no prescription as to how the body should be composed for prayer, as long as the soul in God's presence carries out its intention. For we also pray standing, as it is written: 'And the publican stood far off' (Luke 18:13) ; and on our knees, as we read in the Acts of the Apostles(20:36) ; and sitting, as did David and Elias (II Kings 7:18; III Kings 18:42). 144 May, 1949 IN PRAISE OF PRAYER Unless we could also pray lying down, this would not have been written in the Psalms: "Ever~ night tears bedew my bed and drench roy pillow' (Psalms 6:7). When any one seeks to pray, let him take that bodily posture which at the time he considers suitable to assist the soul." (PL 40: 144.) Prayer demands that the soul be purged of its faults and detached from earthly things: so Saint Gregory the Great (d. 604 A.D.) and Abbot Cassian (d. circa 435) teach. "The interior face of man is his soul, in which we recognize that we are loved by our Creator. Wherefore, to raise this face up means to lift the soul to God by devoted prayer. But a stain soils a face that is lifted up if conscience accuses the contemplating soul of its guilt, because the soul is completely deprived of the confidence of hope, if intent on prayer it is stung by the memory of an unmastered fault. For it despairs of being able to receive what it wants, since it remembers that it will not do as yet what it has heard God wants of it . Wherefore this is a wholesome remedy: when the soul reproaches itself for a remembered fault, let it first in prayer deplore its mistake; insofar as the stain of error is wiped away with tears is its face seen to be clean by its Creator when it prays from the heart." (PL 75, 936 B.) "God's servants, when cut off from earthly activities, know not how to speak idly, avoid scattering and soiling the mind with words, and so obtain a hearing from their Creator before all others. By purity and simplicity of thought they are in a certain way already like Him, as far as that is possible. But we in the midst of noisy crowds, while we often speak idle and sometimes even gravely harm-ful words, our lips are as far from the omnipotent God as they are close to this world. We are drawn from on high while we are immersed in worldly things by endless talking." (PL 77, 256A.) Abbot Cassian compares the soul to a feather. "The soul can be aptly compared to the finest down or lightest feather. If the feather is neither ruined nor moistened by water externally applied, at the slightest breeze it is quite naturally carried up high in(o the heavens by reason of the mobility of its substance. But, if it is weighted down by the sprinkling or pouring of water, not only will it not be caught up to any aerial flights on account of its natural mobility, on the contrary it will be pressed down to the lowest earth by the weight of the water it carries. Thus our soul also,,if it is not burdened down with earthly vices and cares, or 145 AUGUSTINE KLAAS Review for Religious spoiled by the water of culpable lust, raised aloft as it were by its natural quality of purity, it will be carried up to the heavens by the lightest breeze of spiritual prayer, and leaving behind the lowly things of earth, will be wafted on high to things celestial and invis-ible . And therefore if we wish our prayers to penetrate not only the heavens but even what is above the heavens, let us take care, after we have purged it of all earthly vices and cleansed it from the dregs of the passions, to bring the soul to its natural condition of subtility, so that its prayer may ascend to God free from the burden of sins." (PL 49, 774 B.) Saint C!tprian (d. 258 A.D.) and Saint Basil (d. 379 A.D.) demand attention and concentration of mind for effective prayer. "When we are at prayer, my dear brethren, we must be alert and give ourselves to it with our whole heart. Let all fleshly and worldly thought be cut short and let the soul think of naught but its prayer alone. Thus also the priest before the prayer of the Preface prepares the minds of the brethren by saying "Sursum Corda" ('Lift up your hearts'), so that when the people answer "Habemus ad Do-minum' ('We have them lifted up to Lord') they may be admon-ished that they ought to think of nothing else but the Lord . How can you ask to be heard by God, when you do not even hear yourself? Do you wish God to be mindful of you in prayer, when you are not mindful of yourself?" (PL 4, 533 B.) "How shall one achieve concentration in prayer? If he is con-vinced that God is present before his very eyes. For if one who looks upon and converses with a prince or other person of authority fixes his eyes on him, how much more he who prays to God will keep his mind focussed on Him who searches hearts and reins . Can this attention be had always and in all things? How can one arrive at it? That it is possible is shown by him who said: "My eyes are eoer towards the Lord' (Psalms 24: 15), and "I set the Lord always in my sight: for he is at m!j right hand; that I be not mooed' (Psalms 15: 8). How it can be done has been told above, namely, if the soul is not allowed for any space of time to interrupt its thinking on God, on His works, and on His gifts, acknowledging them arid giving thanks for all." (PG 31, 1216 C ~4 D.) In an exceptionally vivid passage Saint John Chrysostom (d. 407 A.D.) urges recollection and perseverance in prayer. "Let them give ear who are somewhat inexperienced in prayer. When I say to some one: 'Ask God, beseech Him, supplicate Him,' 146 May, 1949 IN PRAISE OF PRAYER he answers: 'I have asked once, twice, three times, ten times, twenty times, and I have never received anything.' Do not stop, brother, until you receive something: the objective of petition is the gift received. Then only stop when you receive: rather do not stop even then, but still continue on. If you do not receive anything, ask that you may receive; but when you have received, give thanks for the gift. "Many enter into the church and having said a thousand lines of prayer, they leave; they do not know what they said; their lips move but they themselves do not hear anything. You yourself do not hear your own prayer, and do you wish God. to answer it? I made genu-flections, you say,--but your mind was flitting about outside; your body was in church, but your thoughts were wandering around out-doors; your lips were reciting your prayers, but your mind was com-puting interest, calculating business deals, contracts, fields, posses-sions, thinking of parties with friends. For the d~vil, evil as he is, since he knows that we make so much progress in time of prayer, then especially does he attack. Often we lie stretched out on our beds thinking of nothing in particular: but only let us start to pray and he will inject six hundred thoughts to make us quit, empty of fruit. "Even when you are outside the church, cry out "Miserere mei" ('Have mercy on me'), not with your lips but with your mind, for God hears even the silent. No special place is required, but at least a minimum of moral living . If you are in your bath, pray; if on the street or in be~t, do likewise: wherever you may be, pray. You are a temple of God; you have no need to look for a place; only the affections of the will are required. If you stand befor~ a judge, pray; when the judge gets angry, pray on." (PG 52, 457.) We read in the Apothegms that Abbot Silvanus of Mount Sinai taught a certain monk of the desert a salutary lesson on joining work to prayer. "A certain brother came to Abbot Silvanus on Mount Sinai, and seeing the brethren working, said to the old man: "Be not occupied about the l:ood which perishes. For Marq has chosen the better part.' The old man said to a disciple: 'Zachary, give this brother a book and take him to an empty cell.' Now when the ninth hour came, he kept looking out of the doorway wondering whether they would send some one to call him to dine. When no one summoned him, he arose and went to the old man whom he .thus questioned: 'Father, didn't the brethren eat today?' 'Certainly they ate.' 'And why 147 AUGUSTINE KLAAS Review for Religious didn't you call me?' 'Because you are a spiritual man and have no need of this sort of food. We on the other hand, since we are quite carnal, want to eat and that's why we work, but you have chosen the best part, prayerfully reading the whole day, and of course you do not wish to eat carnal food.' Hearing this, the brother made a penitential bow and said: 'Forgive me, Father!' The old man cut in: 'Mary surely needs Martha too. Let Mary also t~ike a lesson from Martha.'" (PG 65, 409 C.) IX Obstacles to Prayer Almost every ancient writer who treats of prayer mentions dis-tractions as the chief obstacle and suggests some remedies. Thus Saint Basil. "Surely it must be understood that we cannot observe any com-mandment, nor love God or neighbor, if we mentally wander hither and yon. Neither can he really acquire a mastery of science who flits from one to another, nor can he who does not know what pertains to its proper object, master even one. For it is necessary to adapt one's actions tO one's end and objective, and nothing right is done in an inept and unsuitable way. The blacksmith's art is ordinarlly not acquired by doing pottery work; nor does one prepare to win athletic prizes by diligently tootling on the flute, since every objective is achieved by appropriate and suitable action. Wherefore, that exer-cise which is done to please God according to Christ's Gospel, con-sists in banishing the cares of the world and 'casting out every other distraction of the mind . "The mind wanders when it is idle and not occupied in necessary thoughts. It becomes slothful and quite careless, because it does not believe that God is present searching the heart and the reins. For if it really believed that, it would certainly do what has been said: I set the Lord aludays in m~ sight: for he is at my ~igbt hand, that I be not mooed (Psalms 15:8). Whoever does this or the like will never dare or permit himself to think of anything which is not con-cerned with the building up of faith, although it seem to be good. nor of what is forbidden and not pleasing to God." (PG 31, 920 B, 1097 B.) Cass;.an points out a frequent cause of distraction in prayer: "Whatever our mind has thought of immediately before the hour of prayer, that necessarily comes back to us while we pray by 148 Ma~l, 1949 IN PRAISE OF PRAYER reason of the activity of our memory. Therefore What we wish to be in prayer that we must prepare ourselves for before prayer . And so whatever we do not wish to creep into our minds while we are praying, we must hasten to exclude from the portals of our soul out-side of prayer." (PL 49, 773 C.) We are urged by Saint Gregory/ the Great to imitate Abraham offering sacrifice. He drove those annoying birds away. "Often into the vFry sacrifice of prayer itself importunate thoughts inject themselves and try to snatch away or soil what we are immolating to God with tears. Hence Abraham, when he would offer sacrifice at sunset, struck out at those persistent birds and dili-gently drove them away, lest they carry off the sacrifice he was offering (Gem 15 : 11 ). Thus when we offer to God a holocaust on the altar of our hearts, let us ward off unclean birds of prey, lest evil spirits and perverse thoughts rob us of what our soul hopes to offer to God with spiritual profit." (PL 75, 1146 C.) And fight the good fight in this matter, says Origen. "You will scarcely find any one who when he prays is not bothered by some useless and distracting thought, which deflects and breaks off the intention by which the mind is directed towards God . And therefore it is the great struggle of prayer, that amid untoward obstacles and distractions the mind continues ever fixed on God with a firm purpose, so that it too can rightly say: 'I haue [ought the good fight, I have finished the course" (II Tim. 4:7)." (PG 14, 1277 A.) X Effects o[ Prayer Prayer achieves two main effects. First, it detaches us from all things, as Saint Max[mus the Con[essor (d. 662 A.D.) teaches. "I am asking you to tell me this about prayer: Why is it that prayer withdraws the mind from all other, thoughts? The old man answered: Thoughts are thoughts of things, some of things perceived by the senses, others of things understood by the mind. The mind, dwelling on these, carries about the thoughts of them; but the grace of prayer unites the mind to God and by the very fact that it unites the mind to God, it withdraws it from all other thoughts. Then the liberated mind, occupied with God, becomes like to God. Now, such a mind, asking Godfor what is becoming, never fails to receive what it asks in prayer. That is why the apostle bids us pray with- 149 C. A. HERBST Redlew /:or Religious out ceasing, namely, that diligently uniting our minds to God, we may gradually break away from the seduction of ear.thly things." (PG 90, 929 C.) Secondly, prayer unites us to God, and then leads to all virtues, according to Saint Basil. "That prayer is excellent which impresses on the soul a clear notion of God, and God's indwelling is nothing else than embracing by recollection God residing within. Thus we are made temples of God when the constant flow of memory is not interrupted by earthly cares, and the intellect is not disturbed by sudden mental tempests. Fleeing all things the worshipper withdraws to God, repels affections that arouse desire, and busies himself with the means that lead to virtue." (PG 32, 229 B.) And so we accept the concluding advice of a fifth century reli-gious whose name was Hesychius: "Let the name of Jesus cling to your breath and to your whole life and you will taste the fruits of peace." (PG 98, 1512 A.) Conformit:y t:o I:he Will of God C. A. Herbst, S.J. 44~HY will be done!" These words the Son of God Himself | put into the perfect prayer as the climax of our well-wishing to God. Love is the union of two wills. Perfect love is the perfect union of two wills. It is nothing less than this perfect love that we together with Our Lord ask for here, for it must be "on earth as it is in heaven." It is the fulfillment of the law and the prophets. Christ came to earth for this. "I came down from heaven, not to do my own will, but the will of him that sent me" (John 6:38). The signified will of God indicates to us what we must do. Every Catholic must observe the Ten Commandments and the precepts of the Church and fulfill the duties ~f his state in life. Religious must keep their vows and rules. This is the will of God clearly signified tO US. But the will of God properly so called, the internal will of God, is the will of God's good pleasure. From our point of view it is the Mag, 1949 CONFORMITY TO THE WILL OF GOD "submission, whereby our will is united to God's good pleasure," as St. Francis de Sales says. There must be "in everything great con-formity of our will with the divine will so that we do not p~esume nor wish to increase either in ourselves or through ourselves His glory except in so far as He Himself wills it, by that degree of glory which He asks from us, content with the dignity of those actions and'occu-pations which He demands of us. We know for certain that, no matter how lowly and humble they may be, as long as they are done according to His most holy will, they serve no less to promote and ¯ increase His glory than other works however sublime." (Le Gaudier, De Perfectione Vitae Spirtualis, Pars IV, caput i.) This is the patient, willing, joyous, ardent acceptance from God's hand of whatever it may please Him to send us~ willing or not willing what He does, not only habitually but actually, in every action of our life. This will touch temporal goods, honor, health, intellectual gifts, means to sanctification, its degree, the amount of glory we render to God, our liberty, trials, sorrow and sufferings of body and soul. God foresees, watches over, and provides for fill things most lovingly. This is His providence. "God by His providence watches over and rules everything He has made," says the Vatican Council (Denzinger, 1784), "reacheth from end to end mightily, and order-eth all things sweetly" (Wis. 8:1). "He made the little and the great, and He hath equally care of all" (Wis. 6:8) ; "Good things and evil, life and death, poverty and riches, are from God" (Ecclus. I 1:14). Our.Blessed Saviour says: "Be not solicitous for your life, what you shall eat, nor for your body, what you shall put on. Is not the life more than the meat: and the body more than the raiment? Behold the birds of the air, for they neither sow, nor do they reap, nor gather into barns: and your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are not you of much more value than th.ey? . And for your raiment why are you solicitous? Con-sider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they labour not, neither do they spin. But I say to you, that not even Solomofl in all his glory was arrayed as one of these. And if the grass of the field, which is today and tomorrow is cast into the oven, God doth so clothe: how much more you, O ye of little faith? Be not solicitous therefore, saying: What shall we eat: or what shall we drink, or wherewith shall we be clothed? For after all these things do the heathens seek. For your Father knoweth that you have need of all these things." 151 C. A. HERBST Reuiew for Religious (Matt. 6:25-32.) "Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and not one of them shall fall on the ground without your Father. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered." (Matt. 10: 29, 30.) These tender reassurances ought to inspire in us the greatest con-fidence. "The Lord ruletb me: and I shall want nothing. He hath set me in a place of pasture. He hath brought me up, on the water of refreshment . For though I should walk in the midst of the ¯ shadow of death, I will fear no evils, for thou are with me." (Ps. 22: 1, 2, 4.) "Blessed be the man that trusteth in the Lord, and the Lord shall be his confidence. And he shall be as a tree that is planted by the waters, that spreadeth out its roots towards mois-ture: and it shall not fear when the heat cometh. And the leaf thereof shall be green, and in the time of drought it shall not be solicitous, neither shall it cease at any time to bring forth fruit." (Jer. 17: 7, 8.) "Can a woman forget her infant, so as not to have pity on the son Of her v~omb? and if she should forget, yet will not I forget thee" (Is. 49: 15). St. Augustine says: "God will no: let us be lost for whom He sent His Son to be tempted, to be cruci-fied, to die, to rise again from the dead. God surely will not look with disfavour upon us for whom He did not spare His own Son but delivered Him up for us all" (In Psalroum LX, 4). This con-fidence is based on hope which, after charity, is the greatest of all the virtues. "Without faith it is impossible to please God" (Heb. 11:6). How vivifying and fruitful it is, is emphasized over and over again by Our Lord in the gospel. "Be of good heart, daughter, thy faith hath made thee whole. And the woman was made whole from that hour" (Matt. 9:22). "And Jesus said to him: Go thy way, thy faith hath made thee whole. And immediately he saw, and followed him in the way" (Mark 10:52). "Whose faith when he saw, he said: Man, thy sins are forgiven thee" (Luke 5:20). "Amen I say to you, if you have faith as a grain of mustard seed, you shall say to this mountain: Remove from hence hither, and it shall remove; and nothing shall be impossible to you" (Matt. 17: 19). This living faith is indispensable to the practice of conformity to the divine will. We must see God's hand in everything, great and small, consoling or distressing. In fact, the less we see and understand, the stronger our faith mus~ become. This is the way it was with Mary. "The life of faith is nothing less than the continued pursuit of 152 May, 1949 CONFORMITY TO THE WILL OF GOD God through all that disguises, disfigures, destroys and, so to say, annihilates Him. It is in very truth a reproduction of the life of Mary who, from the Stable to the Cross, remained unalterably united to that God whom all the world misunderstood, abandoned, and persecuted. "Mary, when the Apostles fled, remained steadfast at the foot of the Cross. She owned Jesus as her Son when He was disfigured with wounds, and covered with mud and spittle. The wounds that dis-figured Him made Hiria only more lovable and adorable in the eyes of this tender Mother. The more awful were the blasphemies uttered against Him, so much the deeper became her veneration and respect." (Caussade, Abandonment to Divine Providence, I, ii, 2.) St. Bernard says: "We may consider three classes of people: beginners, those who have progressed, the perfect. 'The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom' (Ecclus. 1:16). In the middle stands hope. Charity is the consummation. Hear the Apostle: 'Love is the fulfilling of the law' (Rom. 13:10). The beginner, starting from fear, carries the cross of Christ patiently. He who has made progress carries it willingly, in hope. He who is aflame with love carries it ardently. Only he it is who can say: 'You have always been my love and I have desired thee.' " (I Sermo S. Andreae, 5.) When we speak of conformity to the will of God we usually have in mind the difficult things of life since the easy things hardly present a problem. In the beginning patient endurance is about all one can offer. We would prefer the opposite, we would cast off the cross if we could. But moved by reverence, by filial fear, which has in it great respect and affection and dread of offending God, we are resigned to whatever God sends or allows to happen to us in the ordinary course of natural events. This resignation comes with a certain amount of effort. "If we have received good things at'the hand of God, why should we not receive evil?" (Job 2:10); "As it bath pleased the Lord so is it done: blessed be the name of the Lord" (Job 1:21). Indifference is an advance on resignation. "Resigna-tion prefers God's will before all things, yet it loves many other things besides the will of God. Indifference goes beyond resignation: for it loves nothing except for the love of God's will: insomuch that nothing can stir the indifferent heart, in the presence of the will of God" (St. Francis de Sales, Treatise on the Love of God, Book IX, chapter iv). But this indifference is not a negative thing, not a lackadaisical or I-don't-care attitude of mind. It is a positive act. 153 C. A. HERBST Review [or Religious I must make myself indifferent. Then I will be spiritually receptive and accessible to the divine influence, recognize and submit to God'a action, rest in God, accept providential events peacefully. When light and strength from God descend upon this holy indifference, straightway the will of God is done perfectly, likes and dislikes aside. "I am straitened between two: having a desire to be dissolved and to be with Christ, a thing by far the better. But to abide still in the flesh is needful for you. And having this confidence, I know that I shall abide, and continue with you all, for your furtherance and joy of faith." (Phil. 1:23-25.) "He who has made progress carries it willingly, in hope." Hope sustains us amidst the obstacles encountered in the attainment of sal-vation and perfection, in attaining eternal life, and in getting the means necessary to attain it. By it we love God in.terestedly, for our own sakes, but supernaturally. Because of difficulties there is fear; but there is also a well-founded expectation of success, based on God's all-powerful assistance and His goodness, if we make an effort and co-operate. We are spurred on by the desire of heavenly things. We do not seek the cross but we carry it with good grace. We would not be rid of it if we could because we know it is good for us, that it is a great blessing in disguise, that,going the way with Christ to Calvary we shall have with Him our Easter glory, We know it will make us ricb in merit for Heaven, "The second degree is when, though the man does not desire the evils that befalI him nor choose them, stilI, when they come, he accepts them and suffers with a good grace because such is thewill and good pleasure of God. What this degree adds to the first is a certain good will and a certain love of the pain for God's sake and a desire to suffer it, not only so long as there is an obligation under precept to suffer it, but further so 19ng as the suffering of it will b~ agreeable to God. The first degree takes things with patience; the second, beyond that, takes them with promptitude and readiness." (Rodriguez, Practice of Perfection, I, viii, 12.) "God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ" (Gal. 6:14) is the cry of the perfect. They love the cross, they embrace it. "Looking on Jesus, the author and fihisher of faith, who having joy set before him, endured the cross" (Heb. 12:2), they want what He had. Like the apostles who "wentfrom the presence of the council, rejoicing that they were accounted worthy to suffer reproach for the name of Jesus". (Acts 5:41), theybear 154 May, 1949 CONFORMITY TO THE WILL OF (~OD their tribulations with joy. With the writer of the Imitation they realize that "in the Cross is salvation: in the Cross is life; in the Cross is protection from enemies. In the Cross is infusion of heav-enly sweetness; in the Cross is strength of mind; in the Cross is joy of spirit. In the Cross is height of virtue: in the Cross is perfection of sanctity." (Book II, chapter 12.) They would not cast off the cross of Christ if they could. They cling to it. Each one says: "In order to imitate and be more actually like Christ our Lord, I want and choose poverty with Christ poor rather than riches, opprobrium with Christ replete with it rather than honors: and to desire to be rated as worthless and a.fool for Christ, Who first was held as such, rather than wise or prudent in this world" (Spiritual Exercises, Three Modes of Humility). With St. Paul they cry defiance for the love of Christ to the things that strike terro?'into those who are of this world. "Who then shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation? or distress? or famine? or nakedness? or danger? or persecution? or the sword? (As it is written: For thy sake we are put to death all the day long. We are accounted as sheep for the slaughter.) But in all these things we overcome, because of him that hath loved us. For I am sure that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor might, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature shall be able to ~eparate us from the love of ~God, which is in Christ Jesus Our Lord." (Rom. 8: 35-39.) Abandonment to Divine Providence is a special kind of con-formity to the divine will. It consists in giving oneself .up com-pletely to the will of God in the duty of the present moment. The divine will "nourishes the soul and continually enlarges it by giving it what is best for it at every moment" (Caussade, Abandonment, I, i, 5). This is the hidden operation of God working in us unceasingly for our sanctification. Through it holiness is made easy. "The presentmoment is the ambassador of God to declare His mandates. The heart listens and pronounces its 'fiat.' Thus the soul advances by all these things and flows out from its centre to its goal. It never stops but sails with every wind. Any and every direction leads equally to the shore of infinity. Everything is a help to it, and is, without exception, an instrument of sanctity. The one thing necessary can always be found for it in the present moment. It is no longer a choice beween prayer and silence, seclusion and society, 155 C. A. HERBST reading and writing, meditation and cessation of thought; flight from and seeking after spiritual consolations, abundance and dearth, feebleness and health, life and death, but all that each moment pre. sents by the will of God. In this is despoilment, abnegation, renunciation of all things created, either in reality or affectively, in order to retain nothing of self, or for self, to be in all things submis-sive to the will of God and to please Him, making it our sole satis-faction to sustain the.present moment as though there were nothing else to hope for in the world." (Caussade, Abandonment, I, ii, 10.) Men of weak faith criticize this high activity of God as they would not.presume to criticize the skill of the lowliest workman. But "if that which God Himself chooses for you does not content you, from whom do you expect to obtain what you desire? If you are disgusted with "the meat prepared for you by the divine will itself, what food would not be insipid to so depraved a taste? No soul can be really nourished, fortified, purified, enriched, and sancti-fied except in fulfillin~ ~he duties of the present moment. What more would you have? as in this you can find all good, why seek it elsewhere? Do you know better than G6d? As He ordains it thus why do you desire it differently? Can. His wisdom and goodness be deceived? When you find something to be in accordance with this divine wisdom and goodness ought you not to conclude that it must needs be excellent?" (Caussade, Abandonment, I, i, vii.) Truly did Isaias the prophet say: "My thoughts are not your thoughts: nor your ways my ways, saith the Lord" (Is. 55:8). "The foolishness of God is wiser than men; and the weakness of God is stronger than men" (I Cot. 1:25). It is in this holy aban-donment that the soul must give itself up to God when plunged into the troubled .waters of the dark night of the senses. It is in this holy abandonment that the soul in the transforming union, the highest form of infused prayer and love for God in this life, com-pletely forgets self. "All her thoughts are bent on how to please Him better, and when and how she can show the love she bears Him" (Saint Theresa of desus, The Interior Castle, Seventh Man-sion, IV). 156 .uesffons and Answers. --18- Our postulants and novices make the same retreat, and we prefer that the retreat end on the day the novices take their vows rather than the day before on which the postulants receive the habit and begin the novitiate. Would it be according to canon law to allow the postulants fo receive the habit on the morning of the elg.h~h day of the retreat, provided they remain in retreat and complete the prescribed eight days7 Since canon 541 states that "'before beginning their novitiate" the postulants must make a s~piritual retreat of eight entire days, it seems that the eight days must be completed before the novitiate is begun. This is ceriainly the spirit of the law; but a novitiate which was begun on the last day of the retreat would not be invalid. Many authors suggest that after the retreat has been finished a day or several days may elapse before the novitiate is begun or before first profession is made. ml9~ If the sign of the cross is to be made at the .blessing glv~;n at benedic-tion of the Blessed Sacrament, should it be made before, during, or after the blesslng7 The Church does not prescribe any formalities to be observed by the faithful at benediction of the Blessed Sacrament. Hence it is left to the devotion of the individual to look at the Blessed Sacrament, to bow his head, to make the si.gn of the cross, to strike his breast, or to do anything else his devotion may suggest. Since the Church has no prescriptions in this matter, it seems advisable to allow religious to act as .their devotion may prompt them, rather than to introduce cus-toms binding on all. The logical time for making the sign of the cross (if one uses this method) seems to be at the time when the blessing is given. 10 For the past six years a general councilor has been local superior in~ one of our houses. In July we shall have general elections. Since local superior already has a right to cjo to the general chapter because of his office of general councilor, may the community elect a second dele-gate in place of the local superior? Is it according to canon law for a general councilor to be a local superior at the same time? 157 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS Reoiew [or Religious According to many constitutions of religious congregations, the local superior of a community of twelve or more professed religious is entitled by reason of his office to membership in the general chap-ter of the congregation. The members of the community likewis~ elect one of their number to represent them at the chapter. .The general councilors also have a right to membership in the general chapter by reason of their office. Although the local superior who is also a gbneral councilor has a twofold right to membership in the general chapter, this does not give him more than one vote in chapter since canon 164 expressly states that "even though a member may have a right to cast a vote in his own name by reason of several titles, he can cast btlt one vote." Since the community had nothing to do with the membership in the chapter of the local superior, they have no right to elect a second delegate in his place. Article 276 of the Normae of 1901 required that the general councilors reside with the superior general, though they allowed two of them to reside elsewhere in case of need, provided that they could easily be present at council meetings (Art. 276). Furthermore, councilors were forbidden to hold any office which might impede their principal duty of assisting the superior general with their advice and counsel (Art. 279). Neither the Normae nor the Code of Canon Law forbid a councilor to hold the office of local superior. m2 I-- We have one year of novitiate. A novice who becjan his novitiate on Aucjust 14, 1947, was obliged to go to the hospital on August 8, 1948, and remained there until September 14th when.he returned home. He was allowed to take his first temporary, vows on September IS. Now one of the older members is worried lest the vows are invalid because the novice was away'from the novitiate for more than thirty days and thus interrupted the canonical year. Please give us your opinion on the case. Canon 34, § 3, 3° of the Code of Canon Law prescribes that the canonical year of novitiate be measured from midnight of the day on which it is begun to midnight of that same date one year later. The novice who began his novitiate on August 14, 1947, completed his canonical year at midnight between August 14 and 15, 1948. Hence if he went to the hospital on August 8th, he was absent only six days, of the canonical year. Therefore his canonical year was not interrupted by his absence of thirty-five days from the novitiate house. According to canon 556, § 2 an absence of fifteen 158 May, 1949 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS days or less from the novitiate quarters during the canonical year need not be made up unless the major superior requires it: and even in that case it is not necessary for the validity but only for the licit-heSS of the novitiate and of the subsequent profession of vows. --22- Can you suggest any way in which the cuttings or tr;mmlncjs from hosts or altar breads could be used? In response to our appeal under question 13 in the March num-ber of the REVIEW for solutions to the problem outlined above, we have, received the following from different sources: (1) Place the pieces in an open pan in a heated oven to dry them. After they are crisp., grind them and use the crumbs as cracker dust. (2) Cuttings and trimmings can be put in soup and cooked up with it. Also may be u~ed with flour for baking. (3) We take the cuttings and trimmings from the altar bread room to the general bakery where they are mixed into the bread dough. The bakery Sister puts them into the liquid in the mixing bowl after the yeast, sugar, and short-ening have been added, allows them to soak for a few minutes, gives the mixer several turns, and then adds the proper amount of flour and completes the mixing. The altar bread cuttings blend perfectly with the other ingredients in this process. Are there any rellcfious communities ~n the United States that accept as aspirants oJder women who are widows? The Visitation Nuns and the Sisters of Saint 3oseph admit widows under certain conditions. Usually there is an age limit. m24~ Would the {allure to announce after each scrutiny the number o{ votes cast for the various candidates ~nvaJldate the ejection? Canon 507, § 1 states that in elections held in chapter the com-mon law in this subject (as expressed in canons 160 to 182) aid any provisions contained in the constitutions should be observed provided they are not contrary to the canons of the Church law on elections. Canon 171, § 2 prescribes that after the ballots have been counted to see that they conform to the, number of voters, "they shall be inspected and it shall be made known how many votes each can-didate has received." The wording of the law is clear, and it would be 159 QUESTIONS' AND ANSWERS Review for Religious gravely illicit to omit this announcement after each scrutiny. Whether the failure to do so would invalidate the election is disputed among canonists both before and after the Code, hence the invalidity is not certain, and all past elections are to be considered valid. m25-- In our congregation it is usual to change superiors so that their period of three years begins on a definite day in summer. To make a change during the year would be very inconvenient and would mean upsetting class arrangements in other houses and creating other difficulties; e.g., future changes in that house would have to be in the middle of the year. Hence the following questions: I. In the event that a local superior dies during the year, would it be lawful for the mother general, with or without the decisive vote of her consultors,to appoint a Sister to act as superior till the end of the year? 2. Would it be lawful to appoint a Sister to act as superior for an unexpired term of a year or more? 3. Would such time spent as acting superior have to be counted as part of the three year term in the event that the acting superior is appointed superior of the same community when the usual day of nomina-tion arrives? The law of the Church requires that a local.superior may not govern one and the same religious community for more than six continuous years (canon 505). The normal term prescribed is three years, with one immediate reappointment. Hence it is not contrary to the law of the Church for the constitutions or custom to prescribe that all local superiors should be appointed on the same fixed day. I. If a local superior dies within the third year of her office, the simplest solution would be to allow the assistant superior to carry on until the end of the year. Strictly speaking, any other Sister could be appointed to act as temporary superior for the rest of the year. 2. In this case, where more than a year of the three year term remains to be filled after the death of a local superior, another Sister should be appointed to fill out the unexpired term. While it is true that the usual term ofthe local superior is three years according to canon 505, still this is the exception which proves the rule, and may be allowed in order to avoid the difficulties involved in changing superiors in midyear. 3. The time passed as acting superior is to be counted in the period of six years, beyond which the Church law does not wish an'.¢ 160 Mag, 1949 BOOKS local superior to govern one and the same community without an interval of time elapsing. In conclusion it may be stated that the consent or counsel of bet councilors will be needed by the higher superior according as the constitutions require one or the other for the ordinary appointment of local superiors. ooks Dr. Pascal P. Parente's THE WI~LL OF LIVING WATERS is a sort of anthology of very brief excerpts (sentences or paragraphs) on topics of the spiritual life. Under six principal headings and twenty-three subdivisions select utterances of Scripture, the Fathers, and "the masters of the spirit," are collected and presented. It is designed "to place the primary sources of the doctrine of the spiritual life within easy reach of any reader, and to encourage a more frequent and intelligent use 0f these sources in pre.ference to secondary ones." It is suggested that the closer one gets to the original springs, the purer and more highly invigorating the waters are apt to be. The work should be very useful and welcome to those who would like to see in a moment or so and without any difficialty what these primary sources have to say on any of the topics covered. (St. Louis: B. Herder Book Co., 1948. Pp. viii ~ 336. $3.50.) The Foreword of THY LIGHT AND THY TRUTH, by Robert Nash, S.J., gives the author's purpose: "To stimulate thoughts that will afford subject matter for conversation with God in prayer." The Foreword also presents a brief exposition of prayer, its disposi-tions and development. The meditations are developed in the following way: Prepara-tory Prayer, Setting, Fruit, Points, Summary, and Tessera. In all there are 22 chapters, each chapter making up a complete medita-tion; but, as the author mentions, there is sufficient matter in each chapter and even in each point to make several meditations. The manual is a pleasant and inspiring meditation companion and should find acceptance among clerics, religious, and lay people as did its companion volume, "Send Forth Thy Light." (Westmin-ster, Maryland: The Newman Press, 1948. Pp. 197. $2.50.) LORD, TEACH US TO PRAY, by the eminent French dramatist, 161 BOOKS Review [or Religious . Paul CIaudel, has for its purpose the expression of the necessity, the value, and the beauty of prayer. The exposition, however, is so obliquely stated, so freighted with symbolism and literary allusions, that it will not be of mucb use to many religious. Those, however, who have had special training in modern French Catholic literature will find in the book much that is good, for CIaudel writes from a heart that is deeply spiritual and Catholic. The translation is by Ruth Betbell. (New York: Longmans, Green ~ Co., Inc., 1948. Pp. 95. $2.00.) CHRIST IS ALL, by John Carr, C.SS.R., is a work" originally printed in Great Britain. The author presents Christ as: Our God, Teacher, Physician, Model, Food, Friend, Victim, and King. Our Lord is shown playing these roles in His own daily life as recorded in the Scriptures and now once again in the daily life of a Christian. In clear, impelling style this work prescribes the personal influence of Christ in everyday living, as the remedy of the ills of our times. (Westminster, Maryland: The Newman Bookshop, 1948. Pp. 143. $2.25.) FATHER DAMIEN, APOSTLE OF THE LEPERS, is a short booklet by the Most Reverend Amleto Giovanni Cicognani, Apostolic Dele-gate 'to the Ufiited States, relating in a summary yet inspiring fashion the life, work, and virtues of God's unselfish worker. The booklet can be obtained from the Fathers of the Sacred Hearts, 4930 South Dakota Ave., N.E., Washington 17, D.C. Price: 50 cents (paper). Sister Ma~y Philip has prepared a TEACHER'S MANUAL FOR. SISTER ANNUNZIATA'S FIRST COMMUNION CATECHISM. After a worth-while introduction rich in practical suggestions for the teacher the manual gives a rather thorough treatment of each lesson under these headings: purpose, preparation, approach, picture study, activi-. ties, bibliography. Busy Sisters hard pressed for methods and material will discover in this fine little guidebook a storehouse of helpful ideas which do not merel~ point out the way but make the going easy. (New York: Benziger Brothers, Inc., 1947. Pp. 79. 25 cents.) In LUMII~RE ET SAGESSE Father Lucien Roy, S.J., gives us the fruits of a thoroughgoing effort to work out and set f

Issue 8.5 of the Review for Religious, 1949. ; .-~ - -SEPTEMBER P~qcjress ~hroucjh Thankscji~.in~ d~m onsecrat=on to ar . -. -. . ,~ Robe~Li opp _ Books as SpirituDairl~ cfors_ . J.H. Dunn R i::VI i::W -!:::0 R I::: E I G IO US VOLUME VIII . SEPTEMBER, 1949. NUMBER CONTENTS SPIRITUAL PROGRESS THROUGH, ACTIVE THANKSGIVING -" Ciarence McAuliffe.'S.3 . " . . : 225, REPORT TO ROME--Adam C. Ellis. S.d~ . VOCATIONAL LITERATU"'~ ~R -E .~.,". . -: . ! 240 ADM~ISSION OF ORIENTALS INTO LATIN INSTITUTES " " doseph ~.~Gallen, S.d. ; . 241 ~O,TAL CONSECRATION TO MARY BY ~OW-- Robert L/. Knopp. S.M . ~ 254 BOOKS AS SPIRITUAL DII~.ECTORS--d. COMI~IUN I C A T I O N S " ~\ . ~., . ¯ . 268 QUESTIONS ANb ANSWERS-- 35. "Toties quoties" Indulgence in Convent Chapel . '~ . 270 36. Recdption and Profession on Same Caldndar Day ,. ." . . 2-71 ~-37. Safeguarding Secrecy of, Elections . ~ . * . -. .~ 271 "38.Changes in.Prayers and "Legal Articles" of Consutut~ons . "~. . 272 39. Right to Say Funeral Mass of Sister . ~BOOK ~ 'REVIEWS-- The Little Office of the 'Blessed Virgin: The Veil. Upon the Heart: ;., De La Safle. a Pi6neer of Modern Education' . BOOK NOTICES . : ¯ . ~'. . 277 'BOOK ANNOUNCE~MENTS .¯.' . ~ . 278 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, September, 194'9, Vol.' VIII, No. 5. P.ublished bi-monthly : 3~nuary. March, May, July, September, and No,cember at ~thd College PresL 606 Harrison Street, Topekdi, Kansas. by St. Mary'sCotle.ge, St.-Marys0 Kansas," wi.th,ecclesiastical approbation.~ Entered as second ~:lass matter danu~.ry 15, 1942. at the Post Office, Topeka, Kansas. under theact of March'3"~1879. " ~Editorial Board: Adam C.°E!I~is._S.J. G. Augustine Ellard. S.d. Gerald Kelly. S.J. Editorial Secretary: A~fred F. Schneider, S.d, CoPyright, 1949, by Adam C. Ellis. Permission ii~hereby granted40~ quota~io~ns of reasonable-length/ provided due credit be given~ this review': and the author. Si~bs,cription price: 2 dollars a y~ear~ ~ : Printed in U. $~ A. Before wrltincJ to us, please consult notice on 'inside b~ck cover . Spiri :ual Progress Through Active Thanksgiving ~ Clarence McAuliffe, S.J. THAT a spirit of thanksgiving is one of. the basic threads in the '| fabric of Christian virtues is clear.'from various theological sources, but especially from the let!;~rs of St. Paul. In thirty-five different ~exts the Apostle of the Gen files either expresses thanks to God for persohal favors received or urg, for benefits to themselves. He asks the "What hast thou that thou hast not re received, why dost thou glory as if thou admonishes the Colossians (Col. 3:15.) : rejoice in your hearts, wherein also you "be ye thankful." To the Ephesians he tion (Eph. 5:20): "Giving thanks ah name of our Lord ,Iesus Christ, to God th ~'s his readers to thank God '.orinthians (I Cor. 4:7) : rived? And if thou hast hadst not received?" He iAnd let the peace of Christ e called in one body: and aakes a sweeping exhorta-ays for all things, in the Father." Undoubtedly priests and religious do harbor in their souls an abiding spirit of gratitude to God. Moreover, they do not allow this virtue to remain in a purely passive condition, since they are ca'lied upon to exercise it every day. They make a thanksgiving after Holy Communion; another, after meals. They begin their examinations of conscience with an act of thanks. At every Mass they express their gra'titude to God, since gratitude is one of the four purposes that are infallibly achieved by every unbloody immolation of the Savior. Granted, then, that religious and priests d,o make certain acts of thanksgiving, even though they may be dulled by that common ene-my routine, it would, nevertheless, be conducive to spiritual advance-ment if those consecrated to God were more actively thankful. A few considerations may show why this is true and provide inspira-tion for its accomplishment. Even natural gratitude is a winning virtue, and we find its exer-cise praised and inculcated even bY pagans. Mothers are rare who do not, instruct their children to say "Thank you." How.ever, the gratitude with which we are concerned is supernatural. It is based on faith; it is activated by co-operation with actual grace, and it merits an eternal supernatural reward if the conditions for merit are veri-fied. But it-~does not conflict with natural gratitude. In fact, its 225 CLARENCE MCAULIFFE Reoiew for Religious psychological effects and its outward manifestations will be very much the same, and this truth should be borne in mind. Yet it is radically and intrinsically superior to natural gratitude because it can be obtained and exercised only by God's helping hand, and it leads to a reward far transcending the natural capacities of man. The thanksgiving of which we speak, therefore, is a super-natural virtue that inclines us to acknowledge and recompense the gifts that come to us from God or from another person under God. The virtue becomes alive when we say prayers or perform acts. that are motivated by the virtue. It is true, of course, that this virtue is not as lofty in dignity as the virtue of perfect love of God. Since, however, .it is easier for the average religious to act from a spirit of thanksgiving than from perfect love, and since the exercise of thanks-giving is an open door to perfect love, this virtue is worth culti-vating for its own sake. By making acts of thanksgiving to God, we practice a form of the more general virtue of religion. When we make such acts to parents or other superiors under God, we exercise one species of the virtue of piety. If we render thanks to our equals, we exercise one aspect of the virtue of justice. It is worth remem-bering that when we give thanks to superiors or equals for their favors, we can nevertheless exercise the supernatural virtue of grati-tude. ¯ We thank God by thanking them because we know by faith that they themselves are gifts of God to us. In order to realize more vividly how the exercise of supernatural gratitude can promote spiritual progress, it might be well to rdflect briefly on the energizing effects of merely natural gratitude. Suppose we recall some definite occasion in the past when we were briskly stirred by the emotion of thanksgiving. At one time or another we may have been thoroughly mean and .cross-grained "towards someone who had a full right to our love. : If that person was a parent.or teacher or superior, he might have rightfully punished us for our meanness. But he did not. He passed it over, never mentioned it, treated us as though we had done nothing wrong. Gratitudh surged up spontaneously in our souls." Or we might remind ourselves of that occasion when death visited our home and we were consoled by the visits and condolences of so many people. We were stirred by an active gratitude to them." Or, if we have not had such experi-ences, we might remember any other: the time that the doctor or a neighbor, at great personal inconvenience, lent us assistance when we needed it badly; some occasion.such as Christmas or graduation, 226 8epternber, I ~4~ PROGRESS THROUGH THANKSGIVING when parents and friends showered us with gifts. All of us have had these or other experiences in our lives when our natural gratitude was stimulated to a high peak of activity. Having recalled some such occasion from the past, we need not make any profound study of psychology to recall also the natural concomitants of that active spirit of thanksgiving. In the first place. we certainly looed our benefactor or benefactors. They had been good to us, and we by a praiseworthy natural reaction wished good to them. We resolved never to forget their kindness. We would be loyal to them and they would be the objects of our praise, never ot~ our blame. Secondly, the gratitude we felt prompted us to refrain from criticism not only of our benefactors, but of others als0. It even prompted us to disregard various circumstances that chafed us in one way or another. It made us satisfied with our lot. Thirdly, ,are were conscious of a spirit of humility. We realized that we had been treated far better than we deserved, and this realization put us in proper focus towards God and all men. Fourthly, we found that our active gratitude enkindled a special reverence towards our bene-factors. Fifthly, we were drawn out of ourselves and were inspired to do,good to others, even to those to whom we were in no way obligated. Finally, we recall that. on these occasions of animated thanksgiving our,souls expanded with joy. The whole world took on a different hue, and our hearts beat faster. A mere superficial glance at the psychological effects of a living thanksgiving reveals the truth of all this, and, be it remarked again, the manifestations of supernatural gratitude will be substantially the same as those of the natural virtue. .If, then, at diverse times in our lives we were so thankful for single gifts bestowed upon us by mere human benefactors, what should be the extent of our active gratitude to God? The degree of gratitude due a donor is measured partially by the number and kind of gifts received. And is it not a fact that we owe every single thing we have or ever will have to the munificence of Almighty God? In the purely natural sphere, my very presence in this world as a living person, drawn from the chasm of utter nothingness, is the result of God's generosity. It is the sustaining hand of God that keeps my soul and body united at every instant. I oannot even take a breath or blink an eye without His help. Every talent of my soul, every power of my body is a present with God's name written on it. My friends, my country, all the circumstances of my past, present, 227 CLARENCE MCAULIFFE Reoiew /'or Religious and future life are so many tokens of God's liberality. Even the physical and mental sufferings that come to me are His benefits and will redound to my good if I use them properly. Moral perversity is the only (hing that I can claim as my own. All this we know by our faith; we know it even by reason; but it has a hard time holding its footing on the slippery foreground of our consciousness. Moreover, these natural gifts are mere shadows when compared with the supernatural favors God has bestowed upon us. Our Catholic faith, our priestly or religious vocations are the result of God's thoughtfulness and labor. We have but a misty notion of sanctifying grace, but we know that it is in some ineffable manner a sharing in God's own nature. Besides, not an hour of the day goes by but God manifests His personal concern for each of us by enlight-ening our minds and fortifying our wills with His actual graces. Again, the sacraments are so many rivers flowing down from the cross on Calvary to irrigate the world with both sanctifying and actual graces. Indulgences, sacramentals, intellectual guidance, spir-itual consolations are but gifts of God delivered to us by the Cath-olic Churdh. Our dignity surpasses powerful monarch because we are the Ghost and the adopted children of liberality;. It is also worth remembering that, are conferred upon all or many men that of the world's most living temples of the Holy God Himself through His though some of God's gifts equally, most of them are decidedly individualistic, earmarked for me personally either by their very. nature or by the manner in which they are presented. For instance, the providence which God exercises towards me differs from that which He exercises' towards anyone else. I had fny own distinctive parents. I have my own distinctive qualities of body and soul, and my 9wn special circumstances of life. The touches of God upon my mind and heart by actual grace are adapted to my special needs and are tinged with His thoughtfulness of me personally. God worked out my vocation by a series of external circumstances and internal helps that were verified in no other case. Only in heaven will I realize the vast number of gifts that God addressed to me personally, but a little reflection will reveal some of them even now. This reflection will be time well spent since it will sharpen my active spirit of thanksgiving. So much f6r the number and kind of God's gifts. We are literally walking bundles of God's benefits. It should fill us with 228 September, 1949 PROGRESS THROUGH THANKSGIVING humility to realize that at times we are so briskly grateful to some human benefactor for a single favor whereas we are s.o sluggish in expressing our appreciation to God, the "Source of all blessings." However, gratitude should be m'easured not only by the number and kind of gifts received but also by the nobility of the giver. On this score also our thanksgiving to God should be intensified. Other things being in balance, we appreciate more a present from a superior than one from an equal. The modern craze for autographs rests upon this principle. We are not personal acquaintances of either the Holy Father or his secretary, but we would value more a rosary sent us by the Holy Father than we would the same rosary given us by his secretary. If, then, on various occasions we have been impelled to active gratitude because some other person has been generous towards us, what should be our active gratitude to God, the Lord and Ruler of the universe and the Father of us all? One other factor enters into the degree of gratitude that we owe another. It is the intention of the giver. The greater the love of the donor, the'more heartfelt should be our appreciation for his gifts. "The gift without the giver is bare." The nobleman who tosses his unfeeling coin to the'beggar at the castle's portal is a benefactor, but not a lover. He deserves thanks; but not very much, because he does not give himself in his gift. His coin, no matter how precious, does not symbolize any self-giving. So necessary is this disposition of love on the part of the giver, that a present bestowed out of unal-loyed selfishness, for instance, solely to obtain some favor from the recipient, really merits no thanks at all. It would probably be correct to say that those people who by their kindness really activated our natural gratitude in the past were motivated by a personal regard for us, a love more or less intense. But even so, their love cannot compare with God's when He com-municates His gifts to us. God is never ~imply a benefactor. He is always the supreme lover, and this spiritual truth is manifested strikingly in some of His gifts. Consider, for example, the gift of sanctifying grace. By it we are in some mysterious way made "sharers in the divine nature." It is the seed of the future flower of the beatific vision wherein we shall one day be enabled to perform in a finite way acts of knowledge and love that properly belong to God alone. No creature by its natural powers could ever behold God intuitively and experience the ineffable love and joy that follow upon that knowledge. In short, sanctifying grace is not only a symbol of 229 CLARENCE MCAULIFFE Ret~ietO for Religious God's desire to give Himself, but it is an actual giving of Himself in as far as it is possible for Him to do so. It is evident that God could not possib!y assimilate us into His divinity. " The result would be paiatheism, Which would conflict with His infinite perfection. But by sanctifying grace He has conferred upon us powers that truly resemble His own. Again, this effort of God to give Himself to us as far as possible is revealed by His constant bestowal of" actual graces. These are outright gifts. By them God Himself stimulates our minds and wills. He illuminates our minds by endowing them with a bit of His own divine wisdom, and He spurs on our wills to do good by communicating to them a mite of His own power. If a blood donor saves our life, we are deeply.grateful. He has truly given up a part of himself. God is constantly renewing our spiritual forces by transmitting to us through actual graces tiny sparks of His own knowledge and might. Moreover, these visitations of God are frequent. They come many times every single day. They are directed to our welfare. They benefit only ourselves,.not God. No self-seeking mars God's activity in our souls. These graces are tokens of a perfect love that seeks only the good of the beloved, and by these graces we see with God's own light and we act with God's own power. Finally, we note God's loving intentions towards us in His gift of the Blessed Sacrament. By this marvel of God's omnipotence Our Lord becomes corporeally present, not merely in one place but in thousands throughout the world. He does not walk about now in His visible body to visit us in our homes, but He remains on the altar in an invisible manner so that we can walk to Him and con-verse with Him. Furthermore, not only has He blessed us with this gift of His abiding presence, but He comes to us daily in Hol'~" Communion, a tangible proof that He is not just a benefactor but an ardent lover. He literally gives us Himself for a short time every day in a union that transcends any possible union between mere human beings. Holy Communion, then, together with sanctifying grace and actual grace lends us some tiny ins.igbt into the flaming love that inspires God in all of His gifts to us. On all scores, therefore, we should be more actively grateful to God than to any human benefactor. We are indebted to God not for one gift or a thousand, but literally for everything. .Even the gifts of other people to us are in reality God's gifts. He is the 230 September, 1949 PROGRESS THROUGH THANKSGIVING ultimate source of all our blessings. Moreover, in dignity God the Giver excels infinitely all human donors. Then too, no human benefactor can possibly be motivated by the unbounded love of God as this is manifested particularly by His gifts of grace and the Blessed Sacrament. Yet despite all this we are at times deeply moved to gratitude by one trifling gift from another person, whereas our grati-tude to God remains ineit and lifeless. No doubt one reason for our lethargy arises from the fact that God does not visibly appear when He confers His gifts. We are so tied to our sense perceptions that our emotion of gratitude does not spontaneously react when we cannot sensibly perceive the donor. To counter this difficulty we should vivify our faith, since we know b.v faith (and also by reason) that God as a matter of fact does give us everything we have. A good reason for our failure to be more actively grateful springs from a selfish trait or quirk in human nature. When we recei~'e many gifts from another, our spirit of thanksgiving instead of waxing tends to wane. We tire of saying "Thank you." We begin to take favors for granted, or we even begin to look upon them as our right. We all know this from per-sonal experience, but we also realize that we should fight against this natural tendency not only in regard to God but also in regard to our human benefactors. Suppose, then, that by God's help we do manage to weave into our souls a rhore active spirit of thank, sgiving to Him. What bene-fits will accrue to our spiritual lives? To answer this we need only recall the benefits deriving from an active natural gratitude. First, an active supernatural gratitude will lead us to more intense love for God. In fact, such gratitude is one of the avenues that leads directlx." to perfect love for God, as all spiritual writers admit. Secondly, this energetic gratitude inspires us with humility towards God and towards our fellow meri. Realizing that we have been given so much despite the fact that we deserve absolutely nothing, we descend to our proper level with reference to God 'and our neighbor. Thirdly, such living gratitude, represses grumbling and criticism. The truly grateful man does not complain. He does not have his adverse com-ments to offer about every new regulation of his superior. He does not make the round of the community spreading cheap gossip about others. He is too grateful. This effect of gratitude is expressed by the poet, ,Josephine Pollard, in her poem "Grumble Corner": 231 CLARENCE MCAULIFFE Ret~iew got Religious And man a discontented mourner, Is spending his da~ls in Grumble Corner: Sour and sad, whom I long to entreat, To take'a house in Tbanks-gi~ing Street. Fourthly, this energetic spirit of thanksgiving will give us the right perspective on the circumstances that enter our lives. We will evaluate them correctly. We will not allow our minds to focus attention on minor irritations which, if unchecked, may upset our peace of soul for days at a time. The grateful recollection of the uninterrupted series of benefits flowing to us every minute from God's liberality will reduce such irritations to their right size.and keep our minds in proper balance. Fifthly, this vigorous gratitude to God will not permit us to forget our fellow men. It will impel us to do favors for others, and it will guarantee that these favors will be supernaturally motivated. Sixthly, just as the expression of natural gratitude wins more gifts from a benefactor, so an active supernatural gratitude brings down more favors from God, especially by augmenting the flow of His actual graces. ¯Lastly, and very important, this brisk spirit of gratitude, just like its natural counter-part, fills the soul ~vih joy. The grateful man is always happy, and this atmosphere of happiness, correctly understood, is indispensable for spiritual progress. Since God is the ultimate giver of all things, we purposely emphasize the value of active gratitude to Him. However, the exer-cise of this virtue towards Him does not exclude the propriety of 'exercising it also towards our fellow men. In fact, it would be spiritually profitable for us to say "Thank you" to others much more often than we do, always remembering that we are really thanking God even when we address our thanks to others. Various people contribute to our welfare every day by their services for our spiritual, intellectual, social, and bodily needs. These benefactors should be thanked, at least on occasion. It would be detrimental to spirituai progress for a priest or religious to adopt the viewpoint either explicitly or implicitly that those who provide these services ¯ are merely doing their job. True enough, such benefactors may have an obligation in conscience to perform some duty for us, and in some cases we may have a right to their service. But it would be profitable to remember that even the rights we have are gifts of God to us and that-all those, therefore, who minister to u~ in any way deserve our thanks. Among those who merit special and lasting thanks are 232 September, 1949 PROGRESS THROUGH THANKSGIVING superiors since they more than others supply our spiritual, intellec-tual, and temporal wants. ~ Just as with all other virtues, if we wish to develop our spirit of thanksgiving, we must practice it. This means a fight against our natural inclinati6ns. By nature we take favors for granl~ed. Even the child, model of sanctity in a general way, has to be taught to express gratitude. In order to exercise this virtue more energetically we might, then, make it the subject of our particulaz examination of conscience. It would be helpful, too, since we are dealing with a supernatural virtue whose exercise depends on the grace of God, to pray often for a gradual increase of our active thanksgiving. Finally, we may make progress in this matter by pr~ayerful reflection on the fact that God is our loving Father. Father Faber in All for Jesus has a lengthy chapter on thanksgiving, and he attributes our lack of spirit in the practice of this virtue 'mainly to our failure to reflec( prayerfully on the truth that God is our Father. To conclude, we are aware that many motives urge us to advance in our exercise of thanksgiving. We know that God wants it, because we have read some of His words as contained in the writings of St. Paul. We know, too, the gospel story of the ten lepers in wbich Our Lord expressed His disappointment when only one returned to say "Thank you." We know also that the Church wants more gratitude to God. In her prayers during Mass she says in the Gloria: "'Gratias agimus tibi'" (We give thanks to Thee) ; in the verses before the Prefac,e she prays: "'Gratias agamus Domino Deo nostro'" (Let us thank God our Lord) ; and in the beginning of the Common Preface she sings: "'Vere dignum et justum est, aequum et salutare, nos Tibi semper et ubique gratias agere". (It is truly right and just, proper and salutary for us to thank You at all times and in all places). It is possible that we are urged to be grateful to God even by the rules of our order. St. Ignatius lays it down in his constitutions that his fol-lowers should "thank God in all things." Even reason tells us that we can never thank God enough. Prudence, of course, must regulate this virtue as it regulates all others, but most of us will probabl'! admit that we have not gone to excess in the exercise of thanksgiving. If there has been any imprudence, it has been in the dullness of our spirit of gratitude. The removal of that dullness will contribute substantially to our spiritual progress. 233 Report: !:o Rome Adam C. Ellis; S.J. "Introduction AS EARLY AS 1861 we find a clause put into the constitutions of congregations of religious women approved by the Holy See (Sacred Congregation of Bishops and Regulars) pre-scribing that the superior general must send in an occasional report to the Sacred Congregation. For example, in the Constitutions Of the Sisters of Nazareth of Chalon (September 27, 1861) the obli-gation was worded as follows: "The superior general is bound every three years to send to this Sacred Congregation a report on the condition of her own institute. This report must cover both the material and personal condition, that is, the number of houses and of the Sisters in the institute and their disciplinary condition, namely, the observance of the constitu-tions, as well as whatever pertains to the economic administration.'" Gradually some such paragraph became a regular part 'of all constitutions approved by the Holy See. When the Normae were established in 1901, Article 262 covered this point: "Every three years the superior general shall give a report to this Sacred Congregation regarding the disciplinary, material, personal, and economic condition of her institute. The ordinary of the place where the mother house is located will certify this report by signing it." Left to th'emselves, superiors general of congregations app'roved by the Holy See wrote their reports on the four salient points as best they could. Sometimes minor matters were stressed and written up at great length while more important matters were either merely mentioned briefly or omitted altogether. As a result, in order to pro-cure uniformity and to be sure to get all the essential information desired in these reports, the Sacred Congregation of Bishops and Regulars issued an instruction on July 16, 1906, regarding this tri-ennial report and added a list of 98 questions to be answered. In 1917 the Code of Canon Law extended the obligation of sending a report to the Holy See to "the abbot primate, the superior of every monastic congregation, and the superior general of every 234 REPORT TO ROME institute approved by the Holy See" (canon 510) but made the concession that the report need be sent only every five years unless the constitutions prescribed that it be sent more frequently. With the increase in the number of reports sent to the Sacred Congregation by all institutes approved by the Holy See, the work of the Sacred Congregation became greatly involved. Hence it was not surprising that it issued a new instruction (February 23, 1922, approved by Pope Pius XI on March 8th) in which it divided all institutions into five sections--religious men according to the nature of their institutes, religious women according to their geogral3hicat location--Leach section being assigned a definite year in which to send in its report. The old questionnaire of 1906 was replaced by a new list of 105 questions to be answered when making the report. Only organized religious institutes approved by the Holy See and societies of men and women living in common without public vows were bound to make this report; independent monasteries of men and women as well as diocesan institutes were not bound. Meanwhiie a new form of religious, perfection had been devel- Oped in the Church. This new form was recently approved by Pope Plus XII, who officially applied the term "secular institutes" to societies which embrace it. These secular institutes may also receive the approval of the Holy See in due time. The aftermath of two world wars manifesting itself in modern life has made it necessary for religious institutes of all kinds to adapt themselves to the external circumstances in which they are living. A consideration of these modern problems which beset religious prob-ably induced the Sacred Congregation of Religious to issue a n~w instruction (3uly 4, 1947) regarding the quinquennial report. Two days later Pope Plus XII approved this new instruction which super-sedes all previous decrees on the subject. We shall give the provi-sions of this new instruction and then add a few brief comments. The Instruction "I. According to the Code (canon 510) the abbot primate, the abbot superior of a monastic congregatioia (canon 488, 8°), the "superior gen.eral of ever,y religious institute, of eve.r,y societyoof, comr mon life without public vows (canon 675) and of secular institutes approved by the Holy See, and the president of any federation of houses of religiou~ institutes, societies of common life, or secular 235 ADAM C. ELMS Review ior Re:igious institutes (or their vicars in default c~.~ tL'e above-named persons or if they are prevented from acting ]canon 488, 8°]) must send to the Holy See, that is to this Sacred Congregation of Religious, a report of the state of their religious institute, society, secular insti-tute, or federation every five years, even if the year assigned for sending the report falls wholly or partly w~:hin the first two years from the time when they entered upon the office. "II. The five-year period shall be fixed and common to all those mentioned above in n. I; a1:d they shall continue to be computed from the firs~ day of dzn:iary, 1923. "III. In making :he reports the following order shall be observed : "1. From among the religious institutes, societies of common life, secular institutes, and federations approved by the Holy See whose members are men the report is to be sent: "in the first year [|948] of the five-year period: by the canons regular, monks, and cnlitary orders; "in the second year [1949]: by the mendicants, clerics regular, and other regulars; "in the third year [I950] : by the clerical congregations; "in the fourth year [1951]: by the lay congregations; "in the fifth year [1952]: by the societies of common life, secular institutes, and federations. "2. From among the religious institutes, societies-of common life, secular institutes, and federations approved by the Holy See whose members are women the report is to be sent according to the region in which the principal house is .juridically established: "in tl~e first year~ [1948] of the five-yea~ period': by the supe-rioresses of religious institutes in Italy, Spain and Portugal; "in the second year [1949]: by the superioresses of religious institutes in France, Belgium, Holland, England, and Ireland; "in the third year [1950]: by the superioresses of religious institutes in other parts of Europe; "in the fourth year [1951]: by the superioresses of religious institutes in tlie countries of America; "in the fifth year [1952]: by the superioresses of religious insti-tutes in other parts'of theworld and moreover by the superioresses of societies of common, life, secular institutes, and federations throughout the world. 2.36 September, 1949 REPORT TO ROME "IV. In order that the Sacred Congregation may be able to obtain certain and authentic information regarding all those monas-teries and independent houses approved b~r the Holy See--both men and women--which are not bound by canon 5 10 to send the quin-quennial report, and regarding congregations, societies of common life, and secular institutes of.diocesan approval, the following are to be observed: "1. Major superiors of monasteries or independent houses of men which, although they" are approved by the Holy See, neither belong to any monastic cofigregation nor are federated with others shall send to the ordinary of the place, at the time and in the order mentioned above (n. HI, 1), a summary report of the five-year period signed by themselves and by their proper councilors. The ordinary in turn shall send a copy of. this report signed by himself, with any remarks he may see fit to add, to this Sacred Congregation within the year in which the' report was made. "2. Major superioresses of monasteries of nuns with their proper council, according to the order above prescribed (n. III, 2). for general superioresses, shall send a brief and concise report of the five-year period, signed by all of them, to the ordinary of the place if the nuns are subject to him: otherwise to the regular superior. The ordinary of the place or the regular superior shall carefully transmit a copy of the report, signed by himself with any remarks he may see fit to add, to this Sacred Congregation within the year in ~hich the report was made. "3. The general superiors of congregations, of societies of'com-mon life, and of secular institutes of diocesan approval shall send a quinquennial report, signed by themselves and by their proper coun-cil, to. the ordinary of the place where the prihcipal house is, at the time and in the order above prescribed (n. III, 1 and 2). The ordinary of the place shall not fail to communicate this report to the ordinaries of the other houses, and he shall within the year send to this Sacred Congregation a copy, signed by himself, adding his own judgment and that of the other ordinaries regarding the "congrega-tion, society, or secular institute in question. "4. Independent and autonomous religious houses and houses of a society without vows or of a secular institute which are not united in a federation, whether they be of diocesan or of papal approval, shall send a summary report of the five-year period to the ordinary 237 ADAM C. ELLIS Re~ieto for Religious of the place in the order above prescribed (n. III I and 2). The ordinary in turn shall send a copy of the said report, signed by him-self and adding any remarks hi may see fit to make, to this Sacred Congregation, likewise within the year. "V. In making out their reports all religious institutes, monastic congregations, societies of common life, secular institutes and fed-erati~ ns approved by the Holy See, even though they be exempt, must follow exactly the schedule of questions which will be made out by the Sacred Congregation and sent to them directly. "Monasteries of nuns, autonomous houses ot? religious institutes and of societies and secular institutes appproved by the Holy See, and congregations, societies and secular institutes of diocesan approval shall use shorter formulas which will be approved for them. "VI. The replies given to the questions proposed must always be sincere and as far as possible complete and based on careful inquiry; and this is an obligation in conscience according to the .gravity of the matter. If the replies are deficient in necessary .mat-ters or if they seem uncertain or not sufficiently reliable, the Sacred Congregation will ex o~cio see to it that they are completed and, if need be, will even itself directly conduct the investigations. "VII. Before the report is officially signed by the superior and by the individual councilors or assistants, it is to be carefully exam-ined personally and collectively. "The general superioress of religious institutes of women and 6f societies of common life, secular institutes, and federations approved by the Holy See shall send the report, signed by herself and by her council, to the ordinary, of the place in which the mother house is located, so that he according to law (canon 510) may sign the report; then in due time she shall see that the report signed by the ordinary of the place is sent to this Sacred Congregation. "VIII. If any of the superiors or councilors who has to sign the report has an objection of any consequence to make to it which he was not able to express in giving his vote, or if he judges that any-thing concerning the report should in any way be communicated to the Sacred Congregation, he may do this by private letter, and may even be in conscience bound to do so according to the case. However, let him be mindful of his own condition and remember tha, t he will gravely burden his conscience if he dares in such a secret 238 September, 1949 REPORT TO ROME letter to state anything which is not true. "IX. At the end of each year all religious institutes, societies of common life, and secular institutes and federations, whether of diocesan or papal approval, shall send directly to the Sacred Congre.- gation of Religious an annual report, according to the schedules contained in the formulas which will be made out and distributed by the Sacred Congregation, stating the principal matters which con-cern the state of persons, works, or other things which ~nay be of interest either to the Sacred Congregation or to superiors, "His Holiness Plus XII, in' the.audience given to the undersigned Secretary of the Sacred Congregation of Religious on July 9, 1947, .approved the text of this decree, and ordered that i~ be observed by all and that it be published, all things to the contrary notwith-standing." Comments I. Who must make the report?--All superiors general of orders, congregations, societies living in common without public vows, and secular institutes are bound to make the quinquennial report from now on. It makes no difference whether they are still diocesan or whether'they have received the approval of the Holy See. Superiors of independent monasteries or houses not attached to a monastic con-gregation are also bound to make the report. The term "'federation" refers to a union of independent houses which have the same family name, live according to the same spirit, and are grouped together under the direction of a president who is a visitor rather than a superior. 2. When the report must be sent.--Whe division into five sec-tions follows that already in existence since the decree of 1922. The one exception is the case of clerics regular who pass from the third to the second year. 3. Forms for the report.--These will be of two different kipds. The first (revised and extended over that of 1922) will be for all institutes of whatever nature which have been approved by the Holy See. These will be sent directly to the Sacred Congregation after the ordinary of the place where the mother house is located has authenti-cated the signatures of the general council by appending his own sig-nature. The second form for diocesan institutes will be shorter and will be given directly to the ,ordinary of the place where the mother 239 ADAM C. ELLIS house is located. He in turn must read the report and, after having added his own comments, forward it to the Sacred Congregation. 4. Annual short report.--Every religious institute and every ¯ independent community, whether papal or diocesan, will be obliged to fill out a one-page report rega.rding the number of members, houses, and works performed. 5. Forms to be sent from Rome.--Since the new forms or ques-tionnaires'are to be sent by the Sacred Congregation, superiors are not obliged to make their reports until they have received them. When the forms appear, we hope to publish them in REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. In conclusion we may say that this entire instruction applies only to institutes which are directly subject to the Sacred Congregation of Religious. Institutes directly subject to the Sacred Congregation for the Propagation of the Faith will be guided by the instruction published by that Sacred Congregation on June 29, 1937. VOCATIONAL LITI:RATURE Since many of our readers are engaged in various forms of vocational coun-seling, we make a special effort to. keep them.informed of any vocational literature we receive. Leaflets and booklets on religious and priestly vocations that we have recently received may be obtained from the following: Vocation Director, St. Paul's College, Washington 17, D.C. (An illustrated leaflet entitled, "'Whtj Not Be a Paulist Missionary!.") Brother Recruiter, St. Francis Monastery, 41 Butler St., Brooklyn 2, N. Y. (Script and pictures describing the life of the Franciscan Teaching Brothers.) Ft. Superior, St. Joseph's House. Graymoor, Garrison, N.Y. (An illustrated booklet entitled The Gra~jmoor Brother.) Mother General, Franciscan Sisters of the Sacred Heart, 372 N. Broadway, Joliet. Ill. (Script and pictures illustrating the life of the Sisters.) Mission Sisters, Mesa, Arizona. (An illusrated booklet describing the work oi the Mission Sisters of the Spouse of the Holy Ghost.) House of the Good Shepherd, 8830 W. Blue Mound Road, Wauwatosa 13, Wis. (The life of St.Mary Euphrasia Pelletier in a pamphlet entitled A Harvester of Souls.) , Mother Vicaress, Corpus Christi Carmel, Keatney, Nebraska. (An illustrated leaflet concerning the work of the Corpus Christi Carmelites.) 240 Aclmission oi: Orientals into Latin Insl:il:ul:es Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. THE Code of Canon Law forbids, but does not invalidate, the admission of Oriental Catholics into the novitiates of institutes -of the Latin rite. Canon 542, 2° reads : ""The following are illicitly, but validly admitted: Orientals in institutes of the Latin rite, without the written permission of the Sacred Congregation for the Oriental Church." This prohibition extends to all Latin reli-gious institutes, whether clerical or lay, of men or of women. The Code is speaking here only of Oriental Catholics. Oriental schismat-ics are non-Catholics, and their admission into a Latin religious institute is invalid, in virtue of canon 538. Oriental Catholics are commonly called Uniates; Oriental schismatics, Orthodox. It is evi-dent that the Catholic Oriental rites do not and cannot differ from the Latin rite with regard to the natural law, divine positive law, or revelation in general. The differences are in rites, ceremonies, laws, and customs that are purely of ecclesiastical origin. We may be inclined to consider the present impediment as one of little practical import. It is true that very many institutes in the United States have never received an application from an Oriental. Many institutes, however, have received such applications and on more than one occasion. In several of these cases the impediment was not discovered until after the candidate had been admitted into the noviceship and even only after final profession. This should arouse greater attention to the impediment. It is also true, as we hope to show in the following pages, that there exists a .very prac-tical problem of recognizing that the candidate is an Oriental. The principles for handling cases of this impediment are contained in the explanations that follow. I. The Impediment An Oriental in the sense of canon 542, 2° is a Catholic who is an Oriental at present. Evidently a Catholic, formerly an Oriental, who has already legitimately transferred to the Latin rite, is not an Oriental but a Latin Catholic and would not be affected by the impediment. The intrinsic reason for the necessity of the permission 241 JOSEPH F. GALLEN ,Review for Religious of the Holy See is that admission to a Latin institute" implies the entrance into a state of permanent and necessary conformity to the Latin rite. Therefore, the permission of the Holy See is not required in the relatively infrequent case of the admission of an Oriental can-didate who is destined either to establish Oriental houses or provinces of the Latin institute or to be affiliated with those already in exist-ence. II. Rite of Baptism of Children A child who has not attained the use of reason must be bal~tized in the rite of l~is parents (canon 756, § 1). 1. If both parents are Catholics and of the same rite (canon 756, § 1) and (a) both are Latins, the child is to be baptized in the Latin rite; (b) both are Orientals, the child is to be baptized an Oriental. 2. If both parents are Catholics, one a Latin and the other an Oriental, (a) the child is to be baptized in the rite of the father (canon 756, § 2). Therefore, if the mother is an Oriental and the father a Latin, the child is to be baptized in the Latin rite; if the mother is a Latin and the father an Oriental, the child is to be baptized an Oriental. (b) A contrary provision for a particular rite can change'the prece~.[ng general norm (canon 756, § 2). Such a contrary provi-sion exists: (1) in the Italo-Greek rite, in which the child of an Italo-Greek father and a Latin mother may be baptized in the Latin rite with the consent of the father; (2) for the Greek-Ruthenian rite in Gaiicia, in which sons follow the rite of the father, daughters the rite of the mother, but all children of both sexes follow the rite of a father who i~ a Greek-Ruthenian cleric. (c) A child born after the death of the father is more probably ro be baptized in the rite of the mother. ' 3. If one parent is a Catholic and the other a non-Catholic, the child is to be baptized in the rite of the Catholic parent (canon 756, § 3). Therefore, if the mother is a non-Catholic, the child is to be baptized in the rite of the Catholic father, whether the latter is a Latin or an Oriental; if the father is a non-Catholic, the child is to baptized in the rite of theoCatholic mother, whether she is a Latin or an Oriental. 4. If both parents are non-Catholics (either unbaptized or 242 September, 1949 ADMISSION OF ORIENTALS Oriental schismatics or heretics from birth), the parents may choose the rite, Latin or Oriental, of the Catholic baptism of their child. This favor does not extend to Oriental scbismatics or heretics who have apostatized from the Catholic faith, either in the Latin or an Oriental rite. Such a child is to be baptized in the Catholic rite from which his parents have apostatized, according to the norms given in 1-3 above. 5. Illegitimate children are to be baptized: (a) in the rite of the father, if. his name is to be legiti:natelv inscribed in the baptismal register (cf. canon 777, § 2) : (b) in the rite of the mother, if her name alone is to be legiti-mately inscribed in the baptismal register (cf. canon 777, § 2) : (c) in the rite of the place of birth, if the name of neither the father nor the mother is to be legitimately inscribed in the baptismal register; in the rite of the minister of baptism, if many rites are in existence in the place of birth. 6. Abandoned children are to be baptized in the rite of the place where they are found; if many rites are in existence in this place, they are to be .baptized in the rite of the minister to whom they are given for baptism. IlI. Rite of Baptism of Those Who Haae Attained the Use of Reason 1. A person who has attained the use of reason may rece'~ve bap-tism in the ri~e be cboc,~es, independently of the rite, whether Latin or Oriental. of his parcnt~. IV'. Title of A~liation to a Farticular Rite in the Church By baptism a physical pets,on is endowed with juridical person-ality in the Church, that is, be becomes the subject of rights and obligations in the Church (:.~non 87). The unbaptized are not sub-ject tc~ purely ecclesiastical la~vs, but all b~ptized are subject to such laws unless some are exempted by the Church in a particular matter. The ecclesiastical diriment impediment of consanguinity does not invalidate the marriage of two Jewish first cousins, but it does nul-lify the marriage of two Episcopalian first cousins since baptism sub-jects the latter to laws that are purely ecclesiastical. It is only natural, therefore, that the Church has enacted that baptism is also to determine the rite of a physical person, since affiliation to a particular rite in the Church implies subjection to distinctive laws and customs and thus produces distinctive rights and obligations in the individual. 243 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for Religious Canc;n 98, § I states that a person is affillated to the rite in which he was baptized. Obviously this canon intends the rite in which the individual was legitimatel~! baptized according to the norms given in the two preceding sections. If baptism administered contrary to these norms determined the rite of the subject, there would have been no adequate reason for establishing such norms. Therefore, the principle that determines affiliation to a particular rite in the Church is the following: (1) a person belongs to the rite in which he was legitimately baptized; (2) if, contrary to the above fiorms, he was.!llegitimately baptized in another rite, he belongs to the rite in which he should have been baptized. The gdod or bad faith of the parents, the subject or the minister of baptism does not alter such a case of illegitimate baptism. For example, if two Maro-nite parents, thinking that their child may be licitly baptized in the Latin rite, offer the child to a Latin priest who does not even suspect the Oriental affiliation of the parents and baptizes the child in the Lati,n rite the child is an Oriental, not a Latin. Exactly the sam~ conclusion would be verified if there was bad faith or even deception on the part of the paren.ts, the priest, or both. A most noteworthy feature of this case is the difficulty it can cause religious superiors. The candidate will present a Latin baptismal certificate which will give no indication that he is an Oriental. There are two cases in which even a legitimate baptism in a p~r-ticular rite does not effect affiliation to that rite. The first is the case of serious necessity, when a person.is baptized in another rite becaus~e no priest of the proper rite can be secured (.canon 98, § 1). Such necessity is verified not only in danger of death but also when the baptism would be unduly deferred by awaiting a priest of the prdper rite. The consideration of the eternal salvation of the subject ren-ders the baptism in another rite licit in these cases of necessity. How-ever, the subject is not affiliated to the rite of his baptism but'to the rite in which he should ordinaril~t have boen baptized, according to the above norms. For example, if a Latin priest, with or without the request of two Melkite parents whose child is in danger of death, baptizes it in the Latin rite, the child is an Oriental, not a Latin. It is a well-known fact that these baptisms of necessity are of frequent occurrence in the United States, because of the scarcity of Oriental priests. The Latin.priest, in the example given above of the Melkite child, should have noted the Oriental affiliation of the child in the parochial bapt, ismal register of the place of baptism and should also 244 September, 1949 ADMISSIO~q OF ORIENTALS have sent a notification of the baptism to the proper Oriental pastor of the child. It is safe to assert that this law of annotation and notification with regard to an Oriental will oftentimes not be observed. It is not a law that is emphasized by the ordinary text-books of moral theology. We~ can thus again have the case of a can-didate for admittance into religion who Will present a Latin bap-tismal certificate that will give no indication of his Oriental affilia-tion. ' The" second case of a li~it aptism in a particular rite which does not cause affiliation to that'rit~e is a dispensation from the Holy See to the effect that one may be bfiptized in a particula~ rite xvithout, however, being thereby made ~i member of that rite. V. Transfer to Another Rite 1. Transfer from an Orielntal to the Latin rite, from the Latin to an Oriental rite, or the return to such a rite after a legitimate transfer is forbidden and is ilnvalid without the permission of the Holy See (can. 98, § 3). ' 2. When parents legitimatelly change their rite, the rite of children alread~l born is regulated by the following norms: ¯ (a) if the children have nlot attained the use of reason, they fo!- low the changed rite of the parents if both of the latter have changed their rite; if only one of the Iparents his changed rite, the children belong to the changed rite of tl4e father but not of the mother. (b) if the children haoe attained the use of reason, they have the choice of passing to the changed rite of the parents or of remaining in their present rite (c) if the children have completed their twent~l-first ~lear, they retain their own rite and are not affected by the change in rite of the parents. 3. There is one exceptio to the prohibition of passing to another rite. Canon 98, § 4 ,permits to a woman only, not before but at the beginning of or during marriage, to pass to the rite of her husband. She may also return to her former rite on the dissolution of the marriage. This latter right is limited by any contrary pro-vision made for a particular rite. Such a contrary prox?ision exists in the Italo-Greek rite, in which an Italo-Greek woman who had passed to the Latin rite of her husband is forbidden to resume the Italo-Greek rite on the death of her husband. 4. Oribntal schismatics and heretics from birth, upon their con- 245 JOSEPH F. GALL'EN Review [or Religious version to the Catholic faith, may .choose any Oriental rite they pre-fer. They have also the right of chooying to be affiliated with the Latin rite at their conversion. In the latter case they retain the right of returning to the Catholic Oriental rite that corresponds to their schismatical rite. If they are to be rebaptized conditionally, this rebaptism should, except in case of necessity, be in the rite they have chosen to follow. This favor, does not extend to Oriental schismatics and heretics who have" apostatized from the Catholic faith, either in the Latin or an Oriental rite, nor to occidental heretics dr schismatics. The former must return to the Catholic rite from which they aposta-tized, and the latter are to embrace the Latin rite. VI. Participation in Another Rite Does not Effect a Change of Rite Canon 98, § 5 affirms the principle that participation in another rite, no matter how prolonged, does not effect a change of rite. This norm follows clearly from the fundamental principles that one belongs to the rite in which he was or should have been baptized and that the permission of the Holy See is required to effect a valid change in rite. All the faithful, merely for the sake of devotion, may receive the Holy Eucharist in any rite (canon 866), may go to confession in any rite (canons 881, § 1; 905), and they may also attend Mass in any rite (canon 1249). All such participation in another rite, matter of what duration, does not effect a change in rite. Religious superiors in the United States will be compelled to exercise special care with cases that fall under this heading. It fre-quently happens that Orientals have been completely educated in schools of.the Latin rite or have for years participated in the Latin rite. They can readily believe that they are thereby Latins. They are Orientals. This¯ case is made more difficult when the baptism was also in the Latin rite (cf. section IV), for the Latin baptismal certificate will oftentimes contain no notation of the Oriental affilia-tion of the baptized. VII. The Permission The Holy See alone can grant the permission for an Oriental to enter a Latin institute. The competent congregation is the Sacred Congregation for the Oriental Church. The impediment is to admis-sion to the novitiate, not to postulancy. The common practice is to 246 September, 19 4 9 ADMISSION OF ORIENTALS apply for the permission 0nly before the noviceship and not before the postulancy. Since ecclesiastical authorities have .not objected to this practice, it may be safely followed. It has always seemed to the present writer that dispensations from any of the impediments of canon 542 as well as from those of the particular law of the institute¯ should regularly be sought before the postulancy. A sufficient reason for this doctrine is, to speak in general, that the refusal of a dispensa-tion is a practical possibility. A candidate who after several months in tbe postulancy should be compelled to leave because of the refusal of a dispensation would not be in an enviable state. This doctrine is more cogent in the case of lay institutes, whose superiors cannot be expected to know either the impediments or the conditions under which the Holy See is acct~tomed to dispense. It can be objected that the suitability of the candidate should be tested by the postulancy before a dispensation is secured for admittance to the noviceship. This argument does not appear to possess any great efficacy when it is considered that the Church does not impose the postulancy on all classes of candidates for the religious life. The petition is to contain the name, age, specific rite (not merely Uniate, but Antiocbene Marionite, Byzantine Rutbenian of the Philadelphia Ordinariate, Byzantine Ruthenian of the Pittsburgh Ordinariate, etc.), diocese of the candidate, and a statement that the competent superior is willing to admit him into ~he ~eligious insti-tute. A petition for a male candidate is to state whether or not he is destined for orders. A proportionate reason should be given for a dispensation or a favor that partakes of the nature of a.dispensation. The universal reason in the present case is the greater spiritual profit of the individual by religious profession to be made in a Latin insti-tute. 1 This reason does not have to be explicitly stated, since it is implicitly contained in the petition itself. The S. C6ngregation readily grants permission for an Oriental to enter a Latin institute. It has been said that the Holy See desires an Oriental to enter an Oriental province of the Latin institute he has chosen if such prov-inces exist in the particular institute. A study of several rescript, gives no indication that this desire has been urged. Furthermore, there are relatively very few institutes in the United States that have such provinces. Considerable variety is found in the manner in ~Religious profession as such constitutes the greater spiritual good, and in this case the profession is to be made in a Latin institute. 247 JOSEPH F. CIALLEN Review ~or Religious which the permission has been given, as will be clear from the fol-lowing : 1. If the candidate is not destined for orders (Brother, Nun, Sister).--Formerly a petition had to be made both before the nov-iceship and before first profession. The first rescript granted permis-sion to conform to the Latin rite during the noviceship, and the second definitively transferred the novice to the Latin rite at first pro-fession. In some of the rescripts it was stated absolutely that the subject was forbidden to return to his native rite without the permis-sion of the Holy See, while in others it was indicated that the sub-ject was transferred back to his native rite by the mere fact that he ceased to be ~i member of the Latin institute. In the present practice of the Holy See a petition is necessary only before the noviceship. The rescript does not transfer the subject to the Latin rite but merely grants permission to conform to the Latin rite. Obviously the subjedt who ceases to be a member of the Latin institute must return to the practice of his native rite, since the entire reason for granting permission to conf6rm to the Latin rite has then ceased to exist (canon 86). This is also explicitly stated in the rescript, as is the fact that the novice or religious retains his Oriental rite. Many of the latest rescripts also contain a clause that empowers religious superiors to permit the subject to use his native rite when-ever they judge this to be useful." The petitions for lay institutes are at least ordinarily being for-warded through the Apostolic Delegate. In this case the following 2The standard form now used by the S. Cong~'egation in granting the permission is: Prot. N . BEATISSIME PATER, rltus . dioecesis . ad pedes Sanctitatis Vestrae provolut . humiliter petit ut ad novitiatum admltti possit et dein in eodem . religiosam professionem emittere valeat, titui latino sere conformando. SACRA CONGREGATIO PRO ECCLESIA ORIENTALI, vigore facul-tatum a Ssmo D. N . Divina Providentia PP . sibi tributarum, benigne concedit ut Orat . in . de qu . in "precibus ad Novitiatum et ad religiosam professionem admitti possit. Eidem Orat . fit insuper facultas sese in omnibus conformandi ritui latino, ea tamen lege ut ritum nativum retineat ira ut si, quacuinque de causa, ad praefat . pertinere desierit, ritum originis sequi teneatur, quo interim legi-time uti potest quoties, Superiot?um iudicio, id utilitas suaserit. Contrariis quibuslibet non obstantibus. Datum Romae, ex Aedibus Sacrae "Congregationis pro Ecclesia Orientali, die . mensis . anno . 248 September, 1949 ADMISSION OF ORIENTALS formalities are required: (1) the petition in duplicate must be signed by the candidate: (2) the petitioner is to.state also the rite. place, and date of his baptism and that there are no Oriental provinc-~s in the Latin institute he wishes to enter; (3) the religious superior is to append a document in duplicate in which he states: (a) there are no Oriental provinces in his institute; (b) he is willing to admit the petitioner into his institute; (c) the date on which the noviceship of the petitioner is to begin: (4) all of the above documents are to be sent to the proper Latin local ordinary who will forward them to the Apostolic Delegate with his own approval in duplicate. 2. I[ the candidate is destined for orders.--The manner of giving the permission has varied also in this case. Foimerly one petition bad to be made before the novicesbip ~and another before first pro-fession. The subject was permitted to conform to the Latin rite during the noviceship and was canonically transferred to this rite b.y first profession. If he ceased for any reason to be a member of the institute, he was by that very fact transferred back to his Oriental rite. In some rescripts he was explicitly forbidden thereafter, with-out the permission of the Holy See, either to exercise any order he might have received in the Latin rite or to receive any higher order in his Oriental rite. From a study of several rescripts, it is clear that the present prac-tice of the Holy See is the same for a clerical religious as that for a lay religious described above. The rescripts read exactly the same. This is true also of the clause empowering the use of the native rite, which was mentioned above. This clause is written in on the stand-ard form, either by hand or typewriter, and it is difficult to account for its absence in some rescripts. If such a permission is given to some clerical and lay religious, it is not easy to see why it is not granted to all. Petitions for candidates destined for. orders are usually forwarded through the procurator general of the institute. If the petition is transmitted through the Apsotolic Delegate, the same for-malities are required as those listed above for a lay religious. 3. Urgent cases. Since the petition must be forwarded to the Holy See, it should be sent about three months before the beginning of the noviceship. If there is insufficient time to secure the permis-sion before the beginning of the noviceship or if the impediment is discovered only after profession, the petition is to be sent to the Apostolic Delegate, who in all likelihood can grant permission for a 249 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for Religious temporary conformity to the L~tin rite. He will then forward the petition to the Holy See for the permanent conformity. VIII. An Oriental Admitted to a Latin Nooitiate or to Profession without'the Permission of the Holg Such an admissi6n does not invalidate the noviceship or profes-sion. The case, with an explanation for the failure to ask for the permission before the novic~ship, is to be presented to the Holy See. The petition is to contain the' same information and the same for-malities are to be observed as described in the preceding section. The case, as one of urgency, is to be bundled first as explained immedi-ately above. The reason why permissi6n must be asked even after profession is that an Oriental who is received into a Latin institute places himself in a de facto state of permanent and necessary con-formity to the Latin rite in the religious institute. This is the intrinsic reason for the necessity of the permission of the Holy See before the novicesbip, but the same reason is equally verified after the beginning of the noviceship or after profession. IX. Aids for Detecting the Impediment The difficulty of recognizing whether the candidate is a Latin or an Oriental has already been emphasized. Baptism and participation in the Latin rite.are sources of this difficulty. Or~e author has also called attention to our tende, ncy to rank all Italian-speaking Italians as Latins. They can be Italo-GreeksJ from southern Italy. The primary aid is the baptismal certificate if it is from an Oriental church or from a Latin church With a notation of the Oriental affiliation. Without such a notation the Latin baptismal certificate will be of no help unless the names of the parents suggest one of t'he Oriental countries. The same thing is true of the.confirmation cer-tificate. It is to be noted that in most Oriental rites the priest, as the extraordinary minister, a'dministers confirmation immediately after baptism. The Maronites do' not follow'this custom. Oriental priests may confirm in this way the members of their own rite and of other Oriental rites that enjoy the same privilege. The help given by the marriage certificate of the parents will depend on the same facts. The marriage certificate may be merely civil or non-Catholic, and an inquiry concerning such a marriage may bring out the fact that the parents are Orientals. If one of the parties in a marriage is a Latin or a Greek-Ruthenian, the marriage is invalid unless contracted 250 September, 1949 ADMISSION OF ORIENTALS before a competent priest and at least two witnesses. However, as a general principle, the other Oriental rites in the United States did not demand the presence of a priest for the validity of a marriage. Therefore, when such Orientals contracted among themselves or with a non-Catholic, the marriage was not invalidated by the fact that it was contracted before a civil official or a nbn-Catholic minister. The Holy See has recently promulgated new marriage legislation for the Oriental Rites. In virtue of this legislation marriages con-tracted from May 2, 1949, by members of all the Oriental rites are held to the same law as that stated immediately above for Latins and Greek-Ruthenians. The outline ofltheOrientalCatbolic rites appended to this article'~ is intended as something of an aid for detecting the impediment. The native country and language of the parents of the candidate, if they coincide with those of any Oriental rite, are indications that a reli-gious superior should make further inquiries about the rite of the candidate and "parents. This outline has been compiled from several sources, principally from Attwater, The Christian Churches of the East.'~Places outside the eastern countries, such as Canada, South America, France, Belgium, Australia, and Mexico are territories of modern immigration. This outline, as regards.the total number of the faithful of any rite and especially with regard to the number and places in the United States, is only a hazardous approximation of fact. It is sufficiently accurate to fulfill the present purpose, that is, to provide a working norm of caution. Lay religious who desire a general knowledge of the Oriental r'~tes can read: Attwater, Donald. I. The Christian Churches of the East. ll. The Dissident Eastern Churches. Milwaukee, Bruce, 1947. Fortescue, Adrian. The Orthodox Eastern Church. Catholic Truth Society, London, 1907--The Lesser Eastern Churches. Catholic Truth Society, London, 1913.--The Uniate Eastern Churches. ed. G. Smith. Burns, Oates ~ Washbourne, London, 1923. The Catholic Encyclopedia, under Rites. zSee pp. 252 and 253. 9 4Material from Attwater, The Christian Churches of the East, is used with the per-mission of the publisher, The Br,.uce Publishing Company, Milwaukee, Wisconsin. 25l RITE TOTAL NUMBER IN . FOUND PRINCIPALLY NUMBER UNITED STATES OUTSIDE U. S. IN I. ALEXANDRIAN RITE 1. Copts -. . 63,000 2. Ethiopians . 30,500 Egypt Ethiopia, Eritrea II. ANTIOCHENE RITE I. Malankarese 50,000 2. Maronites . 391,000 1 60,000 India Syria, Uruguay, South Africa 3. Syrians . 74,500 III. ARMENIAN RITE 150,600 IV. BYZANTINE RITE 1. Bulgarians . 5,500 2. Greeks . 3,300 3. Hungarians . 140,000 4. Italo-Greeks 60,000 5. Melkites . 173,000 6,800 5,000 1 1 10,000 20,000 Syria, Irak, Brazil, Argentina Syria, .Near East, " Russia, Greece, Galicia, Rumania, France, Belgium Bulgaria .Greece, Turkey Hungary Italy, Sicily Syria, Egypt, Pales-tine, Turkey, Australia, Mexico, Brazil FOUND PRINCIPALLY IN U. S. IN DIOCESES OF 1 VERNACULAR LANGUAGE Arabic Amharic, Tigre ~1 Malayalam Boston, Brooklyn, Buffalo, Cincit~nati, Arabic Cleveland, Detroit, Fall River, Hartford. Los Angeles, Mobile, New York, Phila-delphia, Pittsburgh, Raleigh, Richmond, St. Lot~is, St. Paul, Scranton, Seattle, Springfield, Mass., Syracuse, Trenton, Wheeling Boston, Brooklyn, Columbus, Detroit, Arabic, Syr;.~c Galveston, Hartford, Newark Brooklyn, Newark, New York, Spring- Armenian field, Mass. ~- Bulgarian 1 Greek o. Magyar Brooklyn, New York Italian, Albanian, Greek Boston, Brooklyn, Chicago, Cleveland. Arabic Detroit, Los Angeles, Milwaukee, New-ark, New York: Providence, Springfield, Mass., Toledo 6. Rumanians .1.434,000 8,000 Rumania 7. Russians . 22,500 1,000 Russia, Europe, Far East 8. Ruthenians .5,000,000 a. Galiciansa . 302,100 Galicia, Canada, Brazil, Argentina b. Podcarpath- Cleveland, Detroit, Fort Wayne, Rock-ford, Trenton Los Angeles, New York In states of I11., Md., Mass., Mich., N. 3. N. Y., Ohio, Pa. Rumanian Russian Ukrainian inns4 . 293,871 Czechoslovakia, In states of Conn., Ill., Ind., Mich, N. ,l. Rusin Bukovina (Rumania)," N.Y., Ohio, Pa., W. Va. (Ruthenian) Canada, Brazil, Argentina 9. Yugoslavs . 55,000 .o Yugoslavia __ u Croat V. CHALDEAN RITE I. Chaldeans . 96,000 800 Irak, Syria Chicago, Detroit, Hartford, Los Angeles, Arabic, Syriac New York, Philadelphia, San Francisco 2. l~Ialabarese . 632,000 __1 India __1 Malayalam 1There are either no Orientals of this group in the U. S. or no figures exist as to their number. ~The Hungarians and Yugoslavs in the U. S. belong to the Diocese of Pittsburgh, Greek Rite. There are 14 parishes exclusively . for the Hungarians, with a total of 8,000 souls. The others are mixed in with the predominantly Ruthenian parishes. There ard two exclusively Croatian parishes, with a total of 1,000 souls. The others are mixed in with the Ruthenian parishes. ,SThe Ruthenians of Galicia form the Diocese of the Byzantine Rite (Ukrainian Greek Catholic), Philadelphia, Pa. ~The Ruthenians of Car~atho-Russian,. Hungarian, and Crotian nationalities constitute the Diocese of Pittsburgh, Greek Rite, Homestead, Pa. The two preceding groups are frequently termed Greek-Ruth~nians. They are the only Orientals in the United States who have their own Ordinaries. All other Orientals in this country are under the jurisdiction of the Latin Ordinaries. Tot:al Consecra!:ion !:o ary by Vow Robert L. Knopp, S.M. IN THESE DAYS ~vhen the message of Fatima is at last fanning the world to flame, any form of consecration to Mary must immediately claim the interest of her children. Her revel~tion that the world can be saved only through consecration to her Immaculate Heart-~consecration complete enough to sustain prayer and penance--must increase this interest if the consecration in question is a total one involving .the whole being and activity of the one consecrated. And finally, the urgency of her request, attested by the divine stamp of a cosmic miracle, must still further intensify this interest if the consecration has itself been attested by the Vicar of Christ on earth. Papal approval and commendation have long been accorded the total consecration to Mary by which.Marianists (members of the Society of Mary) are perpetually professed in the religious state. This year, especially, seems a most fitting time to explain this reli-gious consecration, for the Marianists are celebrating their American Centennial and anticipating two more centennials for next year-- that of the death of their saintly Founder, Very Reverend William Joseph Chaminade, and that of the foundation of their first American school, the University of Dayton. A further appropriate circum-stance is the recent arrival in America of the Daughters of Mary, a congregation of Sisters also founded by Father Chaminade and sharing with the Marianists the same total consecration to Mary by the vows of religion. This article is a small part of the Marianist expression of grati-tude to God for those hundred years during which they have been privileged ~o make their contribution to religious life in America through the 'total consecration which Father Chaminade always called the "gift of God" to the Society. Certainly, on their part, the Marianists and the Daughters of Mary, through the wise choice of, their Founder, have received gratefully both inspiration and breadth from many other religious institutes, to the enhancement of their own religious consecration. They humbly hope that in their turn 254 CONSECRATION TO MARY they may contribute by their Marian spirit to the vitality of other religious, both men and women. It is a curious circumstance that Father Chaminade founded the Marianists one hundred years before the Fatima miracle, even to the month. He had been waiting twenty long years in Bordeaux for the sign evidently foretold in revelations granted him during his exile in Saragossa at the famous shrine of Our Lady of the Pillar. That sign came off May 1, 1817, when one of his most promising young sodalists, John Lalanne, put his future entirely at the disposal of Father Chaminade. In October, 'the first seven members, repre-senting quite different walks of life, formed the new Society. They had already been consecrated to Mary as sodalists: then, desiring to belong to her more completely, they had under Father Chaminade's direction dedicated themselves to her by private vows while still living in the world. Now they prepared to give themselves totally ' by a consecration that constituted them religious, whether as priests, teaching brothers, or working brothers--the diverse categories which this new religious consecration united in harmonious social equality. To grasp the true significance of this total consecration, we must see it in the setting of Father Chaminade's full concept of religious life. To delineate this concept in all its completeness has required a family document, The Spirit of Our Foundation, over 2,000 pages in length. Hence, only a brief idea of the underlying principles can be sketched here. In the following developme.nt, quotations from the writings of Father Chaminade are taken from this family document. Father Chaminade followed the traditional concept of religious life as the state of perfection--a state constituted by the three vows, a perfegtion consisting in the highest love of God, attained through conformity with Christ, the Model sent to"men by the Father. Con-formity with Christ is an inward union by grace, a union of bein;l, an incorporation into the Mystical Body of which Christ is the Head. It is bestowed through faith and baptism and perfected by the sacra-ments, by prayer (especially mental prayer), and by the practice of virtue. In all this, with a special emphasis on the role of faith as the foundation of conformity with Christ, Father Chaminade followed the general tradition of religious life. In addition to these channels of the supernatural life, Father Chaminade stressed a prior channel, but one that is really not to be separated from them since it flows into and through them and at the same time disposes the religious to use them more perfectly. This 255 ROBERT L. KNOPP Review for Religious channel is Mary, our spritual Mother find Mediatrix of All Graces, through whom ~hrist first came to us and through whom we must therefore go to Him. To unders~;and the strong emphasis Father Chaminade laid upon this concept, we must begin with his vital grasp of Mary's part in the Incarnation, a grasp which he owed largely to St. Augustine. One of Father Chambiade's favorite thoughts was that before Mary conceived Christ in the flesh, she had conceived Him in spirit-- not, of course, in the sense that she was the source of His spiritual power, but in the sense that by her Immaculate Conception she was given a holiness so vast that, as St. John Damascene declares (It~ Dormitionero, 1, 13), by her grace she exceeded the expanse of the heavens, encompassing Him whom the whole world cannot contain. At the moment of her Immaculate Conception, then, Mary was granted by her fullness of grace such a complete participation in the life of God that she might be said to have conceived the supernatural life among men. This complete union with God was the dawn of our own redemption. For God could look down upon our race and see among us a creature whose full-blown supernatural beauty was at last worthy of His infinite love. Or rather, already dwelling in her so completely by grace, He gave that intimate spiritual union physical expression by the Incarnation. Because God Himself in His infinite wisdom had conceived from all eternity this ideal of human purit;/ informed by the fullness of His own divine life, because He had cre-ated in the midst of our race this His Immaculate Conception, because he could now find an adequate response to His divine love in a crea-ture, God became one of our race in the womb of Mary. We had lost the union of grace by the sin of Adam, committed at the solici-tation of Eve. Christ, the new Adam, most fittingly chose to win us back to God by becoming one with us at the consent of His new Eve, having been Himself won by her humble, supernatural love. It is because the Son of God has become the Son of Mary that our human race, as a race, has been united again to God, so that it is now pos-s. ible, through conformity with Christ', for each individual of our race to attain to this union with God. It is because, as the Son of Mary, Christ has become one of us that We can now become one with Him. And He has completed the winning of this divine life for us through His. lifework of redemption. His whole life was a unity comprise.d of the two great mysteries of the Incarnation and the re- 256 September, 1949 CONSECRATION TO MARY demption. By His Incarnation He took upon Himself the state of Son of Mar~/. By His redemption He acted i,n that state even unto His death as Mary's Son. And to accentuate her role as the new Eve co-operating with Him in the whole unity of His lifework of regen-erating mankind, He associated her in that work at every significant step along the way. Thus, from her arms He revealed Himself to mankind in the person of shepherds and Magi. At the Presentation He offered Himself to His heavenly Father from her arms. He spent His thirty years of preparatio.n in her company at Nazareth. Although He said His time had not yet come, He inaugurated His public life at Cana at her mere suggestion. Finally, He united her sorrow-pierced heart with His own in consummating His lifework c.n Calvary. Because Mary has been so closely associated' with Christ in the 'mysteries of the Incarnation and redemption, it is through her that we are conformed to the incarnate Redeemer. At the very moment that the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity became man in. her womb, all of us became her children, for at that moment Christ embraced us all as members of His Mystical Body. Father Chami-nade, therefore, delighted in recalling St. Augustine's teaching that Mary is the Mother of the Whole Christ, of the Body as well as of the Head: "As Jesus Christ has been conceived in the virginal womb of Mary according to nature through the operation of the Holy Ghost, so all the elect are conceived according to the spirit through faith and baptism in the womb of the tender charity of Mary" (S.F., 456). It is, then, first of all through Mary that we have been conformed with Christ in grace: "It is by her transcending grace that this Virgin Mother conceived us; in her superabounding charity she communicated to us her being of grace, which is nothing else but a participation in Christ, that all things might be consum-mated in unity: "Consummati'in unum' " (S.F., 106). As by Hi~ physical conception in the Virgin Mary the Son of God conformed Himself to our nature, so through our spiritual conception in Mary we are conformed to Christ, made. partakers of His divine nature. Having once willed to unite Himself to us through Mary, God never "repents"; He always comes to us through her. Every new grace by which our conformity with Christ is perfected, He applies to us through her mediation and distribution. Just as her motherly care of Jesus did not cease at His birth, so her motherly office toward us does not cease with our spiritual birth: "Mary nurtured Jesus in 257 ROBERT L. KNOPP' Review [or Religious His infancy and was associated in all the various stages of His life, in His death and in His resurrection; the elect attain the fullness of age, as St. Paul terms it, only in so far as Mar~" becomes in their regard what she was for Jesus" (S.F., 10.9). Hence, the more perfectly we are sons of Mary, the more perfectly we conform to Christ. For Father Chaminade this was a cardinal principle of the spir-itual life. A Christian may receive grace through the sacraments, for instance, and thereby be united to Christ without even thinking of the spiritual Mol~her who distributes to him this sacramental grace. But how much closer to the full reality and therefore how much better disposed he will be for perfect reception of the sacraments if, conscious of Mary's role, he fully submits in filial love to her work of spiritual formation: "We have all been conceived of Mary.; we must be born' of Mary and formed by Mary to the resemblance with Christ, that we may live only the life of Christ, that we may, together with Christ, as so many Christs, be Sons of Mary: "Cure Cbristo unus Christus." Following up this principle, what devo-tion, what confidence in Mary will not the director inspire . . . in order to obtain ever more by Mary . . . resemblance to Christ oper-ated by the Spirit of Christ!" (S.F., 893.) Even as did Jesus, the religious must prove his filial love of Mary by a child-like abandon-ment of himself to her care: ". the Society intends to rear each of its members as Jesus was reared by her care, after having been formed in her virginal womb" (S.F., '115). The total consecration of the religious, then, consists in a com-plete surrender of self to Mary by which the religious participates spiritually in Christ's Incarnation. Like Christ, the religious "gladly intrusts to Mary both his person and his future" (Cons'fftutions, art. 4). In the practical order, he accomplishes this by his religious profession of vows made to God through Mary as a total consecra-tion of self in a Society entirely devoted to her service. If the Society itself is hers, i~s children form her family and abandon them-selves to her by devoting themselves in loyal "family spirit" to her Society. That is why Father Chaminade could identify the religious consecration and the consecration to Mary. Lived perfectly, this total consecration consists in complete detachment from all that is not Christ; for, by placing the religious voluntarily in the state of dependence on Mary that corresponds to reality, it removes the ¯ obstacles to her free maternal action in him, rendering him pliable in 258 September, 1949 CONSECRATION TO MARY bet hands so that she may form him, both directly through her power of mediation and indirectly through her Society, to the like-ness of the Model she knows so well---bet First-born: ". her entire ambition is that all the children whom her charity has brought forth after Him, be so united to Him, that with Him they may be but one Son, one and the same Jesus Christ" (S.F,, 440). But this total consecration demands of us not only the passivity of surrender; it also demands the activity of conquest. Christ, the Son of God become the Son of Mary, is our Model not only ~n being but also in acting, not only in His Incarnation, but also in His redemption. Since a man acts according to his nature, in the measure that he partakes of Christ's being he also partakes of His action. Religious life, then, especially as Father Chaminade con-ceived it, must also be considered a.s conformity to Christ in His activity through imitation of His virtues. Conscious effort to increase this conformity of action is also a meritorious means for perfecting the essential conformity of being. It is ordinarily in this area of imitating Christ's virtues that we find religious institutes differing in that wide and beauteous variety that fills up those things otherwise wanting to the Mystical Body of Christ. For as St. ~Fbomas quotes Abbot Nesteros: " . . . it is impossible that one and the same man should excel,in all the virtues at once, since if he endeavor to practice them equally, he will of necessity, while trying to attain them all, end in acquiring none of them perfectly" (II-II, q. 189, a. 8). Hence,. different religious institutes select different virtues of Christ upon which to center their attention. Since the teaching of Christ Himself, charity has been universally accepted as the greatest of the virtues. It is the tradition of religious-life, therefore, to see the charity of Christ's redemptive action as His outstanding virtue, manifesting first His love for His heavenly Father, then His love for all mankind. Differences arise from_~the various expressions of. this charity of Christ, whether through His obedience, His poverty, His mortification, or some other special virtue. It was typical of Father Cbaminade to see the most complete expression of these two loves of Christ in His filial love of Mary. She is for Him the embodiment of the divine authority, so that He can subject Himself to His Father only by being subject to her, and He can please His Father only by giving her the most complete filial 259 ROBERT L. KNOPP Reoiew for Reli'gious lo~'e; since Jesus owes "His body solely to her body from which alone the Holy Ghost formed it, she concentrates upon her Son the rights and the duties of both a father and a mother" (S.F., 119). And as the greatest of all mankind, she won from Him the greatest share of His infinite love for men. She won His love long before He became man. Back in eternity she was His Immaculate Conception, playing before Him at all times, even as He laid the foundations of the world. It was she whom He chose out of all mankind and filled with grace to become His Mother in the Incarna-tion and His Spouse in the redemption. Fundamentally, 'Christ's love for His Father and for man'kind finds its perfect expression in His. love for Mary not only because she is His own chosen Mother, but also because she is His chosen.means and associate for the who!e work of redemption. He was able to act as our Redeemer because' of her. Jesus Christ, the Son of God, became the Son of Mary for the salvation of mankin~l: "Qui propter nos homines et propter nostram salutem descendit de coetis, et incarnatus est de Spiritu Sancto ex Maria Virgine, et homo factus est." That is why Father Chaminade declared: "Jesus Christ prac-ticed every virtue in the highest degree of perfection. But of those virtues one which particularly entered into the accomplishment of His adorable mysteries was His love for the most holy Virgin, in whose bosom He was conceived and lived for nine months, and of whom He v~as born, who was associated with Him in all His mys-teries and who was made Mother of all those who were to be regen-erated in Him" (S.F., 440). .And therefore Father Chaminade found this filial love of Mary to be the "most salient feature" in Christ's life, the virtue by which Christ realized His desire for a life of activity devoted to His Father's Will for the salvation of man-kind. Redemption was the act of His state of Son of Go~(, but it was likewise the fulfillment of His being Son of Mary. For the man, then, who has embraced the religious state as son of Mary, zeal for the glory of God and the salvation of souls must embrace his whole activity. And therefore, in his filial love for Mary, he finds the perfect inspiration, expression, and embodiment of his love for God and for men. Father Cbaminade's deep conviction in the all-embracing value of this filial piety was rooted in his firm belief in Mary's central position in Christ's whole work of redemption. Moreover, like St. Grignion de Montfort, whose True Devotion to Mary was 260 September, 1949 CONSECRATION TO MARY unfortunately still hidden from the world, he was absolutely con-vinced that God had entrusted to Mary the leadership in the battle to overthrow Satan and re-establish the reign of Christ. On at least five solemn occasions he referred this mission of Mary especially to modern times. In 1839, for instance,, nineteen yearsbefore Lourdes, he ~nade this thought the very core of his long letter to the priests who were to conduct the annual retreats of the Society. Describing in vivid language the tremendous evils wrought in the world by ,religious indifference and secularism, so like those of our own day, be foresaw the loss of the masses that we are now trying to cope With, "a general defection and an apostasy really all but universal." But he was not discouraged: "Mary's power is not diminished. We firmly believe that she will overcome this heresy as she has overcome all others, because she is today, as she was formerly, the incompa-rable Woman, the promised Woman who was to crush the serpent's head: and desus Christ in never addressing her except by this sublime name, teaches us that she is the hope, the joy, and the life of the Church and the terror of hell. To her, therefore, is reserved a gre~t victory in our day: hers will be the glory of saving the faith from the shipwreck with which it is threatened among us.'" (S.F'., 101.). It was because of this firm faith in the leadership of Mary in the modern world, a faith that Lourdes and Fatima among a host of lesser apparitions have since strikingly vindicated, that Father Chami-nade enthusiastically called upon his spiritual children to realize in themselves the full valor of their knighthood: "We have enlisted under her banner as her soldiers., to assist her with all our strength until the end of our life, in her noble struggle against the powers of hell." (Ibid.) Such a dynamic ideal demands direct apostolic action, universal and intense, like the redemptive action of the first Son of Mary. Though the Society at present devotes itself chiefly to the education of youth, it is but applying Father Chaminade's principle of employing "means best adapted to the needs and spirit of the times" (S.F., 53). For such was the bigb dedication to which he called his children that they must labor with all their strength, not just to win Christians, b~t to "multiply Christians." And so, even as the knights of old dedicated themselves by their chivalrous vows, Father Cbaminade would have his modern knights. with ~'Maria Ducet." as their battle cry, vow a total consecration of themselves, to Mary their Queen and Mother: "She communicates to 261 ROBERT L. KNOPP Review for Religious us her own zeal and entrusts to us the projects ~vhich are inspired by her almost infinite charity, and we . . . vow to serve her faithfully till the end of our iife, to carry out punctually all that she'tells us. We are glad that we can thus spend in her service the life and strength that we have pledged to her." (Ibid.) To give this total consecration concrete expression in the religious profession itself, Father Chaminade added to poverty, chastity, and obedience, a fourth vow, stability, to which he specifically attached the meaning of consecration to Mary. This vow of stability, byl which the religious is constituted a Marianist forever, is officially described in the Constitutions as the vow by which the religious "intends to constitute himself permanently and irrevocably fn the state of a servant of Mary, of her to whom the Society is especially consecrated. This vow is, in reality, a consecration to the Blessed Virgin, with the pious design of making her known and of perpetu-ating love and devotion to her." (Art. 55.) This vow really expresses, therefore, the formal motive for embracing the Marianist life: ". it is in the name of Mary and for her glory that we embrace the religious life; it is in order to conse-crate ourselves, all that we h~ve and are, to her to make her known, loved, and served, in the intimate conviction that we shall not briw,~ men back to Jesus except through His most holy Mother, because with the hol~z Doctors we believe, that she is our only hope-- tota ratio spei no.~trae--our Mother. our refuge, our help, our strength, and our life" (S.F., 101). ' Consequently, by constituting the religious state itself, this vow of stability inspires, expresses, and effects conformity both with Christ's incarnate being and with His redemptive action, investing all the elements of re.ligious life with a special Marian significance. The three traditional vows, for instance, :partake of its character by stripping the religious, like another Incarnation, of all that he for-merly was or had. Thus, 'poverty imitates Christ who divested Himself of all His divine wealth to confide in Mary's care; it releases the religious from all l~aterial goods that he may be radically at the disposition of his spiritual Mother. .Chastity imitates the virginal integrity of Christ, Son of the Virgin of virgins; it releases the reli-gious from the ties of wife and family that he may present himself inviolate for the total service of his Immaculate Mother. Obedience imitates the loving subjection Of Christ to His Mother; by it the religious renounces his own will that he may follow hers, trans- 262 September, 1949 CONSECRATION TO MARY mitted to him by his superior, according to her word, "Do whatever he tells you." Since by these three vows the Marianist views the Soci(ty as Mary,'s property, its members as her sons, and its superiors as her representatives, he finds in his total consecration a very real counterpart of the Incarnation by which Christ completely sur-rendered Himself to Mary's motherhood. If he is wholly faithful to his state, he no longer lives, but Christ lives in him, returned again to earth, become again the Son of Mar'y for the salvation of mankind. And consequently, by acting according to his consecra-tion to Mary, loving her, obeying her, honoring her, confiding in her, living'with her, resemb!ing her, and especially assisting ~her ia her mission to .save the modern world, the religious finds his conse-crated activity a real counterpart of the redemption by which Christ sacrificed Himself entirely out of love for His Father and for mankind. If space permitted, the other elements of religious life by which the Marianist enters into this redemptive activity of Christ might be developed in great detail. Here, only a few indications of the practical implications of this total consecration may be presented. The Fatima visions suggest that cgnsecration to Mary must involve, special stress on prayer and sacrifice as redemptive instruments. It is not at all surprising, then, that Father Cbaminade should have laid great emphasis upon mental prayer, which he characteristically taught as union with Jesus and Mary in the mysteries of the Creed, the very goal of the rosar)~ as presented to Lucy in the final Fatima vision. He prescribed a full hour of formal mental prayer for all his reli-gious, no matter how actively engaged, and he constantly insisted on a "spirit of faith and of mental prayer" by which the whole day, encased between morning and evening meditations, is spent with Jesus and Mary in the presence of God and thereby becomes a con-tinual mental prayer, a prayer of the heart fixed in God rather than of the mind straining for considerations. With this in mind, be could write in the Constitutions: ". the more a, religious devotes himself to this exercise, the more he approaches his end . con-formity with Jesus Christ" (S.F., 247). And this prayer-life is so intimately bound up with the apostolic consecration that in the second article of his Constitutions Father Chaminade clearly stated his design to combine "the advantages of the active life with those of' the contemplative, to attain the ends of both." In that same article, he stressed the sacrifice that Fatima leads us 263 ROBERT L. KNOPP to expect: "The Society designs, 'as far as God will aid it, to unite zeal with abnegation . " Concerning this abnegation, or sacrifice, Father Chaminade was as emphatic as with prayer: i'.The Savior of the world came as a victim, He lived in privations, He died in sor-rows; the same sword pierced the heart of His . . . Mother. No better lot can befall the disciple and the child his Master and his Mother. The professed, as a victim, is not surprised at the privations to try him . he considers himself all than that of resembling regarding himself, then, by which it pleases God the days of his life as fastened to the cross, in order to continue., the oblation and sacri-fice of, desus Christ." (Art. 173-4.) aust as in the life of Christ the redemptive work itself was sacrifice, so the Marianist is to find his daily cross chiefly in the trials, fatigues, and difficulties inherent in a life of intense apostolic activity. Moreover, this self-sacrifice must consist principally in the interior self-denial of humility, simple and sincere, like that of ,lesus and Mary. Such, in briefest outline, is the conformity with Christ, S6n of God become Son of Mary for the salvation of mankind, that this total consecration of filial love for Mary expresses and effects. If. however, in order to be fully realized this consecration demands the religious profession, nothing prevents the faithful in the world'from embracing its spirit as completely as their state of life permits. It is to be expected, then, that Marianists hold as their "work of predi-lection" the spreading of this spirit of filial consecration to Mary among their own students, and through them to the world at large, by such means as the establishment and maintenance of sodalities, always intensely apostolic. Before Fatima and after it, Marianists have always held as their inmost conviction, the fruit of their own 'life-experience, that the world can be restored to Christ only through Mary. In this year of their American Centennial, they dedicate themselves anew to this work of bringing men to consecrate their lives to Mary, not merely in word but in being and in act-- in prayer and in sacrifice. 264 Books as Spirit:ual Direc!:ors J. H. Dunn, O.R.S.A. ~N PIONEER DAYS the early settlers of this country had a phrase which showed a nice blend of confidence in God and self-reliance: "Trust. in God and keep your po.wder dry." A religious of today might well make one small change, inspired by modern technological progress, and use that same phrase as a watchword in his own spiritual life: "Trust in God and keep your battery charged." Certainly one of the best means to keep the battery of zeal for increased perfection charged is spiritual reading. No one can deny its imperative necessity in the daily life of a religious; so much so, that progress in perfection is, to a large extent, contingent upon daily use of this important means of advancing in sanctity. Spir-itual reading is, then, one of the best means that a religious has for charging his spiritual batteries. But spiritual reading can be made to serve another end. When necessity demgnds, it can be used as a means of spiritual direction. Books can be substituted for men. About seven years ago, the REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS published a series of articles on spiritual direction that gave rise to a discussion which furnished a very good survey of its state in contemporary American religious life. At that time, it seemed to be the consensus among religious that adequate spiritual direction was a felt need in many communities. No doubt, the situation has changed but little since those articles and letters were written. What, then, is the religious to do who with all the good will in the world cannot find someone to act as spiritual director? It is the opinion of the author that, when every opportunity for human help has been canvassed and found wanting, the religious may with a .clear conscience turn to the next most perfect means of spiritual direction--books. In such a case as this spiritual reading can be used not only as a battery-charging agent, but as a generator and, some-times, as a mechanic. Spiritual reading can be used to supply an incentive to higher things and to fix up a "stalled" religious so that he can go on. After all, the spiritual .director has a twofold task--to give advice that will help or keep a person out of difficulties and, What is 265 J. H. DUNN Review for Religious far more important, to spur him on to h!gher things. Now if there is no director at hand, spiritual reading can be used to fulfill both these ends. In the matter of difficfilties to be solved there is probably no religious who will think that his particular problems are unique. It stands to reason, therefore, that most questions are answered some-where in print. The only problem is to find the right book. Any large work covering the spiritual life extensively will serve such a need as this. Christiar~ PerFection by Father Rodriguez leaves little untouched in the matter of spirituality. Many difficulties can be solved by articles in back numbers of the REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Such works as these bare the one drawback--that it is sometimes hard to find what is needed quickly or easily because of inadequate indexing, dr because of improperly filed back numbers. On the other hand, such a work as Tanquerey's Spiritual LiFe is excellent in this respect. It.is sufficiently extensive to handle any problem that might arise in the. normal religious life, and it is well enough indexed to enable the reader to find a solution in a matter of seconds. It may be objected that such books as these will serve only for beginners in religion or for those who are not far advanced in per-fection but .will be of little or no use to those who have to contend with the complications characteristic of the higher reaches of sanc-tity. It is certainly true that the problems which arise in the later stages of the spiritual life are more personalized than earlier ones, but that does not mean that the broad general principles upon which such problems must be solved have not been fully .expounded in numerous spiritual books. Father Garrigou-Lagrange, for instance, in his Three Ages oF the Interior LiFe offers a sharply delineated plan of spirituality, extending as far as a man can hope to go and treating almost every difficulty that could arise. St. Teresa cannot fail to be helpful; and few problems are met in striving for the ultimate in divine union that have not been anticipated by St. John of the Cross. Besides, anyone who has progressed so far in perfection with-out a spiritual director may surely hope without presumption that God will continue to help him to bring the work to ultimate success. It is in the second phase of the spiritual director's work, that of spurring a person to higher striving arid keeping him going, that spiritual reading really comes into its own. In this respect there are some things that books can do even better than men; they can be more severe, for instance, and they are more patient at repeating 266 September, 1949 BOOKS AS SPIRITUAL DIRECTORS what needs to be said over and over. Nor can it be validly objected that many technical books will be needed if the printed page is to be used as a substitute for the living voice. A few good books will do the job and do it well. If in an ordinary novel the reader can find new matter at a second or even a third perusal, the same will certainly bold true of spiritual books. In this respect it_is important to note, even to insist upon, one point. However else a religious uses hi~ time for stfiritual reading, he must choose books which are a challenge. The time spent in spiritual reading should never be spent with books that might be called in Mark Twain's phrase, "flowers and flapdoodle." Espe-cially is this true if these same spiritual reading books must perform at least some of the functions of a spiritual director. Books that are to help religious souls to overcome their diffi-culties and urge them on to greater perfection--books that are to encourage them when they are in danger of stopping their progress through human frailty or going astray through ignorance of the way, must be carefully graded. A novice who could be helped by Gehon's Secret of the Saints wouldoonly be discouraged or bewil-dered by Tb~ Ascent of Mount Carmel. A person who might be helped immeasurably by Saudreau's Life of Union with God would no longer need Leen's Progrdss Through Mental Prayer. Each must choose for himself according to his own need, but it would certainly be folly to expect Saint Among Savages to be conducive to progress for someone who has long ago reached a measure of union with God. The book is fine, though, for a novice who must be weaned from comic books. A religious, then, who finds blmself without the help of a spir-itual director need not, because of that fact, give up all hope of spir-itual direction. That same religious would be the first to insist that God would take care of him somehow. What is more natural than that He should do so by means of help that is always at hand, the help of spiritual books? One who has tried by every possible means to get spiritual direction, yet, cannot find it, may turn with perfec~ confidence to those spiritual books which will keep his battery charged. 267 ommun{cal:{ons Who May "Follow Him"? Reverend Fathers: It is not without a coi~siderable degree of temerity that I even attempt a reply to Sister Mary Digna's scholarly article, "That God's Will be Better Known," published in the 3uly issue of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. However, as it deals with a subject of paramount importance to fill religious orders, I would like to express what is a purely personal'reaction to the article. Let me begin by saying that I definitely do not approve of any diagnostic tests being given to a candidate on admission to a nov;- tiate or at any time during the novitiate training period. In the first place, any of these tests--that is: I.Q., aptitude, per-sonality, or emotional reaction tests--are vary likely to defeat their purpose not only by failing to give accurate information about an applicant to religious life but also by conveying actual ~nisinforma-tion. What was this novitiate period for many of us? Wasn't it a time when our hearts almost broke with homesickness, when every fibre of our being was taut and strained in an effort to adjust our-selves to a mode of life different in almost every detail from the old one left bebin:d? Might not the score, of a diagnostic test be very different .just a few years later when, as a professed religious, one has achieved a serenity and poise that is seldom compatible with a period of grave adjustment? Secondly, should not even a reasonably' capable master or mis-tress of novices be able to know fairly accurately, after two or three years of constant companionship and supervision, something of the intelligence, aptitudes, and emotional reactions of the novices? But, one may object, this purely subjective opinion should at least be supplemented by a purely objective score. Maybe so, but remember that in this case the subjective verdict is frequently based on years of experience with young novices and also on a knowledge of the spe-cific needs and requirements of a particular congregation. In regard to that typ_e of emotional reaction test designed to convey information concerning impulses and emotions of the sex instinct, I will admit that there may be factors involved here with which I am not familiar. That any anomaly along this line cer-tainly makes one an unfit subject for religious life is unquestionable. But again, I am willing to place this too in the hands of a shrewd, 268 COMMUNICATIONS alert, and spiritually wise master, or mistress of novices. "I'o boil it all down--isn't this idea of injecting these various tests into our novitiates find religious communities merely an unneces-sary form of secularization? Doesn't it tend to overlook a little the tremendous power of divine grace operating in a soul seeking to serve God? The use of a "natural aptitude" test whiCh would tend to prevent a superior from placing a "round peg in a square hole" might also undervalue the tremendous power of a work done in simple obedience. Certainly the religious literally writhing under an unpleasant, distasteful employment has infinitely more-opportunity to follow the divine precept to "take up your cross daily" than she who is happily and efficiently employed in a work agreeable to nature. What were the requirements stipulated by the first Novice Master on the shore ~f Galilee? Just the briefly stated "Come, ~ollow Me." But oh, the infinite possibilities for courage, sanctity, and even ultimate martyrdom contained in those three simple" words! Would not a modern psychologist be rather gravely concerned over the prob-able I.Q. of James and John, who were obtuse enough to hope for an earthly kingdom from a carpenter's Son? What would a present-day psychiatrist think of the apparent emotional instability of Peter who in one exultant outburst cried out, "Thou art Christ, the Son of the living God," and then, not so long afterwards, muttered mis-erably to an illiterate barmaid, "I know not the Man"? But Christ knew what patient training could accomplish with His novices, and ¯ He took them for what they were Worth and in spite of their weak- ~esses. In conclusion, may I ask what one of us in religion would like to feel that a Mission a~ssigned or an employment given was in any way the result of tests administered perhaps years ago in one's novitiate days? What infinitely greater security there would be in knowing that an obedience had been given after a provincial or Other superior had knelt humbly before Christ in the tabernacle and with a fervent, heartfelt "Veni, Sancte Spiritus'" begged for guidance in placing her subjects. The religious then accepts her charge, whatever it may be, knowing it to be sanctified by obedience, fortified by faith, and ulti-mately made the "sweet yoke" and "burden light" because of that burning love for her Divine Bridegroom which had made it possible for her to "leave all things and follow Him." --SISTER MARY OF ST. GERTRUDE, R.G.S. 269 .uesE ons and Answers 35 Is it possible to gain ~he "tofies quoties" indulgence for the Poor Souls on November 2nd in a prlvafe chapel in which Mass is said daily but which is usedoonly by religious? This chapel is part of parish church It will be' well to explain the meaning of private oratory before answering our question. Before the Code of Canon Law was pro-mulgated in 1917, it was customary tocall the ordinary chapels of religious communities either domestic chapels or private chapels. Now the Code defines a private o'r domestic chapel ~s one erected in a pri-vate house in favor of a family or private lay person; whereas the chapel erected for the benefit of a community or group of the faithful is called a semi-public chapel. Of higher rank are public chapels and churches (see canon 1188). Generally speaking, the chapels in reli-gious communities are semi-public chapels. The officiai book on indulgences, Preces et Pia Opera, states spe-cifically under No. 544 that the indulgences for the Poor Souls may be gained by the, faithful on November 2nd "as often as they visit a church or public oratory or (for those who may legitimately use it) a semi-public oratory." Again, in an introduction which explains some general prin-ciples about indulgences, this same official text states under No. 4 that when a visit to a church is required it may be made "to a church, or to a public chapel, or (for those having the legitimate use of it according to canon 929) to a semi-public oratory." Religious, the.refore, may, make all "required~ visits t~ a church" in their own chapels according to the conditions laid down in canon 929: "The faithful of either sex who, for the pursuit of religious per-fection, or' for education, or for health's sake, live a common life in houses established with the consent of. the ordinaries, but which have no church or public chapel [of their own], and likewise all persons ¯ who live in the same place for the purpose of ministering to them, whenever a visit to any unspecified church or public oratory is pre- ~ scribed for gaining irli:lulgences, may m'ake the visit in :the~h~pel of their own house where they can legitimately satisfy the obligation of hearing Mass, provided that they duly perform the other works prescribed." 270 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS We may, therefgre, conclude that religious who legitimately enjoy the benefit of a semi-public chapel, may make whatever visits are required for gaining indulgences in their own chapel, even though there is a parish church nearby, provided that it is not required that a determined church be visited. If a specit~c church or public oratory is prescribed for the visit, then it cannot be made in the community chapel but must be made ifi the church or public chapel specified. m3b--. We have fwd years 'of novitiate. The reception is held on August !2th, and two years later, on the same date, the novices take their vows. Is this in accordance with canon law, or should the vows be fa~en on the 13th of August after the completion of the two years of novitiate? Canon 555, § 2 tells us that if the constitutions prescribe more than a year for the novitiate, the extra time is not required for valid-ity unless the same constitutions expressly declare otherwise. There-fore, unless your constitutions expressly declare t~at the second year of novitiate is required t~or oalidit~t of the subsequent vows, you need have no worries about the past. As for the future, it is a probable opinion, which may be fol-lowed in practice, that, if the constitutions prescribe two years of novitiate but do not expressly require the second year for validity, the profession of t.emporary vows may be validly and licitly made on the same calendar day on which the habit was received or the novi-tiate begun (See Larraona, Commentarium pro Religiosis, 1942, p. 16, note 973; Schaefer, De Religiosis, ed. 4, 1947, p. 513, n. 906). Hence you many continue your. practice of having the reception on August 12th and of allowing the novices to take their vows two years later on August 12th. According to our constitutions, to be elected superior general the candidate must obtain half the votes plus one. We have been following 3ardi's system of voffn9 (El Derecho de las Religlosas, Vich, 1927, articles 2:~0-242), namely, the name of the candidate is written in the cen-ter of the ballot. The ballot is then signed by the voter at the bottom: and the signature sealed. In case a candidate receives exactly one vote more than half, all the ballots in his favor are opened and the signatures examined in order to make certain that the candidate has not voted for h~mself'thus~ making the election null and vold. This method of procedure 271 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS Reoieto for Religious has .been severely criticized as being contrary to the spirit of the law, if not contrary to the letter. Please give us your opinion in thematter. The manner of election suggested by Father Jardi, which you follow, is the manner prescribed by Pope Pius X for the election the Holy Father by the cardinals. There is one difference, however, to which Father Jardi obviously did not advert. In the papal elec-tion, each cardinal, after signing and sealing his name at the bottom of the ballot, put on theoutside of the sealed part a secret symbol (three numbers, three letter~, a drawn image, etc.) which is known to him, to the presiding officer, ~nd to the scrutators alone. Then in case a cardinal received exactly two-thirds of the votes, his personal oote alone would be opened to make sure that he had not voted for himself. It was not necessary to open all the votes of all those who voted for him, since his vote was recognized by his cryptic symbol. It would certainly be contrary to the spirit of the canons of the Code regarding elections to open all the ballots of those who voted for a candidate in order to find out whether the candidate had voted for himself, since to do so would embarrass at least half of the voters. I do not think that it wc.uld make the election invalid, becausethe informaticn is given to those who are bound to secrecy. As a matter of fact, in a recent constitution of December 8, 1944, Pope Pius XII revised the method of electing a pope, especially the r~oi~t in ~,uestion. A vote of two-thirds of the ballots plus one is now required for a valid election; and the cardinals are no longer obliged to sign their ballots, since this provision makes it unnecessary to inquire whether the person elected voted for himself or not. In conclusion I would suggest that you change your constitutions by dropping the obliga~.ion of .having the members of the chapter sign their ballots, annd by requiring that the candidate must obtain two votes more than half the ballots cast. In this way it will always be certain that the candidate received at least one more than half the votes, even though he voted for himself. These changes will have to be approved by the Holy See, if your congregation has papal approval; or by all the bishops in whose territory you hav~ houses, if you are a diocesan congregation. .38 when it is found necessary to change some of the "legal articles" in the constitutions of a religious community, does that give the liberty fo 272 September, 1949 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS make changes in the prayers and other spiritual articles confMned in the same consfifutions? Some think that it does; others maintain that the original constitutions should be adhered to as much as possible. When the Code of Canon Law was promulgated in 1917, it became necessary for all religious institutes to revise their constitu-tions to bring them into conformity with the new laws of the Church. I.suppose that is what our questioner refers to when he speaks of "legal articles." As a matter of fact, the Sacred Congrega-tion of Religious issued a declaration on October 26, 1921, stating that "the text of the constitutions is to be amended only in those things in which the constitutions are opposed to the Code; or, if it is a case of deficiency, additions may be nhade; and as far aspossible the words of the Code itself are to be used." The same declaration, how-ever, made allowance for other changes also, provided that "the pro-posed changes have been discussed and approved by the General Chapter." In the new Normae (A.A.S. 13-317), which the Sacred Congre-gation has drawn up for itself as a guide in the approval of new constitutions, it recommends that all formularies of prayers as well as longer ascetical instructions, spiritual exhortations, and mystical considerations be put into the directory or some other such ascetical book, "since the constitutions shduld contain only the constitutive laws of a congregation as well as the directive laws of the actions of the community, whether those pertaining to government, or those pertaining to discipline and the norm of life." This does not mean that all ascetical articles are to be excluded, because the Normae state explicitly that "brief statements regarding the spiritual and religious life are opportune" in the constitutions. To answer our question: For all changes in the constitutions of a religious institute: the permission of the Holy See is required in the case of a pontifical institute; that of all the bishops in whose diocese the institute has houses in the case of a diocesan institute. These changes should be discussed and voted upon in a general chapter before being submitted to the proper authority for approval. The mind of the Church is that the constitutions of religious institutes should not contain formularies, such as prayers, daily order, and so forth. These should be put into the custom book or director3~, or some such similar book. 273 BOOK REVIEWS Religious Does the chaplain have the r;cjht fo say the funeral Mass and hold the exequles for a deceased religlous Sister of the house where he is chaplain? The common opinion, both before and after the Code, held tha~ nuns ("rnoniales") were exempt from parochial jurisdiction; hence, before the Code the chaplain alone had all the parochial powers in their behalf; but after the Code these powers were divided between the chaplain and the confessor (see canons 514, § 2 and 1230, § 5). In the case of nuns not exempt from the local o~din, ary's jurisdic-tion, the chaplain's powers under canon 1230, § 5 were questioned: but the Code Commission, on January 31, 1942, decided that even in this case the right to conduct the funeral of the nuns belonged to the chaplain, and not to the parish priest. Other lay religious (Sisters---not nuns)are subject to canon 1230, § 1, that is, the pastor has the right to conduct their funerals unless the local ordinary has granted the community exemption from the jurisdiction of the pastor in conformity with canon 464, § 2. In this latter case the chaplain, not the pastor, has the right to conduct the funerals of the members of the community. took Reviews THE LITTLE OFFICE OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN. By a Master of Novices. Pp. x -}- 431. The Newman Press, Westminster, Maryland, 1948. $3.50. Priests, religious, and laity alike will welcome this new edition of The Little ONce of the Blessed Virgin. In this ~-olume is contained an explanation of the origin and history of the Office, a chapter on attention and intention, and one on the rubrics. This latter chapter is especially helpful in solving the difficulties that may arise in the recitation of the Office. The procedure to be followed for each of the hours is carefully outlined in detail. Following these introductory chapters, the Office itself follows. On one side of the page the Latin text is given, and parallel to that on the opposite page is an English translation. Directions are given at the beginning of each hour. It is to be regretted that in making this new edition the publishers did not avail themselves of the new approved translation of the Psalms and that the Pater, Ave, and 274 September, 1949 BOOK REVIEWS Credo in Latin were omitted. Surely everyone knows the English version of these prayers; but for those who are required to recite the Office in Latin, the Latin version is essential. One of the finest parts of the.book is the commentary that fol-lows the Office proper. The greater part of the commentary is taken from the Mirror of Ot~r L'adg. This commentary not only sup-plies an explanation of the prayers of the Little Office, but also provides excellent topics for contemplation. It is full, complete, beautiful, and reverent. Explanations in praise of the Blessed .Vir-gin by the great St. Bernard and many of the other outstanding saints are interspersed throughout the commentary. Finally, in an appendix, is given the Office of the Dead, and also the new Office for November 2. This little book is certainly to be recommended to those religious who must recite the Little Office of the Blessed Virgin according to rule. It will certainly help one to acquire a deeper understanding of the Office, and lead to greater reverence and devotion. -~L. 3ANSEN, S.J. THE VEIL UPON THE HEART. By George Byrne, S.d. Pp. viii -f- 103. The Newman Bookshop, Westminster, Maryland, 1947. $2.25. This booklet of essays on prayer from the penetrating pen of an Irish ,lesuit will be read with relish by saint as well as by sinner. Scripture texts worn from use take on a newness that only a man of prayer can put into them, for example: "There is no better commen-tary on the nature of prayer and its efficacy than the meeting of the virgin disciple and the impure woman in a supreme act of divine faith: 'T

Issue 2.2 of the Review for Religious, 1943. ; A. M. D. G. Review for Religious MARCH 15, 1943 "Prudent Use Of Confession Privilecjes ¯ . . The Editors T,heParticular Examen . Timothy Brosnahan '-Hi~ldeh Saint of NaZareth ,. Matthew Germlng Mani~esta÷ion of Conscience . Adam C. Ellis Divine Priestly Vocation . James T. Meehan Recommended Spiritual Books ¯ ¯ . Adgustine Klaas ; Communications Book Reviews Oues+ions Answered Decision~ of the HOI~ See VOLUME II NUMBER 2 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS VOLUME II MARCH, 1.5, 1943 NUMBER CONTENTS THE PRUDENT USE OF CONFESSION PRIVILEGES--The Editors74 SOME NOTES ON THE PARTICULAR EXAMEN-- Timothy Brosnahan, $.J . , 85 BOOKS RECEIVED . : . 90 HIDDEN SAINT OF NAZARETH~Matthew ~3erming. S~J .91 SUPERIORS AND MANIFESTATION OF CONSCIENCE-- Adam C. Ellis, SJ . 101 THE DIVINE PRIESTLY VOCATION--2ames T. Meehan, $.J. 109 RECOMMENDED SPIRITUAL BOOKS--Augustine Klaas. S.~J. 117 COMMUNICATIONS (On Spiritual Direction) .123 BOOK REVIEWS (Edited by Clement DeMuth, $.J.)-- Soul Clinic; Chapters in Religion: A Short Breviary for Religious and the Laity: The Our Father: The Spiritual Direction of Sisters; A Book of Simple Words: The Pater Noster of Saint Teresa; Ten Blessed Years: Happy Hours with Christ: Hope of Life; These Two Hands;-The Way of the Blessed Christ: The March to Liberation; Maryknoll Mis-sion Letters; Mary of the Magnificat; Praying with. the Povetello; The. Commonwealth ~ of Nations and the Papacy . 130-139 DECISIONS OF THE HOLY SEE . ~ . 140 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS-~ 8. Questions in Confessional after Absolution . 141 9. Manifesting Community Difficulties to Confessor . 141 10. Differefice between Permission and Dispensation . 142 11. Power of Blessing Beads with Crosier Indulgence . 143 12. Studi.es during Canonical Year . : . . . 143 13. Superior's Obligation to Mail Letters .143 14. Use of Convent Chapel for Portiuncula Indulgence . 144 15. Genuflecting when Blessed Sacrament is Exposed . 144 16. Genuflecting before Holy Communion .144 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, March, 1.945. Vol. II. No. 2. Published bi-monthly: January, March, May. 3uly, September, and November, at the College Press, 606 Harrison Street, Topeka, Kansas, by St. Mary's College, St. Marys, Kansas, with ecclesiastical approbation. Entered as second class matter ,January 15, 19420 at the Post Office, Topeka, Kansas, under the act of March 3, 1879. Editorial Board: Adam C. Ellis, S.2., G. Augustine Ellard, SJ., Gerald Kelly, S.'j. Copyright, 1943. by Adam C. Ellis. Permission is hereby granted for quotations of reasonable length, provided due credit be given this ~eview and the author. Subscription price: 2 dollars a year. Printed in U. S. A. The Prudent Use ' ot: Con[ession Privileges The Editors WHtiEoNn, wwee cinointifainteedd tohuer dOiswcun srseimona rokfs s tpoi rdiitrueaclt idoinre bcy-the ordinary confessor. As a matter of fact, the Code of Canon Law grants to .religious many privileges of confessing, under certain circumstances, to other _priests. Some of our readers have suggested that, before concluding the discussion on spiritual direction, we should explain the prudent use of these privileges according to the mind of the Church. The suggestion appears very practical. Since the pub-lication of the Code, much has been written in explanation of the meaning and extent of these privileges; but compara-tively little has been said about their prudent use. For the sake of clarity, we shall firgt consider the confessors of Sis-ters, then apply our remarks, with the needed qualifica-~ tions, to the confessors of religious men. ¯The Ordinary Confessor The. conc.ept of the. ordinary confessor of Sisters. according to the mind of the Church, is a basic one to this entire subject. He. is not to be a mere confessor, This expression might sound shocking, if taken out of its con-text. Penance is a Sacrament; and as a Sacrament it is pro-ductive of graces which in themselves are more fruitful for the human soul than is spiritual counsel. And the greatest' work that a priest does in the confessional is to give abso-lution. There should be no mistake about that point; the sacramental value of absolution should never be placed be- 74 USE OF CONFESSION PRIVILEGES low spiritual advice, ~nd the first purpose of every penitent should be to perfect his disposition for the fruitful r~ceptic;n of the Sacrament. BUt religious are not ordinary penitents. They belong to-the spiritual elite of the Church. They are supposed to strive after perfection; and, they are entitled to the means conducive to p~erfection. One,of these means is the oppor-tunity of having expert spiritual guidance. True, to some extent this guidance is embodied in their rule, for .the rule contains the plan of a perfect life. Also, guidance is fre-quently available through their superiors. Despite these helps; however, all will experience, at least at times, the need of counsel that only a priest can give. It is the mind of the Church that in each community of Sisters, this priestly counsel should be given normally by the ordinary confessor. In making this legislation, the Church intends to provide the Sisters with direction that is capable, consistent, and uniform. It should be capable, because of their special position in the Church.; it should be consistent, because this is generally needed for progress; and it should be at least relatively uniform because of their uni-form manner of life, and because in their communities they live in very ~lose contact, and great differencesof direction could make for disagreeable situations.° Such is the ideal. It is not always realized in practice. Eccldsiastical superiors have no special charism that pre-vents them from making mistakes in their appointments: and at times they must appoint ordinary confessors who they. realize do not measure up. perfectly to the canonical standards. Like the rest of us, they cannot give what they do not hard. In these situatioris the Sisters must be both fair-minded and patient. If possible, they can avail them-selves of the other privileges given by canon la~; when this i~ impossible, they have every r~ason to trust in God. 75 THE EDITORS Extraord[nar'g and Retreat Confessors The Church also prescribes that Sisters have an extra-o~ dinary confessor, and a practically universal custom pro-vides yet anoth'~ confessor at the time of retreat.-. It may be well to consider just what use the Sisters are expected to make ofthese opportunities. Regarding the extraordinary confesssor, it id .not expected that everyone wilt wish his. advice, nor should be expected that he will volunteer direction to all. He given to all to safeguard the opportunity of .the few who may need his help. In a community .in which all find the ordinary confessor satisfactory, the work of the extraor-dinary could well be limited to hearing the 'confessions anal. giving absolution. The pru. dent use of the opportunity of consulting the retreat confessor is a subject as difficult as it is delicate. Let us begin by stating that some Sisters need this opportunity.° very much. They may have been in a small community all ye~ir, without an ordinary or extraordinary confessor in whom they had confidence and with relatively01ittle oppor-tunity of p~:ofiting by the various privilegCs accorded by canon law. Perhaps many problems have a~cumulated: perhaps, too, if they do not get help during the retreat in planning for the future, then they will never get.tit. Sisters belonging to this class should feel perfectly free to discuss .-their problems and plans with the retreat confessor; and he, on his part, should be quite willing to give all the time and help he can. The.case is different with the Sisters who have a good ordinary confessor during the year. All other things being equal, his-guidance should be sought in preference to that of the retreat confessor. The Siiters may say, of course, that at time of retreat they make a "yearly review"; but does this review necessarily bring ~up new problems? Or 7'6 USE OF CONFESSION PRIVILEGES again, they may say that during retreat the~ must plan f6r the future, and that in this planning they will need some guidance. This is true, but it can be overdone. They might discuss the general notion of this plan with their ordinary ¯ confessor before ~hey leave¯ for retreat. Unless the retreat is marked by very special inspira, tions, one can usual!y predict ahead of time along what line one is going to need a reno-vation Of spirit. Furthermore, when the plan is made, if one ¯wishes approbation for it, is it not better to.get th~ approbation from the priest who knows one and is to guide one in the keeping of it rather than from a priest one may never see again? Special Confessor or Director The foregoing are the confessional opportunities regu-larly provided for all. Many will find them sufficient for their needs and.ideals. Yet, there will always be a few who will need the habitual help of another priest, and many "who will rightly desire the opportunity of occasionally going tO another. The Church has provided for both kinds of exceptions to the general rule; and we can consider now the right use of these exceptional privileges. Roughly speaking, those Sisters who wish the habitual help of another confessor may be divided into two classes ¯ that can be exemplified as follows. Sister A does not wish to go to the ordinary confessor at all; she wants a substitute confessor for herself. Sister B is willing to confess to the. ordin~iry confessor at the .customary times; but she also wishes to go to confession periodically (say every week or ¯ every month) to another pr~iest. To the ordinary, Sister B. merely makes her confession; with the second priest, she discusses her spiritual life more in detail._ In other words, Sister B wants an extra confessor, who is to serve mainly as her spiritual adviser. Cases like these, though exceptio, ns to the general rule, 77 THE EDITORS are not to be branded as "singularities."" Considering the wid~ differences: of human temperament and hi, man needs, it is not surprising that even an excellent ordinary confessor will not satisfy everybody. The Code (in canon 520 § 2). takes cognizance of these diversities, by instructing the local Ordinary to be gracious in granting the request of such Sis-ters when they ask for a special confessor or director. In making this wise provision, the Church is not cater- ~n.g to the mere whim or caprice of the Sisters. The latter are to have a serious supernatoral reason for making their request. "In general, these reasons may be summed up as follo.ws: the Sister finds it extraordinarily difficult to mani-fest her consciende sincerely to the ordina~ry confessor, or she honestly judges that it would be to the greater good of her soul to have another confessor or director. The law pre-sumes that the Sisters give the ordinary confessor a fair trial before requesting another confessor or director. The canon law does not authorize the Sister to appoint her own~ special confessor or diiector. The appointment ¯ should come from the local Ordinary, upon her request. The request itself might take one of these two forms. The Sister might merely ask for the special confessor or director and leave the choice to the local Ordinary; or she might havea definite priest in mind and ask for him. In the sec-ondcase she is not fJ~ee from personal responsibility in making the choice. Naturally, the Ordinary Would not approve the choice if he knew the man to be incapable of fulfilling the office, but on the other hand, he is not alw.ays able to discern the hidden motives that might lie behind such a request. The Sister herself must judge that the choice is really for her spiritual good. Extra-confessional Director What of the Sister who makes her confession to the 78 USE OF CONFESSION PRIVILEGES ordinary confessor, but who wishes periodically to discuss the affairs of her soul with another priest, outside the con-fessional? Note that this case is different from that of Si~ter B, previously outlined: Sister B wanted direction in con-fession; in the case we are now considering the, direction is entirely separated from the confdssional. A few eminent canonists think that, since the director in this case is not to serve as confessor to the Sister, the .case need not, strictly speaking, be referred to the local Ordinary. We do not share this opinion. We think that, since this. second priest is really to serve as the Sister's spiritual direc-tor, he should be appointed by the Ordinary. ¯ However, even those who, in a spec.ulative way, hold the more lenient view on this one point, admit that the case involves serious . difficulties and demands special safeguards. It is a generally recognized ascetical rule ~that the con-fessional is the proper place for the spiritual guidance .of women, This rule is not absolute. It admits" of excep-tions; and no doubt there a're cases in which a Sister can receive more apt guidance outside the confessional. But these exceptions are rare, and the dangers involved should be recognized. If the Church demands certain quaIities of virtue, prudence, and maturity of the ordinary confessor, with much greater reason would she demand them of an extra-confessional director. If there is danger of wasting time in the confessional, there is much greater, danger of doing so outside. If an inordinate personal attachment might arise even from the confession.al, there is much more danger of this when the safeguards of the confessional are abolished. We wish to be correctly understood in this matter. It is wrong to be constantly suspecting people; and much-harm has come to many earnest souls through rash suspicions and rumors. But it is foolish, and may be quite wrong, for Sis- THE EDITORS ters to cherish the notion that, simply because they wish to discuss their spiritual life, these meetings never involve danger. In this matter, a bit of self-suspicion at the begin-ning can save a great deal of self-reproach at the end. V~rl~atever may be said tl~eoretically about the need of the local Ordinary's.permission for this extra-confessional director, it is certain that no Sister could adopt the practice of meeting her self-chosen, extraZcor~fessional director with-out at least the permission of her owri superior. The supe-rior should weigh this question very carefully. In practice, she could seldom give a confident judgment without con-sulting the local Ordinary, especially when the parties fare young and the visits frequent. Occasional Cont:essors Ttie number of Sisters who desire a special confessor or direc~0r is comparatively small; the number of those who might want the opportunity of occasionally consulting another priest besides the ordinary confessor is rather large. To guarantee the latter as much liberty of conscience as pos- /sible, the canon law provides for supplementary and occa-sional confessors. The supplementary confessors are appointed by the local Ordinary, assigned to definite houses or groups of houses, and given the special jurisdiction required for . hea'ring the confessions of religious women. The religious are free to summon any one of these or the extraordinary confessor. Not mhch need be said concerning the prudent ¯ use of this privilege. Since the confessors are designated by. the Bishop himsdlf, it may be presumed that they will be capable men. The principal danger of abuse would come from the Sister herself, were she to call for them needlessly, or at a needlessly inopportune time, or pi~rhaps from an unreasonably long distance. 80 USE OF CONFESSION PRIVILEGES In a large city, the privilege offhd supplementary con-fessors may have much practical value; but in general rfiost Sisters will'find the very wide concession of canon 522 more useful. ¯ Canon 522 allows Sisters to take advantag~ of the opportunity of confessing to any priest approved in the diocese for the confessions of.wgmen. The priest need not have the special approbation necessary for the confessors Of Sisters. The canon does not give permission to leave the house or to set aside the order of the house or the prescrip-tions of rule; but it does allow the Sisters to take advaiatage of any legitimate opportunity of confessing when they are outside the house, as well as to a priest who happens to be visiting the convent, or even of calling a priest to the con.- vent. In all cases, .the confessionmust be made in a place which conforms with the legislat!on of the Church for hearing the confessions of women. One phrase in canon 522 calls for particular attention hi, re. This privilegeis accorded to the Sister for her "peace of conscience." This phrase has b~en discussed and redis-cussed by canonists. Authorities now commonly agree that any confession seriouslymade satisfies this demand, in so far as the law is concerned. But the spirit behind the law must be kept in mind when we ,are considering the prudent use of this pri;cilege. Evidently, in framing this law, the Church did not wish to do away with all the prescriptions and counsels that she had laid down for the proper direction of Sisters. Certainly she ¯ does not wish by this one canon to set aside the maxims of Sound Catholic asceticism; and ~most certainly she does not wish to justify a departure from the more basic and neces-sary principles of moral theology. From both the canonical and ascetical points of view it is a mistake for a Sister'to go to another confessor for advice 81 THE EDITORS or to confess things that riaturally call for advice, if her ordinary confessor would prove equally satisfactory. The difficulty proposed or the matter confessed may be the very thin.g that the ordinary .confessor should know in order to give her progressive and helpful direction. Of course, there are occasions when the ordinary is not available. If, on these occasions, the Sister consults another confessor, she will be acting according to a sound ascetical practice if she refers the matter later to her ordinary confessor. The mistakes made in the use of this privilege can vio-late not merely ascetical principles, but also certain basic principles of m~ral theology. Perhaps We ~an illustrate by an example. Any priest knows that young people who are geowing addicted to certain bad habits are .prone to "shop arounff'maS.-the saying goes--for an "easy" confessor. In doing this they make two serious mistakes. They go from one confessor to another with the result that none of these transitory confessors can give them real help; and, when at last they settle on .the "easy" one, they choose him precisely because he does not have the qualities that a helpful con-fessor should have. Writing in the Comrnentarium Pro Religiosis for June- July, 1926, Father van Acken pointed out that some reli-gious who experience difficulties with regard to ~he ~eligious life in general or in regard to one of the vows in particular, are apt to make this same childish mistake. They need sympathetic direction, it is true, but also expert and firm direction. Because they fear this, they avail themselves of the privilege of canon 522 to "shop around" for a confes~ sot who will ask no questions or make no firm demands of them,. This is the gravest of all the abuses that can result from the imprudent use of the privilege. Needless to say, the Church never intended this favor to be a source of the loss of vocation and even a grave danger to the soul. Reli- 82 'UsE OF CONFESSION PRIVILEGES gious in extreme difficulties of this kind, more than any., others, ne, ed the help of a man who knows the demands of .the religious life. If they cannot get it, then God's grace must be sufficient for them; but if they deliberately avoid it. they expose their souls to extreme peril. Apptication t6 Religious Men Provisions for confessors of religious men follow the same general lines as the legislation for Sisters: In lay insti-tutes of men there must be one ordinary and one e, xtra-ordinary confessor for each housE; and the local Ordinary is to grant a special con.lessor to the individual religious who asks for one. The Code is silent about extraordinary and special confessors for professed members of clerical institutes; but it seems to be the common practice to pro-vide these. All religious men may confess to their priest superiors who have confessional jurisdictioh; and all have the privilege of confessing to any priest having the faculties of the diocese, even though not .specially approved for religious. The prudent, use of these privileges is governed by the same general principles we have explained in treating of the privileges of Sisters. By way of br.ief and practicalsum-mary, we may say that these principles are aptly indicated by two words: competence and consistenc~l. In regard to the principle of competence, religious must bear in mind that the Church, in allowing them to confess to all priests with diocesan faculties, does not thereby approve all these priests for the direction of religious. This applies .not only to diocesan priests but also to members of one's own institute. Some lack the experience, or the right attitude, or some other quality needed for sure guidance in certain delicate problems. To be more concrete in a matter of such great impor-. 83 THE EDITORS tance, let us say quite candidly that there are some prob-lems that a young religious must take particular pains to face and solve honestly. Notable among these may be mentioned a strongly rebellious spirit, a fundamental inability to live and work harmoniously with one's breth-ren, a genuine weakness in regard to temperance or chas-tity. To embrace the religious-statk permanently and above all to go on to ordination in" the face of serious doubts in such matters is wrong. The competent confes-sor knows this and will put the proper alternatives squarely before his penitent. Another confessor might fail to recognize the case as truly serious, or, if he does rec-ognize it, might be too hesitant in asserting the remedy. The grave .results of what is falsely termed "kindness" in this matter are too well known to need comment. As for the principle of consistenqt, we have already ¯ indicated that; even in the ordinary affairs of the spiritual" life, it is unwise to shift confessors or directors needlessly. In serious matters such as those mentioned above, this shifting will amount to gross imprudence, if it means that a religious goes from one confessor to another to the extent that even a competent confessor would not have the opportunity of recognizing a difficulty as habitual. Conclusion ¯ Although some of the statements made in this a'rticle may sound rather severe, yet we did not make them with the intention of minimizing the privileges granted by the Church. Rather, our one desire was to make these privi-leges more useful I~y showing how they fit into the entire scheme of canonical legislation and approved asceticism. 84 Some Notes on the Part:icular l:::xamen Timothy Brosnahan, S.J.~ | N OUR spiritual life two sacraments pla~r a most impor- I kant part: Penance, which cleanses our souls from sin and gives us special graces for self-conquest and the rooting out of irregular affections; and the Holy Eucharist, which unites our cleansed souls to God in charity. Corre-sponding to these two institutions of Christ are two exer-cises of our religious life of the highest importance: exam-ination of conscience and meditation. By the first we are. helped and prepared for the worthy and efficacious recep-tion of the Sacrament of Penance, as well as for reaping the fruits of past confessions; by the second we are disposed and prepared for union with Christ in the reception of the Bles-sed Sacrament. The examination of conscience, therefore, mawr be called our daily Penance; meditation the daily com-plement to our Eucharist, and even our spiritual Eucharist itself when we cannot receive our Lord bodily. This parallelism between the life of the Church and our religious life and this. perfect adaptation of one to the other is worthy of note and is a comfort and an inspiration. these two exercises are performed faithfully, our advance-ment in perfection is assured and our~vocation and salva= tion are secure. On the contrary, the neglect of these exer-cises is the beginningof our loss ot~ earnestness and of the spirit of our vocation, with all the consequences that are entailed and that follow, slowly sometimes, but inevitably. 1Father Brosnahan died many years ago. These notes were culled from one of his conferences sent to us I~y Father Francis P. LeButie, S.J., who styles himself, "Father Tim's literary executor."~ED. ¯ TIMOTHY BROSNAHAN One part of th~ daily examination of conscience adopted and encouraged by most religious founders is the practice of the particular examen. Indeed, fidelity, to its use has become.a distinctive virtue of a fervent religious; neglect of it, or at least of something similar to it, is almost invariably followed by a loss of spiritual progress and is indicative of faltering interest in the affairs of one's soul and ¯ in the spirit of the religious vocation. The particular examen is preeminently a reasonable and businesslike manner of proceeding to uproot faults and to implant virtues. It is, if you wish, a species of spiritual bookkeeping, and as such has sometimes been lightly spoken of. Yet, if the children of this world, who are wise in their generation, keep their books, why should not the children, of light? The businessman who fails to keep his books or fails to balance them at stated intervals is, we are t'old by men conversant with mercantile affairs, a prospec-tive bankrupt. Such a man, if known, would get credit from no bahk. The practice of the particular examen is indicative of a sincere, painstaking, and businesslike desire of increasing in spiritual riches and of removing spiritual waste from our lives. It is a.small thing, yet its practice calls for much vir-tue. Its practice, therefore, even independently of the results it produces, would normally be a sign of virtue, self-control, and will-power. Usually the reason why we fail to.practise it is that we are not quite ready to overdome ourselves. The particular examen deals with one thing at a time, with an individual and distinctive virtue, vice, or fault. The first and main feature of the examen is the choice of this virtue to be'practised or fault or vice to be eradicated. Whether virtue or fault, this subject should be concrete, well-defined, with a real personal meaning in our livds. We 86 THE PARTICULAR EX~MEN have to avoid the vague and generic, the occasional and the abstract. Is it desirable, for instance that we should grow in charity? A little study will tell us whether we should aim at practising it first in words or in our manner; or again, if'in words, whether our efforts must be .general or rather directed towards some in particular with Whom we come into frequent contact, and whose views or manners annoy us. And so of any other virtue, One might as well choose Christian perfection as the subject for his particular examen as,. say, humility. But to choose to exercise definite ~humiliating. acts or to submit to .definite humiliations arising from the'criticism of others or from repioof or correction by superiors, is another and a concrete matter. According to many spiritual masters, there is in the soul of each of us one ',root defect," that hinders perfection and .which, if unchecked, disposesto sin. The fault is not neces-. sarily great in itself; but it can have very serious effects, like the defective cog that makes a machine wobbleand finally break down. ! On the negative side, the principal aim of the particular.examen should be the eradication of this fault. How can we detect a fault of this kind? We may know it from our distractions; for example, what is the usual motif, as musicians .say, of our thoughts when we are wool-gathering?' Or we may know it from our troubles; for example, what kind of discomfort most ~annoys us;. or in what' are we most apt to seek consolation or recreation when distressed or fatigued? Or, strange to say, we may.know this fault if we know our natural virtues. Each person has certain natural, dispositions that ~on-stitute his own personal temperament; Among these traits, of character there is generally a dominant natural virtue that can be perfected by grace and be the foundation of sanctity.-. Thus the saints differ ~¢astly in their charac- TIMOTHY BROSNAHAN teristic virtues because in them grace did not destroy their individuality but perfected it. This distinctive natural virtue, besides being the foun-dation on which one can build his perfection, is also a clue to his faults: and from these faults it must be purified wben it is transformed into perfect virtue~ If we consider the cardinal virtues and the virtues connected with them, we ~shall find that the distinguishing mark of on.e person is natural prudence, of another self-restraint, of another courage, of another justice. But real virtue avoids excess or defect, is balanced and adjusted to other virtues. If a person has only one of these naturally virtuous character-istics, we may rightly say of him, "I fear a man of one v~rtue"; for truly, besides being very often a bore, he is not to be relied on in a situation of any complexity. He will. ride his natural virtue complacently and freely, when it should be bridled by other virtues. For instance, if your special trait of character is pru-dence, there is danger of your over-exercising it about some special need of body or soul and of falling habitually into the vice which is called "prudence of the flesh," which is" in reality distrust .of God's providence over you and a selfish regard for your own temporal well-being. Tl'iere is danger of your becoming unduly solicitous of your health, your reputation, of what you call your rights. There is danger of your becoming timid, overcautious, distrustful, crafty and politic in your dealing with your equals, your superiors, even with God and your own conscience, by habitually using indirect, underhand and. political means of bringing about your own designs. If your special trait of charadter is justice, honesty or fairdealing, as you may call'it, you are likely to confound truthfulness with undue frankness, to assume to yourself the .mission of showing up frauds, whether these be THE I~ARTICUL&R EXAMEN externs or fellow religious. Also, you are likely to act as if ¯ you had a special vocation to g6 about, hunting for an underdog to defend, though as often as not you get the dogs mixed up. You pride yourself on being an honest man; and as a consequence of this you are hard in your "dealings with others and harsh in your judgment of them. Your sense of justice has made you so upright that you dispense with prudence, humility, kindness, even -with justice itself. You are a knight without-fear, perhaps, but not without reproach. If fortitude is your special trait of character, you are apt to be bard to govern, OVer-bearing, self-willed, impa-tient, irascible, rash, and intolerant. In your. own judg-me~ it, of course, you have a "strong charact~)": yet. to others youare simply stubborn, hardheaded, and intract-able. If you are a teacher, your will must be law for your unfortunate pupils; your only idea of remedying their defects is to crush them into subjection or to get them expelled. If you are a prefect of. discipline, your ideal is not a parent dealing with children, but a policeman dealing with law-breakers; and. the young people who are under you are apt to leave the institution with very ugly .memories of it. If your characteristic virtue is temperance, perhaps you hav~ the defects of this virtue. Your self-restraint, gentle-ness, meekness, may degenerate into weaRness or coward-ice; and, rather than run the riskof disturbing the serenity of your temper, you will avoid duties that call for strength of character, or even cooperate with what is .wrong rather than incur,the criticism or displeasure of "others. The foregoing are the defects most likely ~o be associ-ated with imperfect hatural virtues. The elimination of these, defects is a necessary condition for°perfecting the 89 TIMOTHY BROSNAHAN ., virtue; and the particular examination of conscience is an-approved and effective method of elimihating such defects. 1Nlaturally, this mere removal of defects is not the ultimate goal of the examen; it is but a step towards union with and imitation of Christ in the positive practice_ of the supernatural virtues. Books Received (From December 20, 1942, to February 20, 1943) THE AMERICA PRESS. New York. Shinin9 in Darkness. New Edition by Francis. X. Talbot, $,J. $2.00. His Father's Business. By Robert F. Grewen, S.,I. $1.50. We Wish" rb See desus. By Paul L. Blakely, S.,I. $2.00. The Followin9 of Christi Trans-lated by 3osephMalaise, S.3. Purse Edition: New Printing. $1.50. B. HERDER BOOK CO., St. Louis. Chapters'in Religion. By Rev. Carlton A. Prindeville, C.M., S.T.D. $2.00.'~ The Our Father. 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Maryknoll Mission Letters. By Maryknoll Missionaries. $ .50. ,JOSEPH F.WAGNER, Inc., New York. The Better Life. By the Reverend Kilian ,J. Hennrich, O.F.M.Cap. $2.50. FROM COMPILER, 431 George Street, Braddock, Pa. " The Epistles and" Gospels. For the Sundays, Holydays, Various Intentions and Speci.al Occasions in the Catholic Church of the Greek Rite. Compiled by the Reverend ,Julius Grigassy, D.D. $1.50. 90 Hidden Saint of Nazareth 'Matthew Germing, S.J. THE p~erogatives of' St. Joseph, spouse of Mary and foster-father of our Lord Jesus Christ, were explained in an article that appeared in an early number of this REVIEw1. The purpose of the present article is to direct attention to certain traits of character in this great saint and to offer a few comments on some Of hi~ virtues. The character of a saint, like that of any other man, has its natural elements that have not a little to do with " his sanctity, often giving it a special form or cast or inten-sity in some specific direction. Holiness, we .know, does not destroy natural gifts. It purifies and elevates them, holds out worthy aims and motives, and directs natural ability into wholesome channels. We know a great deal of. the natural disposition.s of Saints Peter andPaul and John, because thb writers of the. New Testament tell us much of what these saints said and did. They tell Us very little, ~in any direct way, of St. Joseph. St. Matthew (1: 19) mentions that he was "a just man," which is the scriptural way of saying, that he was a virtuous man. The same evangelist indicates in connection with the above statement that he was not a m~in who. acted hastily or on impulse, by saying, "he thought on these things." Joseph therefore deliberated when face to face with importa.nt decisions. In this respect he was unlike the impetuous Peter. From these and a few Other brief expressions foti~d in the Gospel We reasonably infer that St. Joseph was natur-ally a rather quiet, silent, and unobtrusive man. He mo~'es ~t. Joseph°s Title~ to Religiou~ Hoaor by Aloysius C. I~emP~r, S.J., v01. I, i~1~.74-84. ¯ ." 91 MATTHEW GERMING through life unobserved. Not a single word of his is recorded in the Gospel narrative. This is quite remark-able in view of the position he held in the Holy Family. He reflects, he acts, he wonders, at the momentous events that happen in his family and in which he plays an important part, but he is never the spokesman (cf. Matthew 1: 19; 2: 14, 21-23; Luke 2: 33, 48). Indeed, ,Joseph's very silence might be thought-to account for the late growth of devotion to him in the Church. The first two or three centuries after the Apostles tell us nothing of St. ~loseph. His name is not found in the early calendar of the saints. However, this is suffi-ciently accounted foroby the circumstances that in the early centuries of the existence of the Church, only martyrs received public veneration. Some of the Fathers of the Church do indeed speak of him and his prerogatives, but beforeth.e, days of St. Bernard (1091-1153) devotion to St. ~losepb seems to bare been almost entirely of a private " character. A church was ~ledicated to his l'ionor for the first time in the West, in the year- 1129 at Bologna. His feast, though celebrated by local churches in the middle ages, was not placed in the Roman calendar .until the sec-ond half of the fifteenth-century. Thus Gospel-and tra-dit'ion combined to invest the spouse of Maryand devotion tO him with an atmosphere of obscurity and silence that . lasted over a thousand years and is strongly suggestive of the hidden life the great patriarch led while on earth. But the bumble ~loseph was not to remain in obscurity permanently in the life of Christ's Church on earth. God's ways have always been to exalt, in due time, him that humbles himself. For the past five hundred years devo-tion to the foster-father of our Lord has gone on increas-ing by leaps and bounds until today it stands in popu-larity next to that of the Mother of God herself. And, as 92 HIDDEN SAINT OF NAZARETH if the Church wished to make up for the late recognition he received in thedevotional life of the faithful, the. supreme Pontiff Pius IX made him Patron of the Univer-sal Church and accorded him a second feast to do him honor under the new title. There is much in the life and character of St. Joseph that does not lie on ~he surface,- but is discovered by reflec-tion on the scanty items the evangelists have recorded of him. If we take into account these few. items and with them the delicate demands of the position he had to fill in the lives of Jesus and Mary, we shall be convinced, I believe, that St. Joseph must have been a man of sensitive and profound faith and of constant devotion to prayer. Had he not been so, it is"scarcely conceivable that infinite Wisdom would have selected him for the office he held. On reading what is said of Joseph in the Gospel, we cannot fail to see that he was always docile and obedient to legitimate authority, no matter how its commands were made known to him. This obedience had its roots in faith. A deep faith that had developed into an ever-present sense of the fundamental truths of revelation was the dis-tinctive mark of ~11 the patriarchs of old, of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob and the rest. Strong characters these men were, and strong their faith and trust in God. So too was it with St. Joseph, who forms the connecting link betwedn the great saints of the old dispensation and those df the new. There was no weakness in him. Once the. will of God was .clear to him, he never hesitated. We see this illustrated at his very first appearance in the Gbspel nat- ' rative when an angel of the Lord bade him not to fear to take t6 himself Mary his wife. Again, his faith is mani-fest in the trying circumstances under Which .he traveled with.Mary to Bethlehem " in obedience to the decree of a pagan emperor, and in the command he received at night /V~ATT~-IEW GERMING ~to take the Child and his mother and fly into EgypL By faith hd saw God and God's will in the little duties of his life no less than in the important charges entrusted to him. Apart from a few ex, traordinary events, that life of his was, externally, a very ordinary one. His' daily ioutine at Nazareth was much like that of any other 3ew of the poorer class who was head of a small family. It consisted of his daily work as a carpenter, little deal.ings with the townspeople, his converse with 3esus and Mary, probably a little recreation at the end of the day, and the weekly Sabbath-day rest. Common and monotonous it was, one might say. So it would have been, had not the light and strength of faith been its animating principle. Faith in God permeated St. 3oseph's habit of thought, was his support and source of joy: God and His fatherly providence, the angels in their constant errands of mercy and love between heaven and earth, the souls of his saintly ancestors in the other world, the great spiritual truths revealed to the patriarchs and prophets, all these were as real to him as the sky over his head or the material house in which he lived with 3esus and Mary. By faith he knew that Mary was thd chosen spouse of the Holy Ghost, and that the Boy who daily lived in his presence, growing into manhood under his very eyes, ~vas the promised Messias, the very Son of God. ° He had heard-holy Simeon say: "Behold, this child is set. for the fall arid for the resurrection of many in Israel, and for a sign which shall be contradicted" (Luke 2: 34). The words never passed from 3o~eph's memory. He pondered their meaning. He thought of them when he saw the Child at prayer and at play, and later when he 'observed him at work and noted his ~ready and humble obedience, and the wisdom and grate that' became manifest with the passing years. To the purely human eyes of the neighbors, 94 HIDDEN SAINT. (~F NAZ,~RETH and even to "his brethren," Of whom the evangelist was to say later that they "did not believe in him," JeSus was just "the carpenter's son"; Mary, the mother of a some-what unusual young "man, nothing more. But to the supernaturally enlightened mind of St. Joseph, Jesus was the Redeemer of the .world, the long expected of. nations; Mary, the mother of the Son of God. . These were the mysteries in the midst of which JOseph moved and lived at Nazabeth. We have no natural means of ascertaining tee effects on his interior ,,life of this daily and hourly contact Wi~h the supernatural: Only the Holy. Ghost, through the power of His grace coupled with pray- 'erfUl consideration on our part, can reveal them to us. But ¯ we know that Joseph was a thoughtful, man, endowed with a reflective cast of mind. He prayed and meditated. And what is of much greater consequence, his soul,.was enriched with marvelous graces. This means that he had and"che.rished holy thou~16ts and desires, was the daily recipient of lights and inipirations from above, was ever growing and rnatfiring in holiness in the very noonday light of faith. Faith and the spirit of faith, thus highl~r developed in. the soul of the spouse of Mary, found their natural expres-sion in prayer: We said above that he must have been devoted to prayer; he was a man of prayer. In one sense, everyone must be a man of prayer. Prayer is a funda-mental duty of man. The reason is simple. Every intel-ligent being must worship God, that is, acknowledge his dependence on Him as the Creator and Lord of all things, and thi~ is prayer.Everyone must praise God, reverence His Holy Name, and this is prayer. All men must give thanks to God for the gifts and benefits they receive from His hands, must petition Him for help and grace, implore pardon for° their sins and infidelities, all of which is prayer. /V~IATTH EW GERMING :Prayer therefore is a duty incumbent on everyone, and to this extent everyone must be a man of prayer:. But when we say of St. Joseph that he was a man of prayer, we mean much more than that he fulfilled this ,genera[. and fundamental duty. We mean thathe put in ¯ . practice the scriptural exhortation to pray always, to pray without ceasing (Luke 18: I; I Thessalonians 5: 17), and he did so before either our Lord or St. Paul had explic-itly enjoined it. He lived in the spirit ,of prayer. The thoughts and sentiments of his heart were habitually directed to his Father in heaven in a conscious attitude of faith and hope and love, of praise and thanksgiving, of petition and oblation of himself and of all he did. This means muchmore than praying well at stated times of the day. 3oseph did that t6o, as did all God-lea.ring men in Israel. They were bound to do this. But St. Joseph made the whole day a prayer. Whether he was with ,Jesus and Mary in their house at Nazareth, or working at the carpenter's bench, or talking to a neighbor or customer, or trudging along the dusty road'on one of the three annual pilgrimages to the holy city, he bore himself with a composure and recollection that gave evidence of his prayerful soul. One may say, how could it have been ¯ otherwise? Was h~ not blessed with the companionship of Jesus and Mary? Very true. He saw and touched . what the patriarchs and prophets before him had longed to see and had not seen. And yet, he lived by faith and received the reward of faith. With his ,bodily eyes he beheld Jesus, the Son of Mary: by. faith he believed that this same Jesus was the Son of the living God. Certainly, the wondlerful circumstances in which St.~ Joseph lived at Nazareth were most favorable to prayer and piety and to holiness of life in general.Cath-olics in the world of the twentieth century will probably 96 ~' HIDDEN SAINT OF NAZ~.RETH -say the same. thing of the circumstances in which, religious live in their several communities today; and if they do, they are right. A great happiness.and a fertile opportun-ity for sanctification it is to live in a house in which our Lord dwells. But we must remember that while it is a privilege and a grace, it .is also a responsibility. The ques-tion whetherwe are profiting.by this'opportunity as well as 2oseph profited by the blessing that was his while he lived under the same roofas Jesus and Mary is a matter that desdrves our frequent consideration. We can be cer-tain that he availed himself in full measure of the holy example of the Blessed Virgin to bdcome more like to her 'in angelic purity of heart, in modesty of demeanor and, most of all,in ardent love for God and man. He was an apt .subject f0rlearning from the Immaculate Virgin and her divine Son. He was humble, single-minded in out-look, silent and recollected, docile to the inspirations of the Holy Ghost. He was the head of the Holy Family. In legal form and rank, the order of precedence-was Joseph, Mary, Jesus. But in respect to holiness of life, the order was the reverse, thus: Jesus, Mary, Joseph. These three represented the highest summit of holiness ever attained, or possible of attainment on earth~by any-individual or a group of individuals. They may be said to h'ave consti-tuted the first religious community in the Church, St. Jo-seph being the Superior; and they set up a singularly high ideal of perfection for the imitation of all succeeding com-munities. Dail~r prayer is an essential function or practice of every religious community. Among the Jews the recital of set prayers, whether in the family circle or in the syna-gogue, was chiefly the duty of men. Women and children joined in. It may appear astounding, but it is true that we are in possession of a prayer which was said by St. Joseph MATTHEW GERMING twice every day, morning and evening, from the time he was able to read until the day of his death.~ It is an inspired prayer, taken from the' books of Deuteronomy and Num-bers2. and was the first prayer taught to Jewish children. The opening verses read as follows: Hear, 0 Israel, The Lord our God i~ one Lord. Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart, And with thy whole soul, and with thy whole s,trength, And these words which I command thee this day Shall be in thy heart, And thou shalt tell them to thy children, And thou shalt meditate upon them sitting in thy house And walking on thy journey, Sleeping and rising. And thou shalt bind them as a sign on thy band, And they shall bd and shall move between thy . eyes. And thou shalt write"them in the entry " And on the doors of thy house. The recitation of this prayer twice a daymthe entire ;~.~prayer Consists of sixty-one linesmwas obligatory on. all the men in Israel, and it is thought that our Blessed Lord Himself said it regularly. The great commandment of 1ov~ is stated and then.emphasized by an injunction that calls for frequent, if not continual meditation on its con-tents-- the obligation of centering all one's thoughts and desires and love on God our Creator and Lord. No doubt ~-Deuteronomy 6: 4-9;" 11: 13-21; Numbers 15: 37-41. On this whole subject cf. Willam: MarF the Mother of Jesus, translated by Eckhoff. p. 143, ft. 98 HIDDEN SAINT OF NAZARETH there were God-fearing J~ws all over the world who made a serious effort to comply with. this precept.~ This i~ pre-cisely what we have supposed St. Joseph did habitually in the course bf his every-day life. He furnishes religious of every order and congregation a perfect pattern of prayer, and not only of prayer, but of every kind df virtue. We must not fail to take into account the fact that St. Joseph was'a workman. He handled the implements of daily toil, enjoyed little or no leisure, was industrious and contente.d with his occupation. Work is the law of life. It absorbs a. multitude of troubles, mental and physi.- cal. Many people would be more happy if they worked more and talked less, in imitation of our saint. He spent his days in hard work, in poverty, obscurity, and prayer, and in this way fulfilled admirably the duties God had laid upon him. At the present time it is almost taken for granted that great things can be accomplished only by means of wealth and position and influence with the mighty. So it is with the material ~nterprises of this world. But in the realms of the spiritual, .earthly norms are reversed. God often chooses men destitute of the means which, humanly speaking, ma~e for success and through them achieves great spiritual results; "that no flesh should glory in hissight" (1Cor. 1: 28). He did this in the case of St. Joseph, the Cur~ of Ars, Th~r~se of Lisieux. It is true that in many other instances our Lord has deigned to make use of the services of men and women of outstanding natural ability and varied human acquirements for the spread of His kingdom on earth and the glory of Hi~ Holy Name. But in all such cases natural endowments were accompanied by a high degree of the love of God and' of prayer, profound humility and obedience. These are the virtues that make for the success which alone counts in the eyes of God. MATTHEW GERMING In these dreadful times, religious may well turn with increased devotion to the patron of the universal Church and implore his intercession. By fervent prayer to him and by the practice of the lowly virtues of humility, obedience, and poverty that distinguished his career on earth they have it in their power to .do much for the cause of Christ and His Church and for the spiritual and temporal wel-fare of millions of souls. Pamphle÷ Notices The Maryknoll Bookshelf, Maryknoll, New York, publishes four catalogues of mission plays and appropriate musical selections that you might find intere.sting. The catalogues are listed as follows: Book I: Mission Plags for Children (3 cents) ; Book II: Mission Plags for Young People (6 cents) ; Book III: Mission Plags [or Col-lege Groups and Adults (8 cents) ; Book IV: Musical Selections Suit-able for Mission Plag Programs (3 cents). Write to: Marykn011 Bookshelf, Maryknoll, New York. Concerning Mail We are doing our best to get the REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS to you on time. But postal delays are almo.~t inevitable these dhys, especially in regard to second class mail. We want you to notify us when you do not receive your copy of the REVIEW, but, in view of the transportation difficulties, we ask you to wait a week or two beyond the normal time for receiving your copy of the REVIEW before yoti write to us. 100 Superiors and Manit:estation oJ: Conscience Adam C. Ellis, S.J. FROM early Christian times it was customary .for those who wished to attain to perfection to seek out a ma-ture and experienced guide with whom they could treat of spiritual things and .to whom they revealed the secrets of their souls so that he might give them wise and practical direction. Thus, many hermits in thel deserts of Egypt, upon le.arning of the holiness of St. Anthgny, moved their cells to that part of the desert where he dwelt, in order that they might have the benefit of his spiritual direction. When the first monasteries, or groups of monks living in common, were established, the Father Abbot was also the spiritual guide of his subjects, ,who freely made known to him their anxieties and spiritual problems. Thus, by custom, the practice of manifestation of conscience was introdu&d into the religious life and eventually became a matter of obligation in. many institutes. Meaning of Manifestation To manifest one's conscience means to reveal to another person the inner state of.one's Soul in order to obtain advice and guidance regarding the doubts and difficulties of the spiri.tual life. The phrase, "inner ~tate of one's soul," com- .prises not only one's fault~, bu.t also the various inclinations one experiences towards both good and evil, the trials and temptations one must undergo, the difficulties encountered in the practice of virtue, the inspirations and good desires one has received from God. From this description it will be seen that the purpose of manifestation ofconsdence differs from that of Sacramental Confession. The essential purpose of confession is the for- 101- ADAM C. ELLIS giveness of sins: the principal aim of manifestation is spir-itual direction." In other words, one.gives the director a complete and clear insight into ,his ioul, so that the director may help him to correct his faults, 6vercome his evil ten-dencies, correspond with the inspirations of grace, and prac-tice virtue more effectively. This difference of purpose does not mean, of course, that the account of conscience need be separated from con-fession. It can be made in or out of confession. When made in confession, it becomes a natural supplement to the so-called confession oi~ devotion and supposes a regular con-fessor who also fills the role of spiritual director. Usefulness of Manifestation All spiritual writers admit the beneficial effects of the account of conscience when given freely and sincerely. It has always been ~ecognised as one of the principal means to progress in the spiritual life, no~ only for religious, but for persons living in the world as well. It is the neces.sary pre-lude to enlightened spiritual guidance. In worldly matters it is normally considered a wise thing to consult others. We give our family doctor'a sincere account of our. bodily ailments, as well as of any s.ymptoms which may help him to understand our physical condition better. In every-day business matters we consult our lawyer to be certain, that .our actions do not fall afoul of the law, as well as to pro-tect our rights. How much more eagerly, then, should we seek counsel in the matters of highest importance, those of the soul? Moreover, the most enlightened spiritual director V.dll be very much limited in his direction, unless his con-sultant gives him an intelligent insight into the state of his soul. -But all good things can be abused. And the fact that the practice of manifestation of conscience was made obliga- 102 MANIFESTATION OF ('~ONSCIENCE tory i~y rule in many lay institutes did ,give rise to such abuses, since all the necessary safeguards are not at hand in the ~ase of lay superiors. Pope Leo XIII issued a decree on thissubject on Deeember 17, 1890 (Quemadmodum),in which he ~mentioned three such abuses: lay superiors required,, directly or indirectly, avowals which by their nature belonged to the tribunal of penance; they restricted too much the freedom 0f going to confession; and they reserved to themselves, in the matter of receiving Holy Communion, a direction which belongs for the most part to the confessor. To remedy these abuses, the Pope forbade all lay supe-riors (both Brothers and Sisters) to induce their subjects to give their intimate manifestation of conscience to them. He also ordered deleted from all constitbtions; directories, and custom books of all lay orders and congregations of both sexes every direction pertaining to the intimate manii~esta-tion of heart and consclence to lay superiors. In 1901 this prohibition was extended by the Sacred .Congregation of Bishops and Regulars to masters and mistresses of novices" in lay institutes (Normae, N. 79). Finally, in 1917 the Code of Canon Law extended the prohibition to all reli-gious superiors, even to those who are priests. Does this mean that in modern times, the Church has changed her mind in regard to the value of manifestation of conscience for religious? A careful study of canon 530 will give us the .answer. "All religlous superiors are strictly forbidden to induce their subjects, ih any way whatever, to make a manlfesta÷ion of, conscience to ÷hem {c.anon 530, § I). "Subjects, however; are not forbidden to open their minds freely and spontaneously to their superiors: nay more, it is desirable that they. approach their superiors with filial confidence, and, i.f the sup6rlors be priests, expose to them their doubts and troubles of conscience also (canon 530, § 2)." 103 ADAM C. ELLIS Explahation of the Law All reli~Tious super.lots are forbidden: The term supe-riors must be understood here to include those to whom, the Code gives that title, that is to say, those who govern, the institute, its provinces, and its individual houses, as well as those who take their places, s6ch as visitors, vice-provincials, vice-rectors, and the priors of abbeys. To induce their subjects in ang manner'whatsoever: The term subjects includes not only the professed reli-gious, but novices and postulants as well, since they are subject to the domestic power of the superior, oT6 induce in.ang wag whatever, is a summary statement of what the decree of Leo XIII (Quemadmodum, n. 2) gave in detail: "His Holiness formally forbids superiors, both men and women, of whatever rank or preeminence, to seek, directly or indirectly, by precept, counsel, intimidation, threats, or flattery to induce their subjects to make the said manifes-tation of conscience to them." Superiors may not, there-fore, show a marked preference for those of their subjects who do freely and spontaneously give them an account of their conscience, nor may they treat with ic01dness those subjects who refrain from giving such an account. The law does not forbid superiors to inquire delicately concerning the reasons for the sadness or trouble that they see afflicting their subjects. To make such inquiries may at times be an obligation of charity; b.ut the superior must be careful not to insist if he sees that the subject prefers not to explain the source of his condition. To matte a manifestation of conscience to them: We have already explain.ed that manifestation of conscience means the revelation of the inner state of one's soul. It does no~ include the chapter of faults, customary in many insti-tutes, because this is limited to external faults and to vio-lations of the constitutions that can be noticed by others. 104 ~NIFESTATION OF CONSCIENCE N~r does it include the canonical visitation of religious made by their own °religious superiors, as prescribed by canon 51 l, because the object of the visitation is external government (cf. canons 513 ands618, § 2, 2°). ' , Subjects, however, are not forbidden to open their minds freely and spontaneously to their superiors: What ~s forbidden by the law is all force or inducement on the-part of the superior, not the free and spontaneous manifes-tation made by the shbject. Nay more, it is desirable that they approach their supe-riors with filial confidence: Hence it is not only.licit for a religious to make a manifestation of conscience to-his superior, provided he does so freely and spontaneously, but it is recommended as ~sometbing desirable. There should exist between superior and subject that fine rela-tionship which exists in the model family between parent and child. What is more natural than that a son or daughter go to father or mother for advice in time of.doubt or trial? Similarly a religious will usually find a sympa-thetic counselor and a prudent guide in the person of his superior, especially in regard to the spirit of his institute and the proper understanding of the rules and constitutions. The superior has the added advantage of knowing his sub-ject, at least from his external conduct, a point of view which the confessor often lacks. This filial confidence in superiors is necessary and help-ful ~n other matters as well: Superiors are human beings; they can and do make mistakes occasionally. Misunder.- standings may arise, which can be cleared up easily if a religious has the good sense to go to his superior 'and talk matters over with him. On his part a religious may fail by avoiding his superior. If this be the case, it is difficult to see how mutual confidence ca~i exist. The probabilities are that the superior will not know his subject, while the 105 ADAM C, ELLIS latter will be inclined to criticise his superior, or at least grumble because he is misunderstood. The only remedy for such a situation lies in a frank unburdening of his mind to the superior. He will find that the superior will be relieved to find outthe true state of things; and superior and subject will become better acquainted with each other for their mutual benefit. It is desirable that, if the superiors be priests, the!t expose to them their doubts and troubles of conscience also. We have just seen that, in a general way, the Church recommends the voluntary manifestation of one's con-science to the superior. However, in regard to "doubts and troubles of conscience," the Code makes an important qualification~ It positively encou.rages religious to mani-fest even these to priest superiors; regarding lay superiors, it does not positively .recommend such intimate manifes-tation, though it does not forbid it. What is meant by "doubts and troubles of con-science"? The expression certainly includes all doubts hnd anxieties concerning sins. It seems also to include other questions of c~nscience which, because of their diffi-culty, importance, or .uncertainty, require the help of one who is well-versed in moral and ascetical theology--a quality that may be lacking even in very holy lay supe~ ¯ riots. If their superiors are priests, religious are recom-mended by the Churchoto give them their fullest.confidence in all matters pertaining to their spiritual life. Every-thing else being equal, they will find no more sympa-thetic friend and prudent counselor than him who has only the best interests of each individual member of his community at heart and who, as a priest, is the repre-sentative of the Master of the Spiritual Life, Who came that men may bare life, and havre it more abundantly. 106 If the superior is not a. priest, he should remember that the Church does not encourage subjects to give an account of their doubts and troubles of conscience to him. Hence, ordinarily he will advise the subject who wishes to do so to consult his confessor or .spiritual director in these particu-lar matters. On the other hand, he should gladly receive the spontaneous manifestations made by a subject regard-ing other matters of the interior life. This is quite in accord with the mind of the Church, provided always that the subject does so voluntarily, without any urging or coercion on the part of the superior.~ When subjects come freely and spontaneously to the superior to give him an account of conscience, he should receive them with fatherly kindness, listen patiently and at length, and question them Prudently in order to obtain all the information necessary to give them wise .counsel: and direction. Both superiors anal subjects should remem-ber that all matters talked of in manifestation of con-science are safeguarded by the highest kind of professional secrecy, though not by the sacramental seal, unless it hap-pens that the superior is a priest, and the subject mani-fests his conscience to him by actually confessing to him. Novice-Master and Manifestation The.mas~er (mistress) of novices is not a superior in the canonical sense. For this reason, commentators on canon 530 are not agreed that the prohibition of this canon applies to him., Despite this controversy, it is certain that' he cannot demand of his novices a manifestation of such things as normally pertain to the Sacrament of Penance. In the case of a lay master of novices, the decree Quemad-modum denounced this as a grave abuse and the Normae, N. 79, explicitly forbade it.As for priests, the Code even forbids them to hear .the confessions of their novices 107 ADAM C. ELLI, S except in certain special cases (c.891); it is evident, there-fore, that they may not demand such intimate revelations outside of confession. Nevertheless, the ,master of novices must ha~e some rights of inquiry. He alone has the right and obligation of providing for the formation of the novices; he alone is charged w.ith the direction of the novitiate(c. 561). Under t~is personal guidance, the canonical year of novi-tiate has for its object the forming of the mind of the nov-ice by means of the study of the rule and constitutions, by pious meditations and assiduous prayer, by instruction on those matters, which pertain to the vows ~ind the virtues, by suitable exercises in r.ooting out the germs of vi,.ce, in regulating the motions of the soul, in acquiring v,rtues (c. To attain these objects of the novitiate, there must be mutual confidence between master and novice;' and the novice master must be free to inquire about things which pertain to his office and do not border on confessional mat-ter. Such objects of licit inquiry would be: one's reactions to. his brethren and common life; his progress in prayer; attraction to certain kinds of spirituality; qualifications for certain offices; difficulties with the rule, and so forth. The novice, on his part, will best prepare himself to become a fervent religious by being frank and open with the master, whose only task is to train him in the way of the religious life as outlined in the rules and constitutions of the institute. 108 The Divine Prie t:ly Vocation James T. Meehan, S.J. WHAT is a vocation to the priesthood? The frequent repetition of this question, together with questions about the r.eligious life,, is the natural accompani-ment and aftermath of vocation week. In REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS for January (II, p. 25), Father Risk indicated clearly the essentials of a vocation to the.religious life. The present article is concerned with outlining the approved Catholic notion of a vocation to the priesthood. Different Theories From the seventeenth century to our own the general idea was that vocation exclusively concerned God and the individual soul of a candidate. Others must leave every-thing to the inspirations of the Holy Spirit. If God wanted a boy for the priesthood, God would call him in a secret but unmistakably plain manner. No one should interfere in the process. No one should presume to direct a young man into the priesthood for fear of intruding some-one who did not have a divine call. Early in the twentieth century occurred a change in vocation thought. Vocation, according to the new opinion, is not a secret process in its entirety. In fact, the principal element is not the least bit secret. The principal element in vocation:is the public, official, canonical invitation issued by ecclesiastical authority. This public call, together with the actual rite of ordination, constitutes one as called by God, "as Aaron was," with a divine vocation. Advocates of this idea found support in the important Roman decision1 of June 20, 1912, which states: "1) No .!Acta Apostolicae Sedis, IV, p. 485. Kempf's translation of ~'ermeersch: Religious and Ecclesiastical Vocation, Herder, 1925, p. 26. " 109 JAMES T. MEEHAN one ever has any right t0.ordination antecedently to the free. choice of the bishop. °2)The requisite on the part of the one to l~e ordained, which requisite is called sacerdotal voca-tion, does not consist, at least necessarily and ordinarily, in a certain inclination of the subject or-in inducements of the Holy Spirit to enter the priesthood. 3) On the contrary, in order that one may be rightly called by the bishop, nothing further is necessary than the right intention together with fitness (based on the .gifts of natureand of grace and sufficiently confirmed by a good life and the required learning), which give well-founded hope that he will be able to fulfill the duties of the sacerdotal state properly and observe the obligations of that state holily." One would think that this decree should settle the question. Yet the older notion of inner attraction would not easily down. Some authors tried to reconcile the two theories by saying that the call of the bishop referred to external ritualism but that the inner call was presupposed. Others held that the call of the bishop concerned the external.government of the Church, while the interior call belonged to the sphere of conscience. Today, of course, all writers'are agrded in accepting 1) suitability, 2) right intention an~l 3) canonical call as the dements of a divine priestly vocation. But there remain a gre.at number of excellent priests and religious who still-hesitate about sug- ~gesting the priesthood to likely boys. Reflection on the origin and growth of their own vocations complicates the matter. Perhaps not a few such priests and religious are convinced--and rightly so--that they followed the higher call under the inspiration of a special favor from God. It seems almost that God had drawn them forcibly and irresistibly to this life work by a spe.cial attraction, an infier divine.call, which they dared not resist. In order to clear away obscurities and relieve the hesitancy of such" 110 DIVINE PRIESTLY VOCATION .per.sons a. brief historical treatment is in order. Before the seventeenth century no mention is made of the priestly vocation in the sense of an interior call. The priesthood was a public office. Its members were recruited according to need by the ruling bishops. Young men of sufficient knowledge and piety were trained, somewhat after the manner of apprentices, in the cathedral rectories. In due time they advanced to the priesthood through the several stages of minor and.major orders. The notion of a neces-sary interior call would have struck those ages as a novelty. The Council ot: T~ent Theoretically, certain qualifications of learning and virtue were always demanded; yet, long before the Coun-cil of Trent, grave abuses in this matter had crept into the Church. Especially grave was the selling of the priest-hood, abbacies .and prelacies, or the granting of such dig-nities as court fa-Cors. Trent ifisisted on the personal quali-fications of candidates. We find these qualifications suc-cinctly expressed in the Catechism of the Council of Trent, written at the express command of Pope Paul V. Here we read: "The burden of this great office should not be rashly imposed on anyone, but is to be conferred on those only who by their holiness of life, their knowledge, faith and prudence, are able to bear it.''2 So far, so good! Yet, fitness and interior dispositions, which all consider as necessary prerequisites of a vocation, gradually gave way to an interior divine call of a special sort as the essential criterion of vocation. Why was this special interior call demanded? For answer we turn to the condition of the Church in seventeenth-century France, cradle of the new theory. The reform decrees of Trent were welcomed in 1573 2Translation by MeHugh and Callan,p. 318, Wagner, New York, 1923. 111 JAMF~ T. MEEH~N by the Assembly of French Clergy,, who petitioned the king for the erection of seminaries in accord with the intentions of the Council. 'However, France was being torn apart by the bloody Huguenot wars. The Church was ba.dly dis-organize. d and demoralized. Twenty-eight episcopal sees had no.bishops. In 1595 matters were even worse. After "r~conciling Henry ~IV with Rome, the Papal Legate Wrote that only forty-three out of one hundred and forty dioceses had .bishops. And of that paltry number few were intelli-gent. They were lax in the conferring of Orders. ¯ Hence many priests were ill-prepared, too young, ignorant, or ordained without proper canonical titles. Seminaries su¢h as we have today were simply non-existent. Saint Vincent de Paul suggested the first remedy for this deplorable condition, namely, eight-clair retreats later extended to three months---consisting of an hour's lecture in the morning on the principal points of theology and a similar evening lecture on prayer, virtues, and qualities of the priest. Small, informal discussions throughout the day supplemented the lectures. Priests in charge of these so-called retreats were anxious that only fit subjects be pro-moted 'to Orders. Yet how" eliminate the unfit? To solve this knot.ty problem, vocation was gradually given a new meaning. No longer did it mean the active call of a bishop but the passive reception of a special inner experience in the soul of a candidate. In due course this experience was labeled as "divine vocation by attraction," and still later it. became the focus of the attraction theory of vocation. Unless the candidate experienced such an attraction and proved ~t tothe satisfaction of the seminary,he should not be ordained. Here we have an ingenious device to weed out unworthy candidates. With it bishops could gracef~ully dismiss such persons, even despite the insistence of rich and powerful ]~enefactors. 112 DIVINE PRIESTLY VOCATION The "'Attraction" Tbeorg Now for one word' of caution before explaining the attraction theory. Note that attraction can be taken to mean: 1) the definite, continuous inclination, let us say, to become a priest; 2) the phenomenon of a more or less mystical experience of God palpably, as it were, drawing the soul to a higher life. Certainly attraction in the first sense Often plays quite a pa.rt in one's choice of vocation. Talents, education, family background, reading, personal observation, or even some chance conversation may arouse such an attraction for any life work. Provided one's qualifications are such as give prudent hopes of success in a w6rk, the attraction towards that work is a good sign that one will do well in it. So much for attraction in the ordinary sense. But what about its function in the attrac-tion theory of vocation? For a priestly vocation, proponents of the attraction theory demanded the extraordinary. Since this is a pecu-liarly divine work, one must take special care to investigate the divine decrees. He must be assured of his election to the work by more than human prudence. He must have a peculiarly divine sign that. he is called. One must be attracted by a special inclination, a special invitation of the Holy Ghost. Authors speak of this special attraction in various ways. They call it a sweet impulse of grace, an interior sentiment, an inward, deep, lasting, constant, strong, abiding force. M. Olier called it a "movement of God who carries the whole soul and inclines it to this divine profession, not by sentiment, nor different starts and jumps, but by His dominion descending to the roots of the soul in stable and unchanging consistency.''8. This is a cardinal point in the theory: divine vocation was dis- -tinct from the qualifications of suita, bility and right inten- 8Quoted by Lahitton, in La Vocation Sacerdotale, Paris, 1914, p. 6. 113 JAMES T. MEEHAN tion. It came prior to the~bishop's call in the name of God. It was. required in addition to what the Church " demands for valid and licit ordination. Seminary direc-tors had to investigate this "vocation" and make sure of its authenticity. The True Catholic Notion Against this theory of "inner" .vocation stands the Roman Decision of 1912,. quoted towards the beginning of this article. In the same~year an Italian Catechism of Pope Pius X stated that."nobody can enter orders of his own will but he ought to be called by God by means of his own bishop, that is, he ought to have a vocation with the virtues and aptitudes required for the sacred ministry." Inthis catechism vocation is equated with call by the bishop, after the bishop has become, convinced of the vir-tue and aptitudes of the candidate. Pope Pius XI in 1935 ¯ issued his glorious e.ncyclical on the Catl4olic Pri.esthood. Thereifi we read that "a true priestly vocation.is not established so much by some inner feeling or devout attrac-tion, which may sometimes be absent or hardly percep-tible; but rather by a right intention in the aspirant, together with a combination of physical, intellectual and moral qualities which make him fitted for such a state of life. He must look to the priesthood solely from the noble motive of consecrating himself to the service of God and the salvation of souls; he must likewise have, or at least strive to acquire,, solid piety; perfect purity of life and sufficient knowledge, as We have explained . Thus he shows that he ,is called by God to the priestly state." .To sum up, we may say that there are three approved ways of considering or speaking of vocation to the priest-hood. The vocation may be: 1) Germinal; or 2) Inte-rior: or 3) Canonical. 114 DIVINE PRIESTLY VOCATION 1) Germinal vocatio~ is mentioned in canon 1353. ¯ 'Here we read that "priests, especially pastors, must make special efforts to preserve boys who show signs of an ecclesiastical vocation from the contagions of the world, to form them in piety, to initiate them in the study of let-ters, and to foster in them the germof a divine vocation." FatherVermeersch tells us that this germof vocation means the dispositions, inclinations, and actions which give pru-dent hope that the boy is or Will become suitable and.that he is not altogether opposed to the idea of the priesthood, It is evident that parents, teachers, confessorsand others would do a glorious work for the Church by awakening ambitions to the priesthood in such boys. 2) Interior vocation goes a step beyond the germinal stage. It consist~ essentially in this, that a young man is able and willing to assume the office of the. priesthood if the Church will accept him. Evidently the grace of God is present; but it need not .manifest itself in any extra-ordinary way. In practice, there is sufficient sign of a real interior vocation in the following case. The time comes when a youth must make up his own mind about his work in life. He needs information about the requirements and opportunities~ of. several occupa-tions. He must consider them in the light of his owri tal-ents and .inclinations. He must-weigh befoie God the pros and cons of entering upon a definite life-work. If he is wise, be will seek advice that is sympathetic and expert. Above all, if he is thinking seriously of the priesthood, he may need the guidance of a regular confessor for several months in order to gain some assurance that h~ can qu'alify for Holy.Orders. If, after prudently ~onsidering his case, the confes~o/judges the penitent is suitable, then the lat-ter may make up .his own mind and calmly apply for admission to a seminary. If he measures up to entrance 115 JAMES T. MEEHAN standards and is received, his very admission to the semi-nary gives him a relative and provisional certainty of ¯ vocation. If he makes the.seminary course creditably and continues in his conviction that he is fitted for the work, he may make his final decision to become a priest. One who acts in this way knows as surely as he can know any-thing of the future that God is giving and Wiil continue give him all the graces necessary for the .worthy reception ,of this great Sacrament. 3) Canonical:vocation is the external call to the priest-hood which comes towards the end of long preparation. During the years.of training .the candidatehas developed in virtue as w~ll as learning. He has fulfilled all the. require.ments of Church legislation to the satisfaction 6f seminary directors. He has given proofs of his suitability for the great privilege and work of the priesthood. Then only does he receive his divine priestly vocation, which is initiated by an official notification that he is to be ordained, and which is completed by the actual co.nferring of the ¯ Sacrament through the hands of the ordaining prelate. Vocation Booklet Father Thomas Bowdern of the Creighton University, is a worried desu(t! He wrote a thesis on vocations and published his main conclusions in a little booklet entitled Ji Study of Vocations. We recommended the booklet in the, November, 1942, number of the REVIEW. Many of our readers wrote to Father Bowdern for copies. He mailed the copies; but one package was returned to him. The label was missing; hence, he does not know whom he has involuntarily defrauded. Hence the -.worry;. If you wrote for booklets and didn't get them, please notify Father Bow-dern. Incidentally, we may add that.Father Bowdern still has a limited supply of the booklets. Price: 10 cents a copy. Address: Rev. Thomas S. Bowdern, S.ff., The Creight~n University, Omaha, Nebraska. 116 THE following booklist, together with the list previously pfib-fished (Cf. Vol. I, p. 105) presents a fair cross-section of the best sl~iritual writers and their works in the English language. Almost every spiritual topic is represented. No doubt, there are some omissions and there will not be full agreement on certain particular selections. However, it is hoped the lists, as they stand, will be of some assistance in building up the spirituaFlibrary. A word about the Scriptures. The Bible is, in a way, the spir-itual book par excellence, which every religious should know .thor~ oughly, especially the New Testament. To this end a good com-mentary is invaluable--such as the Scripture Manuals of Madame Cecilia, the commentary of Fathers Callan and McHugh, or the one recently published under the auspices of the Confraternity of Chris-tian Doctrine to accompany the revised edition of the New Testa-ment. The Old Testament will lose some of its formidableness if it is approached through selections such as are found in Mothe~ Mary Eaton's "The Bible Beautiful or ArChbishop Goodier's The Bible for Every Day. I prefer, howevdr, in my lists, to. classify the Bible as primarily a meditation book, or rather, as the meditation book, to which the religious should return again and again for the light and encouragement needed to carry out his sublime destiny. --- AUGUSTINE KLAAS, S.J. ANONYMOUS The Secrets of the Religious Life, edited by the Rev. Oliver Dolphin. (A sparkling gem of wisdom three hundred ¯ years old.) ARNOUDT, P. J., S.J, (1865) The lmitbtion of the Sacred Heart of desus. (Written in the manner of Thomas ~ Kempis) ATHANASIUS, SAINT (3 7 3) St. Anthony the Hermit, translated by J. B. McLaughl.in. (The life and spiritual message of the patriarch of all religious. ) 117 RECOMMENDED SPIRITUAL BOOKS BAINVEL, JEAN V., S.J. (1937) The Devotion to the Sacred Heart. (The most complete sys-tematic treatise on the subject.) BEAUDENOM, L. (1916) The Path of Humility. Spiritual Progress. 2 vols. ., These excellent books are published anonymously in English. The latter work treats of the progressive use of Confession and Spiritual Direction. *-BENSON, MSGR. ROBERT HUGH (1914) The Friendship of Chribt. Christ in His Church. Paradoxes of Catholicism. BUCKLER, HENRY REGINALD, O.P. Spiritual Perfection through Charity. Spiritual Instruction on Religious Life. Spiritual Considerations. Spiritual Retreat. All are s61id and substantial. CAUSSADE, JEAN PIERRE DE, S.J. (1751 ) Self-abandonment to Divine Providence. Spiritual Letters. , Corn:oft in Ordeals. Ordeals of Souls. Progress in Prayer. The Workings of the Divine Will. The classic writer on abandonment to the will of God. OHAUSZ, OTTO, S:,J. (1939) The Priest and Saint Paul. Light and Shadow in Religious ~'fe. CONSIDINE, DANIEL, S.J. (1923) The Virtues of the Di'vine Child. Con~dence in God. Delight in the Lord. Words o:. Encouragement. EATON, ROBERT, OR. The Sanctuary of Strength. The Ministry of Reconciliation. In Newness ofLife. Divine Refreshme~. The Sword of the Spirit. " The Man of Sorrows. The Garden of God. The Forty Days - " EHL, ANTON The Spiritual Direction of Sisters, translated b)r Felix M. Kitsch, O.F.M.CAP. (A valuable book for superiors.) 118 RECOMMENDED SPIRITUAL BOOKS ELLARD, GERALD, S.d. Christian Life and Worship. (A fine sketch of the liturgical backgrounds bf spirituality.) EYMARD, BLESSED PETER JULIAN (1868) The Divine Eucharist. 4 vols. (A Eucharistic saint writes on his favorite topic.) FENNELLY, BERNARD, C.S.SP. Follow Me. (A comprehensive study of the religious vows from, the canonical and spirit.ual viewpoints.) FILLION, LOUIS C., S.S. (1927) The Life of Christ. 3 vols. (Critical, scholarly, and very read-able. ) FROGET, BARTHELEMY, O.P. Thd Indwelling of the Holy Spirit in the Souls of the Just. (A classic treatise on the supernatural psychology of the soul. Bede 3arrett, O.P., has summarized and adapted it in his "Abiding Presence_ of the Holy Ghost.") GERTRUDE, SAINT (1302 ?) The Exercises of St. Gertrude. Love of the Sacred Heart. The True Prayers of St. Gertrude and St. Mechtilde. GIRARDEY, FERREOL, C.SS.R. (1930) Conference Matter for Religious. 2 vols. (This compilation contains a mine of material for the supe'rior's periodic instructions.) GIRAUD, S.M., M.S. (1885) ~ The Spirit of Sacrifice, edited by Herbert Thurston, S.J. GROU, JEAN NICHOLAS, S.J. (1803) How to Prag. Manual for Interior Souls. The Interior of desus and Mary. 2 vols. The Characteristics of True Devotion. Meditations on the Love of God. Self-Consecration. The School of desus Christ. Spiritual Maxims. HILL, OWEN, S.J. (1930) Cbarit~l and Our Three Vows. 119 RECOMMENDED SPIRITUAL BOOKS JAEGHE'R, PAUL DE, S.J. One wi?h Jesus. The Virtub of Trust. An Anthologg Of Mgst'icism. JARRETT, BEDE, O.P. (1934) The Religious Life. (An attractive brief history of the develop-ment of religious life.) KEMPF, JOSEPH G. New Things and Old. (A psychological treatment of some important aspects Of the religious life.) LAI, GAETANO CARDINAL DE (1928) The Pas'sion of Our Lord. The Real Presence of Jesus Christ in the Eucharist. LEHEN, E. DE, S.J. (1867) The Wag .of Interior Peace. (For the scrupulous.) LEHODEY, ABBOT VITAL, O.C.R. " The Wags of Mental Prager. (One of the °best treatises on the subject.). Hol~t Abandonment. LEPICIER, ALEXIS HENRY CARDINAL (1936). Our Father. Jesus Christ the King of Our Hearts. The Mgsterg of Love. The Eucharistic Priest. The Fairest Flower of Paradise. Behold Thg Mother. Go to Joseph. LESSlUS, VENERABLE LEONARD, S.J. Virtues Awakened. .: Names of God. (This work will help one's knowledge of God.) MASSON,YVES E., O.P. The Christian Life and the Spiritual Life. ascetical theology.) MASTER OF NOVICES The Presence of God. Novices of Our Lord. Both are popular books in novitiates. MCELHONE, JAMES F., C.S.C. Particular Examen. (1623) immensely to deepen (An introducti6n to 1'20 RECOMMENDED SPIRITUAL BOOKS MCNABB, VINCENT, O.P. The Science of Prayer. The Craft of Prayer. The Craft o'f Suffering. Mary of Nazareth. MAUMIGNY, RENE DE, S.J. (1918) The Practice of Mental Prayer. helpful treatise.) MERCIER, D. CARDINAL (1926) Retreat to Priests. God's Way of Mercy. God's Good Cheer. The Life of Our Lord. MEYER, RUDOLPH J., S.J. (1912) The Science of the Saints. 2 vols. 2 VOLS. MIRIAM TERESA, SISTER, SISTERS OF CHARITY Greater Perfection. (A very lucid and (1927) SCHWERTNER, THOMAS M,, O,P, The Rosary. 1933) 121 SCHRYVERS, ,JOSEPH, C.SS.R. The Gift o/: Oneseff. Our Divine Friend. PARSCH, DOM PIUS, O.S.B The Liturgy Of the Mass. Guhte to the Liturgical Year. The Divine O~ice: How to Say It Devoutly and with Pleasure. Commentary on the Little O[[ice B.V.M. These bo6ks are both scholarly and devotional. PETER OF ALCANTARA,, SAINT (1562) Treatise on Prayer and Meditation. ROCHE, ALOYSIUS The Light of the Anxious Heart. Splendour of the Saints. Bedside Book of Saints. The Things that Matter. Fear and Religion. ° ROUVIER, FREDERICK, S.J. (1925) The Conquest of Heaven. (An important little treatise on per-fect charity and perfect contrition.) SCHARSCH, PHILIP, O.M.I. Confession as a Means to Spiritual Progress. SCHEEBEN, JOSEPH M. (1888) The Glories of Divine Grace. RECOMMENDED SPIRITUAL BOOKS SCUPOLI, LORENZO, THEATINE ( 1 610) The Spiritua( Combat: (An oldfavorite.) SHEEN, MSGR. FULTON J. The Mystic'al Body of Chri'st. The Eternal Galilean. SKELLY, A. M., O.P. (1938) Conferences on the Interior Life. 4 vols. Retreat Conferences for Religious Sisterhoods. Conferences on the Religious Life. STEUART, R., S.J. The Inward Vision The World Intangible. Temples of Et, ernitg. STOCKUMS, BISHOP WILHELM The Priesthood. Diversity of Holiness: In Dive'rs Manners. " The Four First Things. Spirituality of the Priesthood. Vocation to the Priesthood. STUART, MOTHER JANET ERSKINE, R.S.C.J. (1914) Highways and By-ways in the Spiritual Life. Prayer in Faith: Thoughts for Liturgical Seasons and Feasts. 2 vols. Two SISTERS OF NOTRE DAME Soul Clinic: An Examination of Conscience /:or Religious Teachers. (A practi_~al .study of the p~ychological. approach to the spiritual problems of religious.) VERNET; FELIX . Mediaeval Spirituality. (Covers the important spiritual writers of the mediaeval Church and giyes a clear outline of ti~ir teaching.) VINCENT DE PAUL, SAINT (1660) Conferences to the Sisters of Charity. 4 vols. Letters, edited by Joseph Leonard, C.M. St. Vincent de Paul and Mental Prayer, by 39seph Leonard, C.M. WADDELL, HELEN The Desert Fathers, edited in the Catholic Masterpiece Tutorial Series. (From the Vitae Patrum, agreat work of mediaeval piety, are translated choice selections revealing the deeds and maxims of the early desert religious.) 122 ommunicaiJons [EDITORS' NOTE: Limited space forced us to omit some points from letters pub-lished in this issue. Most Of these omitted points were repetitions: the other, com-ments will be referred to in our concluding editorial. With the present number, we conclude the communications .on the subject of spiritual direction. If possible, the editorial, summing up the discussion, will be pu~blished in the May number, o We are grateful to our readers for their ¢oopdration in this matter; and we hope that some good will come from it.] '., From Priests Reverend Fathers: My experience of some twenty-five or more years df spiritual direction of nuns and as a retreatmaster has taught me among a good many other points, the following concerning special direction: 1) The initiative should be taken by the penitent or "~piritual . cfiild," not by the confessor or diiector. I have never forgotten the. principle that our Master of Novices gave us with particular reference to Sisters: "Let them find you; don.'t you go looking for them." 2) It seems to me that everyone needs some special spiritual direc-tion during a certain life period--usually a critical life period, when-ever that may be. It is different with every individual. Also, such critical periods, presenting serious problems, may recur: and each time some special direction may be necessary or advisable. But I believe that the director fosters "spiritual babyhood" if he fails to train his charges to stand on their own feet and solve recurring problems (most of which will be along the same lines) with the help of the solutions and counsels received in the past, and tb apply the same old principles to the solution of such new difficulties as may arise. 3) It is my experience that many Sisters want to consult a "special confessor" concerning problems that they could easily" settle either by themselves, with the aid of principles known to them, or by a talk wlth the superior or with another Sister. These are too ready to find the ordinary confessor "ufisatisfactory." 4) As I said, I think it likely to happen to any individual tha~ on occasion he will need special help. And in this regard I should ' like to say that I have found it hard to understand how so many superiors readily avail themselves of this opportunity, yet make it very' difficult for their subjects to have the advantage of ~he same privilege. I consider this ~iltogether uncharitable, to say the least, if not unfair and unjust.~ Signed, etc. . . 123 COMMI.~NICATIONS Reverend Fathers: The confessor oi rel.igious should have a definite plan for the execution of.his task. His program must have but one objective: the increase in his penitents of an intimate union with God. Since this union is achieved principally through the exercise of the supernatural virtues, it seems that goodspiritual direction should partake of an intim, ate and personal acquaintance with the content of Ascetical and Mystical Theology. ~Many .religious, it is true, know these things theo/eticaily; it is the confessor's business to help. them to repeat tl~em systematically and l~racticall~/. I suggest the following method. If the penitent presents some special probl~m, then let the confessor deal with it in a specialized a~id personal way. If there are no special p~roblems, then the con-fessor should tie. prepared to give a two-minute talk on some topic of Ascetical Theology: These talks must be planned and given sys-tematically. In a few words the donfessor should present to each penitent a succinct notion of his subject. He should make it practical and especially directed to stir the soul to ~ction in a given avenue, or at least to inspire the penitent with greater love and generosity in the service of the Master. He .would thus teach a certain part of Asceti-cal Theology and at the same time .help the penitent to conceive a greater and truer sorrow for sin. As a supplementary measuie, the confessor might see that the community has a solid ascetical manual, and suggest the reading of the pertinent pages of the manual for thgt particular week. Also, he might !uggest the subject spoken of as the subject for the particular examen or for some practice of mortification to be chosen by the peni-tent. The following of such a manual ~rould furnish material for at least three .years' direction; and if. the religious penitent "did not ~receive such systematic direction, why. could he not supply it for him~ self? On the occasion of confession, each penitent could study the manual and apply it in the above-mentioned fashion. To give but one illustration. The first step in the spiritual life is the purification of the soul. This is "accomplished by. a positive means, prayer. There is vocal prayer, as well as mental prayer. To do either well, one is in need of a method: The soul is also purified by a struggle against all sin by patient and constant mortification of the passions. There is enough matter in this paragraph for spiritual direction for an entire year. Two months or more could be spent 124 COMMUNICATIONS on the topic of meditation. It is a question of treating a very small portion of each topic at every confession. If one would wish greater clarification, we could offer the following .example:" prayer--con-sider the notion of prayer: its necessity; Christ's example of prayer: the fruits of prayer: the ideal prayer, etc. Signed, etc . . Reverend Fathers: I should like to make these few observations that longexperi-ence has taught me to be practical in regard.to the direction of reli-gious in their weekly confessions. 1. The ordinary confessor is supposed to be a director, but this does not mean that he is expected to give diiection every week. Nor does it mean that whenever he gives some admonition it must have a distinctively personal application--though this latter is desirable. 2. The initiative for spec!al personal direction should usually come from the penitent: but the confessor may be expected to mani.- fest in a reserved, dil~lomatic way .that he is willing eventually to undertake such direction. For a newly-appointed ordinary confes-sor to.tell his penitents bluntly that h'e is eager to do this would be imprudent, also embarrassing for many, e.g. for those who, for one reason or another, do not care to have any personal guidance. "This becomes a nuisance on the whole community, when ordinary con-fessors are changed frequently, and each new one wants a complete manifestation of soul from each penitent. At most, a brief.presenta-tion of tendend~s and leanings of the penitent is sufficient as a basis for safe guidance. 3. Though we cannot question the need of some spiritual guidance, yet the need can easily be exaggerated, especially by Sis-ters. In some senses, religious need much less personal direction than" do those who strive for perfdction outside religion. If they keep their vows and rules faithfully, are conscientious in following their daily routine, listen attentively to the sermons, instructions and conferences given them, and are submissive to their legitimate supe.- riors--they are by these very things following the lead of the Holy Ghost. Signed, etc. 125 CO/v~d~r~ ICATIONS From Sisters . Reverend Fathers: It is my suggestion, as a means of approach, that the confessor give to each penitent, for the first two weeks, a s~ntence or two of a more general, type on a mystery or a saint whose feast occurs during the week. This may help to give a feeling of confidence that the con-fessor is not in to6 much of a hurry and also that he is willing to be helpful to every one. The third week he may begin to give more specific and personal direction based upon the material confessed. This method may give those who desird direction and are not too timid an opportunity to take the initiative and profit by direction. Those who are more timid will have gained enough courage and con-fidence to take the initiative. Those who do not desire, or at least claim that they do not desire, direction, may be won over, since the confessor did notcommence by dictating to them. These souls'~eem to resent going to a confessor, even set a barrier, if he gives the least impression that he" is to dictate to them. If they do not get that first unpleasant impression they more easily fall in line and profit by the direction. Many times they" will not admit it or even fully realize that they are being directed. I wonder if penitents realize the harm'done by gossipy talk about the sacrament or confessor. Some religious have refrained from going to certain confessors because some soul-repeated the direction which was meant for no one else. If each penitent would keep to herself or himseif what is personal direction or reprimand, less harm would result. Let each one learn for oneself whether or not certain confessors are helpful to them as individuals. Whatever may seem to be resented by one may be greatly appreciated and desired by another. A Sister Reverend Fathers: Fr'om my own experience, may I make this one little suggestion to priests who want to give helpful direction to Sisters. I think that priests sh6uld remember that we are not as learned in spiritual mat- . ters as they are; therefore, it is not always enough merely to tell us what our troui31e is. It is frequently necessary to give a little expla-nation of the nature of the trouble, so that we may see for ourselves why things go wrong and how we are toact. A Sister 126 COMMUNICATIONS Reverend Fathers: It seems to me that the question of the necessity of special: spir-itual direction is in danger of being overstressed onone side and not su~ciently understood on the other. In his Spiritui~t Conferences, Father Faber says: "Sometime~ people go to confession only for the purpos~ of direction. They use a great sacrament merely as a handle or. occasion for something else, for another purpose; ihdeed .a very good one, but a very inferior and subordinate one." Father Faber thinks this fault more common with converts: but I think that it is not infrequent with some Sisters. A Mother Superior Reverend Fathers: There is just one point that I sincerely trust you .will bring out before you close, .namely, that any soul. who practises sincere devo-tion to the Holy Ghost and aims at acquiring a spirit of abandon-ment will always receive spiritual guidance when it is needed. We should all like regular help; but women must be careful not to seek it too much, for, while gratifying, it is not always necessary. Where I am we have schools in so many towns where only the pastor is available that it takes much faith to be resigned: yet, if a miracle is necessary God will perform it for any religious who prays, to the Holy Ghost and practises .abandonment. I have also experienced this when seeking to assist children to return to "God after, a first mortal sin. A Sister Reverend Fathers: In view of past experiences as Mistress of Novices and Abbess of a community of contemplative nuns, I shouid like to express an opin-ion concerning the spiritual direction of nuns. It seems to me that there has been so much written on the subject that it has caused confusion in many minds. We are a strictly clois: tered order, but we enjoy the liberty of conscience that active, unclois-tered religious do, in so far as that is~" possible. However, we have little occasion to know any priests once we have entered here, with the exception of our confessors, retreat-masters, and chaplains--and the latter generally do not hear our confessions. This gives us little choice for confession or spiritual direction other than the priests we thus meet in the course of'our religious life. We may ask for a special spir.- 127 COM~IUNICATIONS itual director and l~ave him come every week. This has been done; but imagine if each of our 40 or 50 Sisters m~de such a demand! They all have the right, if one has. One might thinl~ that cloistered religious shciuld t~ke their-ordi-. nary confessor for ~piritual director. But I have not found many of thes~ wiio understand the enclosed contemplative life. Confessors are apt to judge their penitents' difficulties and trials from the standard of tl~eir own experiences. 'Hbw else can they judge them? Yet, to und'~rstand the enclosed life fully, one must either live it or have unusual depth of understanding. Is the result, then, that we cannot get or do not need spiritual direction? I should say it is neither. Cloistered religious need spiritual direction, but not to the extent that is g.enera.lly implied¯ I think that in general ."over-direction" has .done more harm than insufficient dire~tion. Of ~ourse, I cannot speak for active, but only for contemplative, ~eligious. The following about explains our case:The circumstances of our .daily lives and our daily trials, etc., are pretty much the same. over a period of years. Our occasions for practising virtue, breaking rules, etc., arc also about the same. Our life is not monotonbus, as s0ir.- Jtual writers so often pityingly tell us it is. We who are called to it and live it know it.is not. It is full from morning till night, ~nd monotony finds no pla.ce in it, in spite of the sameness of people. place, prayers, and. work. . (Can the.~spiritual life ever.be monot-onous?) This brings me to what I want to say: that, though we all heed spiritual direction, we do not need it week. after week or even month after month. Based on past experience, [ feel safe in making the statement that the fervent religious is the one who' needs the least direction. She who is faithful to the. inspirations of grace, to her duties; to the self-abnegation required of her to live in love" and h~rmony with her f~llow-religious, generally knows by the light of the Holy Ghost,- the directions of her rule and her superiors, what she is to do-- provided, of course, she has been properly instructed in her novitiate days, Her' iiaterior advancement is of the slow, quiet and, I might add, safe kind: her occasional difficulties "are generally solved between ¯ herself and her confessor, retreat-master, or superior. What of the one whose step grows lax, whose petty jealousies, .pride, self-love, self-will, and lack of self-denial create constant trouble and difficulties' for her? She needs direction, indeed: but she 128 COMMUNICATIONS needs more to take hold of herself and make herself realize that no spiritual director can make.her holy, but only herself~ by doing the things she knows full well she should do. She makes difficulties for herself and others, then looks for a director to get her out of them. She spends long periods in the confessional; and often this has just the effect' it should not have: it gives her an air of importance, a notion that she has a :'special" mission in life, instead of humbling her. It seems to me that when direction has this effect it should be brought to a quick termination. I do not mean to say that spiritual direction is unnecessary. But I think that when the saints spoke of its necessity they did not always mean that it must be given by word of mouth. Our found-ers, whose spirit is contained in our rules, give us their directions and demands in those rules. Also, we have spiritual reading and medi-tation, or should I say interior prayer: and we have the guidance of the Holy Ghost. I do admit that the scrupulous religious may"need much direc-tion; and I think that superiors should be considerate of them and get them a suitable director. Also I know that there have been and still are extraordinary souls who need extraordinary spiritual direc-tion; and may God bless them with an understanding guide. Then there are the problems that at times will confront a mistress of nov-ices- or superior. These must be gone over at length; though gener~ ally they do not fall under th~ heading of spiritual problems, except in so far as .superiors must act according to justice and their con-sciences. This is particularly true of such" problems as cannot or had better not be discussed at a council meeting. Perhaps I am only trying to be important by airing these views to you. Forgive me if I am; and drop this into the waste-basket. A Mother Superior 129 SOUL CLINIC. An Exam;nation of Conscience for Religious Teachers. By Two Sisters of Notre Dame, Cleveland, Ohio. Pp. x -{- 200. Fred- ~ erick Pustet Co., New York, 1943. $2.00. The first part of this excellent wori~ is entitled, "The Psychologi-cal Approach to our Spiritual Problems," and it begins by laying" down "General Principles." The great purpose of religiousteachers is to cultivate a Christlike character in. themselves and in their stu-dents. The. general formula is: motives, ha,bits, character. Motives may be bad or good, natural or supernatural, and one's habits and character will be just such i~s one's motives. Motives reach the will through the mind and heart. Motives of a particular kind will be accepted if they be considered sufficiently valuable. If the mind be kept filled with true values, good emotions naturklly will arise in the heart, and good attitudes in the will. If these be maintained, good habits and a good ~haracter are the result. Hence, to form a Christ-like character; appropriate, as far as possible, Christ's ways of thinking, His .estimations of values, and the emotions of His Heart; Christlike habits of will and a Christlike character will follow. - "We have failed to stabilize our wills by fusing them with the Will of God ¯ . . And why .d~d we so fail? Because we did not build up strong motivation on the basis of Christ's thoughts and emotions. To express it in another way, we failed to use the time for meditation, .reading, examination of conscience, to fill our souls with the thoughts ¯ and emotions of Christ. We did not convince ourselves of the great-ness of eternal values: divine love, everlasting riches, hohor, and pleasures. These considerations would have furnished us with pow-erful motives to command our Weak wills' to seek,the things° above as our Lord enjbined repeatedly" (p. 13). Another idea from psychology of which much use is made is the theory of instincts. Three of these are discussed at some length, namely~ the superiority instinct, the social instinct, and the self-preservation instinct, called also the reproductive or love instinct. The writers point out the original divine purpose of these fundamental ¯ human tendencies, the deviations to which they are.only too liable, and the ways in which they ought to be re-directed and sublimated to supernatural .ends. 130 BOOK REVIEWS Several¯ tables of motives, natural and supernatural, of the habits of a Christlike personality,~ and of the values, transient-and perma2 nent, are given to aid thdse who will seek in this book a method of therapy for their moral maladies. .Under the heading, "Mary in Character-education," the character of the Blessed Virgin is sketched as exemplifying, ideally and con-cretely, the psychological and spiritual principles and methods pro-posed. This treatise, a!ready very good, could be made still bett~r ~much more emphasis were placed on the cardinal importance of ade-quat'e, realistic appreciation of the greatvalues, both in initiating good habits and in strengthening them. One statement that is made and. repeated seems to call for a theological comment. Though the worth of natural motives is well expressed and the utilization of them by Christians is not at all discountenanced, it is said that they are not meritorious for eternity:' But, to.judge from the autho.rity of t.heo- ¯ logians, all who are in the state of grace may hope to find that all their deliberate actions, except only their sinful ones, have merited an in-crease of grace and glory. It would be more surely correc~ to say that to act from merely natural" motives ma~t not be meritorious, or, if supernatural motivation be required, then in all probability the con-dition will be verified in a person acting well while in the staie of grace. The second part of the book gives twenty-five detailed examlna-tibns of conscience, personality, and character. These are designed and arranged both so as to correbpond to the sequenceof the ligurgical year.and to cover the chief points that one must keep in mind to re-model one's personality and build up a character that is like to.that. of Christ.~G. A. ELLARD, S.J. CHAPTERS IN RELIGION. By ÷he Reverend C. A. Prindeville, (3.M., S.T.D. Pp. 354. B. Herder Book Co., St. Louis, 1942.$2.00, ¯ A book which attempts to review the.whole of faith and morals in 350 phges is bound to be superficial. Theology cannot be packed into a match-box or sketched on a thumbnail. But what the Cate-chism does, in a pamphlet, for the child mind, this moderately.sized volume does, without the Catechism7s interplay of question and answer, for the more developed adult comprehension. One cannot but marvel at the author's ability to say so much in so few words. 131 BOOK REVIEWS. The book begins by showing what the Church teaches about God, the one nature and the three Persons. ,In brief chapters it proceeds to narrate what revelation'states about Creation and Orig-inal Sin, the Redeemer and His Mother, the Church, Grace and Vir-tue, Sacraments and Sacrifice, the Ten Commandments. It ends, as is right, with the Last Things. Ari index makes the work prac-ticable for reference. The author's grasp of theok)gy is extensive and profound. But he has seen fit to disclose his vast knowledge in a language of ou.tmoded rhetoric which writers of. Catholic books sometimes think must be used. The infinite beauty of G6d is brought out by com-parison, witb""gorgeous sunsets and starlit heavens; the majestic heights of the mountain range, the ocea'n in its va, rying moods of calm or storm, the alluring loveliness in the human face and' form,'" and so on, in words solemn and trite. There occurs even an occa-sional "pe.rcbance." The style is generally clear but dry. Priests and religious are sometimes asked to recommend for con- .verts o~ inquirers a readable b6ok that presents Catholic" doctrine with completeness but brevity. They are embarrassed when they " cannot, and wish someone would write such a work. This volume is almost the answer to their prayer.--C. VOLLERT, 8.J. A SHORT BREVIARY F.OR RELIGIOUS AND THE LAITY. Edited by ,. the MonEs of St.' John's Abbey. Pp. 766.' The Lifurglcal Press, lecje~,ille, Minn. Second edition. 1942. $2.85. ~ By way of providing a Lay Brothers' Office, the monks of St. ~lohn's Abbey have abbreviated the. breviary. They put us all in their debt by thus giving us the cream of t~e entire office, in an . ¯ ,arrangement wisely built up mostly of the Psalms carefully selected, even slightly annotated by rubrication. It will indicate their pro-cedure to sthte that the short Matins have three Psalms and one les-son. Lauds and Vespers each four Psalms, all the other Hours one each, but with the structure and arrangement, and spirit, of the entire Office carefully preserved. The book's vhysical features seem perfect:~the paper is good; the type clear and sharp; the printing in black and red: the binding~ in stout leatherette with four sewed-in ribbon markers; and for a price well within a po0r'man's pocketbook. These facts have !32 BOOK RE'~iIEWS helped sell the first edition in short order: a much larger edition now issues from the press. We have lately heard of religious congregations adopting a modified form ,of Divine Office in lieu of the 'community prayers' formerly said daily in common. We venture to predict, that this Short Breviarg will offer strong incentive for further such adop-tions. But ~a~ide from such common use, the book will provide any one, priest, Brother, Sister, with prayer-book and meditation-book needs, and offer a chance to sample that endless round of psalmody, so conspicuous in the" official homage paid by the Church to God. --- GERALD ELLARD, S.J. THE OUR FATHER. B'f the Most Reverend Tihamer Toth. Translated by V. G. Acjotal. Edited by the Reverend Newton Thompson, S.T.D,~ Pp. 314. B. Herder Book Co., St. Louis, 1943. $2.75. The experienced reader knows that he must frequently make allowances for published sermons. In its original setting, a sermon may leave nothing to be desired: from the printed page, it too often makes one regret that he can only read wl~at was meant to be heard. For those unacquainted with Bishop Toth's writings, we give assurance that his published sermons labor under little if any handi-cap. To read any one of them is to come under the spell of a wise, experienced, holy, very practical friend and counsellor. His Excel-lency is never the conscious orator. Rather he. is the shepherd of gouls, on!y concerned that the living waters of God's truth be made available for his charges. He is clear, orderly, interesting, with special talent for apt illustration or anecdote. Because the style is so simple, direct, informal, the reader easily becomes an attentive listener in the presence of a master conversationalist. This, the ninth volume of Bishop Toth's sermons to be made available in English translation, contains twenty-eight sermons on such fundamemental subjects as Belief in God, Life Worthy of Man, Our Father, Creator and Lord. Children of God, Brotherhood of Man, Brothers of Christ, Heaven or Earth, Suffering, Honor and Praise of God, Art and Habit of Prayer, and Intellectual and Eco-nomic Life. Taken together, the series comments on the text of the Our Father, although each sermon is a unit by itself. The book is highly recommended for either community or private spiritual reading, and for meditation subject-matter.--C. DEMUTH, S.J. 133 BOOK REVIEW~ THE SPIRITUAL DIREC;TION OF SISTERS. By the Reverend A. Ehl. Adapted from the German by the Reverend Felix M. Kirsch, O. M. (~ap., Ph.D., Llff.D. Pp. xlx + 483. Benzlger Brothers, New York. $3.75. In its six major divisions this .compact but comprehensive man-ual treats of Religious Vocations, the General and Special Problems pertaining to the Direction of Sisters, the Principal Mean~ e~ployed in their Direction, Canonical Regulations concerning Sisters, and the Obligations of the Vows. A brief introduction explains some can-onical terms. Father Kirsch has'jUdiciously adapted the material to American readers and has added a valuable bibliography. In general, the book is excellent: complete, sound, practical. An enumeration of its specific good pgints would be too lengthy. Suffice to say that it should be very helpful to confessors or directors of Sis-ters, as well as to all priests and seminarians. By reading it, ,supe-riors of Sisters would get a better understanding not only of the work of the confessor, but of the whole religious life. o ¯ It seems advisable to indicate here some points that might puzzle the reader. The author is too much addicted to "must": he does not distinguish with sufficient care between what he counsels and what he really considers of obligation. Moreover, although he apparently wanted to help. the average priest commissioned with the spiritual care of Sisters, yet the comprehensiveness of the work and the indiscrimin'ate references to "the priest," "th.e confessor," "the spiritual director," create the impression that he has in mind a priest who spends his whole time in a convent.~ In fact, the seminarian anal young priest might be con'fused, even discouraged, by the mul~ tiplicity of details. Better for them to read the book for the general impression, then return to the details when this knowledge is required. Regarding the confessor in particular, the author seems prone to have him mix too much in external affairs. As one instance of sev-eral, I cite the following: "The confessor should not dismiss lightly the complaints that may be made by the superior on the above points (i.e. abuses regarding religious exercises), but should diligently inquire into the matter." I fail to see how a confessor is justified in using the complaints of-the superior as a handle-for any ques-tioning of. his penitents.---G. KELLY, S.J. 134 BOOK REVIEWS A BOOK OF SIMPLE WORDS. By a Sister of Notre Dame (de Namur). Pp. 240. P.J. Kenedy & Sons, New York, 1942. 1;2.00. In simple words the author has given us the~ result of much study--study of the peisonality: of Christ. Thecharm and natural-ness of an essay are brought to this series of spiritual reflections. The book might be said to tell the ~tory of Christ's public life. It is selective in that the author has ~hosen from the Gospel story inci-dents revealing the facets of the personality of Christ" too often over-looked or little realized in our reading of the evangelists. A careful,. . prayerful reading of this book will give more than knowledge: it is meant to lead the reader to ~ personal experience of Jesus Christ.' Lacking entirely the formalism of 'a manual, the book should prove in~erdsting and profitable as a source of suggestions for medi-tation. A miracle" is recounted; a~ lesson suggested, or attention called to ~-phase of tl~e Savior's character: a brief and pertinent exhortation is given; artistically the author appeals to three facub ties of the soul: the memory, intellect, and will. The truths pro. posed and the lessons logically drawn are solid, but expressed in a language that sometimes draws attention to itself because of emo-tional expression and occasional cliches. The publisher has pro-vided a medium of expression worthy.of the thought, for. the. printing is attractive, even artistic.-~M. D. CURRIGAN, S.~J. THE PATER NOSTER OF SAINT TERESA. Translated and adapted by the Reverend William J. Doheny, CLS.C~,, J.U.D. Pp. ~x -t- IS0. The Bruce Publishing Gompany, Milwaukee, 1942. Gloth, !;I.50; paper, $1.00. Thi~ work is simply,the concluding portion of St. Teresa's The Wa~/of Perfection. Since its subject-matter is sublime, and since it is from the seraphic heart and the classical" pen of the great Spanish Princess of Mystics, it needs no commendation. By way of introduction and to establish the setting, Father Doheny gives excerpts (28 pages) from the preceding chapters of The Way. In these will be found some of St. Teresa's ideas and exhortation~ on such things as religious poverty, c.harity, detach-ment, and the need of praying for preachers and scholars. In reality nearly all the chief points'of the .religious life are touched upon briefly. In this treatise on the "Our Father" occurs the well-known 135 BOOK REVIEWS account of a nun who once went to St. Teresa in a: state of the o greatest desolation because she could not, like other companions of "the Carmelite foundress, practice mental prayer and "raise herself to contemplation. ~ Upon questioning .her as to how she did pray, St. Teresa found out that the unhappy sister was accustomed to "recite the Lord's prayer in such a way as at the same time to arrive "at the prayer of pure contemplation. Our Lord raised.her even .to the prayer of union. It was evident . . . that she had received.the highest ~a.vors in prayer" (page 52). At the end of her commentary St. Teresa writes: "If we under-stand how we ought to recite the .Pater Noster perfectly, we .shall know how to recite all other vocal prayers. See how our Lord has assisted me.in this work. He has taught both you and me the .way. of perfection . I assure you that I never dreamed this prayer contained such deep secrets. You will notice that it sums up the entire spiritual life, from its first begir~ning to that point where soul is 10st entirely in God." " . If. one were to say the "Our Father," especially the third peti-tion, "Thy will be done," realizing and meaning thoroughly,:p.rac-tically, and persistently, what one s~ys, then one would be very ho!y indeed.--G. A. ELLARD, S.,l. TEN BLESSED YEARS. By Clara M. Tiry. Pp. 306. The Apostolate of Suffering, Milwaukee, Wisconsin, 1939. $ l.S0. HAPPY HOURS WITH CHRIST. By Clare M. Tiry. Pp. 187. The Bruce Publ~shincj~ Company, Milwaukee, Wisconsin, 1940. $I;75. A unique society has come into existence in the city of Milwau-" kee in recent years ~nd'has spread throughout the country, In 1926 a young woman in Milwaukee, v~h0 had been weighed down with "constant sickness from babyhood, conceived the idea of establishing a society whereby, the sick and all others Who have any kind of suf-fering whatever to bear could be united together, in offering it God. With the assistance of the present bisl~qp of Fargo, N. D., the Most Reverend Aloysius J. Muencb, who at the. time was serving in the capacity of assistant pastor in a Milwaukee parish,. the Apost01at.e of Suffering was established. Ten Blessed Years tells the story of the Apostolate in the words c;fits foundress, Miss Clara M. Tiry. Through the Cathblic Press in the United States the Apostolate was brodght to the attentidn of 136 BOOK REVIEW~ the'suffering, and the society grew rapidly in membership. The book gi~es an account of the activities of the Apostolat~ and'a short sketch of the life of its patron saint, St. Lidwina of Schiedam, a fifteenth century Dutch girl. In the foreword Bishop Muench tells of the .spirit that animates the Apostolate: "Through the Apostolate ~bey feel again the healing hand of Christ, Who loved the sick. It is like balm on a burning wound--Christ's consola-tion that life is yet worth while: that the sick may share in His redemptive work." .°Happy Hours with Christ is a collection of twenty-seven groups of meditations, prayers and spiritual readings for ~he sick. They are appropriately arranged according to the various liturgi-cal seasons. Through them the sick are brought to a deeper realiza-tion of their mighty vocation of suffering and are enabled to bear their pain with greater love and generosity.--W. 3. "BURTON, S.3. HOPE OF LIFE. By Sister Monica, Ph.D. Pp. vii + 162. P. J. Kenedy & Sons, New York, 1942. $1.35. This tersely written little book from the talented pen of a well-known historical and spiritual writer is intended primarily for reli-gious, although the la~ person will find in it much food for reflec-tion. The author writes of death, dreaded death: but death, the door to life. Only a soul. that has loved much both God and man and has meditated long on a personal God could have made these reflections. Some undertaking fails, friends turn against us, love is spurned. And we sit at the roadside brooding. I am so unimporta.nt. But I am important to God. He wants me. When the supreme moment comes, why is it that we die alone? We bare a longing for com-pany, a craving for human s~mpatby. But there comes a time when~ human sympathy will not satisfy; we must have the divine. Let me cling to God. I must keep my heart clean in its impulses and its choices; I must keep my gaze clean, or I lose the way. Arrived at my home I shall find hap