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Issue 59.1 of the Review for Religious, 2000. ; Vowed Life Featur~ Religious Mission ~ Finding God Living Celibat,ely Balkans Report JANUARY FEBRUARY 2_000 VOLUME 59 NUMBER I Review for Religious helps people respond and be faithful to God's universal call to bollness by making available to them the spiritual legacies tbat flow from the cbarisms of Catholic consecrated life. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bimonthly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Telephone: 314-977-7363 ¯ Fax: 314-977-7362 E-Mail: foppema@slu.edu Manuscripts, books for review, aud correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ° St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP P.O. Box 29260; V~rashington, D.C. 20017 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. 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Such pertnission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. restrictions, in a world of hate and division, of civilian bombings and life-snuffing concentration camps, this iournal spoke about dialogue and intercommunication, about ministries of love and service, about vocations to align oneself with God's peaceable king-dom and to pray for that kingdom to come. I am thankful for the gift this journal has been to the church, to religious life, and to the spiritual-life developments of our times. I thank God for raising up and inspiring the founding editors to begin the dialogue--something not common in the 1940s--across the different spiritual heritages which are represented by Catholic religious congregations and which continue to feed the spiritual life of church members everywhere. I am grateful for all the writers who have shared their insights, raised questions, instructed in prayer and in ecclesial history, and inspired our ministerial efforts. For all that has been---Thanks! With this first issue of the year 2000 a new-look cover greets our readers, along with a revision of our secondary title. For the previous eight years, because of the creative contribution of the advisory board and the staff, the journal had this shorthand way of stating its content: Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living. After more discussion with current board members and staff, we now state our content even more simply: Living Our Catholic Legacies. Our mission statement, too, has found new expression for things our journal continues to have in view (see inside front cover). This is our way of saying Yes as we look to the future. While we say "To all that shall be--Yes," I have some con-cern about a shrinking subscriber list. We know that the primary readership--women and men religious--continues to grow less in number in the United States and in European countries. I would not like to say Yes to a declining subscription number without encouraging all of you tostir up your own efforts to increase our readers, hopefully even our subscribers, among your own congre-gation members and associate members if you are a religious, and among friends and colleagues who share spiritual companionship and ministry with you. Review for Religious remains a unique journal in the English-speaking world for our continuing educa-tion, formation, and inspiration in living the rich Catholic legacies that form our church spirituality. I hope that you, our readers, share in our appreciation and enthusiasm. "To all that shall be-- Yes!" allows plenty of room for our best efforts. David L. Fleming SJ Januaty-Februa~y 2000 MICHAEL HIMES Returning to Our Ancestral Lands feature I am a little more daunted than I usually am because you are vicars for religious and you bring me in, a dioce-san priest, to talk to you. I can plead two things. One, I lived, during my happy years at the University of Notre Dame, at Moreau Seminary in the company and with the hospitality of the Congregation of Holy Cross and came to have the greatest affection and respect for them. I am now living and working with the Society of Jesus at Boston College and have the greatest respect for the Society of Jesus. My brother, and sometime col-league, is a Franciscan. And so, though I am not a reli-gious, I shared a bedroom for years with a religious, my brother Ken. Besides these attachments to and connections with religious communities, I plead that your having a pas-sionate outside observer may be useful. That is what I come to you as--a concerned, passionate, outside Michael J. Himes, a priest of the Diocese of Brooklyn and formerly on the faculties of the University of Notre Dame and of the Seminary of the hnmaculate Conception (Huntington, New York), is currently a professor of theol-ogy at Boston College. He presented this paper (here some-what revised) in March 1999 at the 32nd assembly of the National Conference of Vicars for Religious, in whose 1999 Proceedings it was originally published. His address is Boston College; Chestnut Hill, Massachusetts 02467. Review for Religio us observer of religious life in the church. I am going to talk with you from the perspective of history. My field is the history of Christianity, with a particular interest in ecclesiology. I am going to be looking at both the history of religious life in the church and at its connection with the mission of the church at large. I took my title from Leviticus. The passage in Leviticus on the jubilee year says to mark the jubilee year by returning to our ancestral lands. In Leviticus the reason for doing this is appar-ently that, because every clan, every group, in Israel's history is of importance in God's plan and in the working out of the covenant, no family, no clan, should be allowed to disappear from the land of Israel. And so, if a clan or family gave up its land, within fifty years it would get it back again. I suggest that some of those same themes are true of religious life in the church today. There are too many important, vital, necessary experiences, images, sources of wisdom which have grown up in religious life in the Western church over the course of fifteen centuries to allow them to be lost to the life of the church. We need to go back periodically and reclaim those ances-tral lands, To do that, I want to discuss three issues--and so there will be three parts. Part One: I want to say something about the nature and pur-pose of religious life in the Catholic tradition, but I want to say it from a somewhat unusual perspective. I will explain what that is in just a moment. Part Two: I am going to offer you a thumbnail history--and it is very thumbnail history--of the development of religious life in the Western church. There is quite a distinct history to the development of religious life in the Eastern church, but up to the present moment in the Western church, I suggest, there have been three central moments in the development of religious life. We may be at the end of number three and the start of number four. In Part Three I am going to make some observations about what can be done to reclaim ancestral lands. How do you reclaim values without trying to resuscitate forms? How do you reclaim the value without saying we have got to replicate the history? Nature and Purpose of Vowed Life Let me say something about the nature and purpose of reli-gious life--of vowed life within the Christian community and espe- January-February 2000 Himes ¯ Returning to Our Ancestral Lands cially within the Catholic tradition--from a somewhat unusual perspective. That perspective I take from an immensely productive, distinguished, and influential figure in Protestant theology and philosophy of religion at the beginning of the century that is now ending--a man named Ernst Troeltsch, who died back in 1923. Before the First World War, Troeltsch produced his masterpiece, a thick volume titled The Social Teaching of the Christian Churches. The tide may be misleading to us. You may say to yourself, "All this is well and good, but I do not see what bearing it has on the topic." Let me explain. Just when you least expect it, over the hill will come the topic. Just at the point that you have given up hope of ever hearing anything relevant to your interest, lo and behold, it will make its appearance. Today, when we hear a title like The Social Teaching of the Christian Churches, we might expect that it is going to be about what we have come to call social teaching, namely, the teaching of the Christian community about the nature of political and eco-nomic justice within society. That is not what Troeltsch meant by his title. By the Christian churches' social teaching, Troeltsch meant what they taught about tl~eir own natures as societies. I mean, here you have different communities, different societies of Christians that have come together and organized themselves in very different ways. How did these various Christian societies explain themselves? What is their teaching about their own nature as a society? To trace the development of how different church communities and traditions in the history of the Christian tradition have structured themselves as churches, as communities, Troeltsch approached it in a very interesting and important way. He bor-rowed an idea from a colleague of his at Heidelberg, where he was teaching at the time: one of the great fathers that you may very well know if you have an interest in sociology, Max Weber. Troeltsch borrowed from him the notion of an ideal type. Weber's ideal type means this: You explicate different ways, different models of how a community could be organized with-out reference to any concrete existing community. Then you look at the existing communities--at the actual communities as you find them--and ask: Which of these communities is like type one? Which is like type two? Which is like three? He found this to be a particularly fruitful way of getting people" to look at com-munities and raise questions about them which they might not ordinarily raise. Review for Religious Well, Troeltsch took that notion of an ideal type and sug-gested two ideal types as ways of digging in, as tools for analyzing how different Christian communities have understood their own role, how they structured themselves. Those two ideal types he refers to as church and sect. Sect, let me emphasize, is for Troeltsch by no means a bad word. For us today in America it has come to have all sorts of bad connotations. He means none of those connotations. By sect, Troeltsch means a community of people who come together in fidelity to their under-standing of the gospel, who are united first of all by a powerful, dramatic, and deeply personal experience of conver-sion. So, for Troeltsch, one of the hall-marks of a sect type of community is (1) that all of its members are people who have personally experienced some deep and often strikingly dramatic con-version experience. You have to experi-ence being born again into Christ. You must personally "accept Jesus as your Savior," to use language that is familiar to us from some sect types of community in this country. Another hallmark is (2) that these communities see themselves as peculiarly and specially commissioned communities. There is a vibrant sense of mission. There is a kind of urgency about the fact that you have been called, you have been chosen, you have been commissioned to perform an extremely important work in the name of the gospel. So there is a striking and urgent sense of mis-sion in a sect community. Often a sect community (3) sees itself in terms of being over against the larger community. You are the people who have been called upon; you have been set up as a city on a hilltop, as a light for all the world. You are commissioned in a way that is not true of the community-at-large. You may be called to serve them, but you are different in some way from that larger community, and there should be a clear difference between you and that larger community. The sect community (4) is frequently radical in its vision of what needs to be done in the larger community. That is, it takes positions which the larger community may find to be too diffi-cult, too dangerous, too uncomfortable, too impractical. The Different societies of Christians that have come together and organized themselves in very different ways. Janual~-FebruatTy 2000 --10A Himes ¯ Returning to Our Ancestral Lands smaller sect community can advocate radical reform and radical movement. The problem with the sect community, however, as Troeltsch points out, is that it seldom survives beyond the second or at most third generation because the first generation (who have had this striking, personal experience) cannot guarantee that their chil-dren's or their grandchildren's generation is going to have that same striking experience. Very often, then, the sect begins to evap-orate or split up in various ways. My favorite image for that may be seen in one of Flannery O'Connor's letters. She has a wonderful description of why she liked to travel in the south on local trains, trains that made every stop. She said you could always, back in the 1940s and 1950s, see such interesting things. She says: "Why, you stop at one little town and you look out the window and there's a white clapboard church. And out in front of the church is a sign that says 'First Church of Jesus Christ, Lord and Savior of All Humanity, Coming Again in Glory to Save All People Who are Faithful to Him and Moved by the Holy Spirit.' The train goes five miles down and stops at the next little town, and there is a white clapboard church with a sign in front of it that says, 'Church of Jesus Christ, Lord and Savior of the World and of All Humanity, Coming Again in Glory to Save the Living and the Dead and MI Those Who are Faithful to the Gospel and Motivated by the Holy Spirit, Reformed.'" And she said, "You knew there was a history here somewhere even though you could not tell quite what it was." There's a tendency for sect communities to splinter or to evaporate. By contrast to the sect community, the church-style community is a community that (1) sees itself as incorporating all sorts of peo-ple into the Christian community. It does not claim that all of its members are equally, highly, or deeply motivated--depending on your point of view. It does not claim that all of its members have striking personal experiences. It allows for the fact that there are different levels of membership, not official membership perhaps, but in terms of involvement in the community. Not everyone is at every moment of her or his life equally fervent or actively engaged in the life of the church. A church (2) does not see itself as necessarily over against the world. There are all sorts of things in the world-at-large that the church wants to embrace and celebrate. You cannot imagine, for example, says Troeltsch, that a sect is necessarily going to embrace Review for Religious the world of the arts and sciences, whereas the church commu-nity will. It embraces the artistic values and the scientific hopes and dreams and goals and methods of a community at any given time. In comparison with a sect, there is a much greater sense of collaboration between people in the church and people outside it. It tries to build bridges. It is a community, therefore, that is much more stable than a sect community. You can be born into a church community; you have to be reborn into a sect community. The idea, for example, of an infant baptism or an infant initiation into a sect would be simply impossible, whereas it is perfectly possible for a church community. The church community sees itself as a process of lifelong nur-ture, whereas the sect community emphasizes radical, dramatic conversion experiences. The danger for church-style community, says Troeltsch, is of course that it can become too secular, it can end up being, as it were, a tool for social stability used by the soci-ety- at-large. Notice that he is not claiming one is better than another; he is setting up--and I am just giving a thumbnail sketch--he is setting up two types of community that he can use as tools with which to examine the history of various church communities. He wants to ask: What is this like? Is it more like a sect? Is it more like a church? In what ways is it like a sect? In what ways is it like a church? Now, why do I propose to you that this is an interesting way to think about religious life? Because Troeltsch makes, almost in passing, one of the most suggestive comments that I have ever seen about religious life in the Catholic tradition. The Catholic Church--certainly back in the first decade of this century when he was looking at it from his own vantage point--is one of the purest church types of organization. He says, however, that the Catholic community has had for many centuries a peculiar and brilliant way of incorporating into itself the most vital, most insightful, most valuable elements of sects that grow up within the ambit of the Catholic community. It makes them religious orders. I suggest to you that--if you think of a community gathering around Anthony in the desert, gathering around Benedict or Scholastica, gathering around Francis and Clare, gathering around Dominic or Ignatius Loyola--you certainly can see those groups as matching up very closely with what Troeltsch has to say about sect communities. You cannot be born into these groups, you have Janua~. -Feb~wa(y 2000 Himes * Returning to Our Ancestral Lands got to choose to join. It is a matter of discerning a vocational call. There is a radical break with a previous kind of life in order to enter one of these groups. They are marked by clear and certain images of what mission is and what goal is, and how you shape people to accomplish that goal. The goal includes seeing this com-munity as being very much over against the community-at-large. The group is not simply part of this world, and it is marked as not being part of this world by a kind of rejection of this world's dom-inant values. The danger here is that, if the group is not in some way stabilized by the structure of a church, it can melt away in two or three generations. Troeltsch, of course, pointed out the other danger too. The problem for the Catholic tradition is that, although the church model stabilizes the sect model by "turning sects into religious orders," in Troeltsch's phrase, it can suddenly turn the religious order into simply another branch of the church model--and thus lose the vibrancy of the sect model. I suggest that, if we are going to reclaim ancestral lands, one of the things we have to do is look to vital religious communities to be sects in the Troeltschian sense of sects. We have to look for communities of people who see themselves as personally called, called to a clear and decided mission, and who see themselves as in some way in contrast to the community around them, even in contrast to the church-at-large around them. Now, for how that happens, let me move to Part Two. Some History of the Development of Church Life I would like to make a hundred thousand qualifications, but, so that you can go to bed tonight, let me just give a very general description. I suggest to you that, up to the present moment, there are three stages to the history of religious life in the Western church. The first stage in the Western church--quite apart from the origins in Egypt and Syria and Asia Minor in the East--runs for about seven hundred years, from the middle of the 5th century to the middle of the 12 th century, roughly from A.D. 450 to 1150. If we are looking for an example of that first period, it is the Benedictine movement. What is religious life? Religious life for those first seven hundred years of the Western church is first and foremost a community of persons who have come together and Review for Religious pledged themselves to a life of poverty, a life of celibacy, a life of prayer and contemplation done in community. Why is it so important that it be done in community? Well, there are two versions of St. Athanasius's Life of Anthony of Egypt. We do not know which is the real one--whether the shorter one is due to somebody's cutting it down after Athanasius died or whether the longer one includes stuff that somebody added after his death. But the longer one, whoever wrote it, has a striking comment. It says: "Anthony went out to the desert to lead a life of radical devo-tion, deep prayer, and obvious poverty, and in doing so he became a source of wonder. But, when a community of others gathered around him, then he became a sign." That is a very perceptive comment. Living out your life in a radical gospel way makes you a source of astonishment, but what validates you as a sign to the church is that you can do this in a community. Let me put this another way (much less eloquently than the author of the longer life of Anthony does): It is possible to be poor, chaste, obedient, and nuts. We all know that. What guarantees that you are poor, chaste, obedient, and sane? Your ability to live with other people without either killing them or being killed by them. The community is what validates the vows. So this idea of living in community is very important and was very important in the Benedictine tradition from its outset. Clearly there are multiple variants of the monastic ideal throughout those seven hundred years, but that is the image of religious life that dominates the first stage. What is religious life? It is a community of people who come together to live lives of poverty, of celibacy, of devotion and prayer and contempla-tion- and often study too--and who do it in community. That is religious life. That reality has something brand-new added to it in the middle of the 12th century, and for a very practical reason. A whole new class of people emerges in Western Europe in the 12th century: the urban poor. One of the things that marked the end of the ancient world was the collapse of cities in Western Europe. In the early Middle Ages, society is essentially rural, A whole new class of people emerges in Western Europe in the 12th century: the urban poor. Janualy-February 2000 2 Himes ¯ Returnin~ to Our Ancestral Lands largely agricultural. There are no great cities for very obvious reasons: the barbarians. Let me remind you here, when we talk about the barbarians, not to picture Jack Palance with a mustache and a horned helmet swooping down to burn and pillage cities! That may have hap-pened along the way too, but, when we talk about the barbar-ians, all of us who are English, Irish, Welsh, or Scottish, Scandinavian, German, Polish, French, Spanish, Portuguese, Dutch, Belgian, Hungarian, Czech, Slovak, Sicilian, or northern Italian (from anywhere in Europe but a little piece of land stretch-ing from Naples to just north of Rome)--when we talk about the barbarians we are ta!king about grandma and grandpa. The bar-barians are our ancestors. As they moved into Western Europe, as the empire collapsed, these ancestors of many of us were not stupid. They knew stuff. They knew it takes a lot out of you to burn and pillage. A really good pillage takes a lot of energy. You are not going to waste your time burning and pillaging little one-horse towns. You are going to burn and pillage big cites--that is where the loot is to be got-ten. Since the inhabitants of the Roman empire in its last days were not stupid either, they quickly realized it is much safer living in the little towns than in the big cities: you are less likely to get sacked and pillaged. So, at the end of the ancient world, all over Europe, there is a sort of massive flight to the suburbs. Cities decline, lots of small towns spring up. In that world, how did the church care for people? Well, it was not a money economy. If you were going to found a parish, you were not going to do it with cash. Cash did not mean any-thing in the Middle Ages. Value was in land: it was the land's produce that could support a parish. So some wealthy donor says, "In this town I am giving this field to support the church. It can support two priests so that they can minister to the needs of the people of the town." The problem is, of course, that land is not easily transferable. At the start of the High Middle Ages, from around 1050 on, small towns began to decline in population as people moved back into big cities. In towns where once there were a hundred house-holds, now there were twenty, but there still were two priests for those twenty. Other towns were growing as centers. Where there used to be a hundred households, there were now five thousand households, but there was still only one priest, who was supported Review for Religious by the land donation from centuries before for that town. It is not easy to adjust parish boundaries and clergy resources. So there were growing numbers of people in the major cities of Western Europe who were largely unchurched. Nobody was preaching to them, nobody was teaching them, nobody was lead-ing them into the Gospels, nobody was celebrating sacraments for them. Who was going to tend to these people's needs? New reli-gious communities appeared, communities dedicated above every-thing else to the service of the urban poor. What do they need? Do they need evangelization? We preach. Do they need teaching? We teach. Do they need nursing? We nurse. Whatever they need, that is what we provide. If Benedict and Scholastica are the obvious figures of the first stage, Francis, Clare, and Dominic are the great figures at the start of the second stage, approximately I 150 to 1550. In the course of the Catholic reformation, both prior to and as a response to the Protestant reformers, the church realized that it was going to have to do much better regarding the challenges of a new world. One of the reasons that Luther had such an immense impact--besides the fact that he was immensely insightful--is that he wrote well. He wrote in German and, with the printing press available, turned out lots and lots of copies of relatively short books in the vernacular. Why was it that people like Cajetan and Eck did not have much luck responding to Luther? Because they were turning out thick books, in double columns, in Latin. Nobody was going to read them, even other professors, and so Luther had an impact, whereas initially much of the Catholic response did not. For this third stage we needed a new way to respond to people's needs. Although nobody calls it this, one of the ways was, in effect, the division of l~bor. What we needed was to streamline our styles of pastoral ministry. Instead of communities of people doing what-ever was needed, we were now going to have communities of peo-ple, both women and men, who specialized. We taught young women, we taught young men. We went to the foreign missions. We did nursing. We took care of the elderly. It became clear that different communities had unique apostolates. That model--and I think one can take the Jesuit~ as in many ways the example of this third stage, the embodiment of it--has lasted with great power and great success right down into our own lifetimes. Let me point out something that pertains ~o both the second and the third stages. Something enormously important shifted in Janua~:y-February 2000 Himes ¯ Returning to Our Ancestral Lands the course of the 12th century and, after more than eight hun-dred years, is still decisive for today's religious communities. It still affects what members do: we do this ministry to the urban poor. We do this particular kind of ministry for those who "need" it. What does this presuppose? It presupposes the situation during the second and third stages of Western religious life; it presup-poses people in need. It presupposes a world, and a church, in which the laity were essentially passive. Who was going to do the teach-ing, the preaching, the nursing, the caring, the evangelizing? It was going to be people in religious vows. The simply baptized members of the church--they were the recipients of ministry, they were not people who ministered themselves. An enormous shift happened when Vatican Council II called for a truly alive, energized, and ministerially responsible laity. Because of that shift, inevitably there was going to be some sort of identity crisis for religious life. If what makes me a religious is that I am one of group of people who perform such and such a ministry, and if nowadays other people who are not in vowed life, who are not celibate, and who are not living in community are doing the same ministry that I am doing, then what makes me a religious? Previously the identity of the religious--and I could make a similar case regarding the clergy--has been: "We are the people who do x, Y, and Z, and the laity are the people who have x, ¥, and Z done for them." The laity have been essentially passive recipients of ministry. The moment one begins to talk about the church as a community of people all of whom are called to some kind of ministry by baptism .(and not primarily by religious pro-fession or ordination), then everything shifts. That is why I suggest that we are at the end of the third stage and the beginning of a fourth stage. What does the fourth stage look like? Well, I have not a clu& Actually I may have a clue, but it is nothing more than a clue. Let me hasten to say that one of the occupational hazards of people who pretend to know something about the past is to think that they know everything about the future. With that caution in mind, I speak now with a good deal of self-suspicion, and you should hear it with even more suspicion. It is at least possible that a mark of the next great stage of development of religious life in the Western church--it may look more like the first stage than like stage two or three--is that there is a recentering on the nature of living vowed life in community rather than on any apostolate or mission of ours. That, perhaps, is Review for Religious the characteristic of the next stage of religious life. If that proves true, then a category that may be helpful for religious to consider more deeply and theologically is sacramentality. I am not referring to the great seven public and communal sacraments. I mean the much wider and in many ways much richer notion of sacrament, with a small s. And what is that sacrament called? What does sacramentality consist in? I give you Himes's handy-dandy definition of the sacra-mental principle. I have given it often, and it seems true. (After I hear myself say something long enough, it seems to me that it is true!) The definition of the sacramental principle is, I think, this: Whatever is always and every-where true must be noticed, accepted, and celebrated somewhere, sometime. Those things which are always true, those things which are constantly present to us, are almost always ignored. You do not pay attention to the oxygen in a room until it starts t6 go stale. While you have been reading this, you have surely been blinking periodically. Unless you have found my words altogether boring, you have not been counting your blinks. A couple of years ago ] got hit with a bout of Bell's palsy. I could not move anything on the left side of my face, and I could not blink. Throughout the day I had to periodically pull and hold my eyelid down, and tape it down at night. You become very aware of blinking when you cannot do it. When you can do it, when it takes care of itself, you do not pay any attention to it. In order to accept something that is there all the time and make it effectively present, to us, we have to learn to attend to it, to say yes to it, and to celebrate it. What is omnipresent to us? Well, God is: the self-giving of God. That self-giving of God we call, with the benefit of theological shorthand, grace: the self-gift of God's Trinitarian life outside the Trinity itself. It is everywhere. The whole world is just dripping with it; the whole thing is satu- A mark of the next great stage of development of religious life in the Western church is a recentering on the nature of living vowed life in community rather than on any apostolate or mission of ours. Himes ¯ Returning to Our Ancestral Lands rated with grace. But, precisely because that is true, it can be ignored. What is always present is seldom noticed. Whatever calls you, whatever person, place, thing, whatever sight, sound, taste, touch, smell, whatever experience leads you to he aware of, to attend to the reality of God's self-offering to you at that moment, to be able to say yes to it and to rejoice in it-- that is a sacra-ment. All told, how many sacraments are there in the world? How many things are there in the universe! That is what I mean by sacramentality. In that sense of the word--and this is where I am going to pick up the theme from Troeltsch in Part One--in that sense, religious life is a sacramental state within the church. We do not recognize that this is a sacramental state the way we recognize marriage as a sacramental state within the church. But it is in fact sacramental because, after all, religious are called to a deep sense of poverty, to a deep sense of responsibility toward and obedi-ence to the needs of those around us, to a responsible use of celibacy that recognizes our dependency on one another and on God. Is there anything there that everyone in the church is not called to by baptism? Why, then, do we need religious life so much? Because religious life "clearly, strikingly, astonishingly" (in the words of St. Athanasius's Life of Anthony) leads the church to see what the whole church is called to by baptism, to see it clearly and strikingly in a public and communal embodiment that helps people toward realization. Sacramentality is something that may be crucial for everyone's lively understanding of whht religious life is about and what its relationship to the church-at-large is and can be. How to Be More Sacramentally Aware How do you enliven this sense of sacramentality without repli-cating past forms? How do you rescue age-old values? How do you reclaim ancestral lands without simply going back to old build-ings or forms or structures? What can be done? I begin with a perceptive definition I learned from Jaroslav Pelikan, the distinguished historical theologian recently retired from Yale University. In his Jefferson Lectures at the University of Virginia a few years ago, he said: "We must be very careful to dis-tinguish between tradition ahd traditionalism. Tradition is the liv-ing faith of the dead. Traditionalism is the dead faith of the living." Review for Religious One is the continuing, living, vital faith that energized those who have gone before us; that is tradition. Traditionalism is faith main-tained by some among us that in fact is already ossified, entombed, embalmed; there is nothing left in it that is energizing. It is the dead faith of the living. How do we begin to reclaim the living faith of our ancestors? I know that this is going on in religious communities at this moment; it has gone on for a good deal of time. But I urge that it continue, and continue precisely in terms of sacramentality. How do we reflect on the meaning of the vows again? Is it possible that the fourth stage of religious life in the Western church into which I believe we are entering is more like religious life in the first stage than the second or third? As a word of preface, let me say that I have thought about this a good deal. Though I am not a religious, I do share with you a vow of obedience and I do share with you a vow of celibacy. I do not share with you living in community, although in fact I have lived in community. My brother Ken lives in a community of Franciscans with only six other people, and I lived in a house at the seminary in Huntington with fourteen other priests and sixty-five seminarians. I used to tell him: "You became a Franciscan and live in a rectory. I become a diocesan priest and live in a monastery." It is wonderful how God moves things around! The thing that has led me to think about this most is the vow I do not have, the vow of poverty. I find that the things I have vowed are not something I have to think about. I know what obe-dience means. The bishop calls me up and says, "I want to see you about doing x, Y, and Z." And I. say, "Okay, bishop, let me come and talk with you." There is'a structure to that. I do not have to get up in the morning and think: What does it mean to be obedi-ent today? That is taken care of. I do not have to think about what it is to be celibate. I know what means: that is taken care of. There is a structure to that too. What is not structured for me is poverty, and so it is a real problem. What does it mean for me as a university professor to talk Much as been written about poverty in recent years that is very powerful, but it is useful rhetorically more than actually real. Januat3~-Febrtta~y 2000 Himes ¯ Returning to Our Ancestral Lands about poverty when I do not have a vow of poverty? How, then, as a baptized member of the Body of Christ, do I incorporate poverty? That is a big issue, and I have thought about it. This is my pref-ace to what I am now going to say about the three vows. Much as been written about poverty in recent years that is very powerful, but it is useful rhetorically more than actually real. It assumes that poverty is about identification with the poor--I am convinced that it is not. I expect some people to say "Oh, but it is.t" I wish it were, but I do not think so. My reason is this: There is an enormous difference between my deciding "I will not eat today" and actually having nothing to eat. If I decide not to eat (even though there are tons of food in tt(e refrigerator) because I want to identify with the poor by going to bed tonight with an empty stomach, I am forgetting something. For me there will be break-fast tomorrow morning, but overnight the poor are thinking: "I would love to have eaten today and I couldn't, and God knows whether I will get anything to eat tomorrow morning." These are simply totally different experiences, and I think it is nothing but self-serving romanticism to say, "Isn't it wonderful that we have identified with the poor!" I think that is just false, and I think it is dangerously false because it is overly romantic. 20 What Is Poverty? I turn to my brother's tradition. Who is the wisest one to have talked about poverty in the Western church? Francis of Assisi. Nobody is wiser on it than Francis. And I suggest that what Francis saw is very much in a line that starts with Augustine. But Francis saw its implications in brand-new ways. What is the most famous line from Augustine? What line does everybody know from St. Augustine? "You made us for yourself, and our hearts are restless until they rest in You." (A pastor in a diocese not far from here famously used to get up on any saint's feast and say, "Ah, today we remember St. Cuthbert of Auxerre, who is famous for that wonderful statement of his, 'You made us for yourself, and our hearts are restless . '" According to this pastor, every saint had said it--or must have said it.) Well, what is Augustine saying? He is saying that all crea-tures- not just all human beings, please notice, but all creatures-- have one deep characteristic. That was what Francis saw so clearly. That deep characteristic is this: At our core, at our heart, we are Review for Religious empty. There is hunger, there is restlessness. The characteristic human experience is "Yeah, yeah, yeah, but more!" You have never known a human being who did not want more. The totally satis-fied, totally fulfilled human being is dead. If you want to see a totally filled human being, drop into your local cemetery. The fact is that what marks us as human beings is endless restlessness, end-less hunger--more, more, more, more, more. I say sometimes to students: "If somebody you know ever says, 'I have everything, I am everything, I know everything, I have experienced everything that I could possibly want, I am perfectly and totally satisfied,' ask the person this: 'Would you like it to last?'" If you had everything, what you would want is more time. There is never a moment when we do not want. That is the characteristic of being a creature. This is what Francis saw and recognized as uniting us with all of creation. That is what Francis saw in the mystical marriage with Lady Poverty, and it is what motivates the Canticle of the Sun. V~y is it Brother Sun and Sister Moon? VVhat is it that makes the moon and the sun, earth and water and air and fire, what makes everything my brother and sister? The fact that we all are marked by one great family resemblance: we are all poor. We did not make ourselves. We are all ultimately dependent. Nobody is fulfilled. If that is true, then poverty is what unites us with all other creatures. If that is so, then I suggest that poverty is the key value in the vows. My own reading of the relationship of the vows is that there are not three. There is one, and two further explications. The cen-tral vow is poverty. Celibacy and obedience are ways of being poor. But poverty is the central one. And the point about poverty is: It is not a social condition first of all, it is not an economic condition first of all. First of all, it is metaphysical; it is what makes you you. To embrace poverty publicly is to embrace, publicly, being a human being. Being poor is being human publicly. It is to embrace the human condition. It is to recognize that there are radical limits on me, limits of time, ultimately. A time is going to come when I will breathe out and think "Gee, I'd like to breathe in"--and it will not happen. There is going to come a time when I will say, "I would like just to get to tomorrow morning," and there will not be time for me to get there. There are limitations on time, there are limitations on energy, there are limitations on strength, there are limitations on courage, there are limitations on wisdom, there are limitations on knowledge. Ultimately I have to look at that and say, "And it is a good thing! I embrace it." Poverty is central. Januao,-Februa~y 2000 '-3! Himes ¯ Returning to Our Ancestral Lands Celibacy is a way of saying that very publicly. I told you that I think there is an overly romantic element in much that has been said about poverty in recent years. I think a huge amount of fatu-ous slop has been written about celibacy. I think that much of what has been done on celibacy in recent years is the most patent non-sense. We have all sorts of stuff saying it is perfectly possible to be celibate and a completely fulfilled and happy man or woman. Junk! The fact is that 99.999 percent of the human race has found, does find, and presumably always will find that the most significant relationship in their lives is being someone's spouse and someone's parent. If I come along and say: "Well, I am no one's spouse and I am no one's parent, and it does not matter a hill of beans. I am just as happy as can be. I am just as fulfilled as you can get. What 99.999 percent of the human race thinks is so important really is not important at all"--well, that is arrogance, stupid arrogance. The whole point of celibacy is, of course, that you are unfulfilled. But, if you can be publicly unfulfilled and still be an intelligent, free, responsible, loving, brave, wise, concerned human being, then your life suggests that maybe "fulfillment" is not what human-ity is about. Your life is a public witness to the fact that unfulfill-ment is what is characteristic of being a human being. To go around saying "Oh, we're all fulfilled" is to make hash of the whole of the Franciscan tradition. It is to make nonsense of Augustine's restless heart. Manifestly the human race is unfulfilled, and so, when some-body says "Here I am, a publicly vowed celibate," he or she loudly proclaims: "I am unfulfilled, and that is okay. We are all unful-filled. I am just publicly noting the fact. I am a reminder, a clear picture, of the fact that you are as unfulfilled as I am. I am just publicly acknowledging that fact in a particularly striking way." The same thing is true with obedience. Obedience has nothing to do--or almost nothing--with the submission of one person's will to another person's will. That is anti-Christian thinking. The whole point of our relationship to the will of God is that I do not subject my will to God's will. I discover that God's will really is my will, that God's will is what undergirds my will. It is not a question of "Gee, I want this and God wants that and, by hook or by crook, I've got to pull myself around to want what God wants." That is a misunderstanding of God; that is a destructive picture of God. What does obedience mean? Above everything else, it means poverty in the face of facts. Obedience is, above everything else, a responsibility to what is: not what you would like, not what you had Review for Religious hoped, not what you wanted, not what you wished, not what you feared, but what is. I used to tell my students that, when you are talking about obedience to a superior, when you are talking about obedience to a bishop, the point is this: You are newly ordained and you get assigned to a parish. You are just the best thing that ever happened to kids. John Bosco looks like a piker. This is just the best thing that ever happened to teenagers. You are gung-ho to work with kids. It happens, however, that at the moment you are needed in this parish. There are not a lot of kids; younger fam-ilies have moved out; it is, in fact, a very elderly neighborhood. If you say, "Well, I just don't work with the elderly, I work with kids," you are being disobedient. You are not being disobedient to the bishop, you are not being disobedient to the pas-tor, you are being disobedient to facts. The fact is that these are the people who are here. You are the person on the spot--serve them! If you find yourself saying inside, "Well, you know, I am not really good at serving them," let yourself hear them saying "Yeah, I know. We've noticed." And then notice that you are the only one there. If the Titanic is going down and you are the nearest ship, do not say, "Well, you know, it would crowd breakfast so terribly to take on these other passengers." The ship is going down. Get over and save them! That is obedience to facts, and it is poverty. It is the recogni-tion that, hey, there are some things I am good at and some things I am not good at. Sometimes I am in positions where what I am not good at is what is most necessary. Then I have to give it my best even though it is clear that I am not going to do very well at it. I may also have the responsibility to say, "Somebody else in here might be a lot better at this than I am." But until that happens I am here, and I will get to work. That is real obedience. It is, once again, poverty. It is a recognition of the limitations of our histor-ical placement. I have been given this time and this place. I would have been just a knockout in the 18th century. In the 18th cen-tury I would have been just wonderful. But there was a problem: I was not begotten until the middle of the 20th century. So, no matter how great you would have been in the 18th century, you What does obedience mean ? Above everything else, it means poverty in the face of facts. January-February 2000 Himes * Returning to Our Ancestral Lands were not there. Likewise, you might be the best thing that could ever happen to the church of the 24th century. But, unless you have really good genes in your family, you are not going to be there. This is the only century you have; this is the one you bet-ter relate to even though it might not always be the one you wanted. That is the experience of poverty. Celibacy, obedience--both variants of poverty! Why is it so important that religious life seize that value of poverty and be a sign of it for the whole church? Because it is the experience of being a human being. It is the deepest truth about us as human beings. It is what the rest of us, in all sorts of ways, come to grips with or else try to hide from ourselves. Amid all these human beings, there should be communities of women and men who say in the strongest, clearest, and most striking way: "I, too, am poor, and it is good. This is what it is to be a human being." Now, how do you convey that truth to people? Well, it will he different from person to person, from community to com-munity, and from place to place. You cannot replicate the past. If you had known Dominic or Francis, Scholastica or Teresa of Avila, if you had known Ignatius or Vincent de Paul or Jane Frances Fr~myot de Chantal, perhaps they would have said, "I never had a disciple as good as this." But, you see, they never said that. You are not a contemporary of theirs; you are a con-temporary of mine. Francis of Assisi does not need you, but I do. So do not try to relate to Francis of Assisi or Jane Frances, but make a good attempt of getting to me. When, by retaining or recovering important values we "return to our ancestral lands," we are not thereby called to sow the ances-tral crops. Ancient lands can bear new crops, and new crops are needed for a new generation of people. I predict that, in the next fifty years, religious life is going to experience an explosion of growth. It may look different than we expect. Some older com-munities may die or merge--or meld into newer communities. Not every community will experience an explosion, but there will be an explosion of people living publicly vowed lives in community as sacramental signs to the rest of us of how the Christian tradition understands genuine humanity. I predict that sects, in Troeltsch's meaning, will be powerfully witnessing to the church so that the church is not allowed to become a hidebound and ossified insti-tution. This explosion will happen because the church could not survive without it--and we have the Lord's word that the church Review for Religious will survive. But I do not know how it will happen. The how ques-tion has never been the forte of the church, which, in its own poverty, only just manages to keep going. These observations are those of a passionate religious watcher. In some new ways, religious life will still be there in the future, for the church needs you. I have no doubt that, if only I could live thousand years longer, I could write a whopping good book about that future. Questions for Reflection and Discussion 1. What elements of religious life have been eclipsed in recent years and need to be reclaimed? 2. How do we reclaim values without retreating to past forms? 3. Where do our particular religious communities fit in the development of vowed life in the church's history? 4. How can we establish community in religious life when the community is not its own center? Blink I like to think of thegn sledding, graceful, flying down some swift hill, the white in their hair only snow, bright gloves flashing in the wind above the aluminum board not as this aged couple she scarved in purple, taking careful steps in ankle boots, clutching a brown grocery bag, he shuffling two steps ahead, the long cool silver ironing board tucked beneath his arm. Doretta Cornell RDC January-Februmy 2000 religious mission JOHN KLEIN Transforming Mission: A Spirit of Adventure On 22 March 1999 a headline appeared in the New York Times reading: "Voyage End Brings Crew Back Down to Earth." The article recounted the voyage of the first two balloonists to circle the globe, aboard Breitling Orbiter III. The trip lasted nineteen days, twenty-one hours, and fifty-five minutes and covered a total of 29,054.6 miles. During their news conference one of the adventurers, Dr. Bertrand Piccard, a Swiss psychiatrist, reflected upon their experience: "It was not a matter of setting records; it was a fabulous metaphor of life. To try is the only way to survive." His compatriot, Brian Jones, a former member of the British Air Force, added: "We are not heroes. We just proved that dreams could come true.m Later in the interview Dr. Piccard admitted that the journey posed significant risks, struggles, and sacrifices. Confined in their 16.5 foot-by-10 foot capsule, freezing cold, and often lack-ing water, the adventurers nearly abandoned their effort several times. Piccard said, "When one of us was about to give up, the other would support him." This Magellanesque journey offers us a fabulous metaphor for our lives as religious leaders. Like Piccard and Jones, we find ourselves on a journey demanding John Klein FMS gave this presidential address at the August 1999 assembly of the Conference of Major Superiors of Men (CMSM). His address is Marist High School; 1241 Kennedy Boulevard; Bayonne, New Jersey 07002. Review for Religious that we move beyond preconceived boundaries, one that forces us to tap into unsuspected personal and corporate resources, one that calls us to risk and trust and sometimes upset the status quo, one that invites us to dream of new possibilities and challenges, one that beckons us to move from the center to the margins. Religious leadership today is truly an adventure extending Jesus' mission to proclaim the kingdom and to make God known and loved. Mission is a description of Jesus, the Son of God, who invites us to be adventurers and dreamers with him. The daily realities of our work, however, do not permit us to escape being administrators, managers, fund-raisers, therapists, legal experts, and arbiters. Who has the time and the energy to dream and to participate in an adventure? How can we become "unstuck" and move forward the renewal of religious life? The church historian John W. O'Malley SJ has said, "It is more diffi-cult to reform a religious order than to found one.''2 Our expe-rience during the past thirty years certainly confirms this. Nonetheless, our role as leaders offers us a wonderful opportu-nity to influence and design the future, remembering that this project of religious life is God's work and not ours. With hope, like Jacob waking from his dream at Bethel, we can say of our time and our struggles, "Surely the Lord is in this place and I did not know it" (Gn 28:16). With confidence, like St. Paul in his Second Letter to Timothy (1:6-7), we can remind each other that "God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but rather a spirit of power and of love." It is in this spirit that we can face the future and set out on an adventure not of our design, but God's. John Gardner in his book Self-Renewal offers a sobering pre-diction if we opt to respond otherwise. He says: "If people are apathetic, defeated in spirit, or unable to imagine a future worth striving for, the game is lost.''3 We cannot lose this game. On the contrary, we need to see our present situation as opportunity. We need to articulate a high level of expectations for ourselves, the members of our congregations, and the institutions we own and sponsor. We are called to do this in a culture that does not share our values, but rather extols individualism, tends to privatize reli-gion, and fails to engender a true sense of community. Archbishop Rembert Weakland recently highlighted this challenge, asserting that "one of the most difficult pastoral tasks of our day., that has challenged the renewal at every turn is precisely how to overcome the cultural bias of our age toward the individualistic. ''4 Janumy-February 2000 Klein ¯ Tran~fomning Mission Our religious communities have not remained immune from these societal influences. On the contrary, society has tended to co-opt us and has led many religious to make private accommo-dations to religious life. This cripples our mission, diminishes a sense of esprit de corps and solidarity, and saps our energy and possibilities for the future. "The Nygren and Ukeritis study already warned that, despite their language of prophecy and sol-idarity with the poor, many religious in the United States may be far more accommodated and assimilated into the dominant cul-ture than they like to believe. The penchant for individualism and self-fulfillment so characteristic of this culture has found a ready berth in many religious communities. Self-determination has eroded communal and institutional commitments.''s Given this situation, how are we as religious leaders called to respond? I believe that we can discover the answer by reflecting on the example that Jesus provides us. The Letter to the Hebrews (12:2) refers to Jesus as the pioneer. He is the one who goes before us to offer the example and then returns to us to point the direction and to reassiire us that he is always present with us. Jesus is the adventurer calling us to join with him in mission and to fan the embers our commitment into a flame spreading new life and hope. Like us, Jesus found himself engaged in mission, searching for ways to engender new life, struggling and sometimes discour-aged with a disparate band of disciples, and confronting a society at best indifferent to his values and vision. How did he respond? What was and is Jesus' mission? How did he endeavor to foster new life? How did he pursue his mission and commitment? How did he accomplish the transformation of the lives of his disciples and the many others whom he touched as well? By probing these questions we will begin to perceive ourselves as part of a unique adventure that will transform our mission and foster new life. However, we do not probe the questions alone. This effort must be a collaborative and communal one. While we do not need everyone in our province or congregation to participate in this effort, we do need a "critical mass" of people to share the adventure. Only this will move our mission and our group for-ward. "What we dream alone remains just a dream, but what we dream with others can become a reality.''6 If we willingly dream together in faith, then our mission will be transformed and we will have the confidence that our best years are ahead of us. In all of Review for Religious our efforts together, Jesus, the pioneer, presents the lens through which we can discern our course of action and catch a glimpse of the religious life of the future. This is particularly true in three aspects of his mission that challenge us today: Jesus' deep spiri-tuality and relationship to his Father, his commitment to mis-sion at the margins of society, and, finally, his formation of an intentional community of disciples to carry his mission forward. Our following his response in these areas will, I believe, offer the compelling ways through which we will discover our unique role in society and the church. Jesus appreciated better than anyone that to be in close, intimate relationship with God inevitably makes people countercultural and dis-tinctive. It places them in a dangerous situation, making them as disciples part of a cultural minority. This minority cannot help seeing the world and society through different eyes, the eyes of Jesus. This vision encourages those who follow Jesus to choose new life by loving the Lord, our God, heeding his voice, and holding fast to him (Dt 30:15-20). Seeing reality this way meant new life for Jesus also, for his profound spirituality caused him to turn society's values on their head and, in the process, made him a dangerous person. We see this clearly in Jesus' table fellowship. He ate with scribes and Pharisees, with the poor and destitute, with tax col-lectors and sinners. By breaking boundaries, risking disapproval, and "imaging" the reality of God for the people of his time, Jesus made his mission, the proclamation of the kingdom, tangible. It was in food-and-drink situations that he revealed the divine gifts of joy (Mt 9:15), pardon (Lk 7:47), salvation (Lk 19:9), and super-abundance (Mr 14:15-2 I). It is at table that we witness the trans-forming conversion of Zacchaeus, Jesus' example of servant leadership, and the opening of the weary disciples' eyes at Emmaus. It is therefore primarily at his table, at his Eucharist, where we religious will find new life for our mission. It is at his table that we will encounter him through the lives of sinners and outcasts, our brothers and sisters, realizing that the margin is our home too. In his message for the World Day of Peace, Pope John Paul II exhorted us to "recognize Christ in the poorest and the most marginalized, those whom the Eucharist--which is communion What was and is Jesus' mission ? Janualy-Februaly 2000 Klein ¯ Transforming Mission in the body and blood of Christ given up for us--commits us to serve. As the parable of the rich man, who will remain forever without a name, and the poor man called Lazarus clearly shows, 'in the stark contrast between the insensitive rich man and the poor in need of everything, God is on the latter's side.' We too must be on this same side.''7 The side of the poor and disenfran-chised is the side where the religious man and woman must be found. Whether or not we work directly with the poor, we can-not escape the imperative of seeing the world with the eyes of the poor. This attitude, then, will inform our prayer, our work, and our lifestyles. The Gospel of Luke reminds us that the sign that Jesus is "the one who is to come" is that the poor are having the Good News proclaimed to them. In this Jesus gave flesh to his kingdom and illustrated that the reign of God is now. Our mission as reli-gious leaders represents the continuing participation in his incar-nation. Our mission calls us to illustrate that economic and social boundaries are artificial, made by human hands. Our mission proclaims that, if "we truly want to see the glory of God, we must move downward with Jesus. This is the deepest reason for living in solidarity with poor, oppressed, and handicapped people. They are the ones through whom God's glory can manifest itself to us. They show us the way to God, the way to salvation.''8 To ignore the sorrows and needs of others is to ignore the flesh of Jesus and to deny the incarnation. For us to make the "option for the poor" a reality will mean a conversion of mind and heart. It is a conversion that will find its source in prayer, reflection, and Eucharist. It is a conversion that demonstrates itself through simplicity of lifestyle and sensi-tivity to those less fortunate than we. Too often we have claimed the adjectives prophetic and countercultural for ourselves. It would be far better that others attribute them to us after seeing the way we live and work and pray. They will do so if we make certain that our rhetoric and our reality coincide and that our lifestyles reflect charism rather than just personal choices. Johann Baptist Metz once wrote that "religious orders are a kind of shock therapy. ¯ for the church as a whole. Against the dangerous accommoda-tions and questionable compromises that the church . . . can always incline to, they press for the uncompromising nature of the gospel and the imitation of Christ. In this sense they ire the insti-tutionalized form of a dangerous memory within the church.''9 Review for Religious Our mission today is to be dangerous as Jesus was and to make Metz's description of us real. This mission is by its very nature a communal one, and I believe that new life for the mission of Christ will be found, not necessarily in endeavoring to enliven already existing local com-munities, but rather in forming new intentional communities within our groups. In addressing the obstacles to refounding a religious community, Gerald Arbuclde acknowledged that efforts to "move" or "change" a group inevitably encounter significant resistance. Hence, he says, "The new belongs elsewhere." These communities, similar to the one Jesus formed with his disciples, have mission at their center and heart. Mission conse-quently operates as their chief source of connectedness and energy. Members of an intentional community realize that they cannot minister to others outside unless they live in a community founded on inter-dependence and a mutuality informed by faith. This faith life sensitively balances the needs of the community and those of each individual and finds sharing of faith to be indispensable to its life. This inevitably leads to a high level of trust that allows mem-bers to challenge one another's behavior in light of a commonly accepted vision and goal. While these intentional communities meet some of the emotional, social, and intellectual needs of its members, they are in no way therapeutic support centers. An intentional community is "a group of religious living together who feel the need to be supported in their ministries and willingly commit themselves to develop a gospel-centered intimacy to be expressed in shared faith, ongoing conversation, and shared action."1° In short, an intentional community is one that has a clear and visible and easily identifiable way of life. Such a group offers the world what it does not find elsewhere: a community of faith, friendship, and mutual support engaged in an adventure larger than itself. In writing about his hopes for Dominican communities, Timothy Radcliffe OP, the master general, highlighted the impor-tance of such communities for the future of religious life. These groups, he maintained, carry within themselves seeds of new life. Communities similar to the one Jesus formed with his disciples have mission at their center and heart. January-Februaty 2000 Klein ¯ Transforming Mission "Unless a province plans the building of such communities, then it dies. A province with three communities where the brethren flourish in their Dominican life has a future, with the grace of God. A province with twenty communities where we just survive may well have none." it To say the least, we religious at the threshold of the new mil-lennium face significant challenges as we participate in Jesus' adventure. Allowing God to transform our mission and ourselves will not be a process devoid of risk and some pain. Nonetheless, to do otherwise would rob our religious families of the new life necessary to bring them into the future and, as a result, would put at risk our contribution to the mission of Christ. In the conclu-sion of Vita consecrata, the Holy Father asserts that religious "have not only a glorious history to remember and to recount, but also a great history still to be accomplished! Look to the future, where the Spirit is sending you in order to do even greater things" (VC §110). A real test of our faith and gospel hope is our belief in the truth of John Paul's words. Martin Heidegger once compared the journey of life to a person walking in a huge forest where it is pitch dark, where it is raining and thundering, and one has completely lost the way. There is a bolt of lightning and for an instant the way is clear. Then it is dark again. All one can and must do is keep going in the direction one saw illuminated by the lightning flash. This is our challenge and our opportunity: to keep going, to trust that God is faithful, to remember the way in the light of those key moments through which God intervenes in our lives. Most of our life we must move ahead in darkness, sustained in our faithfulness by what we once glimpsed when, if only for an instant, everything was clear.12 Notes ~ New York Times, 22 March 1999, p. 8. -' John W. O'Malley SJ, Tradition and Transition: H#torical Perspectives on Vatican II (Wilmington: Michael Glazier, 1989), p. 97. 3 Albert DiIanni SM, Religious Life as Adventure (New York: Alba House, 1994), p. 108. 4 Rembert Weakland OSB, "Liturgy and Common Ground," America 180, no. 5 (20 February 1999): 9. s Robert J. Schreiter, "Challenges and Directions of Religious Life at the Turn of the Millennium," Address given at the inauguration of the Center for the Study of Religious Life, 21 June 1998, p. 11. Review for Religious 6 Ronald Rolheiser OMI, "Religious Life in America Faces a Change of Epoch," paper prepared for the Inter-American Meeting in Toronto, May 1999, p. 13. 7 Pope John Paul II, "Message for the Celebration of the World Day of Peace," 1 January 1999, p. 21. s Robert A. Jonas, Henri Nouwen (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1998), p. 35. 9 Gerald A. Arbuckle SM, From Chaos to Mission: Refounding Religious Life Formation (Strathfield, N.S.W.: St. Paul's Publications, 1996), p. 11. ~0 Arbuclde, From Chaos to Mission, p. 15 I. " Timothy Radcliffe OP, Pastoral letter "The Promise of Life," 2 February 1999, p. 3. ~2 John Fullenbach, Prodaiming His Kingdom (Manila: Divine Word Publications, 1992), p. 190. The Joys of January Beautiful month of the cold, clean slate: nothing mars its pristine glare. Starlings stare, perched on empty limbs shaking in their purity. The air bears thoughts of ice. Wind cuts through whispers. Walls show us where twigs scrape messages: deliver words, deliver us: bend, blow beautifully, winter stems. Wake us. The dark recedes, we see our breath, a flickering. Light. Mary Kennan Herbert Janua~. -Febmtmy 2000 A. PAUL DOMINIC Evangelization as Religious Mission of Joy Spurely, in the Indian experience, joy has not been a strong oint in religious life, in fact or in principle. This came to me as a rude shock twenty-odd years ago during a chat with a couple of sisters. As I was leaving their place, one of them made a particularly religious sort of request: "Father, will you please pray for vocations to our congregation?" I replied at once, though with some inner hesitation, "Why pray? If you are all happy, the girls will simply flock to you!" When I said this, I did not know I was echoing the mind of Pope Paul vI revealed in his 1971 apostolic exhortation Evangelica testificatio (§55). I must not have impressed them, for one of them said to me later, "But you must know we are religious!" Though that was not a recent event, attitudes of this type do not change in a single generation--though I would like to be proved wrong. Incidentally, the rumor of joyless religious life is not an exclusively Indian phenomenon: most of the religious con-gregations here have been transported from the West. Why, the very fact that a paper on consecrated life as anointed with joy was read in 1998 in San Antonio, Texas, at the annual confer-ence of vicars of religious implies that even modern American religious are not above the need of awakening to joy in their life of consecration.' A. Paul Dominic SJ last wrote for us in November-December 1995. His address is Satyodayam; 12-5-33, S. Lallaguda; Secunderabad 500 017; India. Review for Religiota This sad state of affairs in religious life is a reflection of Christianity in general, which has been accused of joylessness by both Westerners and Easterners. Nietzsche, for instance, has ridiculed the claim of Christians to have been saved by Christ. If it were really so, he argues, why could they not look joyful instead of appearing so remarkably gloomy? The Indian Shree Rajneesh, quite celebrated in his way, has been no less categorical in his attack on Christian attitudes. "Christians say that Jesus never laughed!" he alleges, and counters: "Now this seems to be the ulti-mate in stupidity. Jesus . never laughed? Then who else can laugh? . . They have made his picture very sad-looking, long-faced, burdened. This is not possible. This is utterly wrong.''2 All this non-Christian aspersion may well serve as a goad, particularly for us religious, to discover or rediscover the characteristic joy of Christ and enter into it (see Mt 25:21 and 23) and thus be evange-lized, that is, "gladdened by the good news" of our redemption. The Oil of Gladness It is heartening to observe that, in the biblical experience, there is a joyous anointing, besides several others. This joyous anointing is bestowed on the righteous king, that is, the king who loves justice, producing the pleasure of the people without seeking his own fortune (Ps 45:3-8). Who can this joyously anointed king be but him whose very name is Christ, meaning, of course, "the anointed one"? He is the one who, as no other, can witness to his joy in this fashion: "I was beside the master crafts-man, delighting him day after day, ever at play in his presence, at play everywhere on his earth, delighting to be with the children of men" (Pv 8:30-3 I). If, by virtue of baptismal consecration, every Christian shares in the life of the joyously anointed Christ, what may we conclude about those consecrated further by religious profession? Being anointed with the oil of gladness is no doubt a charism person-ally received; it is, however, not to be enjoyed as a private pos-session, but to be ever passed on for the surprise enjoyment of others. If religious are genuine enough, they will necessarily make their anointing evident, for the joyous enhancement of others. Leading lives of contagious joy" because their God is the joy of their never ending youth, they will liberate the masses from their oppressed lives and lead them into the same joy. January-Febrnary 2000 Dominic ¯ Evangelization as Religious Mission of Joy All truly enlightened persons, whatever their religion, would share in this lofty, uplifting, and truly religious sentiment of theirs. People's innermost recesses would be affected, and there-fore the social fabric too. For instance, among the Hindu Tamil saints was Tayumanavar, who prayed out of the abundance of his holy joy: "That all should be happy is my one wish, Almighty One! This is the only thing I know!" The Christian ashrams here in India have, in proper inter-religious spirit, followed suit in earnest and have introduced, somewhere at the beginning of Lauds, the singing of the Sanskrit sloka "Lokah samasta sukhino bhavantu," which means "May all the world be happy!" This vision of joy, flowing to us from God and necessarily flowing to others from us, is certainly wonderful. How do we make this vision vivid to ourselves and transparent to others in a practicable, communicable way? The Religious Way of Joy The way to experience joy in God is, first and foremost, to enjoy our life, basically and paradoxically, in its human and of course ecological dimension. There God will be available, not absent. For one thing, where joy is there will be no room for complaining. Complaining is a root of the atheist's mindset (see Ph 2:14-15). Habitually complaining persons construe everything as wrong, in sharp contrast to the divine intention exhibited in creation and providence (see Gn 1 and Mt 5:45), and so they can-not subscribe to any belief in God. Even if they claimed to believe, their belief would be the result of some psychological or religious conditioning and so only superficial, if not spurious. Rajneesh warns against such joyless nominal faith, advocat-ing an increasing enjoyment of life as the way to find God-given joy in ourselves. He says: Any small thing is full of God! So love this life . Eat, enjoy the food, and let God come to you as a taste. Listen to music, get lost in it, and let God come to you as sound ¯ . . as harmony. Let God descend on you slowly, without any hankering to catch hold of him . Just open yourself as much as possible--to the trees, to the birds, to the rains, to the sun, to the sands¯ Open yourself wherever you are; absorb, and gratitude will arise . And you will not know towards whom this gratitude is arising. When you don't know towards whom., it is towards God) Review for Religious Does this not read like a poetic rendition of the Contemplation to Attain love offered by St. Ignatius at the very climax of his Spiritual Exercises (§§230-237) to train people to find the joy of God no less outside their retreat than in it? Again, does this not evoke the following bold and originally controversial remark of St. Paul? "If I partake with thankfulness, why should I be denounced because of that for which I give thanks? So whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do everything for the glory of God" (1 Co 10:30-31; see also Col 3:16-17). Again, does this not read like an expository commentary on the praxis and pronouncements of Jesus? He, whose mission was to make known the heart of God to humanity, did not speak explicitly about God as much as he spoke about the happiness people longed for. He assured them that they were des-tined for joy, and, to prove it, he went about doing good for them in ever sur-prising ways. He fed them in their hunger without being asked, and he sat-isfied them. In that way he led them to discover for themselves that it was God who fed them to their heart's content. He healed them of their many illnesses and gladdened them and in that way enlightened them about how God meant them to be healthy and happy. His teaching was new precisely in proclaiming that they were at the threshold of an altogether new blessedness, thanks to the unique intervention God was initiating in humanity. He declared a new law, the law of beatitude (see Mt 5:1-10), for all, but particularly for the poor, that is, for those who longed for blessedness (see Lk 10:23-24). All this would have been offensive to people who abided by their fixed religious ways without, however, conspicu-ous happy living. To those who made much of fasting, for instance, he declared himself against it unless times and seasons made sense of it and demanded it. Indeed, he approved of feast-ing before fasting, gladly characterizing himself as one who came in the spirit of God's new time, eating, drinking, and partying in marked contrast to his predecessor, and not fighting shy of the The way to experience joy in God is, first and foremost, to enjoy our life in its human and of course ecological dimension. .~anualy-Februa~y 2000 Dominic * Evangelization as Religious Mission of Joy nicknames "glutton" and "drunkard" that some hurled at him. Because he found the joy of God in feasting in God's name, he could also, paradoxically, find the God of joy while abstaining from any feast. Is it not quite revelatory, when we come to think of it, that the word feast denotes both a lavish meal (as at a wed-ding) and a periodic religious observance? Christ was persuaded . that God himself was feasting, and so he would urge people undertaking a fast to present an appearance of joy (Mt 6:16-18). Whatever delightful stories of God he told had invariably the magic spell of joy in life. The stories suggest that only those who have known the joy of a wedding feast, or a bumper harvest, or an unexpected catch of fish, or giving birth to a child, or finding a lost coin or son, or stumbling on a treasure, or seeing and being a child, and so forth, could understand and delight in God. They as much as say that anyone who has known none of life's ordinary joys would be unable to know, let alone enjoy, God in their life-- even though God, as the source of all other joys, is a joy well above life's mundane joys. So Christ's call to joy was constant and compelling, encouraging us to be open to unnoticed joys around us and then to greater joy: Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? . . . Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you--you of little faith? Therefore do no worry, saying, "What shall we eat?" or "What shall we drink?" or "What shall we wear?". Your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. (Mt 6:26-32) All who have known and enjoyed God thus in life will hope-fully carry this, their basic thrill of happiness, all through their life and will further develop their happy character through life's tasks, trials, and temptations. Anointing Others with Joy Like the birds of the air and the lilies of the field, the more we become what we are (namely, anointed with joy) by growing in the joy that abides in us from our looking at Jesus, the pioneer Review for Religious of our joy, the more we shall be able to anoint others with joy. Sensing this dynamic of joy, how does one move in this mission of joy (evangelization, translated literally)? Basic to any move in relation to others is openness to all so that all may have life. The joy within us, if genuine, will be free from all conditioning by others and will contrive to make every-one welcome indiscriminately. This is what Christ did. He who said "Let the little children come to me" in an age when they counted for little had much the same attitude of welcome towards all, Jew or gentile or Samaritan, Pharisee or Sadducee or rogue, man or woman, young or old, high or low, rich or poor, clean or dirty, learned or illiterate, virtu-ous or sinful, and so forth, irrespec-tive of all segregations prevailing in his day. When he did make choices, however, it was doubtless towards the poor of all sorts, showing compas-sion for the multitude that was like sheep without a shepherd, saying that he had come for sinners, not the virtuous, and that the Spirit had anointed him to bring good news to the poor, to prisoners, the blind, and the oppressed. And so they, the poor masses, who Jesus sadly foretold are with us always (more glaringly now than ever before), have the greatest claim on our mission of joy. How do we set about this privileged mission? Thefirst move must be to initiate or maintain solidarity with people in their joyless situation, following the incarnation's prin-ciple of bringing joy to the world. We need to be one with them as far as possible. Ideally, of course, we should be so much one with them that nothing differentiates us from them in sur-rounding society. Meanwhile every attempt we make in this direc-tion will be an opening of joy to the unfortunates with whom we seek to share our own joy. During my turn as chaplain at a home for the aged, the day I began eating with them at their own table (something they had never seen before) was a matter of undreamt-of joy for them, far more beneficial than my liturgical or homiletic performance. The ontological principle actio in distans repugnat is no less sociological and evangelical. When Jesus sent his disciples The joy within us will be free from all conditioning by others and will contrive to make everyone welcome indiscriminately. January-February 2000 Dominic * Evangelization as Religious Mission of Joy on mission, what was he doing but bridging the gap between the teaching tribe and the taught? In his clear instruction to them to stay and eat happily with their hosts, what was he aiming at but their insertion into their very midst? When he himself was at home in the company of the sick and suffering and sinful, what was he exhibiting but his identification with their milieu? The second move must be to respond to the felt desires of those whom we have chosen to serve foremost in the promotion of joy. The Bible has as much to do with this as with the worship of God (see Is 58:6-10, Am 5:21-24, Mi 6:6-8). However much we may have identified with various persons, we may be mistaken about their drives and urges. That is why we have not had in great numbers the likes of St. Peter Claver and Blessed Katherine Drexel in the history of slavery, or of Bishop Romero and Corazon Aquino (once president of the Philippines) in the much delayed popular struggle, or of Little Sister Madeleine of Jesus and professor-turned-preacher Peter Reddy pitching their tents on the fringe of society.4 To work today toward a better future, it would on our part be best if we had people spell out their desires and then responded to them. Though at times Jesus' benefac-tions were a surprise to the beneficiaries of them, often he led people to be aware of their needs and then proceeded to respond to those needs, and bring joy (see Mk 10:46-52, Jn 4:4-42, Jn 5:1-9, even Mt 20:20-23). Besides this, he was quick to sense and fill the deeper spiritual needs they felt in spite of, or along with, their physical or social ones (as in the cases of Mary of Magdala and Joanna, Bartimaeus, Zacchaeus, the Samaritan outcast, and the Gerasene demoniac). Unlike him was the North American priest working in a South American parish who, to his dismay, discovered from his old cat-echist that his people, whom he had raised economically to a sat-isfactory level, were leaving him for a newfound evangelical pastor because they wanted to hear the glad news of the gospel. The third move in our mission will be, therefore, to lay bare the hidden needs of the spirit, at whatever level people may be, and to bring them to a higher level that engages their own inner resources. There is a time and reason for attending to and filling their mate-rial needs, and also for sensitizing themto higher needs and, with the conviction learned from Jesus, inviting them to higher joy: "But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well" (Mt 6:33). Review for Religious Reality may seem to fly in the face of this assurance, but can-not negate it altogether. People like Paul, who by God's grace knew a deep joy in penury as well as in plenty (Ph 4:11-13), show the truth of Jesus' words. In declaring that God has a higher claim on people and fills a deeper need than ordinary earthly liv-ing makes them concerned about, Jesus was not being naive. Well aware of the problematic reverses of human life, he was aware too of the privileged reserves of the human spirit. And so he would train people in tested, mature happiness by his winning counsel: "Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. And even the hairs of your head are all counted. So do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows" (Mt 10:29-31). This stance leads us to the fourth move, namely, to encour-age and fortify people caught in suffering to rise above it and emerge in joy. Would this work in life? It can and does, because it did in Christ's life. Even though all through his public life he encountered opposition from many quarters and faced threats to his life from authorities like Herod, he carried on his work with joyous determination and courage that were the mark of his unflinching faith in God. When his disciples were sorely troubled by his uncertain future, he reassured them emphati-cally: "Very truly, I tell you, you will weep and mourn, but the world will rejoice; you will have pain, but your pain will turn into joy" (Jn 16:20). He urged them to ask the Father for any-thing in his name and to count on receiving it so that their joy might be complete On 16:24). The fifth move will be to witness to the revelation of how exceptionally suffering people may anticipate their joy in their very suffering (as Jesus himself did), and not in spite of it. At the end of his life, when the worst of his fears were to overtake him, he made a celebration of his last meal, carried himself with joyous strength of an unusual kind, and imparted to his dis-heartened disciples his sure vision of their future mission of suc-cess with words of comfort: "I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete" (Jn 15:1 I). He concluded by asking the Father that his distraught disciples might have his own joy made complete in their very selves (Jn 17:13). From his personal experience he could witness to the joy of the persecuted poor, not only in principle by declaring them Janumy-Februal~ 2000 Dominic ¯ Evangelization as Religious Mission of ,yoy blessed (Mt 5:10-12), but also in practice by bringing public recognition to people who were quietly but surely joyful, such as the poor widow who made an offering to God of all her sav-ings with sure, spontaneous, though unglamorous, joy (Mk 12:41- 44). The most moving story of this kind that I know is this: A woman took a priest to her home to" show him a secret of hers. Hidden in a corner was her bedridden eight-year-old son, with the body of a child and the head of an adult, with a darting tongue like a snake's. Seeing the sight he groaned; but she did not hear it, for she was saying, "Father, I have looked after this child for eight years now. He knows only me. I love him very much. Almost no one knows about it." In speaking thus warmly of her son, she did not hesitate to speak happily about her God as well: "God is good. God is our Father.,,s The more such secrets are known, the more joy will abound on the earth! The sixth move in evangelization is to declare, after due dis-cernment, how the good and glad program of God for humanity is being carried out even at the social level. Christ began his min-istry of joy at Nazareth, making precisely such a discerned dec-laration to his townsfolk. More than Jesus' proclamation of the good plan of God for their welfare, what pleasantly surprised them was the accompanying announcement of its effectiveness then and there in the very workings of their society (Lk 4:21). All through his later ministry, too, he was intent on making peo-ple recognize the growing social implementation of the divine plan carried on through the mediation of works of gladness done by himself (Lk 7:18-22 and 11:20) and like-minded others, whether among his explicit followers or unattached admirers (Mk 7:1-9, 9:11-12 and 38-40, and 12:34; Lk 10:i0-11 and 18-19). In our evangelization, therefore, we need to be on the watch to dis-cern and broadcast the divine reformation and revolution willy-nilly taking place in the world, thanks to our cooperative works, small or big, and those of many, many others, done--in the spirit of the Servant of Yahweh--quietly, steadfastly, and effectively (Mt 12:19-21). Even as we rejoice and lead others to rejoice in the magnalia Dei present in contemporary society, we also know and cannot deny the ungodly contradictions that afflict our web of life covertly and overtly. The best move in this situation--and this is the seventh and last move in our task of joy--is to channel into our world the spirit of the Book of Revelation, namely, a mood of Review for Religious faith and hope: faith in God revealed in the great works of joy already experienced, and hope in God preparing greater works, of which our mind has not conceived but of which there has been an earnest within our experience. One of the most fervent expres-sions of such an experience is the ancient song that nevertheless sounds new: "Though the fig tree does not blossom and no fruit is on the vines, though the produce of the olive fails and the fields yield no food,.yet I will rejoice in the Lord; I will exult in the God of my salvation" (Hab 3:17-18). Mary, Mission of Joy What is the Magnificat but the above ancient hymn sung in a new melody? Surprised by joy, Mary celebrates God in her new song for all his works of gladness wrought in her and her society of the lowly, down through the ages. She rejoices in her own deeds of happiness, too, which God inspired her to perform for the benefit of the lowly and indeed of all humankind. She inspires and urges all those interested in similar works to become part of the hopeful, joyful movement to which God gives increasing momentum for his glory and our bliss. Following her Son in all matters of life, she precedes us religious like a wise guide in all matters, even in our evangelical mission. Notes ~ See Review for Religious 57, no. 6 (November-December 1998): 605-620. 2 Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh, I Say unto You, Vol. 2 (Pune, India: Rajneesh Foundation, 1980), p. 172. 3 Rajneesh, I Say unto You, pp. 217-218. 4 Reddy (1895-1958), a convert, renounced his professorship in a Jesuit college in Tamil Nadu and became a pilgrim beggar and vagrant preacher. See J. Cherupallikat, Witness Potential of Evangelical Poverty in India (Immensee, Switzerland: Nouvelle Revue de Science Missionnaire, 1975), pp. 117-121. s See Leonardo Boff, The Lord's Prayer (Indore, India: Satprakashan Sanchar Kendra, no date), p. 88. January-Feblvtary 2000 finding God ROBERT % COSTELLO Discovering God in Gaps Joseph Cardinal Bernardin influenced millions of peo-ple. As I read accounts of his life and watched the tele-vision coverage of his death and funeral, I was intrigued by a paradox. Cardinal Bernardin wrote, shortly before his death in November 1996, that his last years were the best and worst of times. He said he loved being Joseph to his people and seeking to build bridges between diverse church elements. He told of struggling to free himself from a "need" for success, a "need" to avoid criticism; he told of struggling to trust. He said he was whipsawed by groups asking him to carry their diverse banners. Then came the shocking conspiracy to brand him for sexual misconduct. After displaying immense courage amid the harsh publicity, he gained a growing respect and influence during the slow onset of the cancer that brought his death. Joseph Bernardin's influence peaked in his vulner-ability to the plot to defame him, his care for his false accuser. His example suggests a paradoxical experience in leadership, one which raises engaging questions. Are there implications for church leaders in the cardinal's Robert T. Costello SJ, onetime professor of psychology at Rockhurst College and former provincial superior of his order's Missouri province, currently does retreat work at the Guelph Centre of Spirituality; Box 245, Station Main; Guelph, Ontario; N1H 6J9 Canada. Review for Religious behavior? Is there even a hint for a spirituality for others beneath the dramatic circumstances he found himself in? Several experi-ences of mine have suggested an answer. The Southdown Institute is a residential treatment facility for priests and religious and offers monthly workshops for provincials, diocesan chancellors, and council members return-ing for aftercare with former residents. Asked to be a party to those sessions while on staff, I found myself filtering their expe-riences through memories of previous ~:esponsibilities of mine. This led me to sense that Bernardin's curious enhanced power had meaning for other leaders in the church. The leadership participants spoke of their stress at having to make choices about subordinates while pulled between conflicting values and options. They had to decide between what was empathic and tolerant on the one hand and firm and objective on the other. So it seemed to them. I describe this situation as "being in a gap" between an objective managerial function and an empathic pas-toral inclination. It is as though there is no one to turn to when a decision must be made. The cardinal was in a contradictory sit-uation or gap between defending his personal reputation and addressing what he learned were the spiritual needs of his accuser. I believe that this experiential dilemma, this gap, is worth exploring. What is involved in a church leader's experience of the gaps in administration? What Is a Gap? I define the gap as the tension a leader experiences in choos-ing between opposing goods such as compassion and impartial-ity. Should one postpone a difficult decision until there is more information, follow an intuition, or get on with a community's organizational needs? I consulted journals to better understand a paradox I felt was present in gaps. I also shared my quandary with three peo-ple presumably well versed in gap pressures. A general's assis-tant said that the gap issue deals with a leader's spiritual sensitivity to find God in the stressful situations. An assistant to the late Pedro Arrupe likewise suggested that gaps involve the spiritual meaning one disc6vers in the ministry of leadership. The provincial of a large community recalled being pulled by uncertainty and yet needing to act with determination. These January-Februa~7 2000 Costello ¯ Discovering God in Gaps responses added to my interest in the paradox that unintended influence emerges when a leader experiences a "centrifugal" effect from weakness and strength. Church leadership is a hybrid role of prophet and executive, of inspirational guide and money manager, a role which is bound to involve the kind of gaps we are discussing. It is different from the role of a business or professional leader (Nygren and Ukeritis, 1993). Empathy is an obvious part of the job description, but so is resolute confrontation. Workshop participants at Southdown spoke of pride in their organization's history, joy in their work, but also pain in conflicted relations with members. They said the stress was to be patient and challenging with fragile personalities while remaining focused on pressing tasks like building commu-nity consensus. One participant recalled that a lawyer's advice about a personnel issue seemed heartless but persuasive. Such circumstances required taking valuable time to address inappro-priate behaviors, being supportive of the person but still pursu-ing larger organizational issues. The research data of Nygren, Ukeritis, et al. (1993) broad-ened my notion of the gaps church leaders encounter. The authors uncovered nearly a dozen pressures which both pull and restrain religious leaders. For example, there is a strain between cultural individualism on one hand and the gospel values calling to relationships on the other. They wrote that leaders should be partners in the process of renewal, not initiators. Leaders also needed to establish mutual relationships. Their research found that generosity in some members was being eclipsed by self-pre-occupation. They noted that fewer religious espoused a prefer-ential option for the poor because of responding to personal calls for self-determination, making assignment difficult. This litera-ture, however, did not address an aspect of the leader's experi-ence I sensed in the life of Cardinal Bernardin and recalled, in a way, from my own years as a provincial. I found myself curious about his power. Eventually I had a clearer sense that there were unique tensions or gaps in the power differentials of leaders and community members. I originally had an unexamined, even patriarchal, conception of power: it produces effects. Thus the religious leader buys or sells property, approves vows. She can influence events in for-eign countries. Power makes things happen for individuals and a community and can be a unilateral influence. I also mistakenly Review for Religious suspected that leadership's authority was in the office or person. I believed that ideally Bernardin's considerable power would leave him unaffected if he exercised it adroitly. In .other words, good leadership could, should, and would produce a win-win result. I recalled, though, having nagging doubts after making some deci-sions. Those are what I was coming to recognize and identify as my gap experiences. A second conception of power grew out of curiosity about how the cardinal remained so influential aJ~er the conspiracy to besmirch his reputation collapsed. There was power and influence in how he allowed himself to be unaf-fected. I could understand people admiring his humility, but the pro-found impact his dying had on people puzzled me because I thought media frenzy would stain his integrity and reputation. I finally saw that there was power in how he allowed himself be affected. Power was being both active and passive, doing and receiving. When a Southdown workshop participant recalled a member's death from AIDS and the scandal which developed, I found his empathic reaction powerful. Gradually I saw that this second conception of power was a pas-sive reality that makes church leadership both personally demand-ing and spiritually challenging because church structure expects spiritual meaning to be acknowledged. Authority, then, seemed somehow to be a mutual influence. As the publicity swirled about him, Bernardin's stature seemed to increase with each gentle assertion, of his innocence and his belief that somehow the truth would appear. He pressed on with his plan to develop greater harmony in the Catholic Church of the United States while continuing to empathize with his accuser. He was in a wrenching gap. After he was exonerated of sexual impropriety, he threw himself into work only to be diagnosed With terminal cancer, but that is another story and a different stressful situation. Nygren, Ukeritis, et al. say that leaders viewed their source of power as residing either in themselves or in others. A leader who assumes personal authority is able to be assertive, while a Church leadership is a hybrid role of prophet and executive, of inspirational guide and money manager. January-February 2000 Costello * Discovering God in Gaps leader who considers the source of power to be in others becomes more interdependent or tentative. Note here that these sources of power are not mutually exclusive and inevitably result in the internal struggles (gaps) that are at issue here. For example, a leader who stands on his or her own authority and is objectively assertive in dealing with members may generate resistance and be labeled autocratic. A leader who sees his or her power as derived from others can become paralyzed by members who disagree and resist consensus. A conception of passive power I found most enlightening was that of Bernard Loomer (1976). He described it as relational power. His concept helped me understand the paradox of Cardinal Bernardin: giving and receiving influence. This kind of. power is not an either/or capacity, like deciding to act or not act in a certain way. With Loomer's guidance I will digress on two faces of power: Power results from being influenced and Power preserves rela-tionships. Power as being influenced is not a contradiction. One workshop participant spoke of selling a building that had great symbolic value for her community and openly sharing the pain of it, thus leading the community to "get through it." A second par-ticipant spoke of compassionately confronting the stony silence of a member who violated a fiduciary relationship. Such gap expe-riences are clearly intense--but how are they powerful? The Challenge of Gaps Gaps challenge leaders to expand in "size," that is, to make room in their minds and hearts for opposing realities, such as the limits of human adaptability juxtaposed with situational demands. Gaps stretch leaders, and the power is displayed in the manner in which they embrace what is needed but only possibly achievable. Gaps pull for courage and commitment to the uncer-tain benefit of another, and this edifies and empowers. Cardinal Bernardin exercised power by being mortified on CNN over the accusation thrown at him of sexual abuse. He gent-ly absorbed the humiliation of being asked on television if he was sexually active. He also showed the size of his heart by refusing to countersue his accuser, while at the same time working (in what must have seemed another world) to build consensus among divergent elements in the church. Size is prodigal power because Review for Religious it demonstrates that stress is absorbed for the uncertain benefit of others. The cardinal's power was shown also by his refusing to unleash a legal assault on the conspirators with his available resources and by his believing that this conspiracy could not crush him. Size deals with the interior authority of the person; I find it godlike. A second face of power is manifest in someone who actively preserves relationships. In Loomer's view here, power is the capacity to sustain the mutuality of giv-ing and receiving. Individuals with per-sonal problems often refuse .such mutuality by erecting rigid boundaries as a way of securing whatever power they have. Bernardin's relational power consisted in the months of effort he spent trying to establish a vulnerable connection with his accuser, not in any brandishing of his status, with its vast legal resources that would only have cre-ated a wider gulf. In the end, both men contributed to and were nourished in the relationship because of thee inequalities of power. This was for me a surprising real-ization: one of the greatest influences anyone can have on another is being influenced by that person. Therein lies the power available in gaps. As I spent time musing about this issue, I came finally to a new understanding of some of my leadership experience. I grasped that my deep pain over the shrinkage of religious life was sad-ness over others' "poor discernment" or "lack of courage": "If only those departing had consulted more astute advisors, they could have fallen out of love and remain and resolve their issues" ¯ . . "If only they had more grit, things could be as they were-- and we have such need of their gifts!" I was helpless in the face of diminishment, but also hopeful there could be unimagined surprises in it. And yet I conceived these gap experiences as noth-ing more than stress due to my personal limitations. Cardinal Bernardin believed that meeting his accuser just might set the man free. He actually went to the man, faced his understandable resentment, brought about reconciliation while pressing on with the archdiocese's business. That demonstrated Gaps pull for courage and commitment to the uncertain benefit of another, and this edifies and empowers. Jannary-Februa~y 2000 Costello ¯ Discovering God in Gaps his size. The cardinal seemed detached from the scandal, and it appears his anchor was in spiritual meaning he attached to this ordeal. He "knew" the truth would appear, that he was innocent and it was possible somehow to be vindicated. He recalled that Jesus pledged his life in the interest of others in the face of their mis-understandings and abandonment. This was the quintessential experience of absorbing the stress in a gap for the benefit of a dream or a commitment. It was relational power. The paradox I sensed in Cardinal Bernardin's life connected with two other men whose conversions influenced me: C.S. Lewis and Ignatius Loyola. Lewis wrote that as a child he was "stabbed" by intense feelings of joy. He seemed obsessed with recapturing this experience and spent years trying to re-create it by exploring the riches of the arts and nature. He suspected he was trying to cook up emotional thrills. After years of frustration in this quest, he concluded he was seeking the wrong quarry. He had confused the affective experience of joy with its object. The sought-after emo-tion was only a cheap reminder or a footprint of a presence. An extraordinary realization. There was no other answer because all his introspection dissatisfied him until he accepted that the value of joy was in its object, in something else, in a presence--in God. While admitting I am on uncertain ground, for me Ignatian detachment means that in leadership as well as life we must hold ourselves in a kind of balance before all things, insofar as we have a choice. In the present context, whether a gap ended with pos-itive feelings would not be the issue; rather, it would depend on which alternative led the cardinal to greater self-donation and compassion. This detachment, no matter how experienced inter-nally, calls forth a more loving response to life's circumstances, which is a presence even if experienced as stress. In my view, this interpretation describes the experience of gaps religious leaders often have when detachment produces negative feelings which demand that they increase in size. My mistake was to attribute stressful feelings to the "cost" of leadership, nothing more. I had focused on my experience of stress, not its object. I think, as well, that Ignatius considered the actual feeling in spiritual consolation to be unrelated to a venture's success or failure. This was enlightening in the face of how hard it is to associate the stress or occasional bitterness in gaps with anything like God's confirming presence. I had supposed that God is sup-posed to be present in consolation (involving joy), not in uncer- Review for Religious tainty or regret (due to my painful limitations). I recall a con-soling sense of satisfaction after a community meeting that went well--who would not feel deep joy in a win-win situation? But sit-uations of angry conflict that emphasized one's own poverty in coping with it seemed altogether different, as they did for par-ticipants at the Southdown meetings. As I was learning, though, Ignatian consolation can coexist with stress and uncertainty when there is a conviction of possible benefit for others. The conflicted stress that people in leadership positions experience seems to be located between what is possible for them and what is unimaginable. Leadership routinely deals with possibil-ities and constraints in people or situa-tions, and so gaps are inescapable. My own experience and comments of others at workshops convince me that Ignatian detachment and consolation give these gaps further meaning: gaps are a time of the Spirit's presence in the stress. Ignatian consolation is an affective experience directed toward God and the world and away from self, an experience that can be stressful--as when one hopes that one's own experience of a difficult interpersonal exchange may just possibly be for the good of the person and the situation. No person in history staked as much as Jesus on the merest possibility that fidelity to his convictions could be redemptive for people, notwithstanding experience to the contrary. The stakes were so high because one side of the gap meant Jesus could be deluded while the other side presented only a flimsy possibility that the kingdom he desired would ever eventuate. The stake seemed to involve the exhilaration of wagering it all, staying in the gap, believing and hoping in the possible. From this perspective, the continuing power of Jesus is the unbounded size he mani-fests because there is room in his heart for all. More humbling than finding oneself in such a gap is a sus-picion that some leaders get about themselves. They wonder whether they seek to walk this way of possibility or rather are sought by God to walk it. In my reflection I admitted, without comprehending why, the possibility of their being sought. And Ignatian consolation can coexist with stress and uncertainty when there is a conviction of possible benefit for others. January-February 2000 Costello ¯ Discovering God in Gaps that makes all the difference when they make their stake to walk the way of possibility to the end, because they believe this service will be redemptive., for someone. Just like Christ's stake. References Bernardin, Joseph Cardinal. The Gift of Peace. Chicago: Loyola Press, 1997. Lewis, C.S. Surprised by Joy: The Shape of My Early Life. New York: Harcourt Brace, 1956. Loomer, Bernard. "Two Conceptions of Power." Process Studies 6, no. 1 (Spring 1976). Nygren, David J., CM, and Miriam D. Ukeritis CSJ. "The Religions Life Futures Project: Executive Summary." Review for Religious 52, no. 1 (January-February 1993): 6-51. Nygren, David J., CM, Miriam D. Ukeritis CSJ, et al. "Religious- Leadership Competencies." Review for Religious 52, no. 3 (May- June 1993): 390-417. Ordinary Time Hoarfrost ages the discarded Christmas trees. Fog mutes the soul, and dampness chills the heart. In ordinary time we wait, like puffed-out birds, upon a frozen limb of time and seek for solace in the hearing of the Word. Ed Block Review for Religious DENNIS J. BILLY Devotion to God the Father in Religious Spirituality Ln some parts of the Catholic world, this article may draw w readers and perhaps outright protest. Among some reli-gious today, "Father" as referring to God might well be under-stood as an ideological catchword linking a speaker or writer, regardless of his or her intentions, with a slew of suspected atti-tudes (clustered around "patriarchy") about which questioning and disapproval would likely arise. Confronting Our Experience In such situations the anger evoked by an uncritical refer-ence to God as Father can be intense and highly vocal. A reaction to such anger could itself be a mirror image of the original--but in the opposite direction. "Every action has an equal and oppo-site reaction," as the saying goes. If care is not taken, this coun-tervailing process of action/reaction can spiral out of control and leave members of the believing community "poles apart." In such instances, division and animosity replace the dialogue and mutual respect that should characterize the believing com-munity. We should be saddened by such results, but not surprised. Human beings are weak and fragile. Even with the best of inten- Dennis J. Billy CSSR delivered this paper (here somewhat revised) in spring 1999 at the Institute of Spirituality of the Angelicmn in Rome. His postal address is Accademia Alfonsiana; C.P. 2458; 00100 Roma; Italy. Janua~y-Febrt~my 2000 Billy * Devotion to God the Father in Religious Spirituality tions, they can easily allow rancor and strife to get the upper hand in their lives. The same holds true for the communities people form, even religious ones. As the world gets smaller and smaller, I would not be surprised if the local Christian commu-nity and the local religious community reflect more and more of these complex and highly charged emotional tensions. Such is the nature of a world where technological advances have made mass communication practically instantaneous and where the communication media purvey religious sentiment for a society increasingly definable as a consumer market. Anything goes, if it will sell--better still if it will sell quickly. Package it well enough and you will get a large enough following to support your ideas. Besides, everyone is entitled to his or her own opinion. Right? If so, then we can call God whatever we please. Why not? I would be astonished if, among the readers of this journal, there is not a wide spectrum of strong emotional responses to my topic. Indeed, some of us may experience the full range of these intense emotional reactions in our own hearts. Some of us may have no problem whatsoever about referring to God as Father. Some of us may feel a certain ambivalence about the term and not quite understand why we feel the way we do. Some of us may feel guilty for feeling that way. Some of us may be confused and uncertain and may wonder h6w a simple phrase like "Our Father" can evoke such strong and conflicting emotional reac-tions. And some of us may be dead set against using such a term, regardless of what we say at Mass and regardless of what Scripture and Tradition, the pope, the magisterium, and even Jesus have to say about it. A reason for the vast array of reactions may be the ambiva-lence (and, in some cases, outright hatred) some people harbor toward their own fathers. Social historians speak of the weak-ened role of fatherhood in Western society due to tremendous upheavals brought about by the Industrial Revolution. As Western society became industrialized during the 19th and 20th centuries, the population gradually shifted from rural, agricultural areas to the cities and their outlying areas. Fathers went off to work in fac-tories, sometimes traveled long distances to get there, and returned home tired and hungry at the end of a long day with little energy for anything else. Over the years.this resulted in a culture with largely absent and disengaged fathers, who spent most of their time away from home and who had little direct Review for Religious contact with the inner workings of family life. Their job was to provide shelter and to put bread and butter on the table. Nothing more; nothing less. The image of the distant and detached father reading his evening paper, smoking his pipe, sipping his evening pint, oblivious to the needs of those around him, especially his children, is deeply embedded in many people's minds. In this century, advances in technology alleviated the situation some-what, but have created new demands on people's time and energy. These same advances, moreover, have brought much of the world under the sway of both the positive and the negative influ-ences of Western culture? If that is not enough, some people had fatherless childhoods because of war and disease. Imagine growing up without a father. People may not show it externally, but some of them have grown up feeling devastated, feel-ing abandoned by their fathers and perhaps even by God. Today households exist where the father or at least a strong fatherly influence simply does not exist. One wonders what calling God "Father" might mean in such a home. Of course, when fathers fail to take their roles seriously, when they neglect their children or abuse them with physical and psychological violence, even sexual misconduct, there is another problem about calling God "Father." Tensions grow and family situations worsen. No wonder that some people find it difficult to address God as their Father. Why should they think God would be anything but detached or remote or even violent toward them? How would you feel if you were in their shoes? Perhaps you already are. This is just a sampling of the wide range of feelings our topic can evoke. If we wish to understand what devotion to God the Father means for religious spirituality today, we need at the out-set to recognize and confront the wide range of sad experiences of fatherhood that people have had and do have. If we do not handle these problems regarding human fatherhood, theologians may look into possible new names for God and talk about them engagingly, but the names will very likely fail to make that all- We need to recognize and confront the wide range of sad experiences of fatherhood that people have had and do have. January-February 2000 Billy * Devotion to God the Father in Religious Spiritlutlity important journey from the mind to the heart. Proposed names that seem "theologically accurate" and "politically correct" are not likely ever to fit the mystery which sustains us and the world we live in from one moment to the next. If the words we use for God in prayer are somehow false, then the images they call up and our prayers themselves are likely to go awry. Defining Our Terms What does devotion to the Father mean in religious-life spir-ituality today? We have looked at various tensions to which use of this name for God gives rise in different people. Now we will clarify some of the terms of the discussion. To begin with, I follow Thomas Aquinas's understanding of "devotion" as "a ready willingness to give oneself to the service of God"; it is an act of religion, one of the allied virtues of jus-tice, and manifests itself in people's deep desire to serve God in whatever way asked of them (see ST2a-2ae.82.1 and 2). I use the word Father not in the Roman sense of paterfamilias (that is, "the patriarchal head of a household"), but in the Aramaic sense of "Abba" (that is, "Pap'a") that Jesus used to express the loving, compassionate face of God. This term has deep roots in the Christian psyche and expresses what experts in male spirituality refer to as "the deep masculinity" of God.2 Jesus himself explains this v.ery well in the Gospel of Luke when he says, "Be compas-sionate as your Father is compassionate" (Lk 6:36). By religious I refer to the way of life recognized by the Catholic Church that seeks to follow Christ through life in community and by the pub-lic profession of the vows of chastity, poverty, and obedience.3 This way of life has deep roots in Christian history, belongs to the charismatic dimension of the church, and forms an integral part of its life and holiness. By spirituality, in many ways the most elu-sive of the terms I am dealing with, I mean "how individuals or groups understand and carry out the ultimate meaning of their life." It can be discussed on three levels--the experiential, the doctrinal, and the analytical--and embraces both theoretical and concrete, practical issues.4 To quote a circular letter of Joseph W. Tobin, the Redemptorist superior general, "spirituality is con-nected with basic and often unsettling questions: Who are we? Why are we? How are we to live?''s Having clarified 'my terms, I can now express the question Review for Religious posed by my topic in the following way: What are the practical consequences of lifestyle and identity for those of us in the church who seek to give ourselves in service to God, our merciful and compassionate Father, through life in community and the public profession of the evangelical counsels? This question yields no simple solution. It is very difficult and complex, one that holds no instant solution, but must be pondered and contemplated by each community of religious and by each individual religious over and over and over again. I offer some guidelines to help in this process. Naming the Mystery Before we begin to do that, however, we must note the lim-itations of human language and its inability to exhaust the mys-tery of the divine. Language conceals as much as it reveals, perhaps even more. As Pseudo-Dionysius reminds us in The Divine Names: "God is . . . known in all things and as distinct from all things. He is known through knowledge and through unknowing. Of him there is conception, reason, understanding, touch, perception, opinion, imagination, name, and many other things. On the other hand he cannot be understood, words can-not contain him, and no name can lay hold of him.''6 The Catechism of the Catholic Church (§370) affirms this when it reminds us that we are created in God's image and not vice versa: "God is pure spirit in which there is no place for the difference between the sexes. But the respective 'perfections' of man and woman reflect something of the infinite perfection of God: those of a mother and those of a father and husband." In other words, the names we give God express something of who God is, but also fall infinitely short. Kataphatic (or "posi-tive") theology and apophatic (or "negative") theology go hand in hand. God is "Abba, Father," as Jesus teaches us, but also "our loving Mother," as the 14th-century anchoress Julian of Norwich reminds us in her Showings, and "inmost ground," as Meister Eckhart proposes in his German works.7 God can be referred to by these and a host of other religious appellations, some of which we can readily identify with, others not so readily. Perhaps it is only the "coincidence of opposites" which best expresses the mystery of God, who is known in the midst of our unknowing and who cannot be confined by our meager attempts to express the inexpressible. Janua~. -February 2000 Billy ¯ Devotion to God the Father in Religious Spirituality Theological language is fundamentally analogical in nature. That is to say, any word we use when speaking about or naming God expresses, at one and the same time, both a proportional likeness and difference. This holds true even for the word which the Word made flesh himself used to address God. Jesus calls God "Abba, Father," not to tie God down, define him, create an image of him in our heads, or (worse yet) exhaust his mystery, but to assure us that compassion and love rather than confusion and chaos lie at the heart of existence. This is precisely what the Spirit tells us when it cries out "Abba, Father" deep within our hearts and intercedes for us with sighs too deep for words (see Rm 8:15-27). Something rings true in our hearts when we call God "Abba, Father." We know that God is very much more than this two-syllable word can convey, but somehow it seems all right. We sense that God hears us, understands us, and assures us that all shall be well. A Revealed Religion Why is this so? We already have a received a glimpse of the reason above when, referring to the Catechism of the Catholic Church (§370), we noted that we are created in God's image, and not vice versa. Notice the passive voice. We are created. It is not we who do the creating. God is not a function of our language and systems of thought. We do not somehow "create" God by the names we give him or the theologies we concoct to express his divine mystery. If this were true, then theology itself would just be a sophisticated form of anthropomorphizing. In fact, God takes the initiative and reveals to us the nature of the divine. The ini-tiative is not for us to take; we are receivers. God uses human instruments, of course, which themselves are weak and fallible, but he takes the initiative. We must not forget that Christianity is a revealed religion. When it comes to naming God, it recognizes that human reason and human imagination can only go so far. On our own, all we can come up with is the recognition of the weakness of human lan-guage to express the inexpressible and the necessity of using many names so as to

Issue 49.1 of the Review for Religious, January/February 1990. ; R~\'u!w ~:~R Rt~u~aot!s ( ISSN OO34-639X ) is published bi-monlhly ai St. La~uis University by the Mis-souri Provinc¢ Edu~.'ational Inslilulc of the Soci,.Zly of.lcsus: Editorial Office; 36OI Lind¢ll Blvd. Rm. 4214: St. Louis. MO 63 IOg-3393. S¢cond-class postage2 paid at St. U~uis MO. Single copies $3.50. Subscriptions: United Stal¢.~ $15.00 I'or one .,,'ear: $2g.00 for two years. Olher countries: US $20.00 for on~ .vear~ if airmail. US $35.00 per )'car. For subscription orders or chan~¢ of address. write: Rl~\'ll~\V i:tm R~il.l(i~vs; F'.O. Box riO'70; Duluth. MN 55gO6. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to R~:\'l~:w vor R~:l.~{:l~nls; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. I)avid L. Fleming, S.J. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.,J. ,Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe Editor Associate Editor Contrib.ting Editor Advisor\" Board David J. Hassel, S.J. Sean Sammon, F.M.S. Mary Margaret Johanning, S.S.N.D. Wendy Wright, Ph.D. Suzanne Zuercher, O.S.B. Jan.ar\'lFebrttarv 1990 Volume 49 N.mber I Manuscripts, Imoks fiw review and correspondence with the editor sho(dd be sent to w~a R~:u~;~o~s: 361)1 I,indell Blvd.: St. I,ouis. MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the deparlmenl "Canonical Connsel'" should he addressed to Rich-ard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.°I:B.: 1735 I,eRoy Ave.: Berkeley, CA 94709-1193. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from RF:\'u~w voa RF:L~;~US; 3601 I,indell Blvd.; St. I,ouis, MO 63108-3393. "'O1.11 of prinl" issues are availahle from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.: Ann Arbor. MI 481116, A major portion of each issne is also availahle on cassette recordings as a service for Ihe visually impaired. \\'rile Io the Xavier Sociely hw Ihe Blind; 154 Easl 23rd Street: New York, NY I0010. Review for Religious Volume 49, 1990 Editorial Offices 3601 Lindell Boulevard, Room 428 Saint Louis. Missouri 63108-3393 David L. Fleming, S.J. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe Editor Associate Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editors " REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is published in January, March, May, July, Septem-ber, and November 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 Mi-crofilms International; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. Copyright© 1990 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. A major portion of each issue of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is also regu-larly available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually im-paired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. PRISMS. As we begin our forty-ninth volume, there are some additional names found on our inside cover editorial masthead. Although our readers may be familiar with the members of our Advisory Board from their writings or from conferences or workshops, I want to take this opportunity to intro-duce each one of them. Father David Hassel, S.J., with his doctorate in philosophy from St. Louis University, has taught university courses in the philosophy of hu-man nature, God, Augustine, and secularization for twenty-seven years. He has written four books on prayer (Paulist Press) and two on Chris-tian philosophy of education and of love (Loyola University Press), along with some nine articles for REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. He currently is a writer-in- residence at Loyola University in Chicago, Illinois. Sister Mary Margaret Johanning, S.S.N.D., is presently chancellor of the Jefferson City, Missouri diocese. From 1977 to 1987, she served in Rome as general superior of the School Sisters of Notre Dame, and from 1971 to 1977 as provincial councilor of the St. Louis province. With her doctorate in theology from Marquette University, she has lec-tured on topics of theology and spirituality, and has been involved in giv-ing retreats and spiritual direction. Brother Sean D. Sammon, F.M.S., is provincial of the Poughkeep-sie Province of the Marist Brothers and also serves as president of the Conference of Major Superiors of Men. He worked for nine years at the House of Affirmation, serving most recently as Clinical Director. With three books and a number of articles published, his most recent contri-bution is Alcoholism's Children: ACoAs in Priesthood and Religious Life (Alba House). With his doctorate in psychology from Fordham Univer-sity, he lectures on topics of adult development among religious and priests, sexuality and intimacy, and addictive behavior. Wendy M. Wright, with her doctorate in theology from the Gradu-ate Theological Union in Berkeley, currently teaches theology at Creighton University. She has taught at University of California at Santa Barbara, Weston School of Theology in Cambridge, and Univeisity of Nebraska at Omaha in the fields of history of Christian spirituality, his-tory of religions, and family spirituality. Among her publications are Sa-cred Dwelling: A Spirituality of Family Life; Francis de Sales and Jane de Chantah Letters of Spiritual Direction (with Joseph F. Power); and 3 4 / Review for Religious, January-February 1990 Bond of Perfection: Jane de Chantal and Francis de Sales. She and her husband, Roger Bergman, who is director of New Covenant Justice and Peace Center, have three children and live in Omaha, Nebraska. Sister Suzanne Zuercher, O.S.B., holds a master's degree in clini-cal psychology from Loyola University of Chicago and is a licensed psy-chologist in the state of Illinois. She has worked as a school psycholo-gist, university campus minister, and for twelve years as staff member and co-director of the Institute of Spiritual Leadership of Loyola Univer-sity, an international program training men and women for spiritual lead-ership as companions for those on the spiritual journey. She has offered workshops throughout the United States and Canada as well as in Japan, Hong Kong, and Indonesia. As a member of the Benedictine Sisters of St. Scholastica Priory, Chicago, she has served as first councilor and is presently community secretary and formation directress, a position she also held for six years in the 1970s. As editor, I am delighted to welcome these members of our Advi-sory Board. With their broad experience, learning, and publishing skills, they give promise of providing Rzvmw FOR Rzt.~c~ot~s with future direc-tion and creative imagination as we look toward the Church of the third millennium. David L. Fleming, S.J. Challenges Facing Active Religious Today Sally A. Kenel, D.W. Sister Sally Kenel, D.W., can be addressed at St. John's University; 300 Howard Avenue; Staten Island, New York 10301. Iduring the summer of 1988 I participated in the General Chapter of the congregation to which I belong, the Daughters of Wisdom. Since we are an international group with our generalate in Rome, the meeting was held at a large house specially equipped for chapters in the lake district out-side of Rome. There were many adjustments to make: some as basic as climate, language, and food. However, it was only after we had been meeting for about a week that I realized that even more significant than these was the overall adjustment in lifestyle. We followed a strict schedule which centered around our Eucharis-tic celebration and our Marian prayer in common. The casa at which we met was quite far from the nearest town. Moreover, the doors of the house as well as the gates of the property were locked at 9:30 P.M. and reopened at 8:00 A.M. On the several occasions I absented myself from the common meals, questions about the state of my health indicated that I had been "missed." In my initial processing of this experience, I com-pared being at the general chapter to being in the novitiate. However, as our discussions at the chapter centered on the mission of the congregation and the lifestyle of a religious today, I realized that even as we talked about community life in an active religious congrega-tion, we were living a monastic lifestyle. This insight served as the cata-lyst for this article in that it stimulated my reflections on the active as opposed to monastic lifestyle, and the challenges facing post-Vatican II active religious. Review for Religious, January-February 1990 The Active Religious Life Almost twenty five years ago, the Second Vatican Council in its "De-cree on the Appropriate Renewal of Religious Life," stated that such a renewal involved two simultaneous processes: "(1) a continuous return to the sources of all Christian life and to the original inspiration behind a given community and (2) an adjustment of the community to the changed conditions of the times."~ In the years which followed, our con-gregation, like so many others, took these words of Vatican II to heart and with much prayer, soul searching, discussion, and, at times, painful confrontation, engaged in the renewal of our congregation. The result of our efforts was the declaration that for us mission is primary. In other words, on the continuum which runs from contemplative to active relig-ious lifel we clearly situated ourselves near the latter. In so placing ourselves, we joined with other congregations in liv-ing religious life in a way that George Aschenbrenner has distinguished from contemplative life in six main ways. (!) Ministry is the primary de-termining influence for the community. This being the case, then (2) a certain flexibility is necessary in order to be able to deal with the de-mands' of ministerial activities. However, such a life may become scat-tered; therefore, (3) discernment is needed if religious are to find, be with, and serve God through their works. Since the purpose of the con-gregation is to be sent in mission, (4) mobility and availability are key elements of an active spirituality, and correspondingly (5) an apostolic form of prayer should characterize active religious. Finally, (6) the com-munity must be marked by a unity which goes beyond physical presence to a unity of mind and heart.2 Although active congregations have done much to make these char-acteristics vital dimensions of their lives, certain of these areas continue to challenge. Frequently the challenge they offer is a subtle one. While religious are engaged in evaluating their ministries and strategizing to in-culturate the gospel message and values, other aspects of active religious life may be neglected. It is these areas which continue to challenge re-ligious, and at times provide the fodder for those who endorse a return to a more traditional lifestyle. Assuming that participation in the mission of the Church is primary for active religious, and that our efforts at renewal in this area are con-stant, a whole variety of questions arise. For example, when we focus our efforts on mission what happens to community? Does it remain one of the marks of religious life, or do we abandon it and become secular institutes? As our communities become smaller and our works less insti- Challenges Facing Religious Life / 7 tutionalized what happens to "local superiors"? If they are no longer needed as administrators, who fills the mentoring roles which they tra-ditionally held? What is an apostolic prayer life? Can unity of heart and mind extend beyond the borders of a particular country or culture to form an international bond? The fact that these questions are spin-offs from the primary question of ministry in no way diminishes our responsibility to respond. As ac-tive religious we need to grapple with these issues to see where the Spirit is leading us today. It is to reflection on these questions that we now turn. The Challenge of Community Living The Vatican document, "Essential Elements in the Church's Teach-ing. on Religious Life," states that: The style of community life itself will relate to the form of apostolate for which the members have responsibility and to the culture and soci-ety 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.3 This statement clearly indicates that a community lifestyle is the norm for religious, and recognizes that local communities can and must take a form appropriate to the needs of the apostolate. As simple as this may seem, any one who tries to live in community with people who engage in a variety of ministries knows that the reality is quite complex. People come to community with a variety of expectations. Some use the family as the model for community life. Although the sharing of re-sources that community life demands may well be similar to that of a fam-ily, there are also differences. Some people expect to find in community the security of a parent-child relationship where they may relax in de-pendence or dominance depending on their personalities. Others ap-proach community as a sorority or fraternity and expect that community will provide them with a group of congenial companions with whom they may spend their free time. Others look on community as a shelter, a place to come home to after a hard day's work. Sitting quietly in front of the TV is their idea of a pleasant evening together. For still others, a "bed and breakfast" model of community is the ideal. Ministerial ob-ligations, dinners with friends, shopping, visits to a health club, and so forth, indiscriminately keep a person busy every evening. By so limit-ing the time spent with the group, a person is able to avoid the give-and-take which life in community ordinarily demands. At least in part, all these expectations show a response to the com~ Review for Religious, January-February 1990 mon life that was the norm for religious communities prior to Vatican II. At that point in time, a good community was one whose main attrib-utes were regularity, order, and discipline. Vestiges of this ideal remain and constitute the basis for the expectations of some religious today. On the other hand, there are religious whose expectations of community have their roots in reactions against a common life. The result is a ten-sion which is expressed by clusters of people around the pole of group orientation in opposition to clusters of people around the pole of indi-vidual orientation. Attempts to address such tension on the practical level has led to such practices as interviewing prospective members of a local community in order to examine mutual compatibility. Although such testing may lead to a more peaceful life together, it fails to address the basic issue of the value of community itself. Why do active religious live in community? One way to respond to this question is rooted in Johannes Metz's understanding of religious congregations as "the institutionalized form of a dangerous memory within the Church."4 The community life of an active religious congregation, then, recalls the enthusiastic union of the early Christians described in the Acts of the Apostles: "The community of believers was of one heart and mind, and no one claimed that any of his possessions was his own, but they had everything in common" (Ac 3:32). These early Christians had grasped the notion that God is community, the Trinity, and gave witness to this belief through their life together. Thus, the community life of active re-ligious today serves as a protest against the excessive individualism in today's society and bears witness to the fact that to be is to be in rela-tionship. Reflection on the value of community does not immediately solve all the problems connected with the living of community today. However, it does provide the context in which religious can explore the particulars of community life. By locating the value of community in witness, the notion of community for the mission of the Church is reaffirmed. Thus, the challenge for active religious is to find ways of being together in com-munity which facilitate the ministries of each member, and at the same time proclaim the interdependence of all people. The Challenge o1' Mentoring Several years ago when I was a member of our community's forma-tion team we spent a great deal of time reflecting on where to send our ne~,ly professed sisters. Although ministerial opportunity was our pri-mary consideration, we quickly became involved in the question of vi-able community situations. Where were there sisters who would be open Challenges Facing Religious Life to sharing their lives with the temporary professed whose experiences were so different? Where were there sisters who could and would serve as mentors for these women? In general, we found a reluctance on the part of older sisters to become involved in a mentoring relationship. In pre-Vatican II days this problem did not exist. The local superior was responsible for all the sisters in her house, and she was expected to pay particular attention to the integration of the temporary professed into the community. Thus, the formation begun in the postulate, novitiate, and juniorate was continued by the superior in the house to which a sis-ter was assigned. In addition, regular personal meetings with the supe-rior often served as spiritual direction. Today active communities are smaller and less structured. Often, the group is not uniformly involved in a particular ministry. Joined to the emphasis on the personal respon-sibi! ity of each member, these factors have contributed to the demise of the role of local superior. In their place we find the "communicator" or "contact person," that is, someone within the group who accepts re-sponsibility for communication with the provincial leadership, and so forth. However successful such communication may be, this redefinition of task may leave the mentoring role which the superior formerly filled empty. Such a lack not only deprives new members of receiving the tra-ditions of the community, but also raises the question of whether the adult crisis which Erikson describes as Generativity vs. Stagnation is be-ing successfully negotiated. Although some may claim that their minis-try outside the congregation commits them to involvement in establish-ing and guiding the next generation of Christians, the responsibility of passing on the charism of their particular group cannot be ignored. However, some will argue that the religious life of today bears little resemblance to the life to which they committed themselves. They con-tend that they cannot be expected to pass on the tradition because they themselves do not know what has happened to it. Take daily Eucharist, for example. They consider it a must, and yet newer members of the com-munity do not share the depth of their commitment in this area. How can they be expected to pass on the tradition to those whose values are judged not only different but inferior? What these people fail to realize is that generativity demands the pass-ing on of the tradition, in this case the charism, and not one particular time bound expression of it. Their nostalgic reminiscences of the "good old days" when community members did everything together are but signs of their own stagnation. The challenge for active religious is to re- Review for Religious, January-February 1990 alize that the process of renewal set in motion by Vatican II is an ongo-ing one. It demands the frequent return to the charism, and the contin-ual search for appropriate expressions of the charism. The refusal of men-toring roles in a congregation may indicate that it is time to examine the charism again with the hope of identifying its core values so that these values in turn may be passed on. It may also be time to view the charism as a gift to the whole Church, not merely to a particular congregation. This opens ihe way to redefining membership to include associate mem-bership and other forms of affiliation with a congregation. These new forms of membership in turn raise anew the challenge of mentorship. The Challenge of an Apostolic Prayer Life The need for prayer in the life of a religious is often likened to a car's need for gasoline. Unless one gets the tank filled periodically, the car will not continue to run. One immediately makes the connection with the need for religious to take time to become filled with God. Today's re-ligious seem very much aware of the need for periodic retreats and pro-longed periods of prayer. However, another automobile analogy can be made. It is not only gasoline in the engine that keeps a car running. While the car is going the battery must be constantly recharged by the ¯ alternator or else the car cannot continue to run. Thus, besides setting aside more extended periods for prayer, an apostolic prayer life calls for continual prayer in the midst of activity. But, how does one "pray always?" (Lk 18: I). The temptation is to claim that one's work is prayer. However, in such a simple equation, both work and prayer lose something. A brief reflection on Eucharist may help to bring the relationship between prayer and work into sharper focus for the active religious. Eucharist involves three basic movements: thanksgiving, memorial, and invocation. At Eucharist we give thanks to God in Jesus' name for all the good things--be they as general as creation, and redemption, or as particular as specific moments of grace. We remember the death and resurrection of Jesus, the "dangerous memory" par excellence, a mem-ory which promises freedom for all. We implore the Holy Spirit to make our gifts holy and to transform ourselves as well. Notice, however, that this is not the prayer of an individual, but rather we thank; we remem-ber; we invoke. The Eucharist teaches us that prayer is not merely a dia-logue between a person and God, but rather that Christian prayer is com-munal. Moreover, Eucharist does not end when one leaves the church. As the poe~n by R. Voight makes clear, in our work we do Eucharist. Con- Challenges Facing Religious Life sider, one verse: He was old, tired, and sweaty, pushing his homemade cart down the alley, stopping now and then to poke around in somebody's garbage. I wanted to tell him about Eucharist But the look in his eyes the despair on his face, the hopelessness of somebody else's life in his cart, Told me to forget it. So I smiled, said "Hi"--and gave him Eucharist.5 This brief reflection on Eucharist points to the dynamic relation be-tween prayer and work in the life of the active religious. Prayer as en-gagement in contemplation is not an individual activity, but rather, no matter how personal, is also communal. Our communion with Christ is a communion with the Body of Christ as well. This sense of communion finds expression in prayer not only as the context out of which one prays but also in the form of prayers of petition, and through such expression communion is enhanced. In turn, this sense of unity with others demands expression in our ministry. Our union with Christ urges us to a life of service. Thus, an apostolic prayer life does not exist alone, but only in conjunction with a prayerful apostolate. The challenge of an apostolic prayer life is to develop a prayerful approach to ministry so that prayer and work are viewed as different forms which our efforts towards true communion take. The Challenge of Internationality We live in a time when distances between places have been reduced drastically by improved means of communication and transportation. We live in a time when the condition of the very planet on which we live challenges us to recognize our interdepeiadence. Simultaneously, how-ever, today's religious are encouraged to adapt their style of life to the demands of their specific apostolates and to the culture in which they live. In trying to make such adaptations, religious tend to emphasize the needs and demands of the local church and the local community. Al-though such a focus is important, at times it can be isolating, and can raise the question of what it means to belong to a larger group, be it prov-ince or international congregation. In other words, if we have more in common with other religiou~ living and working in similar situations than we have with other members of our own congregation, why belong to Review for Religious, January-February 1990 an international congregation? Responses to questions such as these hang on the value which one places on the charism of a congregation. Is the charism an adequate ground on which bonds strong enough to extend across continents yet flex-ible enough to allow for cultural diversity can be built? Or to put it an-other way, does sharing the past, being a community of memory, so ori-ent us that we engage in the here and now not only with enthusiasm, but with the realization that our here and now is but a part of the total pres-ent reality? Moreover, does being a community of memory so orient us towards the future that we face it with hope not only for ourselves, but for all people, for the world? The potential of the charism of a congregation to enable bonding needs to be developed and made concrete. In recent years such develop-ment of the charism in active congregations often has taken the form of a mission statement. However, the mission statement itself can remain purely theoretical unless we begin to share the stories of how this state-ment is enfleshed in the specific ministries of religious in different cul-tures. Without such interpersonal and self-disclosing communication, true bonding within the congregation will not occur~ and the potential for challenge and affirmation on an international level will remain unde-veloped. International bonding built on the principles of interpersonal and self-disclosing communication stands in stark contrast to a hierarchical model of bonding. In the former, the general administration is charged with fa-cilitating such communication as opposed to serving as the bond of unity in the congregation. Each member shares the responsibility of preserv-ing and strengthening the bonds of congregational unity. Furthermore, each member shares the responsibility for creating new bonds through her sharing of the concrete form the charism takes in her life and minis-try. In other words, the local community and the local church need not become less important to the individual religious, but each one must come to the recognition that there are other local communities and other local churches where needs and attempts to meet these needs are quite different from one's own. Moreover, the full meaning of one's local church and local community can be found only in relationship to the uni-versal Church and the congregation. A religious congregation as a visible, identifiable group of people within the Church serves as a model of the Church. A non-hierarchical understanding of the internationality of a congregation can function as a symbol of grace for the larger community. As such it refuses to allow Challenges Facing Religious Life the universal Church to be understood as the Vatican, but recalls the Pauline understanding of universal Church as the communion of local churches. At the same time, the internationality of a congregation refuses to allow a local church to consider itself an autonomous subdivision of the universal Church. The internationality of a religious congregation calls the Church to recognize that it is at once local and universal. However, a religious congregation can function as a symbol of grace for the Church in this way only if it itself is truly international. In other words, the challenge of internationality for a religious congregation is much the same as it is for the Church--to realize that it is at once local and universal. On the practical level, this becomes the challenge of es-tablishing, maintaining, and enhancing personal, self-disclosing commu-nications. Conclusions If the chosen priority of a religious congregation is the mission of the Church, then this priority will have ramifications on all of life. The challenges facing active religious today flow from this primary commit-ment to ministry. Moreover, the challenges which we examined in this article all seem to have a common thread--that of recognizing oneself as living in relationship. Whether one examines the quality of local com-munity life, the continuation of a congregation and its values through men-toring, apostolic prayer, or internationality, the central challenge is to a life of interdependence. In other words, the ideal of the "rugged indi-vidual" has no place in active religious life. Since many of us have cul-tivated this ideal in order to survive the past two decades in religious life, the challenge to live interdependently is one that strikes at the heart of our hard won "freedom." On the other hand, interdependent living and dependent living are not synonymous. Interdependency demands that we take responsibility for our own lives and at the same time realize that we are part of an intricate web of relationships. Insofar as religious are able to meet the challenges of interdepend-ent living, they in turn will become challenges to others--to the Church, to the nationalistic spirit of governments, to a consumerism which has no regard for non-human life, or the environment. In this way, active religious will serve as symbols of grace, reflecting to all the community of God. NOTES "Decree on the Appropriate Renewal of Religious Life," in The Documents of Vati- Review for Religious, January-February 1990 can H, ed. Walter M, Abbott, S.J., p. 468, no. 2. 2 See "Active and Monastic: Two Apostolic Lifestyles," REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Wol. 45 (1986): pp. 653-668. 3 Origins 13 (1983) p. 136, no. 21. 4 Followers of Christ (New York: Paulist Press, 1978), p. 12. 5 As quoted in Morton T. Kelsey, The Other Side of Silence (Paulist Press, 1976), pp. 276-278. The Challenge God, can you wrap your arms around me, hold me tight and tell me that you love me? Jesus, as my lover, can you really do that? Spirit, can you fulfill the need I feel . . . to be touched, squeezed, loved? Make love to me, God, can you do that? Whisper in my ear, Jesus, can you? Tell me You want me as well, Spirit, is that possible? Am I not to be human anymore? Am I not to feel desire? Am I not to remember or imagine? I imagine his pain as the nail broke through his flesh. I remember the words he screamed at his death. My heart is full of desire for him. I am human--so was he. He came to gather us for his Father. He wants me. He whispers to me everyday and makes love to me with every breath I take. He touches me, squeezes me, loves me. Yes, Lord. My God. I believe. I feel your arms engulf me-- Hold me tighter, Lord. I love you, too. Elaine Laws A.S.C. Affiliate Lay Volunteer Liberia, W. Africa Enlarging Perspectives for the Future of Religious Life Shaun McCarty, S.T. Father Shaun McCarty, S.T., teaches in the Washington Theological Union and is a staff member of the Shalem Institute for Spiritual Formation. His address is Holy Trinity Mission Seminary; 9001 New Hampshire Avenue; Silver Spring, Maryland 20903. ~l~s we approach the last decade of this century, religious find themselves deeply concerned with and uncertain about the future. The crisis facing religious (mainly in the United States and in western Europe) is marked by a decrease in vocations, an increase in median age, and a growing com-plexity of ministerial needs. Many are experiencing either sadness, fear, anger, helplessness, hopelessness, or some combination of the above! The causality (which I would not pursue at length here) is complex. In addition to a history of change that has marked the evolution of reli-gious life, there are theological reasons for the present crisis such as Vati-can II's accent on the universal call to holiness; pastoral ones such as ex-panding possibilities for dedicated service for laity; and cultural ones such as delayed maturation leading to difficulties for young people in mak-ing lasting commitments. People have different ways of dealing with crisis. One can choose (a) to deny or ignore it with a cockeyed optimism; (b) to blame it on the wrong causes or people; (c) to hanker after "the good old days" (that are yet to come!); (d) to become immobilized and depressed by a fatalis-tic cynicism; (e) to engage in narcissistic introspection and breast-beating; (f) myopically to limit one's perspective or to focus on the wrong issues. None of these alternatives is constructive. My contention is that religious life is in transition and that we need 15 Review for Religious, January-February 1990 a strategy for living in a transitional period. As a first step in developing such a strategy, I would suggest enlarging one's perspectives so as to face the future with hope. By "perspective" I mean the scope or hori-zon of a person's or a group's vision whereby one is enabled to perceive context, allowing for a sense of proportion and within which one can fo-cus attention and energy. Context enables one to see something in its re-lationship rather than in isolation. This, in turn, allows it to be seen in proportion to its real significance. Within proper context, one can then choose to focus on the right issues. It is also my contention that, though painful, crisis bears potential for growth. "Crisis" literally means being presented with a situation de-manding decision. The word for discernment in Greek is diakrisis, that is, "a sorting out." It is that "sorting out" that I would like to address. As all Christians, religious have a responsibility to discern the signs of the times in the process of making decisions for the future in a spirit of hope for the coming of the kingdom. So the question is: What help is available in reading the signs of the times that are pertinent to what has always been a changing shape of religious life? My task is to try to provide some perspectives that might enable a hopeful reflection on what we can expect and prudent decisions about what we can do to help shape the future. I will attempt neither to predict nor will I presume to play the prophet. Rather, I will explore some mean-ings and pose some questions that might hopefully expand and deepen perspectives in sharing responsibility for the future. Some Meaning to Broaden Perspectives I would suggest five key areas where broader and deeper perspec-tives might be profitably pursued. They include: (I) the primacy of the kingdom (or reign) of God; (2) a mature grasp of and love for the Church as "Catholic"; (3) membership in interdependent religious community; (4) different approaches to and notions of the future; (5) the cultivation of a mature sense of Christian hope and trust. The Primacy of the Kingdom (or Reign) of God Kingdom (or reign~ of God is a symbol used to convey the mystery of the corporate vision or dream for the future that energizes Christians for involvement in the present. It is the large perspective that embraces all the others. It summarizes the mission of Christ now shared by all. God's reign is already breaking through and manifest by those liv-ing the beatitudes which results in fruits of the Spirit such as peace, jus-tice, mercy, forgiveness, reconciliation, unity, and love. Obviously these Enlarging Perspectives values of the kingdom are not the exclusive property of any group within the Church or even of the Church itself. A Mature Grasp of and Love for the Church as "Catholic" The Church, though not co-terminus with the kingdom, is a commu-nity of disciples called together in Christ to be a visible body united in belief, discipline and worship in service of the kingdom. It is important to remember that the beginnings of the Church (which we continue to remember) were marked by "upper room experiences" where Jesus washed feet as a prelude to Eucharist and where the Holy Spirit descended upon disciples who had gathered in fear and confusion to be empowered for the mission of proclaiming the Good News of the kingdom. "Catholic" is a designation that indicates the universality of the Church's scope; its quest for unity, yet respect for differences; its inclu-siveness of peoples and cultures; and its ability to recognize and to re-spect kingdom values wherever they are found. The term "Catholic" is opposed to insular, parochial, provincial, or sectarian attitudes. A mature love for the Church means accepting her in both her graced and flawed condition; being faithful to her in attempting to personalize the institution as others experience Church in our ministry to them; and working prophetically from within the perennial tasks of renewal (begin-ning with ourselves!). Membership in Interdependent Religious Community Religious life is an ecclesial way of living a vowed Christian life in community for the sake of the kingdom. It is both charism and institu-tion. As charism, it is a gift of the Spirit to the Church through the in-spiration of a founder. As institution, it is structured according to a rule of life or constitution approved by the Church. Though both charism and institution are important elements to be kept in poised tension, I would suggest that sharing in the charism is morevital to membership than par-ticipation in its institutional structures. It is even a deeper bond than af-fective ties with other members. By membership I mean how, where, and when one experiences a sense of bel6nging to or connectedness within a group. I would also suggest that today, more than ever before, members and communities are called to greater interdependence both within the com-munity and with other groups. By "interdependence," I mean mutual dependency in co-responsible fashion as opposed to an unhealthy inde-pendence or dependence. Review for Religious, January-February 1990 Different Approaches to and Attitudes towards the Future "Future" refers to that aspect of human history not yet fully here except in seed and about which little can be known with certainty, but for which there is responsibility for human choices in the present. There are different attitudes about the future. Some hold that history continues to repeat itself and that managing the future means knowing the past. Others think changes are going to be so radically different in the future that it is senseless to look at the past. There are others still who feel that, as the present has emerged in continuity with the past, so the future will be both creative and new, but will emerge in continuity with the past and present. I believe the latter is more in keeping with the notion of Divine Provi-dence. As a matter of fact, the Latin root of "providence" is "pro vid-ere" which means literally "to see with" or "to see for"--implying the use of dynamic memory in looking at the past, creative imagination in looking at the future, and collaborative action in the pres.ent. Thus Di-vine Providence may be viewed, as God calling creatures to be co-responsible for and to collaborate with the Spirit in shaping the future. There are different kinds of futures including: (a) possible, that is, what could happen limited only by the scope of imagination; (b) prob-able, that is, given current trends, what is likely to happen; (c) prefer-able, that is, what should happen determined by a value system; and (d) plausible, that is, what can happen by attending carefully to the other kinds of futures. I would suggest that, in helping to shape the future, we need to explore the possible, assess the probable, assert the preferable, and attempt the plausible. The Cultivation of a Mature Sense of Hope and Trust By hope I mean trustful expectation for the future, born of faith in promises of the more to come. Just as with faith, I believe there is a first and second naivete of hope. In faith development, what begins initially as an unquestioning and naive faith, after a period of doubt and questioning, can grow into a more critical and mature faith marked by a second naivete. A similar develop-ment can happen in regard to a naix, e hope. An Eden-like expectation of absolute assurance can be shattered by an act of betrayal (real or sup-posed, conscious or unconscious). If the person thus "betrayed" can for-give and effect reconciliation with the event of betrayal, then that per-son can grow to a more mature trust (second naivete) which includes the possibility and risk of further betrayal. I would submit that people can experience corporate as well as individual betrayals, that is, betrayal by Enlarging Perspectives a renewed Church or changed religious community. Some Questions to Enlarge Perspectives (1) Perspectives of kingdom and Church Are we "catholic" enough in our notion of Church? How much do we perceive Church in the first person plural? Do we view both institu-tional and charismatic elements in the Church as interdependent, minis-tering in mutual dependency rather than as competitors or adversaries? As different (and often differing!) individuals and groups in the Church, can we transcend personal and intramural agenda by focusing on king-dom priorities? Does our grasp of Church embrace a missionary dimen-sion as necessary to its fullness? In carrying forth the mission, do we see evangelization as a two-way street, a dialogue in which we need to lis-ten to learn as well as to proclaim to teach kingdom values? Do we value quality of personal evangelization (especially our own !) over quantity of religious practices? In evangelizing, are we able to distinguish Gospel from cultural values? Are we developing a mature love for that Church? Does such love imply placing a priority on our personal relationship with Jesus and com-mitment to the Gospel proclaiming his kingdom as realities that relativ-ize Church membership? In realizing that discipleship is prior to apostleship? In seeing code, creed, and cult as important, but secondary to our experience of God in Christ? Does a mature love for the Church call for recognizing and embracing the flawed as well as the the graced condition not only of ourselves and other individuals, but of the Church itself? Does it mean reverencing the person and opinions of others who disagree with us? Being able to forgive those who wound us? Does ma-ture love prefer invitation to control by refusing to resort to power poli-tics to win the day, even for a worthy cause? Does it include making pref-erential, yet not exclusive options for the poor? Does it call for building bridges between those who have and those who have not? Do we foster mature love of Church by exercising a truly servant leadership that is ready to wash feet? To share Eucharist in life as well as sacrament? To discern the Spirit of God in experiences of life? To recognize, affirm, and enable the use of different gifts for ministry in the Church? Does ma-ture love lead us to avoid elitism and to shun seeking privilege? Are we comfortable enough in our Catholic identity so as to engage in genuine dialogue (in which we listen as well as speak) with other Christians and non-Christians energized by a passion for unity in love as well as truth? Do we acknowledge goodness wherever or in whomever we find it, in-side or outside the Church? Do we acknowledge kingdom values wher- Review for Religious, January-February 1990 ever we find them? (2) Perspectives of religious life: So as to establish a proper context, rather than asking in isolation "What is happening to religious life?", should we be asking, "What is happening in the Church?" And what is happening in the global Church--in Africa, Latin America, Asia, and elsewhere? Not just in the local Church in a given diocese, nation, or culture. Within respective religious communities, do we need to shift focus and to widen horizons? To shift the focus of membership in community from local living to the larger religious community sharing a charism within a context of Church and kingdom? As religious, is there any higher obedience we owe the Church than fidelity to the charism of our community? And, in fact, is that charism the exclusive possession of any given canonical group? Can that same charism be shared by men as well as women? By laity as well as by religious? by non-Catholics as well as by Catholics? If the charism is susceptible of wider appropriation, then is there a responsibility for religious to share and foster it with others out-side their own canonical groups? Could it be that the charism will out-live present structures that embody it? What can we do to discover or to create the conditions for"upper room experiences" so that community gatherings might become energiz-ing and enabling rather than enervating and obstructive? What would they look like in terms of participation? Prayerful mode? Respect for dif-ferent gifts for ministry? Though responsibly planned, with a readiness for kairos moments in which we can be surprised by the Spirit? Agenda with priority on the needs of those we serve over internal concern? Lis-tening with open hearts? How are we dealing with the fear and confu-sion of crisis? How and in what areas can we work in mutual dependence with oth-ers who share our concerns? Where is there redundancy, competition, or unhealthy independence or dependence? Between religious communities? Between men and women? Between religious and laity? Between parish priests and religious or lay associates? Between Catholic and non- Catholic sponsored programs? What kind of support do we need from and can we give to one another? (3) Perspectives of the future and hope for it: Can we resist being victimized by "prophets of doom" proclaim-ing the probable? Are we ready to share responsibility for shaping the future by reading the signs of the times and by making discerned choices for the preferable and plausible futures? Have we grown in a mature Enlarging Perspectives sense of hope and trust? Have we survived real or supposed "betrayal" within communities and/or the Church? How have we reacted or re-sponded? With bitterness? Anger? Resentment? Cynicism? or with for-giveness and reconciliation? With the readiness to enter a more real world? With greater awareness and acceptance of human limitation? With a more mature love of Church? With the willingness to risk in trust-ing again? With the firm belief that, though Jesus has ceased to be vis-ible, he has never ceased to be present? Conclusion Perhaps a fitting paradigm for this time of transition would be the Exodus event? Many, lured by promises, never reached the Promised Land themselyes, but lived and worked that others might? As Sam Goldwyn used to remark at meetings. "For your informa-tion, I have come to ask a few questions!" Perhaps this is a time for hav-ing more disturbing questions than comforting answers. It was Rilke who said the important thing was to love the questions and perhaps someday we would live ourselves into the answers! There might be the germ in that for a strategy of survival for religious during an era of transition: to love and live the questions to~e'ther in hope! Towards A Trinitarian Model of Religious Life John J. Markey, O.P. Father John Markey, O.P., is a member of the Southern Dominican Province. His address is De Porres House; 495 Merritt Avenue; Oakland, California 94610. The authors of the landmark book, Habits of the Heart, present a clear challenge to traditional religious communities which claim to want to "transform" the dominant cultural ethos. ~ It is ultimately up to the vari-ous churches to provide a morally coherent alternative to the radically myopic individualism that has come to so characterize and inform Ameri-can culture. But religion itself has often been both systematically co-opted by this culture, and has reinforced it by providing a rationale for its most insipid implications. It is, therefore, increasingly evident that the churches must begin any wider prophetic role by questioning and re-imagining their own communal life, and the place of the valid insights of individualism within this context. Within the Roman Catholic tradi-tion it is clear that those in religious life have a particularly urgent man-date and rich resources in this regard. There is a growing awareness that any genuine Christian community must be both inculturated and prophetic. This means that the community must define itself within a certain cultural context; it must take seriously and even incarnate the valid insights and thought-forms of the culture. But the community will also necessarily have a countercuitural dimen-sion to it. It will be characterized by a lifestyle that explicitly contradicts some cultural themes and attitudes that are seen to be irreconcilable with gos-pel values. A thorough analysis of American culture would reveal many myths 22 A Trinitarian Model. of Religious Life / 23 and values that need to be challenged and transvalued by the gospel, but no single aspect of American life is as pervasive and dominant as radi-cal individualism. It is fair to say that Western liberal thought revolves around this theme, and that it informs every strain of American cultural life. The deifica~tion of this cultural value has had a destructive impact on American life by creating an ethos where commitment is often unin-telligible, fragmentation and disintegration of family life is unavoidable, and personal isolation is the norm. This is not to say that individualism in itself is the problem. On the contrary, there are many positive and valuable insights attached to this thought-form. Some of the fundamental values derived from individual-ism that religious communities should incarnate are: the emphasis on the value and dignity of each person and the role of the community in en-hancing this dignity; the primacy of the personal, relational, and experi-ential dimension of the community life over against the institutional and structural dimension; and the absolute need for personal manifestation and self-appropriation of community identity, decisions, and goals. Any North American religious community must take the valuable insights of individualism seriously if it truly wants to be both inculturated and pro-phetic. But the community must, at the same time, develop a lifestyle that puts this phenomenon in the fuller perspective of the gospel. Proposal for an lnculturated North American Model of Religious Life Given both the major cultural themes and the major cultural needs and problems, I propose that community should be the rubric around which we redefine our understanding and praxis of religious life at this time. I think that it is this element of religious life which, if properly un-derstood, best encompasses and incorporates the relational, personal, and experiential values that we learn from our culture. It is also community which most clearly responds to the desperate need in our time for a sig-nificant countercultural alternative to radical individualism. It is clear, however, that we must come to a new and meaningful understanding of community, particularly in a Christian and Catholic context, if we are going to develop the coherent alternative we seek. We must rethink tra-ditional understandings of community and communal life in terms that can both express the new insights of the culture while at the same time remaining faithful to the spirit of both the gospel and the broader tradi-tion in regard to community. Along these lines, then, I propose that we consider the Trinity to be the model of authentic Christian community, and therefore the context Review for Religious, January-February 1990 in which we redefine community and community life. I hope to make it clear that a trinitarian model and trinitarian terminology are ultimately more helpful for the task previously laid out than the Christological model on which much of religious life is currently based. Furthermore, I propose that we adopt a modern (though traditionally informed) social understanding of the Trinity that explains the Trinity in experiential terms. Here I am essentially assuming that there are two traditional theo-logical interpretations of the Trinity, that while related are finally dis-tinct. 2 I will try to explain the two lines of development below and then show some of the implications of taking one as our model of commu-nity. It is important to see that the fundamental advantage of this option is that it provides a model of community based on the very life of God as we understand it. In this sense the religious community is defined as an icon of the Trinity, which means that its self-understanding must ul-timately be shaped by its most deeply held theological assertions. Two Approaches to Understanding the Trinity I) Substantial Identity In the West after Augustine, the primary approach to Trinity was to begin with the divine "substantia," the single and simple essence or sub-stance of the Godhead, and then try to explain (generally using a very schematic psychological model) how this single substance could be triper-sonal. So the main focus of this line of development was the attempt to show how the three persons could relate to one common divine sub-stance, which necessarily precluded any multiplicity, while at the same time maintaining a real distinction of persons. This approach was suc-cessful in describing the unity of the Godhead, but ultimately found it difficult to give an adequate account of the relation of persons within this unity. For this reason articulations of this approach often ended in either modalism or quaternity. H)Vital Identity and Mutual Inexistence In the East, following the lead of the Cappadocian Fathers, there was a tendency to begin with the reality of the three persons and then to ar-gue to the unity of the Godhead. In essence, the task of this approach was to show how three persons could be one (rather than how one could be three). Along these lines there were two critical developments. First, Victorinus proposed that the unity of God be described as a "vital iden-tity" of life and action rather than as a "substantia."3 God then was not to be understood as some static essence, but as vitally and dynamically A Trinitarian Model of Religious Life / 95 alive. The three persons, therefore, do not share a common substance so much as a common identity of life. Secondly, John of Damascus proposed the concept of mutual inex-istence (perichoresis) as the best way to describe the unity of the three persons.4 This meant that the three indwell in one another and compene-trate with one another, as the flame of three wicks can burn as one. This mutual indwelling or inexistence of the divine persons is not a conse-quence of their unity, but the equivalent of it. It is in fact the mutual and complete compenetration of the three divine persons that comprises their essential unity. So here the divine persons literally exist in one another in a vibrant and ecstatic way. The three persons, as incorporeal and fully self-donating, experience an interpenetration and intense empathy that is ultimately a single identity of life. It is then the self-donation of the three persons that makes their unity possible. This mutual self-donation, however, does not compromise the autonomy of each divine person, but is only possible because of it. With-out autonomy no action would be possible, let alone self-donation. This perfect self-donation makes relationships unitive rather than divisive. This means that mutual self-donating relationships constitute the very re-ality of God. By beginning with the persons we come to a radically social under-standing of the Godhead that can in turn lead to a social understanding of created reality as well. God is the supreme communion of three di-vine persons, which humans are called to reflect imperfectly, but sacra-mentally, in relationships and community. If we choose community, then, as the rubric under which to rede-fine religious life, it would seem that the second approach to Trinity is the best model for human and particularly Christian community. I would contend however, that most models of religious life, and particularly the models of community within these, coming out of past paradigms in the West, are based on the "substantial identity" approach. I would like to make a short critique of the understanding of community under this model, and then begin to reinterpret some aspects of community and re-ligious life under this new model. Short Analysis of the Old Model of Community In many ways the old paradigm of religious life and particularly of community is analogous to the substantial identity approach to the Trin-ity. Traditional understandings of religious life tended to begin with the one substance, usually the institutional structure of the community, or-der or congregation, and then tried to fit individuals into this substance. Review for Religious, January-February 1990 So they began with the unity, which in this case tends to be a formal and impersonal unity, to which individual persons must relate. In this model the persons do not relate directly to one another, but instead relate to a certain "thing" called community. Personal relationships within this type of community are then either mediated or accidental. Individuality in this model means that I have my own personal and spiritual life (that should stay within certain boundaries and follow certain rubrics) and that I relate to the group in a certain structured way along the lines of func-tion. In other words, the work that I do is regulated by and somehow re-flects the group. The theological focus and justification for this understanding of com-munity tends to be narrowly Christological. As an individual I follow Christ by joining with a group of Christians who want to follow Christ along a similar pattern. In the West this pattern has often been basically informed by a military model (although it is a caricature to say that one became a "soldier for Christ," and that one joined the "Christian army," these images did seem to be present in the popular imagination of recent generations of religious). This narrowly Christological focus in turn often led to a linear and patriarchal institutional structure within which the individual must fit him-self or herself. This model also left no real room for the Holy Spirit and pneumatology because these tend to disrupt the structures (rules, consti-tutions,. traditions, and so forth) which are the source and focus of unity. In this scheme, then, unity was often equated with conformity to a set and impersonal pattern of common life. The main problem with this model is that it generally leads to one of two understandings of community and communal life, both of which are based on the assumption that there is some "thing" out there called a community that exists apart from the people that make it up. There is, for instance, a Dominican Order out there that somehow exists apart from Dominicans. This ultimately leads to understanding the community as be-ing fundamentally impersonal (which seems self-contradictory). This un-derstanding of community manifests itself in two basic forms, both of which I believe can be described in trinitarian terms. On the one hand, there is a kind of Modalism where each member of the community is just a projection of the whole group. Here each member is really interchange-able with any other member. Personal identity is subsumed in the whole so that my individual personality needs to be altered and re-formed so as to project the image of the whole. Secondly, the term Quaternity can be used to describe an understanding of community where each person A Trinitarian Model of Religious Life is seen to be a distinct member of the community, but there is always something more behind these called "the community." The community is some thing out there which each member, and all of the members as a whole, only represent but never fully embody. Religious Community Based on the Social Trinity Model Like its trinitarian paradigm, this understanding of religious commu-nity begins with the persons, and comes to understand their unity as that of persons sharing a vital identity of life based on mutual self-donation and shared vision. So the source of unity is love and its manifestation is the interpersonal bonding of the members. Although common struc-tures and institutions will arise from this unity to support it, they are not identical to this unity nor are they its source, starting point, or founda-tion. The actual starting point of this model is an understanding of per-sons as ecstatic beings who are most fully persons when they donate them-selves fully to the other in interpersonal relationships. In this sense per-sons can and do exist in one another~dwell in one another--in a way analogous to the way in which the persons of the Trinity mutually inex-ist. So this new model demands that community be understood in radi-cally personal and social terms. This approach effectively means that there is no "thing" out there called community that is essential and un-changeable and is unaffected by the persons who make it up. So there is, for instance, no Dominican order or community out there that exists apart from Dominicans. A consequence of this is that what a community is, or what the Dominican order is, is always changing and developing to some extent. The community is always dependent on the persons that make it up. So the community is always identified with the personal ex-perience of it. Although the community is always changing and developing with the people involved, it should always grow and develop along certain lines or patterns. This is because an essential part of the vital identity of the community will be an apprehension of and a resonance with the identity of the founder and the habitual tendency to live this out concretely over time. Those in community must interiorize this identity, and come to share it in common, as well as be familiar with how this identity has been lived out concretely in its shared history. Nevertheless, the present com-munity must never blindly follow one single concretization, or absolu-tize any past communal manifestation of this identity. The difference between this. and the older Christological model is that this model is profoundly pneumatological. Here to follow Christ Review for Religious, January-February 1990 means, first of all, to take on the mind of Christ, and this in turn means to be radically open to the Holy Spirit and the newness of mind that this entails. Taking on this mind leads to a radical personalization because it calls one to complete trust in the Father--which frees each person to be truly open and vulnerable to others. This mind also causes one to re-alize that mutual inexistence is not something one chooses, but is the very pattern and foundation of life (which one can choose to ignore). Be-cause the Holy Spirit is the ultimate personalizing principle, even within the Godhead, we see that the Spirit is the foundation of community.5 All of the above implies that the fundamental starting point for re-ligious community is conversion. The absolute need for the type of con-version process that allows us to take on the mind of Christ is obvious. Community is not possible without the orientation, transvaluation, and radical personalization of both initial and ongoing religious conversion. Any model of community that is not premised on both the initial and on-going need for conversion and repentance is inadequate. Community is not then finally some thing we can do; it is a gift we are given and can only receive. It is also not something we ever have as a finished product or achievement; its fulfillment always lies in the future, though the seeds of this future are already present. So these pneuma-based communities are inherently eschatological communities in that they point to and an-ticipate the fullness of communion in the future. Differences between the Old and New Models in Four Key Areas I) Formation Formation in the Old Model often meant re-formation. It often in-volved taking a person and changing him or her into a certain type of person who acted in a particular way and had a particular mind-set. For-mation in practice was usually indoctrination and incorporation into an institution. So there was a process set up that should end at a certain point with a certain type of predetermined character who could function within a defined system of life. The model of formation was most often seen to be military "boot camp," and the primary method of formation was sensory deprivation and incarceration. Under the New Model, formation would refer more-to the whole group than to the individual person. This is because with each new per-son that enters.the group, the group must re-form, as it were, and estab-lish a new unity. The model for individuals would actually be incorpo-ration, but not incorporation into a preexisting and unchangeable struc-ture. Rather, the process would be one of being drawn into a conscious A Trinitarian Model of Religious Life / 99 union of persons that entails individual and group conversion. It is a proc-ess of growth in desire and ability to donate oneself to a certain group of people, and for the group to accept and relate personally to the new person, hence redefining itself in terms of that person. The model for for-mation here would be more like the RCIA. It is a dynamic process of conversion and incorporation that challenges both the individual and the community to come to a new understanding of and commitment to oth-ers. Initial formation in a strict sense would include a process of coming to know the vital identity of the preexisting group by coming to know the identity and vision of the founder and interiorizing this vision in a way that causes the person to make decisions that in turn forms his or her character. In other words, there is a sense of taking on a new iden-tity, but this identity is always personal, and builds on the character, per-sonality, and experience of the person. It is neither a process of becom-ing someone wholly different from oneself, nor the same as others; it is coming to a fullness of autonomy and unique identity. It is a process of becoming who the person truly is. It is only this process that can facili-tate Christian community, because self-donation is ultimately based on the fullness of autonomy, not the lack of it. lrI) Vows In the Old Model the vows were generally understood to be explicit commitments to live out a certain pattern of life: This pattern was often based on the narrow, military sense of following Christ that I have al-ready mentioned. The vows were then defined as being those elements that were necessary to maintain a cohesive and successful group identity and purpose. Obedience, therefore, was often the primary vow (for Dominicans it was the only vow), and was understood in the military sense of accept-ing a certain authority structure and chain of command. How one related to the community as a whole. The authority structure tended to take the place of interpersonal responsibility to the community---following orders from legitimate authority, no matter how half-heartedly and passively, was seen to be obedience. Poverty was the commitment to be materially dependent on the whole group, and to accept the priority of the corporate needs over one's own. So one could not own anything personally (that is, neither personal bank accounts nor independent financial resources), although one might have the use of things based on need. Furthermore, this vow was gener-ally regarded as applying only to the individual's obligation in regard to Review for Religious, January-February 1990 material goods, although it was occasionally seen to impinge on the ma-terial wealth of the community as a whole. Celibacy had both a moral and an institutional basis. It was, there-fore, seen as the obligation to abstain from all sexual activity, and to avoid all exclusive relationships so as to avoid scandal to the group's repu-tation and to insure cohesive institutional structures. In the New Model there will always be two aspects to any vow: how it affects and is part of the life of the community as a whole; and how it affects and directs the life of the individual. It is important to see that the vows are primarily commitments to a certain style of life and to cer-tain values and priorities made by the whole community. The individ-ual's vows, then, are the taking on of these group commitments, and mak-ing personal decisions to facilitate these. So when the individual makes vows, she or he is vowing to enter fully into the vows of the whole com-munity, and making a commitment to come to see one's own identity in terms of the others. In one sense there is only one vow, namely the community's vow to enter into an obediential relationship to the Father after the example of Jesus, based on an unconditional trust in the providential care of the Father. This vow then will be most clearly manifest in the community's commitment to poverty. Obedience in this model is first and foremost trust in God. But be-cause of this it is experienced as a trust in and openness to the whole com-munity. In this sense, obedience means essentially "to listen" (from the Latin root), and is most fully expressed by the term integrity. For the in-dividual this means that one make the community the priority in one's life, and, therefore, the person should grow, develop, and make deci-sions in true dialogue with the whole community. It means that each per-son forms and informs his or her life by the interpersonal relationships that are experienced as community. As a group, obedience is the commitment to never let institutional structures pass for common life or take the place of true listening, dis-cernment, and consensus building. In other words, it is the commitment to an ongoing and interpersonal dialogue, which is a group commitment, out of love, to live with a certain amount of ambiguity and tension in their lives, even at the expense of efficiency and cohesiveness. The com-munity and the individual fundamentally commit themselves to be open to the Spirit, and to be fully charismatic in the truest sense. Rigid con-formity, mediocre efforts, institutional paralysis, unimaginative and un-creative problem solving, and impersonal decision-making would all be Seen as violations of this vow. Poverty is seen by the whole community as the test and sign of its A Trinitarian Model of Religious Life unconditional trust in God. This vow is based on the assumption that the radical sharing of worldly goods is the fundamental and practical test of both the individual's and community's faith. So this vow on the part of the individual is the commitment to a complete sharing of wealth and re-sources with the others in the community and with those outside of it. It is a vow to hold nothing back. Furthermore, it is the commitment to work, not so that one may accumulate wealth or find personal gratifica-tion, but so that through work one may share with others, and produce fruits to share with others. On the part of the group, poverty is likewise a commitment to a radi-cal form of hospitality that excludes no one in principle, and where pri-ority for sharing is based on need. It also means that the whole commu-nity will work as a way of sharing, and so that it will have something to share. Group "navel-gazing" that does not end in service, wasting money and service on those who do not need it, over-planning for the future security of the group, spending money for services that the group could perform for themselves, and an inability to let go of past successes are all violations of this vow. Celibacy is the vow that facilitates the radical self-donation of one-self to a number of other people, so it is first of all the vow to give one-self fully and personally to the others in the community. As such, it nec-essarily requires that the person forego any fundamentally exclusive re-lationships and the types of physical intimacy that are proper to these. This does not mean a denial of intimacy, affection, and personal rela-tionship-- one is actually committed to these in self-donation--but one chooses to find these and enter into these within the context of commu-nity. This then is the central predisposition of the trinitarian model of com-munity: the choice to seek interpersonal fulfillment in a non-exclusive but fully intense way through community with others. As a community this vow is the commitment of the whole to each person, and to the extension of hospitality to include a personal open-ness to all. So it is a commitment to be inclusive communities that offer human relationship unconditionally to all. Simply living together with a "boarding-house" mentality, refusing to reach out to and even chal-lenge the alcoholic or any dysfunctional member, passive-aggressive be-havior, and remaining separate and distant from people outside of the com-munity would all be violations of this vow. III) Common Life and Institutional Structures As alluded to earlier, in the New Model common aspects of the com-munity life (prayer, study, various practices, and so forth) and the un-derlying institutional structures which support these (constitutions, rules, 39 / Review for Religious, January-February 1990 authority structures, government apparatus) are not equivalent to the com-munity, but arise out of it and are meant to serve it. So no elements of the common life are absolute and unchangeable in principle. It is impor-tant to point out, however, that although the institutional structures in the New Model are fluid and open to change, there are some things that they must necessarily exclude. Leadership in this model of community is always a service to the whole that is exercised cautiously and humbly. Any authority structure within the community, therefore, must begin with an unequivocal rejection of a worldly view of power, particularly those models that arise out of a militaristic worldview. Furthermore, there can be no caste systems in community life--seniority, clericalism, and elitism are all worldly views of power. Everyone who has made an explicit commitment to the community has an equal share in and respon-sibility to the common life. So authority structures must always reflect this reality, and must always be open to revision and challenge. In both models the greatest threat to unity is dissent. In the Old Model, dissent was usually seen in impersonal terms, as in dissent from some aspect of common life. To disagree with a superior, to not observe a certain practice, or to disregard a certain law were all acts that were understood to be disunifying. The key in this model then was to mini-mize dissent by insisting on complete, even mindless, conformity on a very practical level to a certain core of ideas and practices. In the New Model dissent is seen in more personal terms as a break-down of the interpersonal bonding and as dysfunctionality. The main source of dissent is the attitudes of persons within the group towards one another. This type of dissent will often hide behind superficial agreement or conformity, but operates at a deeper level to poison relationships and undermine unity. The approach here though is to confront dissent as part of the ongoing need for conversion and repentance for the whole com-munity. This highlights then the absolute need for consent in this model, and particularly for an ongoing process of building consent or consen-sus. So the main emphasis is not minimizing dissent, it is maximizing consensus, which in turn requires that the community be willing to con-front and challenge dissent in a personal and constructive way. IV) Mission and Ministry In the Old Model mission and ministry were the primary focus of re-ligious life in general, and of one's individual vocation in particular. Com-munity, then, had a secondary role and was seen essentially as a means of facilitating mission. The dominant understanding of vocation was that one was called to a certain mission (namely to follow Jesus), and so one A Trinitarian Model of Religious Life / 33 was called to do certain things. One then was to choose a lifestyle that best accommodated and supported what it was that one wanted to do. One chose a community because it best enabled the work that one wanted to do. So community was formed for a certain reason or purpose, namely, because it was the most efficient and practical means to share resources, pool talents, and consolidate authority in order to get a cer-tain mission accomplished. The vows of celibacy and poverty, for in-stance, were often seen in this light: community made possible the kind of work one wanted to do. So this model generally understood mission in an individualistic sense, and mainly valued community for its func-tional role. In the New Model one does not live in community to facilitate work or mission; one lives in community and, therefore, can work and be sent on mission. Community is always primary and chosen for its own sake. Community is chosen because of the people involved; it is the decision to share one's life in a particular way with others. Here the trinitarian emphasis of this model is most helpful. The Trin-ity does not come together in order to create and go on mission. It is in-stead just because of the radical unity and self-donation of the persons to one another that they can create and be sent. The missions of Jesus and the Holy Spirit are the models here. Missions always reveal some-thing about the senders, and what the Son and Holy Spirit communicate simply is their shared life with the Father. It is precisely their shared life that they invite us into. In other words, the senders are essential; there is no mission without being sent. So it is because one lives in community, and because of the graced transformation of experience that this entails, that one feels empowered to go out. And what is shared when one is "out" is precisely the fruits of the common life. Because the Christian community is by nature a char-ismatic community, there are a variety of gifts to be shared. Furthermore, each community, because of its shared vital identity with a particular foun-der, will have a particular charism which both grows out of and shapes the development of the community life. It is then the radical self-donation conversion that sends a person out. So through conversion each person is always moving into wider circles of community. The religious community is in turn sent by the wider Christian community, and so it has a message and a mission also. Under this model, community is experientially prior to mission, and is in fact its source. In the actual life of the community, however, both will be mutually dependent and interrelated. In this sense though, very 34 / Review for Religious, January-February 1990 individualistic types of spirituality, even those that allow for some form of community, are called into question. In regard to vocation, this means that one's vocation is primarily understood as taking on the mind of Christ and thereby coming into contact with the life of God within one, and of being called by this realization into relationship with others in a new way. In the context of this new relationship one is sent out to oth-ers. The point is that for those who choose to live in religious commu-nity it is community itself which is the vocation--it is the call. The spe-cific mission or function that one takes on within this context is really the call of or from the community. This call is the claim that members of the community have on one another by virtue of their mutual self-donation. This raises the question of the place of ordination within the reli-gious community. In the Old Model a specific type of work was often seen as the primary vocation, and, therefore, the community was there to support and enhance ordination. The levels of participation within the community were generally based upon the work one did, and so the or-dained occupied a higher level in the communal structure. So ordination tended to be divisive and obscured the priority of the communal life. In the New Model interpersonal relationships are primary. The vo-cation of the religious is to community, and it is primarily the commu-nity as a whole that is sacramental. It is the community which sends the person to do a particular type of work or to function in a particular ca-pacity. Ordination, then, comes from the community and is based both on the needs which the community perceives and on the gifts of the in-dividuals within the community. Ordination, however, is not the indi-vidual's sole possession; it is proper to the whole community and is dele-gated to one or another member as circumstances require. Furthermore, ordination can never be divisive; it can never change one's status within the community; it can only change one's function. Conclusion Those who look upon God as a metaphysical monad flee society to dwell alone with the Alone. [but] those who look upon the reality of God as the perfection of interpersonal communion will discover the divine in community.6 Our vision and image of God is ultimately the matrix around which we shape our lives. Who we are and how others experience us says more about the God we believe in than all the theological discourse we can of-fer. When confronting the challenge, therefore, of redefining our lives A Trinitarian Model of Religious Life so as to be prophetic witnesses to the gospel, the most fundamental ques-tion we must ask ourselves is, "Who is our God?" Likewise, when we truly come to know this God the primary question we must ask is not "What ought I do?" It is instead "Who ought we be?" NOTES J Robert Bellah et al, Habits of the Heart: Individualism and Commitment in Ameri-can Life (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1985). 2 For a more detailed discussion of the development of trinitarian doctrine see par-ticularly Jurgen Moltmann, The Trinity and the Kingdom (San Francisco: Harper & Row Publishers, 1981); Robert Jenson, The Triune Identity (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1982); and Donald Gelpi, S.J., The Divine Mother: A Trinitarian Theology of the Holy Spirit (Lanham: University of America Press, 1984). 3 Gelpi, op. cit., pp. 13 ! - 132. 4 Moltmann, op. cit., pp. 174-176; Gelpi, op. cit., p. 132. 5 For a further discussion on the role of the Holy Spirit in the Godhead see Gelpi, op. cit., particularly chapter 3. 6 lbid, p. 140. In-Depth Wisdom A tree climbs to the heights because of roots concealed; Waves break in beauty on the shores for there are depths unseen; Mountains rise in loveliness on rock, set fold on fold; Lest we forget as we grow old. Philomena Mary, S.N.J.M. 1420 Mount Royal Blvd. Outremont, Quebec, Canada H2V 2J2 Community--- A Multi-Dimensional Reality Jeanne Knoerle, S.P. Sister Jeanne Knoerle, S.P., is identified with Woods Associates, consultants to non-profit organizations in strategic planning, management, and marketing. Her address is Saint Mary-of-the-Woods; Indiana 47876. Several bits and pieces of experience have coalesced recently to tempo-rarily part some of the mists shrouding my understanding of the word and the reality of community within a religious congregation. They have con-tributed for me what our old Rational Psychology professor, Father McGinnis, would call an "intellectual aha," and I would like to share them. The first piece of experience contributing to this "aha" has grown from my confusion and unclarity about what it means to be a woman re-ligious, committed to a life lived in community. This is not a recent con-fusion. It has been with me (and I know with many others) for some years and is an ambiguity and tension that has been alternately energiz-ing and creative as well as enervating and destructive. So much so that I have come to see the word "community" as representing a reality with so many possible understandings and so many modalities of expression that it has become almost useless as a representation of a concept. Often a group of religious tries to get at its meaning by eliminating all the things it apparently is not--physical things like sharing a com-mon dwelling, sharing common work, doing things together--hoping that in identifying what it is not, they will more easily be able to move to a definition of what it is. When the group does move to trying to define what it is, they often identify it as an invisible bond which ties a group of people together 36 Community---A Multi-Dimensional Reality around shared values, seeing it as expressed not so much in physical to-getherness but in commonness of purpose, in a shared history, in a be-lief in a common tradition. In reality, however, what I find myself doing most of the time is vac-illating between those two extremes, momentarily satisfied but never fully at peace with either. One seems too dependent on a narrow con-ception which can be counted and measured and made explicit. The other seems too vague and unclear, susceptible of such a wide range of inter-pretation as to offer no possibility of an objective, shared reality. I come away with a sense that each of those extremes offers a piece of the truth, an insight into the constantly shifting dynamics of community, but that ultimately there must be some other, fuller definition that incorporates some aspects of each of them. A second bit of experience which led to these reflections has come from my further study of the Enneagram, a personality theory which iden-tifies three interior centers from which individuals draw their energy to cope with the realities of their life. These centers--the head or percep-tual center, the heart or relational center, and the gut or instinctual cen-ter- are each operative within every individual, and are each important to the development of the total human person.Yet each of us comes to favor using one of them over the other two, drawing from it the primary energy for our response to life. Dealing more deeply with this system and how it operates within the life of individuals has enabled me to more effectively step aside and ob-serve the patterns of my own and others' attitude toward life. It has given me a sense of understanding, tolerance, and acceptance of behavior that earlier I had been confused about and often judgmental of. And it has enabled me to see more clearly patterns in the motivations of individu-als and groups where before I had focused primarily on disparate actions. A major spin-off has been to provide me with a more coherent un-derstanding of the wide variations in the ways in which members of a religious community see and respond to the same stimuli. That people responded very differently was surely evident in the past. There were those who thoroughly enjoyed and anticipated the challenge of study in the summer, and those who dreaded the vei'y thought of summertime be-cause it meant they had to study. There were those who loved to volun-teer for infirmary duties and those who hated to. Those who loved most to party, and those who loved most to pray. Why they did so and why I personally responded in the way I did was not so clear. Because the Enneagram is a system built on trying to Review for Religious, January-February 1990 understand the constantly shifting dynamics of the human personality, the answers it provides to "why" we act the way we do are neither sim-ple nor clear-cut, but they do at least provide an overall pattern against which to make some judgment. The third piece of experience I bring to this moment comes from the variety of reading in theology, ecclesiology, and ethics that I have re-cently undertaken, but especially from Avery Dulles' recent book The Reshaping of Catholicism. Father Dulles' book helped to put some, though by no means all, of my frustrations into perspective. It helped sort out and clarify the mean-ing of many of the concepts and experiences which have been so much a part of Catholicism since Vatican II. But the particular insight he presented which connects to the chal-lenge I described earlier, that of defining community, I found in his chap-ter on the Extraordinary Synod of i 985. There, in explaining the themes which emerged from that synod and which were incorporated into its pub-lished Report, Dulles described three schools of thought which existed among the delegates: the neo-Augustinian school which tended to depict the Church as an island of grace in a world given over to sin; the com-munitarian school which tended to depict the Church as the human face of God on earth, in trouble now because of the failure of conservative prelates to carry out the reforms of Vatican II; and the liberation school which depicted the Church as in possession of the wisdom of God and which, therefore, must be politically involved if it is to carry out the work of the kingdom. The neo-Augustinians, putting their accent on worship and holiness, wanted a Church more committed to the cultivation of spiritual union with God. The communitarians, putting their accent on more humanis-tic issues, wanted a Church more involved in the promotion of peace and reconciliation. The liberationists, sharing neither the sacralism of the Augustinians nor the secular optimism of the communitarians, wanted a Church that was confrontational and militant. The Synod dealt with these three points of view, but the commitment of the drafters of the document was not to a presentation of varying points of view and to a clear identification of their points of disagree-ment. Rather the emphasis was on integration, on interrelationship, on allowing the variety of colors to be mixed together on the canvas like a Monet painting, rather than to be identified separately like a rainbow. Therefore, the final Report incorporated concerns of all of these groups, but with none clearly in the ascendance. Community--A Multi-Dimensional Reality/39 Dulles quotes the following marvelous sentence, artfully crafted to incorporate the ultimate wholeness which grew from the conflicting worldviews of all of those schools: "The Church as communion is the sacrament for the salvation of the world." It was that discussion about the schools of thought that existed in the Synod, and especially that sentence which seemed so beautifully to cre-ate a whole out of three disparate expressions of the truth, which began to push a pattern more insistently into the forefront of my mind. While the community of a gathering of bishops and the community of a religious congregation are certainly very different entities, and in many ways are not analagous, they do share the reality of being a group of people in relationship to one another, who share a common purpose, a common mission, and a common tradition. Theirs is a more ephem-eral relationship--they are not together often, nor with regularity, nor as a group do they have a specific, ongoing common task beyond the one they are presently fulfilling, though they do share the general task of mak-ing the word of God present in the world through their work as bishops. Nonetheless, it seems to me we can see the conflictual issues of com-munity mirrored fairly clearly in the three schools of thought which ex-isted at the Synod and which were so clearly delineated by Father Dul-les. And those schools fit with a fair amount of cohesion into the three types of centers which are basic to the theory of the Enneagram. The neo-Augustinians, like those approaching life from the head cen-ter, tend to approach things perceptually, more frequently using their in-tellect and their powers of observation to solve the problems of life, be-ing less intensely involved than those in the other centers. Hence they more clearly see the other-worldly aspects of religious life and feel less pressure to commit the community to becoming involved in the concerns of the world, and more pressure to see that it retains its sense of being an effective instrument of salvation. The communitarians, like those approaching life from the heart cen-ter, tend to approach things from the point of view of relationships, con-cerned always with how they relate to others and how others relate to one another. Without a sense of relationship they have difficulty feeling the life in them, and are, therefore, much more concerned with the world outside them than with the world within them. Hence they focus most comfortably on the human aspects of the work of the community. The liberationists, on the other hand, like those approaching life from the gut center, have an instinctual feeling about the World; they have a kind of built-in sense of knowing, the source of which is not al- 40 / Review for Religious, January-Februao, 1990 ways clear, but the force of which is powerful. Hence they have a strong belief in the responsibility of the community to bring justice into the world, to use its resources and its life to make the world more right. Let me use myself as an example. As a person whose energy comes from the heart or relational center, I am most comfortable in the com-munitarian school, concerned with how we as members of a community can better relate to one another and how our religious community can best help other human beings be better, holier, happier, more complete persons. During the last few years I have begun gradually to integrate some of the rico-Augustinian or perceptual worldview more fully into my own, however. Becoming concerned that I had put too much emphasis on the outer world of action, I have consciously attempted to develop the inner, more spiritual aspects of my person. And now I sense in-creased energy emanating from the head center as well. Where I feel least comfortable, however, is in the liberation school. I know intellectually that to become fully integrated I must learn to trust (perhaps even more fundamentally to get in touch with) my instincts. I know I must learn that to touch and release my anger will not interfere with my relationships. I know I must be better able to integrate and act out of my instinctual center, as I have begun to integrate and act out of my perceptual center. Yet I find this center most out of my range of ex-perience and significantly harder to reach. I think each of us--whatever our approach to life--has the same strug-gle. If we want to become more personally integrated, if we want ulti-mately to create a more mature community, we must perceive, then tol-erate, then understand, then fully accept the differing approaches to life which result from using the energy of each of these centers. We must attempt to identify what worldview is ours and, without imposing it as the best and only one, contribute that piece of truth to the Monet canvas of community. But we must also acknowledge what piece of truth we find hardest to accept and struggle to incorporate it more fully into our view of reality. We must acknowledge, if we operate as neo-Augustinians from the head of perceptual center, our discomfort level when the community seems to over-stress a commitmeni to human development, leaving the spiritual aspect of our lives unstressed. We must acknowledge, if we operate as communitarians from the heart or relational center, our discomfort level when we are asked to ap-prove the taking of a community stand, thereby moving to publicly sepa-rate us from others rather than to positively underscore the bonds which Community--A Multi-Dimensional Reality draw human beings together. We must acknowledge, if we operate as iiberationists from the gut or instinctual center, our discomfort level when the community stresses the eschatological, the importance of the kingdom of heaven and the life of the other world, rather than the impor!ance of confronting the evil in this world and the need to see that justice is accomplished in the present. In each case, however, if community is to mirror the full dimensions of our humanness, we must acknowledge that each approach to life does have a piece of the truth. And we must be willing to contribute our own piece of the truth, holding on to it and placing it on the canvas. Then stand back to see the full picture which we have helped to create, accept-ing the contribution of the other truths as well as our own to that full-ness. Developing the fullness of that picture is what community is all about. And since, perhaps more than at any other time in history, com-munity is a concept that is ambiguous, even anomalous, we must be will-ing, as the drafters of the synod document were of the concept of Church, to seek among us a creative and dynamic peace about how we perceive and live it. As we now live in religious communities, however,, it seems to me that we too often speak the words of power than of peace. We fail to en-ter the world of those with whom we share the reality of community, talk-ing too often instead from the protection of our own shell, not really hear-ing, not really understanding the words of those who speak from another worldview. Our primary goal is too often the imposition of our own. Let me return to the initial insight which prompted these reflections-- that the word community has come to mean so many things that it has become almost useless as the representation of a concept. I would like now to modify that insight somewhat to say rather that community is a such multifaceted concept that it can only be captured by allowing its defi-nition to be pluriform. It is perhaps most analagous, not to a Monet paint-ing, but to a hologram---offering only one specific facet to the eyes of the viewer at a given time, yet only complete When seen in its full three dimensions. Perhaps if we can come 'to see our third of the truth reflected in that hologram, together with the other dimensions of the truth we less clearly identify with, we can better allow ourselves to say yes to the varying ex-pressions of community. And at the same time we can come to agree-ment that no one expression is sufficient for the whole. To begin this process, we need to name and claim our own 49 / Review for Religious, January-February 1990 worldview, so that it becomes objectified and clear. Then we need to hear others name theirs, and accept the authenticity of their vision as well as ours. Only then can we proceed. For example, from my relational center, from my communitarian worldview, some physical togetherness, some living or working or be-ing together, seems to me to be clearly implicit in the very word com-munity. I have difficulty understanding the more ethereal co.ncept of com-munity which is sometimes outlined in the perceptual or neo-Augus~inian view--that community is a form of bondedness which need not be ex-pressed in our being i.ogether, but rather in our somehow feeling that we are together. And I have even greater difficulty with the instinctual or liberationist concept of community as being strengthened by being against something or someone else. That simply is how I perceive community. It does not mean that I believe I hold the only truth about it. It does not negate other concepts or understandings of community. It simply means that if we ultimately define community without including some aspect ofphysical together-ness I will have little ability to relate to that definition, nowhere to hang on to it. It will not fit within my worldview. I need to correct the narrowness of my vision, not by letting go of it, not by some grand gesture of surrender or denial which will ultimately lead to my feeling at the margins of community or, even worse, alien-ated from it. I need to proffer my piece of truth and then seek to broaden my vision and deepen my understanding of community by seriously study-ing the truths offered by others, ultimately respecting their view of real-ity as much as I respect my own. If we were all to do that in mutual respect for each other's view of what community is, while the resulting hologram of community might not be totally satisfying to any one of us, it could instead offer us a rich and full opportunity to explore and live out its multifaceted reality dur-ing the rest of our lives. Dyads and Triads: The Sociological Implications of Small-Group Living Arrangements Patricia Wittberg, S.C. Sister Patricia Wittberg, S.C., is an Assistant Professor in the Department of Soci-ology and Anthropolgy at Fordham University. Her address is Department of Soci-ology and Anthropology; Fordham University; Bronx, New York 10458. As the number of active members in religious congregations becomes smaller, and as these members become involved in more varied and dis-persed ministries, it is increasingly common to find religious living sin-gly or in groups of two or three. While the personal.and communal im-plications of individuals living alone have been examined to some ex-tent,~ the special social dynamics of pairs and other very small groups have been less frequently considered. Usually, groups of religious larger than one but smaller then eight or ten are treated together under the head-ing "small group living," with little consideration for the special char-acteristics which groups of two or three might have. It would, however, be a valuable exercise to examine these special characteristics, since the recent experience of many congregations has uncovered regular patterns in them. Some "pair" living arrangements--or dyads, as they are also called--have remained stable for years or even decades within a congre-gation, resisting the efforts of community leaders or of the dyadic pair themselves to add a third person. Conversely, groups of three religious (triads) are often unstable, repeatedly splitting into pair and a singleton. The stability of pair members or the frequent group-switching of thirds have sometimes been attributed by others to unhealthy tendencies in the individuals involved--immaturity, perhaps, or excessive dependency. So- 43 44/Review for Religious, January-February 1990 ciologists, however, have found that it is often the mere fact of belong-ing to a group of a given size that elicits certain behaviors from an indi-vidual, independently of his or her personal psychological character-istics. This article will summarize the writings of the German sociolo-gist Georg Simmel on the characteristics of dyads and triads, and will draw some tentative implications of these studies for religious who live in small groups. It is important to emphasize that Simmel viewed his work on the nu-merical composition of groups to be a sort of "geometry of human rela-tions." Just as the properties of a circle or a triangle remain constant whether the actual figure is made of paper or of wood, so the social dy-namics of dyads and triads are inherent in themselves, Simmel thought, regardless of the individuals involved. It is, of course, possible that the members of a particular dyad or triad can disregard the tendencies at-tached to number, especially if they are aware of them. It is also possi-ble that a common ideological commitment, such as the vows in relig-ious life, may override the effects of a given number, to some extent. But the underlying dynamics will still exist, and will result in certain com-mon patterns when many groups are examined. The Dyad A dyad, Simmel stated, is different from all other groups, in that, while outsiders may see it as a unit, from the inside each member sees only the other person, and not a supra-individual collectivity.2 If either individual should leave, the dyad would cease to exist. Each member thus feels herself and her partner to be indispensable, since "for its life the dyad needs both; for its death only one.''3 The dyad is, therefore, more conscious of the possibility of group dissolution, and feels "both endangered and irreplaceable." Dyadic relations are also characterized by greater intimacy than larger groups--it is the uniqueness of these two particular individuals that gives the dyad its special flavor and which can often become "the core value and chief matter of its existence."4 Since only one other.individual besides oneself composes a dyad, the group "does not attain that super-personal life" which the individual feels to be independent of his presence and participation.5 Dyad mem-bers are unable to delegate responsibility to "the group," to expect things from "the group," or to let "the group" get away with some-thing. In a larger group, by contrast, an individual may fail to develop ownership of group decisions, or may passively benefit from her mem-bership with a minimum of personal contributions. Dyads and Triads Dyadic Living Relationships in Religious Life There are both positive and negative implications of the dynamics of dyadic relationships in religious life. On the positive side, dyadic liv-ing encourages the personal assumption of responsibility for the quality of group living. If the house i~ dirty or if common prayer is neglected, there is no one to blame but oneself and one other individual. Dyadic living has also been a fruitful way for religious to develop their ability to achieve intimacy and individual growth,6 psychological capacities that were often stunted in the large institutional living arrangements of for-mer decades. Other aspects of dyadic interactions, however, have at least the potential for negative effects--both for the congregation as well as for the individuals involved. Since the departure of either member de-stroys a dyad, an individual religious living in such an arrangement may have to do a sort of "dual discernment" when considering a ministerial change: taking into consideration both whether it is time for himself to move on as well as whether it is a good time for his dyadic partner to have to find a new living arrangement. For this reason, dyads tend to be the most stable of small groups. Since stability, uniqueness, and intimacy are inherent in the dyadic form, the individuals living in dyads may not necessarily have psycho-logically unhealthy traits, even if they remain together longer than out-siders would deem wise. For those who do have such traits, however, dyadic living will exacerbate them. Furthermore, a mutual dependency may develop within the dyad over time, even if none existed initially. For dyad members who are or have become excessively dependent on each other, dissolution of the dyad (by death or serious illness, for ex-ample) will cause intense psychological distress. There is also evidence that dyadic living can be detrimental to the larger congregation. This is true whether the congregation is following the traditional "intentional community" model or one of the newer as-sociational forms. In an intentional community, members are bound to-gether by a common religious ideology which encourages the subordi-nation, at least in some key instances, of the individual to the larger group.7 Previous research on intentional communities has shown that dy-adic attachments often erode this group loyalty, which is the essential foundation of the communal lifestyle.8 For this reason, successful inten-tional communities have always included some mechanism either to elimi-nate dyads or to subordinate them. Sometimes the suppression of dyads has been heavy-handed and psychologically destructive, as in the at-tempts to eliminate "particular friendships" in pre-Vatican II religious 46 / Review for Religious, January-February 1990 life, and at times it has led to unusual patterns such as the forced adop-tion of "group marriage" in the Oneida community. By whatever means, however, no intentional community has ever survived that has allowed dyadic attachment to develop unhindered.9 Many religious congregations, of course, have discarded the inten-tional community model and have adopted a looser form of association. One such model which has been recently advanced is that of "mission" as the uniting principle behind a community. Religious may live and work in widely scattered situations and yet still consider themselves bound together by the shared missionary vision of their founder: Community is not the living situation. It is not all going to Great Amer-ica together, it is not dressing alike, and it is not working in the same facility. Community is the result of our bondedness around a common mission, Christ's mission, the kingdom, according to the spirit and charism of our founder or foundress as experienced in this particular group. ~0 But the very intimacy and uniqueness inherent in the dyad can often eclipse this dedication to mission and attenuate any mission-based bonds to the larger group. If this happens, the dyad will stagnate at the self-absorbed stage which Wombacher says is a danger to those individuals and groups which fail to go outside of themselves in true generative and creative service of others. ~ A dyad that has been extremely stable for a long period of time may make it very difficult for its members to sum-mon the courage to move on. There may be instances where both mem-bers attempt to move together; such endeavors are subject to the same difficulties that married professionals often face in locating two suitable jobs in the same area. This would detract from the mission-bonded con-gregation's ideal of following the leading of the Spirit into the works most needed by the People of God. To the extent that stable dyads form in religious life, therefore, the community--whether a close-knit intentional community or a mission-based association--may be less able to count on the loyalty of its mem-bers. This is especially true since other social mechanisms are simulta-neously conspiring to keep the dyad an exclusive "twosome." The fol-lowing section will consider the addition of third members to a dyad, and the reasons for the instability of this new living arrangement. The Triad There is a qualitative difference between a dyad and a triad; adding a fourth or fifth member to a group does not change it nearly as much Dyads and Triads as adding the third. ~2 For the first time, it becomes possible in a triad for each group member to have two kinds of relationships with the oth-ers: a direct (A~)C) and an indirect (A~)BtbC) one. In a triad, a majority can out vote an individual member, and it becomes possible for the indi-vidual to envision the group existing after her departure. Division be-comes possible among the members: A and B may share some experi-ence, idea, or interest that C does not, while B and C may have some-thing in common that A does not have. This may lead to shifting alli-ances or interest groups, a situation that was impossible in a dyad. Se-crets, too, become possible in triads, and one member may be excluded, to a greater or lesser extent, from group activities. Also, if the original dyadic partners were unequal in some way, adding a third disrupts the subordinate/superordinate relationship---either by increasing the distance between the superordinate and the two subordinates, or by making it pos-sible for the subordinates to combine against the superordinate. Special group roles are also possible in a triad, which could not ex-ist before. Since "there is no triad in which dissent among two of the elements does not occur from time to time," ~3 the third member may be-come a mediator, who can be impartial because she is not involved with either or also is equally involved with both. Another new role is the Ter-tius Gaudens (Rejoicing Third), who profits by maintaining a division between the other two. There are two ways of benefiting from strife among one's fellow members: one can actively pursue some otherwise forbidden interest while the others are preoccupied, or one can passively allow oneself to be showered with gifts as the contending parties com-pete for one's support. To the extent that the tertius has less personally involved in the dispute, he is in a stronger position than the other two, and it may be to his advantage to perpetuate this situation. Finally, the third member may actually employ the tactic of "divide and conquer"-- producing conflict in order to break up an incipient coalition. The dis-ruptive effects of secrets, ~he exclusion of one or another member, re-joicing thirds and divide and conquer tactics mean that, if the dyad is an especially stable group form, the triad is an especially unstable one. Dyads and Triads in Religious Life Because of the inherent dynamics of dyads and triads, two religious living together (and perhaps also working together in a common minis-try) often find it difficult to attract a third person to join them or to re-tain a newcomer who has come, even if they sincerely desire to do so. Initially, this difficulty may not depend on the personalities of the indi-viduals involved, but simply on the disruptive effects of adding a third 411 / Review for Religious, January-February 1990 to any dyad. Over time, however, the members of stable dyads also de-velop habits and customs which make it even harder for an outsider to gain entrance, or to feel comfortable once she has. This situation has ob-vious ministerial--and communal--implications. A given school or par-ish may wish to attract new religious workers, yet otherwise interested applicants may be put off by the prospect of joining a preexisting duo. Congregations whose formation programs involve sending prospective members to live on mission with other religious may have difficulty find-ing a place where the new affiliate is not liable to be excluded (however inadvertently) by a dyad or scandalized by the divisions in a triad. Fi-nally, some individuals may gain an undeserved reputation for being hard to live or work with: if a religious tries and fails to break into several successive dyads, or if two dyad members are repeatedly joined by third persons who move out after one year, others in the congregation may as-cribe their difficulties to personal defects on their part. If the failed at-tempts also involve repeated ministerial changes on the part of the per-son joining the dyad, his professional resum6 may suffer. Rapid turn-over may also be a source of scandal to outsiders--lay parishioners, for example, or parents at a school--if the new religious lives apart from the preceding two. Conclusions As religious congregations enter the last decade of the twentieth cen-tury, they will be increasingly faced by the issues which dyadic and tri-adic living arrangements raise. Some communities may wish to avoid the ministerial inflexibility that excessively stable dyads tend to create. For-mation directors may need actively to work for the preservation of larger living arrangements in order to avoid the necessity of placing a novice in a triad. After the novitiate, temporarily professed may find their tran-sition to full community membership and ministry even more stressful if they have to adjust to life with a preexisting pair. On the other hand, joining a single religious (and thus creating a dyad) may result in the young religious beginning this extremely stable living arrangement at the outset of her community life. If dyadic living tends to attenuate the group loyalty even of long-term members, it is all the more likely to do so in new arrivals. Finally, as the members of a dyad age, congregations may find it necessary to provide counseling services when death or serious illness causes the breakup of a pair that has been together for several dec-ades. The obvious solution to difficulties raised by dyad and triad living is to expand the local community to four or five members. This is not Dyads and Triads always possible, however. For one thing, the decreasing number of ac-tive members makes it likely that most ministerial situations will con-tain only a very few religious. This would be especially true in areas out-side of the large cities in the traditionally Catholic Northeast and Mid-west. The trend toward apartment living also fosters dyads and triads, since four- or five-bedroom apartments are rare. In some congregations, a substantial proportion of the members are already in dyadic living ar-rangements, and the community government may lack the tradition of authority to request or require that these grbupings be dissolved. This being the case, dyad and triad living will probably be unavoid-able in religious communities, at least to some extent. There are, how-ever, positive steps which the members of a congregation can take to ad-dress the issues which such arrangements raise. First of all, the records of a community should be investigated, in order to determine whether the abstract predictions of sociological theory about dyads and triads are, in fact, reflected in this particular congregation. Are the living arrange-ments and ministerial placements more stable thaff they were twenty years ago? What is the average size of living groups within the congre-gation? How long, on the average, have dyads been together? How long have triads? The members of larger groups? Which type of living arrange-ment appears to be increasing in frequency? Which types are decreas-ing?~ 4 Once trends have been identified, a congregation may wish to initi-ate a communal discernment process to determine what the effects of dy-ads and triads have been for its members, and whether these effects are desirable or not. The members of dyads and triads, or members who have once tried to join such a living arrangement, could be surveyed for their opinions and insights. Two- or three-person living arrangements could become a topic for chapter or pre-chapter discussion and debate among all the members, since whatever policies a congregation adopts in this regard would have to be owned by the members affected. Some of the possible follow-up actions to this community discern-ment could include the establishment or enlargement of a specific coun-seling or facilitation program to work with the members involved in dy-ads and triads. Triads may choose to make regular and frequent use of a facilitator--perhaps on a biweekly or monthly basis--to alert them-selves to and to deal with instances of divide and conquer, rejoicing thirds, or exclusive factions that may arise. Newly-formed triads-- especially those formed of a previous dyad and a singleton--would be in particular need of this service. Job counseling and placement services 50 / Review for Religious, January-February 1990 may help the members of dyads decide when to move on, and, of course, extensive counseling services would be needed for long-standing dyad members when, as will inevitably happen, illness, retirement or death dissolves their pair. The members of a congregations may decide to place a limit on the number of years that can be spent in a given dyad. Since most congregations no longer intervene so actively in the lives of their members, however, special commur~ity-wide discernment and input would be necessary before such a step would be accepted and owned, especially by the dyads involved. The congregation's leadership would also have to provide information about alternatives--both in living and in ministry--for any pair of its members who did agree to separate and move on. The physical resources available to a congregation should also be ex-amined in the light of what is learned about dyads and triads in the com-munity. In the past decade or so, for example, many parish convents have been closed and either demolished or converted to other uses. Some of these may have been of an ideal size to house a group of five or six. Congregations may wish to identify the houses of the "right size" which are still available, and make arrangements to purchase them, if they do not already own them. Any new living space which is created-- apartment buildings that may be purchased or built, large-scale quarters attached to hospitals or retirement centers that may be modified-- should be created with the effects of dyads and triads in mind. Finally, creative social arrangements may be devised to maintain ties to the larger community in the members of dyads and triads. If a con-gregation has small discussion groups as part of its government process, dyad members may be assigned to different groups. For those orders still involved largely in teaching, summer ministry or vacation opportunities can be advertised, and dyad members urged to avail themselves of dif-ferent opportunities. Dyads and triads living in the same area may be in-terfaced, and perhaps exchange members for a week or even longer. As congregations begin to explore the implications of living in groups of two and three, other practices will doubtless be devised. These should be shared with other communities. Number is not destiny. No inevitable social laws require that a dyad be excessively stable, or that a triad dissolve in acrimony and misunder-standing. As the members of small groups become aware of the tenden-cies involved in their living arrangements, they may be able, with some help from the larger congregation, to deal with the problems that arise. It is hoped that this article will be a first step in the process by which Dyads and Triads religious communities harness the dynamics of dyads and triads and con-vert them to truly life-giving forces for the religious life of the future. NOTES ~ See Sandra Schneider, New Wineskins:Re-imagining Religious Life Today (New York: Paulist Press, 1986), pp. 252-255. 2 Georg Simmel, The Sociology ofGeorg Simmel, trans. Kurt H. Wolff, (New York: Free Press, 1950), p. 123. 3 lbid, p. 124. '~ lbid, p. 126. 5 Ibid, p. 123. 6 Ibid, p. 137. 7 Patricia Wittberg, "Transformation in Religious Commitment," REVIEW FOR RELm~OUS 1985, Vol. 44, pp. 161-167. 8 Benjamin Zablocki, The Joyful Community (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1980), pp. 116-120. 9 Benjamin Zablocki, Alienation and Charisma (New York: Free Press, 1980), p. 289. ~0 Kristin Wombacher O.P., (n.d.) "American Religious Life Since Vatican II: Change and Continuity." Unpublished paper, p. 245. ~ lbid, p. 235. ~2 Simmel, op cit, p. 139. ~3 lbid, p. 148. 14 Please note that this article does not predict that there will be no stable triads in a congregation, merely that these will be relatively few compared to the number of stable dyads. Large, institutional groups of religious may also remain essentially un-changed over the years. This large group stability would be due, however, not to the abstract effects of number, but to the personal inability of the individual mem-bers to move on, whether because of age, psychological inflexibility, or the simple belief that a given congregational work would not survive were they to leave it. Evaluating Religious Community Costs David E. Meier, S.J. Fr. David Meier, S.J., serves as a financial consultor for the Detroit Province of the Society of Jesus. He is also the treasurer of the Jesuit Community at the University of Detroit. His address is Jesuit Community; Lansing-Reilly Hall; University of De-troit; 4001 W. McNichols; Detroit, Michigan 48221-9987. Point of view is a factor in literary evaluation, an element of artistic per-spective, and a determinant of political affiliation. Point of view is equally an essential criterion for determining what is meaningful in any financial assessment. A number of conditions can be identified which affect the financial data being analyzed. Some of these conditions merely color the data, so that a simple new cast of mind, like the addition of a filter on a camera lens, will provide an improved impression. Another condition may be rather like a fun-house mirror, which distorts the data, often so beyond one's normal frame of mind that the data loses all cogency. 1. Point of View--a Perspective When religious superiors are mystified because they do not find mean-ingful comparisons between per member costs of living in their local com-munities, their point of view is frequently at the heart of their mystery. Failure to advert to their perspective is what leads them to ask, "Why can't we get reliable comparisons between the per member costs at St. Agatha and St. Theresa?" Concern for lifestyle quickly introduces estimates for the amounts of money needed for community support under varied assumptions about a standard of living. Often enough the "common sense" expectations 52 Evaluating Religious Community Costs about a reduction in per diems are contradicted in the reality. Later in this article a number of conditions which merely color data will be examined. These should not be allowed to distract religious su-periors from a key condition which actually distorts the data which enter into their decisions. 2. Full CostDMarginai Cost Distinction Religious superiors should be conversant with the economic distinc-tion between full cost and marginal cost. This is the key condition for avoiding distortion in comparing per member costs for various commu-nity sizes. The effect of this distinction is especially significant when deal-ing with small numbers, say three to forty, which is representative of the size of most local religious communities. This distinction brings eco-nomic discernment down from the clouds to the refectory and the com-mon room. Consider, for example, an education community of thirty members which devotes hours of discussion trying to decide whether it is economi-cally preferable to have ten retired members rive apart in a separate com-munity from the twenty active teachers. Another study tries to make economic sense out of establishing a new community for a few retired members in a parish facility which has more room than is needed by the parish personnel. .The approach to these economic determinations will most often be reduced to measuring the per member cost. And here is where the dis-tortion can arise! Are the per member costs to be measured as full cost or marginal cost units? The difference can be of surprising magnitude. 3. Marginal Cost Marginal cost begins at the very edge of full cost. Whatever is the total cost of providing for the housing, food, personal, institutional, and automobile expenses of a 30 member community constitutes the commu

Issue 39.4 of the Review for Religious, July 1980. ; REVIEW FOR REt.t(;tOt~S (ISSN 0034-639X), published bi-monthly (every two months), is edited in collabo~:ation with faculty members of the Department of Theology of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located tit Room 428:3601 Lindell Blvd.: St. Louis, MO 63108. It is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute; St. Louis, Missouri, © 1980. By REVIEW FOR RELI(;IOUS. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid tit St. Louis. Missouri. Single copies: $2.00. Subscription U.S.A.: $8.00 a year: $15.00 for two years. Other countries: $9.(10 a yeur, $17.(111 for two years. For subscription orders or change of address, write REv~-:w ~:OR REL~;~OUS: P.O. Box 6070: I)uluth, Minnesota 55802. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Robert Williams, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Associate Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor July, 1980 Volume 39 Number 4 Correspondence with the editor and the associate editors, manuscripts and books for review should be sent to REW~:W ~'OR R~:tAc~otJs; 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. Journey into Christ James M. Deschene, O.S.B. Brother James' last article, "On Monastic Sexuality," appeared in the issue of November, 1979. He has recently been transferred to Christ of the Hills Monastery; P. O. Box 32849; Nimitz Station; San Antonio, TX 78216. A monk is a man of mystery. He is a mystery partly, though least importantly, because in our day and age he is little seen, little understood. He seems to be a romantic anachronism living out some medieval dream. To the outsider, monasteries are mysterious places and the monks within are always curiosities. Those who visit the monastery expect to find, in the words of Saint Athanasius written centuries ago, "an altogether different country, cut off from the rest of the world, and the inhabitants of that country have no thought than to live in love and justice." There is, however, a larger sense in which the monk is a man of mystery. For it is the monk, more than other men, who plunges his whole life into the very depths of the human adventure, into depths where the human adventure is discovered to be a response to a mysterious divine call. In that secret place, in the very heart of our being, a Voice, full of quiet power, speaks: 1 love you. Before the world was made, before the firsl tick of time, I loved you. I have made you for myself because I love you. And wh.en the universe lies cold and lifeless, I will love you still. Come, my beloved one. Walk with me. Give me your heart. To hear those words uttered in the stillness of our hearts is to know real ter-ror. For, like any human love, they demand of us a commitment of our very being. Yet unlike human love, their demand on us is an infinite one. We are asked to surrender ourselves utterly into those divine hands, to withhold nothing. We are afraid of such a love: 481 482 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 For, though I knew His Love Who followed, Yet was I sore adread Lest, having Him, I must have naught beside. (Francis Thompson, The Hound of Heaven) In the face of this demand it is easy to see why we flee from God into busy-ness, noise, distraction. Who of us can bear to be so loved? Or to offer such a love in return? Yet this love and this demand are at the very heart of our religion. God is love. And as hard as that is to believe, many find it even harder to believe that this God, this Love, loves them--infinitely (for God can do no less). This is a love that asks us to die to everything but itself, to be willing to abandon every possession, every security, every earthly thing and to leap into the dark from which God calls to us. From this darkness, from this call, from this unspeakably demanding love, we try to escape and flee. The monk does not. And insofar as man's final rest and fulfillment lie solely in God, the monk stands before us as a challenge and a sign of what we truly are and of where our lives will truly find their ending: in utter abandon-ment to the love of God. Both the Christian monk and the ordinary Christian are called to the same high and mysterious destiny. When Christ orders us to follow the narrow path, he addresses himself to all men. The monk and the lay person must attain the same heights. (St. John Chrysostom, In Epist. ad Haebraos) The monk is different in that he commits himself to this goal single-heartedly and in deadly earnest, surrendering all that might hinder the search. He who hears the voice of God must recognize that he is called to an' adventure whose ending he cannot foresee because it is in the hands of God. That is the risk and the challenge of the monastic calling: we surrender our lives into the hands of God and never take them back. (Thomas Merton, Cistercian Life) The monk is willing to suffer the loss of all things, if only Christ be gained (Ph 3:8). All the details of his life are simplified, streamlined, so that he lives with a clarity and single-mindedness often missing from the lives of other men and women. The monk is called to be the unified, integrated man whose life is centered on one thing only-- the love and service of God. And yet, for all this, we must not see the monk as special or basically different from others. Rather, he is a sign, a kind of sacrament or incarnation, of every person's specialness and vocation--to seek the God in whom alone the human heart finds rest, life and joy. You have made us for yourself, Lord. And our hearts will find no rest until they rest in you. (Saint Augustine, Confessions) The monk is also a man of despair. By being utterly honest with himself, he has come to admit the hopelessness of what the world calls good--the illu-sions, the emp.ty materialism--and knows in his heart that these values can bring no one to God, but often aid a man in hiding from the demands of the Journey into Christ infinite Lover. Yet this despair for the monk is a salutary despair, for it enables him to discard these conventional and false values and to put in their place the only true values--love, mercy, justice, peace, joy. So the monk withdraws from the city into the desert, the wilderness. He becomes an outlaw, a stranger. Yet his apartness and withdrawal are, paradoxically, signs of his deep loyalty to the family of man. In refusing to live by the values that demean human beings, the monk affirms in himself and for his brothers and sisters the true value of men and women in God's sight. Out of love for his brothers and sisters, the monk will not consent toa life that enslaves in falseness and futility. Here too the monk enters upona~mystery. For he enters a way he does not know, a journey without maps, a, land untraveled by most men and women, an uncharted wilderness. Like the Chosen People of old, he is called and led by God deeper and deeper into this unknown country. Gone are all the familiar contours of the human landscape and social life. Gone are the secur-ity and assurance of old and comfortablehabits of life. There remains in that dry desert air only the single Voice that calls one onward: "Come, my beloved one. Walk with me. Give me your heart." . Abandoning all to follow that call, the monk advances on his journey without maps. He is a fool to do so,'but he is a fool for Christ's sake; and like his Master, he confounds the wisdom of theworld by living out the wisdom of God. Seeing the monk's foolishness,- men ask: "What is the use of all this?" And the monk can give no answer. His way is not essentially a way of profit or usefulness or productivity. His life is, in the eyes of the world, a pointless one. The world never ceases to be amazed at this, and so it asks again: "What is the point of all this?" Again the monk is silent. Silence is his message. The question has been asked; that is point enough. The monk has proclaimed by his very presence the absurdity of a world apart from Ctirist. So long asa single monk lives,men will have a reason to question the ways and values of their world. Wars, revolutions, social, political ahd economic upheavals are~the tools the world uses to bring about change, Against all these the monk proclaims by his life the one-power that can healand change the world--transfiguration through love and grace. And this always happens in secret, in silence, in the d.epths where man meets God inqove. Then and there is the wounded human heart filled with healing, joy and peace, which are the monk's final gifts to suffering humanity. By surrendering himself, he has been healed, and through him flow into the world the gifts the world has ever sought but rarely found. Healing, joy, peacemthe gifts of Christ. They may be had only by a sur-render to Christ's love, by a death to all things that would separate one from his love. The monk reminds us of this. If the monk is to "reestablish all things in Christ," he must be ready to disestablish all 41~4 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 things in himself. Like Christ, he must empty himself, becoming obedient unto death. (Hubert van Zeller, The Holy Rule) Obedience. Death. Harsh and fearful realities for modern man. The monk, like Christ, is a man of obedience unto death. He seeks to be admitted, in love, to the heart of the mystery of the suffering Christ and to become one with that sacrifice whereby the whole world is made a new creation. He goes through death with Christ to rise in the dewy morning of a world recreated in the risen Lord. Only through obedience and death can the gifts of the new creation--joy, healing, peace--be brought to man. Our own baptism showed us this, as we were plunged into the mystery of Christ's death so we might rise with him in his new life. The monk is a living sign of baptism. In his own transfiguration through grace, having become a wholly new creature, the monk brings back into our struggling world the freshness and innocence of Eden. The monk is also a sign ol~ the end, of the coming kingdom. "Thy kingdom come," we pray, dreading that our prayer might be answered. For the kingdom (we know) will mean the end of all our petty security, our dishonesties, our comfortable habits. In the monk we see a sign of this coming kingdom. Yet in him we see too that the end, though it will be an utter catastrophe for our old ways, will finally be a deep and gracious blessing, fill~ ing our lifelong emptiness with the gifts of healing, joy and love. In the monk God gives us a living sign of this hope, a sign that Christ has already overcome the world: Easter has happened, the power of death has been vanquished, and all our fears are groundless. All that thy child's mistake Fancies as lost, I have stored for thee at home; Rise, clasp my hand, and come! (The Hound of Heaven) We see too in the monastery itself--in this community of brothers gathered in love and mutual service, and centered and grounded in Christ--a sign of the coming kingdom. In the sonship of the monks and the fatherhood of the abbot, all gathered in loving fellowship, we catch glimmerings of the m'ystery of the Trinity of Father, Son and Spirit. In the monastic Church, microcosm of the universal Church, with the monks gathered in Eucharist about the altar, we have a living sign of the Body of Christ, And in the fidelity of the monks to liturgical and contemplative prayer, we can discover anew that the worship and praise of God is the final destiny of man. For worship--"With my body I thee worship"--is but another word for love. The monk is indeed a man of mystery and of mysteries--mysteries of ¯ vocation, of surrender, of suffering; of obedience, of death, of resurrection; of the kingdom and of the Trinity. Perhaps most simply, though, he is a sign of the mystery of love which is the deep mystery of God. In our days, as always, rfien and women need signs of the mystery of God at work in their hearts. We need to hear the message of the monks among us: Journey into Christ / 485 as unknown yet well known, as ever at death's door, yet, wonder of wonders, we con-tinue to live; as chastened but not killed, as sorrowful yet always rejoicing, as beggars yet enriching many, as having nothing yet possessing everything. (2 Co 6:9-10) In silence, in hiddenness, the monk's life radiates its message of peace and hope into the nighttime of our world, assuring us that the light of Christ shines in the darkness of our lives. The end draws near, but it will be the end of darkness and death, not of life. And in that dawn, made bright with the risen Christ, our hearts will know the joy that never ends and the perfect love that casts out every fear. You changed my mourning into dancing; you took off my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness, that my soul might sing praise to you without ceasing; O Lord, my God, forever will I give you thanks. (Ps 29) That is the song the monk sings secretly in his heart. lit is the song of every Christian who has surrendered himself to Love. Come, my beloved one. Walk with me. Give me your heart. The 'Desert Is Blooming The desert is blooming again, but it blooms in the clefts of the rock and the wide-reaching spaces. It blooms in the night and it spills its perfumes over desolate sands in unreachable places. A stream has burst forth in the wilds but it springs from the face of a rock and its source is unseen. It leaps crystal-clear from the wound in the rock and around it the gold of the desert grows green. The desert is blooming again, but to see where the beauty is sprung and the flaming bush stands, means rising by night, walking through measureless days, with no paths and no rest over hot burning sands. But the blossoms are live bursts of flam!! and the fragrance speaks Presence that gives the heart wings. And high in the rock where the waters leap forth in the cleft is a nest where a brown sparrow sings. Sister Mary Clare of Jesus, P.C.C. Monastery of Poor Clares 215 E. Los Olivos St., Santa Barbara, CA 93105 Untirl Christ Be Formed in You Marie Beha, O.S.C. Sister Marie is a frequent contributor to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. She is a member of the Monastery of St. Clare; 1916 N. Pleasantburg Drive; Greenville, SC 29609. At the heart of the universe there is a zone at once profound and simple . in which whatever is done to us, it is Christ who does it; whatever we do, it is to Christ we do it. (P. de Chardin, The Prayer of the University, Harper and Row, NY, 1965, p. 26.) How have we been formed, helped to grow, to become the persons we are called to be? What influences have been most formative in our lives? The answers to these questions are multiple, as well as uniquely individual. Yet a common thread runs through them all: other persons are what form us and they are most formative when they themselves are growing, healthy, that is, when they are in the formative process themselves. To be formative of others, then, one must be "in formation" oneself. Such is the simple truth: none of us is "formed," complete, totally mature; we are all on the way, in process. We all need the help of others, if we are to continue to grow. From whom can we receive the most help? It would seem that the person or persons who are most able to assist us are those who are willing to enter into a formative relationship with us, that is, who are willing to grow with us, to be "in formation" with us. The teacher, for example, who continues to learn, teaches not only subject matter but also gives us a taste for being educated. And the spiritual director whose understanding reveals that (s)he knows our struggles from having been there and from trying to move beyond, inspires us with the possibility of such growth for ourselves. Formation ministry then seems to begin with the premise that we are most formative of others when we ourselves are healthy, maturing persons, caught up in the growth process ourselves. From this it would seem to follow that this ministry should also offer, in itself, .opportunities for such growth. 486 Until Christ Be Formed in You / 487 Forming and Being in Formalion To be in a formative relationship with others, one must be "in formation" oneself. This is the basic assumption of all that follows, an assum ptio n whose meaning will be clarified as this article proceeds. But first to rule out a few misconceptions about "forming" and "being in formative relationships." Since growth comes from within, no one can assume responsibility for another's growth; no one can be made responsible. All any one can do, or fail to do, is to provide suitable environment, a climate that inspires others to mature, that makes such maturation more possible. What these persons give to others is the stimulus of experience, encouragement, and finally, example. They say with their lives: growth is worth the effort. The price may be pain but the purchase is life. This is how you are formed. Reach, stretch, mature. Be in formation with me. Another objection might be phrased: aren't those who grow the most the young and inexperienced? At first glance this might seem to be true, but only if the focus is kept on externals. Growth comes from inside out; it is qualitative, not quantitative. In terms of adding inches or amassing facts, the beginner holds the edge. But in terms Of breakthroughs, it is the skilled athlete who shaves seconds off the record; it is the experienced researcher who adds significant insights to the pile of his predecessor's conclusions. In other words, growth is most formative, not at the beginning but at the cutting edge, the tip, the climax of the process. Put in terms of model theory, a director of formation is not called to be a doctor who heals the wounds of others; only God really heals us. Nor is (s)he to be a lecturer, outlining facts and presenting them with logical clarity--there are books enough for that; nor a therapist working through the past~, helping another to discover more appropriate responses. Rather the model of an older brother or sister seems most revelatory. Like an olde~:)l brother or sister, the formation director walks alongside, shares experiences/i~ both past and present. Past experience allows him or her to have a sense of the~ way, a sureness in walking on it. Present ministry provides an opportunity to.~) walk alongside. The activity of the director of formation can only be in support both of this working of the Spirit and of human growth. The first, work of the Spirit is the Incarnation; "she conceived by the Holy Spirit" (Mr 1:20). So too the~first work of the formation minister will be to incarnate Jesus in his/her own life, to help another discover the Jesus he or she is called tobe. 'And all of this in the service of human freedom. How are we freed? By being redeemed, bought back from the slavery that is sin in us and helped to grow into full human responsibility. Such freedom cannot be taught; it can onlybe caught. It is con-tagious. In short,(~ve are formed into freedom by being with free persons, i.e., with those whom the Spirit of truth has already begun to make free. To be such an "Inspirited" person is the vocation of the director of formation, It is his ministry of being formed and so becoming formative of others. 1188 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 The Vocation of Formation Ministry How we see ourselves, regard our work, will be reflected in the way that others see us, see what we do. If an individual sees formation ministry as duty, he will be dutiful and those to whom he ministers may come to see themselves as burden, as obligation, as sacrifice. At best, they will respond by being dutiful themselves; at worst, they may become resentful and noncooperative. Others may see this ministry as an advancement and honor, an office, a promotion of sorts. In which case the service of fellow pilgrim will be lost both for the director and for those (s)he is called to serve. But both of these will probably find out quickly enough that its "duty" will call far beyond the limitations of being "dutiful"; that it is an "honor" hardly worth the cost. Yet even these extremes can be seeded with some truth. A ministry that sup-ports another's grbwth into Christ does impose the duty of living as we hope to see others live; and it is an honor to be called into such service. Formation ministry, then, is primarily service. But it is a service to which we are called, rather than a task which we choose for ourselves. It is voca-tional: a call coming from our Father and incarnated in community, a direc-tion continuous with our past, shaping our present and pointing the arrow toward future growth. And finally it is a call that will change our lives, prod us into conversion, gift us with new life in the Lord. In summary, the vocation of formation ministry will form us on that most personal level of our own call/response to the Lord. Like every vocation, the ministry of formation is primarily response, rather than self-initiated project. And a. gospel "woe" may well be pro-nounced on anyone who would be so rash as to undertake this ministry without a special call. The initiative for such an undertaking must come from the Father, be a deepening of his creative mystery at work in an individual life. How does this divine initiative become "verbalized"? In terms of such offices as superior or director of novices, it is the community which calls through election or through appointment. In regard to other expressions, for example those of spiritual direction or the formative influence of closeTriend-ship, the call still must be "spoken" by another. Spiritual direction ministry can be undertaken with greatest sureness when it is a response.to the expressed desire of others and not just a matter of embarking on a new apostolate. Similarly, the bonding of close friendship can never be a self-determined pro-ject; it is also a matter of call/response. Another way in which the vocation to formation ministry is actualized is through the reality of talent and gift. Are we able to be of service? Does past experience and training hold promise that our ministry will be fruitful for ourselves as well as for others? Even past difficulties which have allowed us to experience His power at work in our weakness may be real indicators of call and capacity for response. But all of these are only "hints." Election or appointment is the fallible work of very human instruments. Talents point to potential; but every Until Christ Be Formed in You / 489 possibility is not meant to be realized. A still clearer indication of divine initiative is found in our present response to the challenges of such a ministry. Do its painful challenges work redemption in us? Are we raised up by its self-emptying demands? Does the dailiness of this service help us to incarnate our most personal response to the Lord? If so, then we may be still more certain of our call and go on to give to it a life's commitment. For like every call, this ministry, if it is to be truly vocational, must make a lifelong difference. At first this may seem an unwarranted development. Aren't we talking about something limited in time, an office to be held for a few years and so to be taken merely as a present opportunity which will occupy us for a time and from which we will go on to other ministries? Though limita-tions of time and form are surely real enough, what seems even more true is the life-difference that such ministries do make. To enter into a formative relationship with another cannot be limited to a term of office; it is,ongoing. What is formed--or de-formed--in the other makes a critical and lifelong difference for both individuals "in formation." Obviously, the directee will need to respond "for life" to his/her formation, either by accepting its in-fluence and living out of it or :by transcending it; most often, he will need to do some of both. Likewise the director will be equally formed, but only if he com-mits himself to the formative process. More of this in the following section. But first a word on commitment. Like every call, coming from the Father, enunciated in the human accents of election/appointment and in the realized potential of the one called, a vocation to be a director of formation awaits per-sonal response. This answer begins with an acceptive, "I am willing," ".1 am ready to try." And goes on in the everyday of repeated response in the face of difficulty and challenge, as well as the joy of growth and significant dif-ference. Such renewed commitment becomes increasingly formative of still deeper commitments until an initial choice grows into a life-direction, giving its own meaning to everything else that is one's life. When this occurs, as this occurs, a director of formation grows in capacity to be formative of others just because (s)he is more formed himself. Formation in Christ The formation of every Christian is call/response to grow into "full stature': in Christ. There is no other direction for such a life in Christ than that of coming from the Father and returning to him, with the consequent becom- !ng ever more of a "son in the Son." So a vocation to be a minister of forma-tion will be lived out in deepening identification with the life of Jesus, an allowing of his life to be lived in us now. For each person so called this will mean a new enfleshing of His .mysteries of: incarnation realization, paschal transcendence, and eucharistic self-gift. Such will be the living out of a voca-tion to formation ministry. As a consequence, this ministry will become not only a call to serve others 490 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 ~but also an invitation to divine intimacy. Itis unfortunate that service and union have come to be seen as almost antithetical, or, at best, in a kind of ten-sion. The gospel parable of the talents hints at something quite different. There each wise investor of his talents is doubly rewarded:., with still more talents but also with an invitation to "enter into the joy of the Lord" (Mt ~" 25:21,23). So an individual who is called to the formation ministry will find that his talents will grow even as they are given away. New capabilities will be discovered in response to the needs of others. Even personal poverties will be transformed into experiences that allow one to enter more perceptively into the struggles of another. Such may be some of the ways in which talents in-vested in service of the Master are doubled in his return. But the greatest gift of all is that invitation to deepening intimacy which is extended to every faithful servant. The amount of original talents differs and so the amount of "doubling," but an opportunity for growth in personal relationship is offered each in an invitation to "enter into the joy of the Lord." Formation Ministry and ,Living Incarnation "Putting on the Lord Jesus" (Ga 3:27) could serve as the goal of all Chris-tian formation. What concerns us here is how the minister of formation is called to do this, is helped to do it, by his very service to others. The mystery of the'incarnation centers around such truths as "God so loved the world" (Jn 3:16). the virgin's acceptive, "Be it done unto me" (Lk 1:38) and climaxes in "the word became flesh and dwelt among us" (Jn 1:14). It is these same mysteries of creative love, acceptance and enfleshment of the divine, that will be realized as the formation director becomes Christ in and through service of others. "God so loved the world" (Jn 3:16). Motivation for formation ministry Imust be "rooted in love, grow in love" (Ep 3:18). As has already been sug-gested, it is not so much a task for which one volunteers as a call to which one responds out of love. "I come to do your will" (Ps 40). But this can be no grim conformity undertaken out of duty and it is surely one of the graces of this ministry that any such lack of love will be unmasked by diminished response from others. For individuals know intuitively whether they are being met by ~love or not and they respond accordingly. They also know whether they are loved only when they appear loveable or whether they are loved for themselves, as they are, in all their incompleteness. To be loved even when the sinfulness thatis still a real part of ourselves is most apparent is that merciful love that creates us anew. Such love, complete and "for-giving," is.beyond' the stretches of human capacity; it can only be a gift of sharing in the power of God's love. Yet itis just such a love that is asked of the formation director.for himself, and for those (s)he is called to minister to. This love of the Father for us "even when we are still sinners'~' (Rm 5:8) needs enfleshment this day, in unique circumstances, for particular individ- Until Christ Be Formed in You / 491 uals. But first the Father waits for human response to his promise, "! am with you" (Mr 28:20), "filling you with grace" (Lk 1:28). So a director of for-mation will find that his ministr3i calls for deepening, renewed commitment that will allow divine love to begin its transforming work. Such commitment must come in all the darkness of an acceptive trust that knows only "It is the Lord" (Jn 21:7) and yet responds, "he it done unto me." It goes on to call for a repeated giving body to this initial assent in all the life circumstances which call forth continuing, growing trust. Such trust will be renewed in the face of all those mysterious, slow and "dark" aspects of human growth, during all those times wheia any development at all is more a matter of faith than of vision. Faith grows through believing, and surely someone involved in formation ministry will be called to trust more in the Lord than in any response made out of careful planning or skilled technique, to let go of one's preconceptions and move with the Spirit, to trust one's intuitions even when they cannot be justified with reasons, to believe in the face of discouragement and apparent defeat. Often enough it is only the courageous faith of the director that will allow another to begin to believe in himself or herself. Such faith is rooted in the word of the Lord, not in human promise. Other-wise it will falter when individuals resist and all seems lost, when human mistakes are made despite the best of effort. To assist the Spirit at work in the formation of Christ in another requires an assent, made in faith's unknowing, to all that will be, even to the "end" of apparent defeat and the destruction of all that one has helped to form. For this possibility must also be accepted in a trusting "Be it done." Only, in such faith will the word that has been heard begin to be "made flesh" (Jn l : 14). First of all this must be the incarnation of Jesus, being lived out by the director himself, herself. To be so formed into Jesus is to.grow into that perfect man who is fully responsive to the Father and to others. For anyone called to formation ministry this response will be embodied both in prayer and in service. The prayer of a formation minister will be that of Jesus the mediator who stands before the Father, not in olace oLothers, but alongside of them. It will be the prayer of a life that teaches others to pray by praying. It will know seasons of necessary withdrawal and of .equally neces,sary involvement. It will include a being led by the Spirit into the desert and up upon the mountain top, as well as a responsiveness that remains always open to the immediate needs of others. Such prayer is essential, if the formation minister is to be revelatory of Jesus and of the Father. And this is the central service of any Christian ministry. The director of formation is to so incarnate the God-man that it can be said that anyone who sees hin), her, sees Jesu_.~Ajyjag~to_d_day. And if that weren't challenge enough, the director of formation is also called to reveal the Jesus that is in the other. For we are not meant, it seems, to 492 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 see, perhaps even to attempt to look at, the Jesus that is growing in ourselves. It takes the faithful love of another to mirror him to us. We need another to reveal that our needs as well as our gifts, our as yet unrealized potential as well as our present loveliness, are all beginnings of new life in Christ, a new incar-nation. Formation Ministry and Paschal Transcendence Letting Jesus live his life in us calls for an incarnational assent to the potential that is offered us in baptism; this initial commitment grows with each renewal that allows his life to become still more enfleshed in our being. Such responsiveness on the part of a director of formation will inevitably involve a "Journey up to Jerusalem" (Lk 19:28), a sharing in the dying and rising of Jesus in one's own life'and in the lives of others. Such suffering, no matter how it appears at the time, is never defeat; it is lpromise of paschal victory. But first the cross. The suffering we speak of here is not primarily a matter,of pain but rather the sum of all that must be borne 'until Christ be formed ' (Ga 4:19) in ourselves and in others. For to be in formative relationship with another means a being open that implies vulner-abilitY,; it risks letting other~ come close enough to us so that they may be touched, so that we may touch them. Such "touching" is apt symbol for the 'healing that isthe paschal victory of all redemption. But redemption is a costly process and consequently the director of formation is inevitably committed to renewed sharing in the sufferings of Christ "for the sake of his body" (Col 1:24). The sufferings of formation work include not only the expenditure of time and energy that are part of the price of any worthwhile undertakingobut they go on to ificlude the deeper sufferirigs of respons'iveness to others in the critical struggles of their being redeemed, and they culminate in the self-gift that is in-evitable in any process oftransformation. In this work of redemption' ~vith ~11 its suffering the director will find his or her own life being changed into greater identification which will, in its turn, be most formative of other~. So transfor-mation into Christ crucified will not only be a goal Of fo~rmation; it will also be part of the process for all who are "in formation." From the beginning, the'labor of formation will require a sacrifice of time, not only providing a certain allotment of time but even more radically ihe generosity to let one's time be taken by others. To let others take time mbans to give them time: to grow at their own pace, to express themselves in their own way, to claim as their own the time they need. It is not to allow ourselves or others to waste time in self-indulgent claims for attention, in endless repeti-ti6ns, in hesitancy that becomes fixed in cowardice. To give time is rather to offer it so that it may be consecrated to the work of redemption. Such an of-fertory is easily made in words; it is consummated in d~ily responsiveness: to an inconvenient request for "just a minute," to a halting expression of another's journey toward truth, to the setting aside bf a cherished project for Until Christ Be Formed in You / 49~! the sake of another's critical need. What is really given now "belongs" to others; the director can no longer lay claim to ownership, not even the hidden justification of self-pity and complaint. Free time cannot be hoarded; work time, for a dedicated director of formation, must always give priority to per-sons. So schedules bend and plans must be sometimes set aside. All of this "costs," yet, since it is not beyond the agreed upon price of this service, there is no honest cause for complaint. Self-pity is not only useless, it is unjustified and becomes, when this is admitted, singularly unsatisfying. However, such a gift of time, if it is to be a consecration of reality, cannot be without limits. A formation director who attempts to give away every minute attempts to be more than human and so inevitably fails. Everyone's time is limited; and to learn to live within limits is part of the formation pro-cess. To say "no" to what one cannot do, can be a dark ~nd mysterious "yes" to what one really is. For example, refusing a request may be a necessary part of giving priority to prayer. Such a choice is formative for life not only for the director but also for the one (s)he directs. Similarly giving oneself time and leisure to live is part of accepted human-ness. It sounds so easy, so right, but it requires discipline and so becomes another aspect of the cross formed by our temporal limits. When days are full already the temptation to overload must be resisted even when the tempter speaks in beguiling accents of real need or personal opportunity. A director of formation will grow personally and in service to others, as (s)he accepts per-sonal limits, learns to live within them, never failing to take time for prayer, giving unstintingly in service even at the price of personal inconvenience, but also resisting the temptation to become a messiah who needs to save all. As (s)he,grows thus in recognition of "the hour," a director of formation enters ever more deeply into the paschal mystery. This identification with the dying-rising of Jesus goes on in all the close, personal interchange, the "touching" and allowing oneself to "be touched" that is at the heart of the healing power of formation ministry. A director of formation will come to experience, for example, what it means to stand firm against the gravitational pull of sin, bad habits, patterns of self-indulgence. (S)he will have to respond honestly to such in others; but to do so, (s)he will also need to acknowledge and resist the powers of evil in himself. At times, the persons one is called to serve will try to defend themselves by lashing out at the director's faults. They may even be painfully accurate with their barbs and this will hurt; it can also heal, if accepted. Such is the mutuality of the process that valid criticisms, even when spoken in anger, can form humility--in director and. directee. When the criticism is more vindictive than valid, it can still be formative if the director stands firm and continues to love the other. In ministering to others in their "dying" one can expect some denial, anger, depression. To expect it, however, is not to take it all into oneself; this would only be to die oneself without any promise of hope in new life. Denial 494 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 must first be understood for what it is, a kind of first line of defense; but it cannot be condoned. Similarly, anger will require both honest admission and acceptance. If it is to become purifying, its energy must be channeled into con-structive ways lest it turn into self-destruction and the final defeat of closed-minded bitterness. So too, depression will need adequate expression as well as ! understanding compassion; but it too must be passed beyond. What the direc-tor willdo in allof these cases is to give immediate, concrete expression to Christ's understanding, acceptance and compassion, and this will be for him/her a renewed experience of "putting on the mind of Christ Jesus" (PhB2~)~t the same time, (s)he will resist the powers of darkness that could allow moods to mushroom into clouds of negative feelings, infect others with a critical spirit and damage the peace with projections that wound the truth. A director of formation may know in very personal ways the price of battling with such divisive spirits. But this too can become a sharing in the passion of Jesus, who both began and ended his public life in combat with Satan. In thus resisting the powers of evil, the director of formation will also experience those aspects of the passion in which Jesus "emptied himself" (Ph 2:7) taking on our weakness. To be called like Jesus to express the Father's desire that each individual come into freedom is not to experience that one is.a savior. On the contrary, the truth is that we do not save; only the Father does in and through Jesus. And in and through the life that Jesus lives in us today. Just as the power to save was costly for Jesus, cost him his life, so too it will cost life for a committed director. Though at times this may take on dramatic proportions, such crises cannot be anticipated. They can only be prepared for in the everyday, in the selfless bearing of others' burdens, in con- ~stant care, in lived through loneliness, in faced failures. To bear others' burdens without making them feel that they, themselves, have be6ome a burden takes a love that seeks to give rather than to receive. To care for others enough to let that become our heart's response, that is to experience the love that heals. Paul speaks of his "constant care for all the churches" (2 Co 11:28) as one of his most pressing apostolic sufferings; a director who cares will ¯ probably experience something of the same "weight of glory" (2 Co 4:17). Loneliness seems to be something of an occupational hazard for all direc-tors, surrounded though they are by others and yet called into a uniquely selfless kind of relationship with them. Like Jesus, the director must be there for others, not for himself/herself. What (s)he may wish to spe~k about, his/her concerns, feelings, fears or hopes, these are not the focus of the direc-tional relationship. Consequently, the director will probably know end-of-day times, holidays and even "holy days" when personal needs go without much human comfort, or understanding. These can be special opportunities for growth in relationship to the Father, who calls and who promises a corre-sponding grace of new intimacy to all who share the life of sonship. Finally, the director of formation will face failure; not only the burden of Until Christ Be Formed in You / 495 his own inadequacies but the tragedy, on occasion, of human resistance ~to grace, the weakness of repeated denial, reluctance to face truth, the darkness of a mind that cannot go beyond prejudice, and sometimes, even, outright denial for the sake of more immediate satisfaction. These are failures. Not only personal failures, but losses in the cosmic struggle for final redemption. They will not be ultimately defeative, however, if faith on the part of the direc-tor can transform them into claims on the power of God. And it is the power of the Father at work in the world, particularly the world, of "beloved sons" (Mt 3:17), that promises and makes possible, final triumph. This is the "secret" of the director's ability to empower others. (S)he trusts so completely in the Father's redemptive love that others are enabled to respond more fully, more freely. This is resurrection. And it is surely one of the paschal joys of formation ministry to see individuals begin to trust enough that they are willing to risk the darkness of buried fears, mixed motivations, strong conflicts. Only when these are faced and gone through can risen life begin to be realized. It is in such "passing through" that the director knows most fully the mystery that death gives way to glory. The promise of such Easter rising will be realized every time love is victorious over limitation, temptation, and human weakness, and new life comes.into the mystical Body of Jesus. Formation Ministry and Eucharistic Presence The formative process of "putting on Christ Jesus" (Gal 3:27) begins with an incarnational enfleshing of spirit; it continues in a passing through death into new trust and hope and joy; it culminates in an abiding presence that transforms the bread of our work and the wine of our pain into Eucharist. To live a eucharistic life, a director of formation will need to be really present in faith, to be offered in a daily sacrifice ~of praise, and, ultimately, to be transformed in the very body of Jesus. Eucharist realizes the abiding presence of Jesus, his remainingwith us even after he has passed through death into the full glory of his Father. It is one of a formation director's continuing joys to be allowed to. be_a.co-presence of Chris_____t in the lives of so many others. But such presence, if it is to be truly eucharistic, has to remain constant no matter what the times or seasons, places or persons. To be present in the present is, then, one of the ways in which the forma-tion director is challenged to live eucharistically. Surrendering the past into the mercy of God, letting go of hurts, transcending emotions'whose reality is chiefly out of former experiences, forgiving with enough love to forget as well: these are some of the ways in which what has been must be transcended to let the present break through. For it is only in the sacredness of present reality that God's gift can be received and given again. Such presence will also demand that a formation director set aside per-~ sonal concerns, to gift another with loving attention in the present moment. 496 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 (S)he will also need to transcend felt preference for this individual or that one, in order to be more given to each person who comes. Like the bread of life that can be received by all, the love of someone called to formation ministry will have to be present for and to many, many different persons. Rarely does a formation director have anything to say about which individuals (s)he will serve; rather (s)he learns to simply be there strongly and quietly, always pres-ent but as a sign to be passed beyond. Here again the director is formed into a eucharistic life through the grow-ing realization of what it means to live as sign of;the Lord's abiding love. First of all such a ministry demands a constant fidelity, if it is to speak of "everlasting love" (Jr 31:3). To be with others even when they are barely there themselves, to remain during the critical hours of choice, as well as the long days when not much seems to happen. To suffer with others in their pain and be companions of every small joy: all this calls for growing unselfishness. But such fidelity speaks significantly of a God who is always with us. And it is this kind of witness that makes a formation director into a sign of Real Presence. But only a sign meant to point beyond itself. Just as eucharistic bread abides as food, but only for this present journey, so too, a director of forma-tion will need to be constant in presence, .but only for the sake of another's going beyond. No sign is meant to call attention to itself but only to the greater reality which it signifies. So too, formation ministry will realize its goals when individuals transcend initial needs and grow more secure in self-direction. But none of us is meant to be so independent that we no longer need formation; our goal is to grow together in mutual formative responsibility. For such growth to occur, the directee will need to let go of "attachment" to direction and the director, to point beyond self toward greater freedom. To live a eucharistic life, a director of formation will also be asked to become an "unending sacrifice of praise" (Heb 13:15). Such a spirit of thanksgiving opens the heart of oneself and others to the Father's goodness, present in all created things. To enjoy one's daily bread requires an asceticism that goes beyond the mood swings which tend to dominate our interior world, as well as the changeable circumstances of everyday life. Such joy transcends immediate perceptions and rests secure in a faith which believes that everything that comes into our lives can be transformed. So the ordinary holds promise of gift and even the painful possesses possibility. It is within our per-sonal power to pronounce consecrating words every time we are acceptive of reality, saying "this is my body," my life, my world, a gift of His love. Such an asceticism of constant joy requires a eucharistic spirit of "giving thanks always" (Ep 5:20). For what are we grateful? Unless our pains as well as our pleasures are included, we have yet to discover the redeeming presence of Jesus offering praise to the Father through the sacrifice of his life. Such a vision of reality sees beyond appearances; it will require the eyes of faith, if we are to accept everything that comes to us as gift. Such living faith can best be caught from others who help us see that even o,._____ur most personal poverties pr.~o- Until Christ Be Formed in You / 497 vide opportunity for God's power to break through. Like wheat and grapes they matter for transformation. Such a spirit of praise for the ordinary and thanksgiving even for the pain-ful can only be celebrated in community. We cannot be grateful unless we are in relation with others; we cannot see with redemptive vision unless others open our eyes to the "glory dwelling in our land" (Ps 85:9). To see the beauty in the ordinary of others' lives will be one of the formation director's causes of celebration. Sharing the vision of someone who is discovering a certain truth for the first time will call forth hymns of praise. Even the cross will be celebrated, not for itself, but for the new life that it promises. A formation director will have ample opportunity t'o know the slow~ ordinary ways of human growth, to believe in the possibility of tra~sforming~ persons into a new body of Christ. His/her faith will be challenged in.the face~ of another's incredulity, "l'll never be any better." "I can't do it." "It's to much for me." In the face of such too human protests, the director can say, not only with words, but far 'm~re powerfully with a whole life's attitude, "Nothing is impossible for God" (Lk 1:37), if.you let his word and work transforni you. In hope, sometimes in a beginning vision of what is being accomplished, a director of formation will finally come to "see" something of eschatological promise. New life is coming; Jesus is being revealed. To help another discover the Jesus that he or she is called to become is surely one of the joys of forma-tion ministry. It is a work of love, for only love is creative enou_gh to let the ordinary become revelatory. So a director of formation becomes Eucharist in a ministry that requires abiding presence, joy-filled offering, and a faith that is open to transforma-tion. But the sacrifice that prepares for such a consecration is effected most really in the everyday of "bread that is broken" and "blood that is poured out" (Mr 26:26-27). For this ministry will, at times, require the kind of giving of one's body and blood beyond what can be asked, much less required. Only love can dare to make such demands. And it is out of love that a formation director will respond with a laying down of one's life for others. How is such sacrifice "ac(omplished"? In a giving whose only self-determination is to give everything, even self, away. The "accidents" of such an offering will be the gifts of time and energy, patience and persistence, shared pain and continuing struggles to respond; these will be the appearances that remain. They signify the constant ordinariness of this sacrificial ministry; they are the human externals giving form and expression to th~ desire that one's life be given to nourish the growth of others into fuller union in Christ. Underneath these and other external accidents of this ministry of forma-tion, an essential change takes place. That life which is "laid down for others" (Jn 15:13) will gradually be transformed into the life of Jesus who "gave himself as a ransom for many" (Mt'20:28). And it is in the giving that the transformation will be effected. Just as Jesus became savior in the living out 4911 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 of his mission, so too a director of formation will grow into greater identifica-tion with Jesus, by living out his saving mission, even to accepting the repeated small deaths that it entails. In this way transformation will be effected: "I live now, not I, but Christ lives in me" (Ga 2:20). Such interior change from living one's own life to allowing Christ to live his life, his mysteries, in us can transform the ordinary bread of human effort into a new sacramental reality. What is given becomes more significative, and so more effective. What is signified, what is really effected, is the love of God poured out in the Spirit of Jesus. Life becomes___a~from the Father, an acceptance of what is offered a .nd a_._~more.and_.more total return. This is the life of sonship. It is what all are called to live, what Jesus desires to live in us, if we allow him. For a, director of formation who is willing to give, who is willing to give with a whole life's body and blood, such self-donation promises a communion that grows into ever closer identification. And this, not only for oneself, but also for those to whom one ministers. In this way the mysteries of Christ will not simply be remembered; they will be celebrated anew in the lives of all who are involved in the formative process. Each individual will be called to live again the realism of the incarnation, the transformation of dying-rising, and the self-gift of eucharistic presence. And this very living will be transforming, until each of us and all of us together finally come to "form that one body which is Christ Jesus come to full stature" (Ep 4:13). A nnuncialion Stirring summer air salutes her cheek, Then tomorrows whirl inside her Kaleidoscope of thunderstorm and sunrise. She cups a question--"How?"--around the message To know its shape, And strikes white-hot divinity. "Let it be done!" Storm and sun explode In searing glory That contracts into a spark Within her womb. Sister Mary Cabrini Durkin, O.S.U. 1339 East McMill~n Street Cincinnati, OH 45206 Ecumenical Commitment and the Contemplative Dimension Robert Hale, O.S.B., Camald. Father Hale is the Roman Cfftholic Prior of Incarnation Priory, an ecumenical monastic com-munity sponsored jointly by the Camaldolese Order and the (Anglican) Order of the H61y Cross. His address is Incarnation Priory; 2451 Ridge Road; Berkeley, CA 94709. What relation can exist between ecumenism and the contemplative orders? Or indeed (and more importantly) between ecumenism and the more con-templative dimension in every religious, in every Christian life? ls there something about ecumenism that can reach down to that level and profoundly engage it? Or does ecumenism simply mean attending conferences and crack-ing technical theological books? If such were the case, it would probably run the risk of becoming just another cultural activity for churchy people, and fade sooner or later, with the emergence of a new fad. There are in fact some telling indications that ecumenism can reach down to the contemplative dimension, nourish it and challenge its full commitment. One thinks of a Taizi:, for instance, or of Chevetogne; one remembers a Thomas Merton, so profoundly ecumenical throughout his entire spiritual journey. The list of communities and individuals that witness to this con-templative dimension of ecumenism could certainly be extended at length. But what is it about ecumenism that does reach into the contemplative level? And indeed what is it about contemplation which (perhaps) really requires an ecumenical opening out? This article will seek to probe some of the ways these two areas overlap and interact. Ecumenism and Prayer of Petition Of course one of the most obvious ways t'hat the two are brought together is the moment of petitionary prayer. And it is precisely the contemplative who 499 500 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 is not ashamed to ask for things from the Father, for the more we advance in prayer, the more experientially we know that all is grace. So the more childlike our prayer can become, insistently asking. Cassian, for instance, proposes to very advanced contemplatives the constant repetition of the verse from the Psalms: "O God make speed to save me: O Lord make haste to help me.'" This contemplative form is an "important stage''2 towards the emergence of the Prayer of Jesus in Sinite and Athonite Hesychasm.3 "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me" is not the only formula used, but the prayer almost always has the.character of a petition.4 In the western tradition, the author of the Cloud suggests that when contemplatives pray in words, "their words are few. A short prayer pierces the heavens.''5 This also because "the contemplative must hold himself continually poised and alert at the highest and most sovereign point of the spirit,"6 and at that level one isn't loquacious. And what should this briefest of prayers be? Let me try to illustrate what I mean with an example from real life. A man or woman ter-rified by sudden disaster is forced by the circumstances to the limits of his personal resources, and marshals all his energy into one great cry for help. In extreme situations like this, a person is not given to many Words nor even to long ones. Instead, summoning all his strength, he expresses his desperate need in one loud cry: "Help!'" One could multiply the citations from contemplative authors,8 but the point probably doesn't need belaboring: the contemplative, like the insistent widow in Christ's parable (Lk 18:1-8), is not afraid to lose a little dignity and time in beating urgently on the door. The Fathers speak of the contemplative also as a Jacob who must frequently wrestle with God. George Herbert's striking poem entitled "Prayer" re-evokes this more urgent and dramatic function of prayer: Engine against th'AImightie, sinners towre, Reversed thunder, Christ-side-piercing spear.~ ' John Cassian, Conferences, X. 10; 2. Sources Chr~tiennes (Paris: Les l~ditions du Cerf, 1958) LIV, p. 88. 20. Chadwick, John Cassian (Cambridge: University Press, 1968), p. 106. ~ See for example A Monk of the Eastern Church, The Prayer o f Jesus (New York: Desclee, 1967), pp. 29-58. ~ Ibid., pp. 65f. ' The Cloud of Unknowing and The Book of Privy Counseling (New York: Image Books, 1973), pp. 95-96. 6 Ibid., p. 95. ' Ibid., p. 95-96; see also W. Johnston, The Mysticism of the Cloud of Unknowing (St. Meinrad: Abbey Press, 1975), pp. 168-172. ~ See for instance Ludovicus BIosius on "Aspirations" in A Book of Spiritual Instruction (Maryland: Newman Press, 1955), pp. 30-37; see also A. Baker, Holy Wisdom: Directions for the Praye~ of Contemplation (London: Burns Oates & Washbourne, 1950), pp. 509-518, etc. * George Herbert, The English Poems (London: Dent, 1977), p. 70. For an Orthodox analysis of the mystical theology in Herbert's poetry see Sister Thekla, George Herbert: Idea and Image (Buckinghamshire: Greek Orthodox Monastery, 1974). Ecumenical Commitment and the Contemplative Dimension / 501 We perhaps need a little of this violent urgency when praying about reunion. We have gotten our Christian collective selves in quite a mess. Anglicans have been praying for centuries that God might "give us the grace seriously to lay to heart the great dangers we are in by our unhappy divisions.'''° More recently, Vatican lI has endeavored also to stir up Catholics to "remorse over Christian divisions and a longing for unity.'"' But ecumenical theologians are unanimous in insisting that we're not going to be able to get out of this one trusting merely in our own skills. Authentic reunion in diversity will be primarily a gift. But we, like the lame and blind in the Gospels, must beg for the miracle. Christ isn't going to force it down our throats. Shifting Cassian's (and the Psalmist's) prayer into the plural, we must beg: "O Lord, make speed to help us!" Or maybe we'll just cry out with the author of the Cloud." "Help!" Ecumenism and Contemplative Renewal Thomas Merton, in an important article published the year of his death, and which well merits rereading, argues the intrinsic connection between ecumenism and contemplative renewal.'2 With the Counter-Reformation, contemplative life tended to assume an "inflexible" form, adopt a "stern em-phasis on 'regularity,' not to say legalism" which was "justified by a casuistical and sometimes arbitrary theology" and marked by "touching, though bizarre, manifestations of mystical stamp.'"3 One of the occupational hazards of the post-Tridentine contemplative ~ndeavor is that in its rigidity and tension it must sustain "an illusion of Special election and of incorruptible truth." ,4 The "contemplatives" caught up in this self-conscious nervousness can "do so much to save their souls that they lose them., they concentrate on such particular, limited aspects of good that they become perverse and singular.'"~ Anyone who has some acquaintance with contemplative monasteries and convents, and with "contemplative souls," is quite aware that Merton is on to something; the danger he is talking about is still inside our prayer life. What might serve as a protection and antidote? Merton proposes a good swig of ecumenism. He is talking specifically about monasteries, but the argument clearly has a wider relevance: The monastic life must preserve or acquire an ecumenical relevance, in the form of an ,o The Book of Common Prayer(New York: Oxford University Press, 1952), p. 37; this prayer has fortunately been conserved in the new Book of Common Prayer (New York: Seabury Press, 1977), p. 818. " Decree on Ecumenism, Introduction, n. I, in Abbot, p. 342. ': :T. Merton, "Ecumenism and Monastic Renewal," Journal of Ecumenical Studies (1968), reprinted in Contemplation in a World of Action (New York: Doubleday, 1971); citations here will be from the book. ,5 Ibid., p. 185. " Ibid., '~ Ibid., pp. 185-186. 502 / Review for Religious, l/olume 39, 1980/4 openness which is not only ready and able to discuss credal or sectarian differences w~tla polite detachment, but which is able to share on the deepest level the risks and agonies of Christian crisis, i6 If the problem isnervous rigidity and narrowness, clearly the opening out that ecumenical consciousness requires can constitute a needed healing force. Thus Merton is delighted that "monasteries are promising to become centers not only of ecumenical discussion but of deeply lived and participated ecumenical experience. ' ' ' 7 The author of the Cloud speaks of the "arduous toil" of the "con-templative work.'"8 For such a taxing activity, we need the solid nourishment of the Word, of the Eucharist, of the Fathers. Our own extremely rich Catholic heritage has often been rather diluted by post-Tridentine devo-tionalism, by anti-quietism squeamishness regarding contemplative prayer. The Reform insistence on the centrality of the Word, the Anglican and Orthodox awareness of the Patristic heritage, contemplative traditions that have flourished in other Churches--all these can nourish and broaden our own contemplative prayer. Merton himself is an evident example of a Catholic contemplative growing constantly from an openness to so many other heritages. If contemplation consists in so growing in union with God that our deepest consciousness expands to the dimensions of his love, certainly that love is limitless, and his salvific will embraces all men. If Christ has come to batter down men's walls and grant us his koinonia and reconciliation, surely he is the chief and principal ecumenist. And as we grow in union with him through con-templative prayer, then we shall become ecumenists at this deepest level of our Christ life. Contemplation and Ecumenical Renewal But if ecumenism can revitalize our contemplative life, it is also true that contemplation can contribute decisively to the growth of true ecumenism. Jean Tillard has noted: The reunion of two separated churches is not a mechanical process. And it cannot be the result only of theological discussions and official authoritative decisions. It is primarily a spiritual matter.Our reconciliation will be a true one and our unity a full one only if they are spiritually prepared and spiritually received. In other words, reunion has a mystical dimension." ~ Ibid., pp. 186-187. " Ibid., p. 196; see concrete proposals in R. Hale, "The Benedictine Spirit in Anglicanism," American Benedictine Review (Sept. 1979), pp. 245-248. '~ Cloud, op. cit., p. 83. '~ J. Tillard, Sermon preached at Mass of Reconciliation, Holy Cross Monastery, West Park N.Y., Sept. 18, 1976. OLcourse theDecree on Ecumenism insists that "spiritual ecumenism"-- conversion of heart, prayer and holiness of life--constitutes the "soul of the whole ecumenical movement." Ch. 11, nn. 7-8, in Abbot, pp. 351-352. Ecumenical Commitment and the Contemplative Dimension /503 If there is one aspect that has been wanting, the expert ecumenist continues, it is precisely this contemplative dimension: During the last years, we probably did not care sufficiently about this profound dimen-sion. We had a theological, doctrinal official ecumenism. Did we have a real spiritual one?2o The need of this contemplative dimension to fortify the ecumenical movement is probably more urgent than ever. Cardinal Hume has recently noted that ecumenism seems to be entering "a phase which is characteristic in the spiritual life--the dark night of the soul.''2' The analogy is most telling, because the dark night "follows on an initial period of fervor and enthusiasm and, when it happens, the soul runs the risk of giving way to frustration and impatience. It can sometimes have the impression of having been abandoned by God.''2~ Anyone acquainted with the current ecumenical situation will recognize the aptness of the Cardinal's reference. But the only way to get through the dark nights, according to St. John of the Cross, is through a most profound faith that is nourished from within by a contemplative experience of God's loving faithfulness. Things ecumenical do seem rather blocked at this point, and flashy joint liturgies and improvised lowest-common-denominator accords are not going to get us through. It may be that only the tenacious stay-ing power of contemplative experience will do it. Towards the beginning of this article, the importance of contemplative petitionary prayer was noted; but perhaps even more basically than that, ecumenism needs contemplative faith. Two Visions The ecumenical hope proposes a vision of a "coming great Church" in which each ecclesial community will .~be able to maintain its own unique spiritual and theological heritage, but all will be bound up in one sacramental and doctrinal communion, and rooted in the one Christ.~ The contemplative badly needs this beautiful ecclesial vision. It is a kind of giant mandala that reveals the Center, and also the circumference of his prayer. It is also a macrocosm of what his own spiritual life should be: the harmonious intercom- 20 j. Tillard, op. cit. 2' B. Cardinal Hume, cited in Catholic Herald (July 6, 1978), p. 3. 22 Ibid. 2~ Pope Paul VI, in treating of the reunion of the Anglican Communion and the Roman Catholic Church, sketched in broad outline one aspect of this vision: "There will be no seeking to lessen the legitimate prestige and the worthy patrimony of piety and usage proper to the Anglican Church when the Roman Catholic Church--this humble Servant of the Servants of God--is able to embrace her ever beloved Sister in the one authentic communion of the family of Christ: a com-munion of origin and of faith, a communion of priesthood and of rule, a communion of the Saints in the freedom and love of the Spirit of Jesus." Pope Paul VI, Homily for the Canonization of the Forty Martyrs of England and Wales, L 'Osservatore Romano (26-27 October 1970), p. 2. See also Acta Apostolicae Sedis, 62 (1970), p: 753. See also R. Hale, "La comunione anglicana: chiesa ponte, chiesa sorella," Vita Monastica l October 1978), pp. 3-11. 504 / Review for Religious, l/olume 39, 1980/4 munion of the several distinct dimensions of his being (for instance: body, mind, spirit) centered in Christ. It is also a model of what every community ideally would be--the unique personality of each safeguarded in the one pro-found intercommunion in Christ. The contemplative certainly needs the ecumenical vision. But the contemplative also has a vision: his glimpse of that communion which binds the Son to the Father in the one Spirit. And that one primordial communion is the source and measure of the ecclesial communion we seek; the prayer is often enough cited, but it deserves continual remeditation, for it sums up the contemplative and the ecumenical hope: "Father, that they may all be one, as you are in me and I in you, so also may they be in us" (Jn 17:21). REPRINTS FROM TIlE REVIEW "A Method for Eliminating Method in Prayer," H. F. Smith, S.J . 30 "An Apostolic Spirituality for the Ministry of Social Justice," M. Ollva, S.J . 50 "Celibate Genitality," W. F. Kraft . 50 "Colloquy of God with a Soul that Truly Seeks Him" . . 30 "Consciousness Examen," G. A. Aschenbrenner, S.J . 50 "Hidden in Jesus Before the Father," G. A. Aschenbrenner, S.J . 50 "Prayer of Personal Reminiscence," D. J. Hassel, S.J . 60 "Profile of the Spirit: A Theology of Discernment of Spirits," J. R. Sheets, S.J . 50 "The 'Active-Contemplative' Problem," D. M. Knight .75 "The Contemporary Spirituality of the Monastic Lectio," ¯ M. Neuman, O.S.B . 50 "The Four Moments of Prayer," J. R. Sheets, S.J . 50 "The Healing of Memories," F. Martin . 35 "The Nature and Value of a Directed Retreat," H. F. Smith, S.J . 35 Orders for the above should be sent to: Review for Religious Room 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, MO 63108 Please include 75¢ postage and handling charge with pre-paid orders. An Apostolic Spirituality for the Ministry of Social Justice I1: Community, Prayer and Eucharist Max Oliva, S.J. Father Oliva recently completed seven years as Director of Social Ministries for the California Province of the Society of Jesus. He is now Coordinator-Facilitator of Companions for Justice, a summer program of insertion with the poor for Jesuit priests and brothers. This summer he will be conduciing workshops on faith' and justice for laity, religious, students, seminarians, educators and people who work in social ministry. He continues to reside at the Jesuit School of Theology at Berkeley; 1735 LeRoy Ave.; Berkeley, CA 94709. Introduction' The author pointed out in Part I of this article2 that we are called to the ministry of social justice by Jesus Christ, who works with us and whose Spirit is the source of our courage, wisdom, power and hope. It is God who must be the center of our lives, the focal point of our iden-tity: God's personal love for us is the basis of our worth. One writer expresses it this way: Christianity is such a radical and sweeping counter-stance to accepted standards and ways of action that the couiage it requires can only come from the security that is founded in being loved as sons and daughters of God. Only if we are firmly founded in dependence on God's love can we be willing to take the risks and suffer the pain involved ' The author is indebted to Father Bill Spohn, S.J., Assistant Professor of Theological Ethics at the Jesuit School of Theology at Berkeley, for his helpful comments in the preparation of this article. 2 Part I of "An Apostolic Spirituality for the Ministry of Social Justice" appeared in the September, 1977, issue of Review for Religious. 505 506 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 in really living out our Christian call to love others as compassionately and completely as Jesus does? . If God is the center of our lives, we can be people of unconditional trust, trust that transcends our fears of getting involved in justice issues, trust that looks beyond our uncertainties and insecurities, our skepticism and lack of belief, even what is reasonable or logical. It is unconditional trust in the loving power of God. Abraham had this trust: "I will make you a great nation and I will bless you and your descendants." Abraham went as the Lord directed him." (Gn 12:2,4) Mary also had this unconditional trust: "The angel said, 'You have found favor with God. You shall conceive a son and give him the name Jesus.' . Mary responded: 'I am the servant of the Lord. Let it be done to me as you say.' " (Lk 1:30,31,38) Each believed that nothing is im-possible with God. Each entrusted even though they had no idea what the future would bring. So it is unconditional trust that God's promise will be fulfilled through us, that God does not call us to do more than we are capable of, and that he is with us as we follow his call whether it be to enter into the lives of the materially poor or to encounter unjust social structures and those who manage them. Community In our faith commitment to justice, we depend on other people for challenge and support. Community may mean the members of one's family, selected friends, or a religious congregation. Our community may consist of those we live with as well as our "extended community," that is, people out-side one's immediate living situation, men and women, who more explicitly share a similar commitment to justice with us. Whatever the shape community takes for us, other people are indispensable if we are to be continually re-freshed and empowered to act for justice. In regards to the ministry of social justice, the author has found certain values in community to be important for an effective ongoing commitment'. In some ways, one can say that charity, or justice, begins at home, where we learn to value people above issues, where we learn to respect and trust dif-ferent ways of responding to the injustices of our world. However, it can also be said that the change~ that happen in us when we enter into another culture (be it ethnic or the culture of poverty)-- losing our fears, working through our insecurities and feelings of repugnance in a new environment, being freed from our prejudices--enable us to be more loving to the "difficult" people we live with, the sick, the aged, the lonely, the alcoholic, thehard to get along with. We go out to,the poor .where we are enriched by them and return to com-munity where we are better able to enrich others and invite them to become more involved in the struggle for justice. ~ St. Mary Seraphim, P.C~P.A., review of A Transformed Mind and Heart--Becoming Vulnerable and Compassionate, by Joseph Breaull, in Spiritual Life, Fall 1979, p.183. A Spirituality for the Ministry of Social Justice: H / 507' In order to effectively call one another to a faith justice commitment demands that our relationships be reciprocal: mutual trust and respect, open-ness to be challenged as well as to challenge, presuming goodwill on the part of the other, and inviting one another to go beyond the comfort of one's present degree or manner of commitment. One needs realistic expectations in looking to another's progress, an ability to rejoice in.small victories and enough self-insight to realize from one's own heart how intricate and demanding the pro-cess of conversion is even in regards to seemingly "little" things. Some people are more aggressive than others in promoting justice in their community. The one whose posture it is to confront others needs to be com-passionate in his br her attitude and behavior towards the other. Like Jesus, he or she will not "break a bruised reed or quench a smoldering wick" (Mt 12:22). On the other hand, other people are more low-key in their approach, one might even say timid at times. They may need to push themselves to speak out for the materially poor or for issuesof peace. Each approach needs to find its balance that the Lord may more clearly be known and the kingdom be furthered. It sometimes happens that the more aggressive approach opens up the door for the more gentle person to enter the scene. As one whose own style is low-key, it is the author's experience that he is often invited to present ideas on social justice in situations where a more confrontative approach has proved fruitless. This is especially the case when the person or group is at the begin-ning stage of a commitment to justice. It frequently happens in community that a "pioneer~type person"--the first one into a new field or apostolic endeavor--is tempted to bitterness and withdrawal because of a perceived lack of support from his or her own col-leagues. This is certainly true in the area of actions for peace and justice. What is actually often occurring is a fear and defensiveness on the part of those not similarly involved, that what they do and standfor is somehow under attack or being devalued. Take, for example, the case of a woman religious who belongs to a congregation which has traditionally taught in schools. She asks fora different kind of ministry, to work in a low-income area as a parish sister or to become a lawyer and work.with the materially poor. She may appear a threat to the other sisters without even being conscious of it much less deliberately trying to achieve' it. She needs to be aware of the possible effects of her seemingly "radical" move, not to discourage her from following her call, but to prevent her from becoming marginal with her congregation. The pioneer needs to transcend his or her own uncomfortable feelings toward the community and reach out to the others in an ~honest request for support. Such an attitude and stance is likely not to polarize, but to touch hearts in compas-sion and reconciliation. Mutual support and education are much more likely to result. Community can be an excellent vehicle for calling forth the best that is in us and helping us to realize and own our gifts. One value of having different 508 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 approaches to the ministry of social justice in a community is that others help us to clarify our own way of responding. It is the author's experience that a real help to enhancing the contribution of community is some form of group process. Group meetings can take the form of discussions of sensitive issues, such as, communal and personal life-style, or how to support a community member who out of conscience has decided to perform an act of civil disobedience and risks jail. Community gatherings can be used for the purpose of sharing one's faith and the motiva-tion one has in acting for justice. A meeting may be the kind of forum necessary for a member of the community to share his or her fears of acting for justice or the vulnerability one is experiencing in acting for justice. It is helpful in such a process not to be anxious over the seeming lack of "measured results," but to learn to.be at peace with the process, even the pain that others may be experiencing or the struggle that the group is undergoing. Some groups may find it helpful to bring in non-community people as resources, such as those who are materially poor or those who are involved in actions for justice. Whatever the actions of the individuals in community or the community itself, reflection on these efforts in the light of faith protects us from either harsh actions in the name of "justice" or misguided sentimentality in the name of religion. The Eucharist To gather together in worship is the most profound way we express ourselves communally. Liturgy, whether eucharistic or not, unites us to one another and to our God and to the poor and oppressed in the world in a unique way. Let us take a few moments to consider the Eucharist. We believe that Jesus Christ is really present in the Eucharist. In the Eucharist we are united with Christ in a special way and with the Father through Christ. In our commitment to justice we are called to image Jesus in his own commitment. He identified himself with the poor and the marginated of his day and challenged those who had much to share themselves with those who had little. We receive in the Eucharist the same Christ who received the mission to "bring good news to the poor, to proclaim'liberty to the captives, recovery of sight to the blind, and freedom for the oppressed" (Lk 4:18). God is the source of our compassion and our commitment to justice. We are to be "perfect as our heavenly Father is perfect" (Mr 5:48): loving, merciful, just. We come to the eucharistic table aware that we are not self-sufficient, that we need courage and commitment beyond our own ability and desire to be so. We are empowered to be Christ in our world through the nourishment that is the Eucharist. The Eucharist, however, is not simply a private devotion or only a per-sonal experience of the presence of God. It is personally strengthening, to be sure, if approached with openness and faith, but it is also outer-directed to the community gathered at each Eucharist and to the whole world. The Eucharist A Spirituality for the Ministry of Social Justice: H / 509 is global vision, for it is the Redemptive Act for the whole of humanity. It is not only at the center of our lives as Christians but also at the center of the world. The Eucharist is at the center of our commitment to social justice. It calls us out of ourselves to be like Jesus who gave himself in love and in total self-surrender to his friends. The Eucharist is self-gift, an open-ended gift of ourselves, for the many. The eucharistic table becomes the starting point of a great revolution, and the victims of this revolution are those who share the Eucharist. It is a call for a change of hearts, not a revolution in which the blood of others is shed, but one's own.4 Although it is undeniable that eucharistic celebrations build community among those who participate in them, Eucharist also calls us out to the suffer-ing people in our world, oppressed and oppressor alike. We are invited to be the Body of Christ, to be his memory in the world, to be his Body given for the many and his Blood poured out for the many.s Gospel values and realities relevant to the faith that does justice are abun-dantly present in the Eucharist. We begin our act of worship by acknowledg-ing to one another and to our brothers and sisters everywhere our complicity in the injustices of our time, both our personal sin and our lack of concern and commitment to changing indifferent and unjust social structures. We face our fears and timidity, our temptations to doubt and discouragement, our tenden-cies to try to do good without God, our temptations to build our identity in our works for justice, and we ask that the liberating power of God free us from whatever enslaves and paralyzes us. We ask too for reconciliation with our oppressed brothers and sisters whose hope in a more just world is to some degree dependent on our efforts to achieve justice. The Old and New Testaments challer~ge and invite us to participate in the liberating efforts of our time, to do justice, to bring good news to the poor, to proclaim liberty to captives, to give to the blind new sight, and to set the downtrodden free. The Scriptures motivate us and support us in our efforts to transcend our own interest and to follow the call of God to universal compas-sion and solidarity, a call that influences how we act and how we live. The Eucharist helps us to a more fundamental identification with the materially poor and powerless as we cohtemplate Jesus identifying himself with the poor and the hungry. "In the Eucharist we receive Christ hungering in the world. He comes to us, not alone, but with the poor, the oppressed, the starving of the earth. Through him, they are looking to us for help, for justice, for love expressed in action. Therefore we cannot properly receive the Bread of Life unless at the same time we give bread for life to those in need wherever and whoever they may be.''6 ' Samuel Rayan, S.J., "Feeding of the Five-thousand: A Meditation," Religion and Society, Volo XX, No. 1, March 1973, pp. 5-7. ~ Ibid. ~ Pedro Arrupe, S.J~, "The Hunger for Bread and Evangelization," Address to the 41st Inter-national Eucharistic Congress, 1976, p. 1. 510 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 In a world that spawns alienation and various forms of dehumanization, the community that gathers around the table of the Lord speaks eloquently of other realities: true sisterhood and brotherhood, that the glory of God is people fully alive, human dignity, and the positive value of human develop-ment--. both materially and spiritually. The Eucharist calls us to accountability and responsibility for our world in a commitment that is rooted in the solitude of our hearts. Prayer The importance of prayer in a life dedicated to the faith lhat does justice cannot be overemphasized. There are so many forces and attractions that endeavor to steer one away from a consistent commitment to justice. Beyond one's occasional fears and hesitations to become involved, there are the anguish of those who are oppressed which can promote our :compassion but also tempt us to despair .and the obdurateness of social structures and the self-interest of those who manage them which can overwhelm and paralyze us. There are. also temptations to think that one is the Messiah and feelings of being rejected by one's community and friends when their commitment is dif-ferent from our own, which can result in bitterness and alienation. There are the temptations to permanent withdrawal from the struggle for justice or the tendency to opt for the values and life-style that one has spent a good deal of time.and effort opposing--the "good life." Prayer is essential if God is to re-main: the center of our commitment to justice. It is in the quiet moments .of prayer that we discover who our center is, our loving God or the idols that threaten to divert our attention and our commitment. Prayer--God's presence to us and our presence to God--is a key means~of deepening our relationship with the One who calls us to the ministry of faith and justice and of coming to know ourselves with true self-knowledge. However, just as the Eucharist has both a vertical and a horizontal dimen-sion so must our life of prayer: Our union with God leads us to loving service of the b.rothers,and sisters, and nourishes that commitment. Thomas Cullinan writes about it in this way: One df the great classical portrayals of the Buddh~ shows him sitting in the normal lotus position with his left hand upturned, holding a begging bowl, and his right hand resting on the other knee with one finger pointing down to earth. The left hand, the begging bowl, represents the need for enlightenment. The other hand, resting, poihting down to earth, represents the need for us to be embedded and realistic in the human condition in which we find ourselves. We cannot live anywhere other than where God has asked us to live. Any man of faith can tell one that the tension set up between these two hands, the tension between the need for enlightenment arid serious appreciation of the world we are in, is bound to cause great suffering, great loneliness. We can escape from this tension of living faith by taking the right hand of involvement, or the left hand of enlightenment, to the exclusion of the other. With the right hand; for instance, we can seek to be so relevant to our world that we finish up as humanists with a A Spirituality for ?he Ministry of Social Justice." mere Christian overlay. On the other left hand we can escape the tension-of living faith by constructing for ourselves an alternative society, a special world of Christians who have set UP something alternative to the world in which God has placed them., missing perhaps t~he central point of incarnafi.on.' We can escape the tension of living faith by making of our prayer a private experience of enthusiastic pietism that has no relevance to the political reality in which we live. 'True prayer leads us out of ourselves to be Christ in our world and discover him in others. The same can be said of mysticism as William Johnston writes: Authentic mystical experience necessarily brings with it a great love for all mankind. It can lead to remarkably deep friendship and intimacy in those who share the same ex-perience; it also leads to a great compassion for the poor, the sick, the oppressed, the downtrodden, the imprisoned, the underprivileged . This union or solidarity with the poor and the oppressed is of the very essence of Chrisiian mysticism.8 Prayer is essential for an effective ministry of faith and justice and for the ongoing integration process that is involved. We need, as Bryan Hehir points out, a sense of history as we go about our ministry of justice, a Christian sense of history that has in it the following dimensions: Ultimate success is the eschaton, every work done for justice is redemptive, the Cross marks every great work in the Church, and the risen life governs our perspective.9 Our times of reflection and solitude give us the opportunity to keep this sense and vision of history alive in our hearts. There are many forms of prayer and it is not the intent of this article to ex-plore in any depth the differ6nt ways one can pray. Obviously, shared prayer can be a very enriching experience, a chance to be strengthened in our mutual commitment and an opportunity to recogiaize and value our different insights and ways of responding to injustice. The author has found an annual retreat especially helpful in keeping one centered on the call of God and aware of one's tendencies to enslavement. Some form of ongoing spiritual direction, whether one does this primarily by means of a journal;and occasional sharing with a friend or by means of regular contact with a spiritual director, is a necessary component to one's prayer life, keeping a sense of objectivity and realism alive. We have already touched on the Eucharist which is a profound way of praying. - Not only is an unexamined life not worth living, it is dangerous. The forces of evil as they are embodied in unjust structures and the sinfulness of men and women are more powerful than us, even with our sophisticated tools of social ' Thomas Cullinan, O.S.B., lfthe Eye Be Sound (London, England: St. Paul Publications, 1975), pp. 56-58. * William Johnston, S.J., The Inner Eye of Love (New York: Harper and Row, 1978), p. 132. ' Ft. Bryan Hehir, "The Ministry for Justice," Network Quarterly, Vo. II, No. 3, Summer 1974, p. 4. 512 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 analysis. We need these tools, but even more basically we need union with God in prayer. God's love for us and our world and our growing realization of this personal concern of God gives us the hope and joy that we need to persevere with integrity in the struggle for a more just and human world. Conclusion Community-- Eucharist-- Prayer, each is necessary if we are to live on the level of meaning and not simply on the level of measured productivity or documented results. It is easy in the ministry of faith and justice to get so caught up in the latest issue or in the myriad of justice issues so as to lose the vision of why we are involved, a response to God's call to help build the kingdom. We need the support and challenge of friends. We depend on the nourishment that comes to us in the Eucharist. We rely on the guidance of the Holy Spirit whom we come into contact with in our prayer. God is the center of our commitment to social justice; it is God who calls us out of ourselves to be loving servants of others. Now Available As Reprint An Apostolic Spirituality for the Ministry of Social Justice by Max Oliva, S.J. Price: $.50 per copy, plus postage. Address: Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 Understanding the Biblical Symbols for Life Peter J. Kearney Father Kearney teaches Sacred Scripture. His address is The Catholic University of America; School of Religious Studies; Department of Theology; Washington, D.C. 20064. For those who seek to explore how the Bible relates the inner life to active ministry, reflection on the biblical symbols for life can provide rich discoveries. Symbols touch the deeper levels of the human person, the well-springs for both contemplation and action. It is frequently through symbols that the Scriptures speak, unfolding them and interrelating them to draw us into greater awareness of the life speaking within ourselves and to fruitful sharing of this word in ministry. The very first chapter of the Bible describes the origins of life and employs a paradox which sets the tone for many of the reflections that here follow: to live isto be active, but to live fully is simultaneously to be at rest. In creating, God first sets the stage for the appearance of living things. When the "living creatures" come on the fifth and sixth days, the earth is marked by activity and motion. On the seventh day, God is at rest, but with his work completed he is now most fully active, sustaining in creation all that he has made, for creation is a process that is ever continuing, ever renewed (see Ps 104, esp. vss. 27-30), He sustains his creation and remains always at rest, for he never grows weary (Is 40:21-28). He wills that his human creation share his repose, which is really a fullness of life (Ex 31:16-17; Is 40:29-31). Life and Kingship The above-mentioned texts from Genesis, Exodus and Isaiah all come from a relatively late period in Israel's history (the Babylonian Exile in the 513 514 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 sixth century B.C.), but they express ancient ideas on life which had earlier been associated with the royal dynasty of David. The one who most expressed the fullness of life on this earth was the king. For he had asked God for life and God "gave him length of days forever and ever" (Ps 21:5). The poetry of the psalms could attribute divine qualities to the king because he mediated God's blessings to the people and his rule, when properly carried out, expressed God's harmonious ordering of the universe (see Ps 72). Here Israel borrowed from a much more elaborate royal theology in Egypt, where the pharaoh was divinized to a far greater degree. In Egypt, the pharaoh could be regarded as a source of life in his kingdom because a di,vine spirit had been breathed into him by a god and this spirit became the power by which the pharaoh ruled.' This spirit issued in royal pronounce'rnents by which the life of Egypt was sustained. Likewise in Israel, in ideal conditions, the land could be at rest as though it were paradise itself, because the spirit of the Lord "rested" upon the king and enabled him to pronounce decrees which brought justice to the weak but death to the wicked (Is 11:1-9; see also 2 S 23:1-4). Such thinking clarifies the background of Genesis 2 and 3, where the creation and fall of man, while describing human nature in general, is actually a theology of Israelite kingship.2 The coronation of a king was his "being raised up from the dust" (1 K 16:2), just as Adam was formed from the dust of the earth (Gn 2:7).3 Like a king, Adam received the spirit or "breath of life" (Gn 2:7) and then could share in the divine rule, symbolized by his naming the animals (Gn 2:19-20). But unlike the pharaohs or other ancient kings who im-itated them, the Israelite king could make no claims to divinity and thus he was not to eat from the tree of the knowledge of all things, a property of God alone.' The narrative of Adam's failure to obey and his consequent expulsion from paradise is probably a polemic against the abuses of kingship perpetrated by Solomon, who patterned his absolute authority too closely on the Egyptian model. The story also opposes the pagan concept that a superior kind of knowledge (Gn 3:6) was available to those who sought communion with divine powers through the sexual practices of the Canaanite nature wor-ship. Thus the earth yields its fruits only to man's toil (Gn 3:17-19) and not because of the magical rites of the Canaanites. For the king, as for humans in general, the true wisdom is in knowing oneself as a creature of God and rejoic-ing in this condition. ' See W. Wifall, "The Breath and His Nostrils; Gn 2:7b," Catholic Biblical Quarterly 36 (1974), pp. 237-240~ 2 See W. Brueggemann, "David and His Theologian," Catholic Biblical Quarterly 30 (1968), pp. 156-181. ~ See W. Bruggemann, "From Dust to Kingship," Zeitschrift far die Alttestamentliche Wissenscttaft 84 (1972), pp. 1-18. ' See I. Engnell, " 'Knowledge' and 'Life' in the Creation Story" in M. Noth and D. Thomas (eds.), Wi~sdom in Israel and in the Ancient Near East (Supplements to Vetus Testamentum, 3; Leiden: Brill, 1969), pp. 103-119~ Understanding the Biblical Symbols for Life The results of Adam's failu~ ~ire expressedas a life of wearisome toil upon an earth which resists man's efforts (Gn 3:17-19), a life of exile (Gn 3:23:24). Similarly, weariness, the disturbance of proper order and ultimately exile from the land could be readily associated with the failure of kingship. The prophet Isaiah,could accuse King Achaz of "wearying" both God and man through his failure to trust (Is 7:13). David may have had himself once crowned like a god (2 S 12:30), but his failure to maintain peace within his own family would lead to his own exile from Jerusalem in a procession of almost paralyzed weariness (2 S 15:14-16:14)5 which symbolized the disturbed order of the kingdom. But when the kingship functioned properly, it was as though the land itself had become paradise, and rest was restored. Such a state was symbolized through the figure of Noah (whose name sounds like the Hebrew word for "rest").~ The peaceful rule of the king was expressed figuratively through his holding the waters of chaos in check (Pss 72:8 and 89:26). In the story of Noah, the waters of chaos subside and creation is begun anew (Gn 9:7). God's eternal covenant with Noah (Gn 9:16) symbolizes the Davidic covenant (2 S 23:5), part of God's order in creation (Ps 89:35-38). Light and Truth A further significant borrowing from Egyptian thought was expressed in the Israelite use of sun imagery. In Egypt, the sun was worshipped as the source and sustainer of life. In paintings and carvings, the sun disc was pic-tured with wings, as though it were a huge bird making.its daily flight across the sky, There are traces of such imagery in Israelite poetry.7 When the Israelites were making their way through the desert after the Exodus, God was said to have "spread his wings to receive them," carrying them triumphantly forward (Dt 32:11). Here the symbol of eagle wings is applied to God because the extremely high flight of theeagle made it the most likely bird to provide the symbolism for the wings of the sun. Such metaphor was intended to express the desert period of Israel as a life-giving experience, through the use of the natural symbol for the source of life, the sun. Much later, during the period of the Babylonian Exile, similar imagery could be used to mark the end of exile and therefore of weariness: just as the eagle's long life was imaginatively thought to be due to his high flight near the rays of the sun, similarly "they that hope in the Lord will renew their strength, they will soar as with eagles' wings; they will run and not grow weary, walk and not grow faint" (Is 40:31). The symbol of the wings of God becomes particularly rich in a number of ' R. Whybray, The Succession Narrative: A Study of !i S 9-20 and 1 K I and 2 (Studies in Biblical Theology, Second Series, 9; Naperville: Allenson, 1968), p. 46. 6 See W. Brueggemann, "Weariness, Exile and Chaos (A Motif in Royal Theology)," Catholic Biblical Quarterly 34 (1972), pp. 19-38. ' See J. Murtagh, "Under the Shadow ofthy Wings," TheBible Today, no. 32, November 1967, pp. 2229-2232. 516 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 the psalms. Even though during the religious reform of King Josiah, sun sym-bols were removed from the Jerusalem temple (2 K 23:11), some managed to survive in the hymns which were sung in that temple. For example, Psalm 61 presents the king at prayer (see vs. 7), asking that God give him "rest" and place him "high upon a rock" (the royal throne, see vs. 8); he expresses his longing to take refuge in the shadow of God's wings, thus poetically attributing the life-giving rays of the sun to God, and presenting himself as the one filled with life from God, much as was the pharaoh who transmitted the life-giving rays of the sun to the people by means of his wise and effective rule.8 Elsewhere the pilgrim psalmist rejoices to see the sparrows and swallows sheltering their young in nests built on the temple (Ps 84:4). No doubt this sight specially touched him because it paralleled.his own relationship to God, whom he calls in this same psalm "a sun and a shield" (vs. 12). Such a background clarifies Jesus' complaint against Jerusalem "How often 1 wanted to gather your children together as a mother bird collects her young under her wings, and you refused me" (Lk 1,3:34). Jesus in effect was calling the people to recognize that the life-giving Presence of God which they had associated with the Temple was actually found in him. Because they did not recognize this, their temple would be abandoned (vs. 35). Luke here approaches the theology of John, whose prophecy about the destruction of the Temple contained an allusion to the raising up of the real Temple, the body of Jesus (Jn 2:19-21). Just as the sun is a natural symbol for life, so its brilliance aptly suggests the clarity of knowledge and truth. Thus light can signify the experience of revelation, a sensing of God's personal presence in the temple. In Psalm 36, the author praises God's goodness in having "the children of men take refuge in the shadow of your wings" and exclaims "in your light we see light," that is, the people draw their life from the living God in his temple (vss. 8, 10). In Psalm 27, the king calls God "my light" upon whose loveliness he wishes to gaze in the temple, in an experience of revelation so intimate that it can be described as face-to-face encounter (vss. 4, 8, 9) with One whose tenderness lasts even though that of father and mother might fail (vs. 10). The light of knowledge can also reveal God more indirectly through the maxims of human wisdom and the revealed word of God expressed in Israel's laws and religious traditions. In the case of wisdom thought, Egypt once more supplied a mythological theme, the person of Maat, daughter of the sun god Ra and goddess of justice, order and harmony. She is probably the source for the feminine personification of wisdom in Proverbs 8 and 9, where she invites the youthful-Israelite to come learn of her wisdom contained throughout the book of Proverbs.9 Her pagan origins from the sun express the theme of light s For the role of pharaoh, see, for example, "The Hymn to the Aton" in J. Pritchard (ed.), An-cient Near Eastern Texts Relating to the Old Testament (Princeton University, 1955), pp. 369-37 I. ° See N. Habel, "The Symbolism of Wisdom in Pr I-9" Interpretation 26 (1972), pp. 131-157. Understanding the Biblical Symbols for Life / 517 as the knowledge and wisdoha ~hrough wtiicli mhn can integrate himself into ¯ the universe, which the brilliance of the sun seems to unite in a harmonious whole. This wisdom in the book of Proverbs sometimes appears to be merely practical advice about how to get along in life (e.g., Pr 23), but it is in fact the expression of a deeply moral sense.'° The light of life penetrates deep within man: "A lamp from the Lord is the breath of man: it searches through all his inmost being" (Pr 20:27). Similarly, the light of God's knowledge touches the recesses of man's moral life, penetrating deep in his heart: "The nether world and the abyss lie open before the Lord; how much more the hearts of men" (Pr 16:11). In this saying, the scribe profits from the symbol of the sun apparently going into the world of darkness each evening and uses it to present an image of God seeing deep into the heart of each one. In Psalm 139, the king marvels at this intimate knowledge of him which God possesses (vss. 1-6) and then applies solar attributes to God," praising his brilliance and his omnipresence (vss. 7-12). God's knowledge awakens in the king a strong sense of moral obligation to which he professes his conscience has remained faithful (vss. 23-24). This joining of divine solar imagery and the human response of virtuous practice can be found also in Psalm 112, reen forc-ing the understanding that life has an intrinsically moral dimension. Such thought is echoed in Jesus' words about light as a symbol for personal morali-ty: "The eye is the body's lamp. If your eyes are good, your body will be filled with light; if your eyes are bad, your body will be in darkness. And if your light is darkness, how deep will the darkness be!" (Lk 6:22-23). The Old Testament association between wisdom, morality and light is also distantly echoed in the Epistle of James, which calls God "the Father of~the heavenly luminaries" (Jm 1:17), who gives a "wisdom from above" (3:17), expressed in the moral counsels which pervade the epistle. Israelite thought also applied such language not merely to a general theory of human life, but also to the wisdom which it possessed in its own peculiar religious traditions, grouped under the general heading "law." With regard to specifically legal traditions, just as the Babylonian king, Hammurabi, presented his lawcode as written in obedience to the sun god,'2 so the Israelite king could regard the laws by which he ruled as expressing the wisdom and life-giving power symbolized.by the sun. In Psalm 19, the king describes the harmonious unity of the world, in particular the path of the sun across the sky (vss. 2-7) and then praises the divine precepts as filled with the qualities of the sun: "refreshing the soul., giving wisdom., rejoicing the heart., enlighten-ing the eye., enduring forever" (vss. 8-10). To move beyond the merely legal ,o R. Murphy, "Introduction to Wisdom Literature," Jerome Biblical Commentary (Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall, 1968), 28:8. ~'J. Holman, "Analysis of the Text of Ps 139" (Biblische Zeitschrift 14 (1970), p. 225. ,2 See "The Code of Hammurabi" in Pritchard (ed.) Ancient Near Eastern Texts, p. 163. 518 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 traditions, the prophet Ezekiel was no doubt alluding to this same psalm when he said the word of God was "as sweet as honey" (compare Ps 19:11 and Ezk 3:3).' Even though it was a word of doom (Ezk 2:10), upon itdepended the life of both sinner andjust and even Ezekiel himself (3:18-21). Similarly, the legal and historical Israelite traditions in the Book of Deuteronomyhave life-giving properties.Since Deuteronomy represents the religious reform of Josiah and his attempt to purify Israelite religion of its pagan associations, sun sym-bolism is muted here. Moses warns specifically against worship of the sun or any of the celestial bodies (Dt 4:19), but the ancient symbolic association between sunlight and truth is still discernible in his words. Moses' rhetorical challenge to seek through the days of old sii~ce creation and "from one end of the sky to the other" alludes to the eternal path of the sun through the heavens (Dr 4:32); in this same chapter, he has the nations themselves profess that the traditions in Deuteronomy are a sign both of God's intimate relationship with his people and of their great wisdom, two themes traditionally associated with sun symbolism (Dr 4:6-7). Such language prepares for Moses telling the Israelites that there is no need to seek God's command up in "the sky or across the sea; it is rather in their own mouths and hearts (Dt 30: l 1-14). In effect, there is no need to follow the path of the sun, as symbolic source of wisdom. The laws of Deuteronomy, which the people will have thoroughly learned, embody the wisdom they need. Thus Moses can exhort them to "choose life" (30:19), that is, to assimilate the life-giving property which the traditions of Deuteronomy contain. Against this remote background of solar imagery, several aspects of John's gospel are clarified. The entire work conveys a sense of repose, of li.fe in its fullness, possessed by Jesus and communicated to his disciples, Jesus is in the Father and the Father is in him (10:38) and Jesus promises that they will both dwell within the one who is faithful to Jesus' word (14:23). His fullness of life is paradoxically expressed through Jesus' word (14:23). His fullness of life is paradoxically expressed through Jesus' complete control of the cir-cumstances, which surround his death. Gone from this gospel is the agony in the garden. Jesus tranquilly goes to face his captors (18:4-9) and'ultimately bows his head after a solemn proclamation that his work was finished (19:30). John allows the s6tting of Jesus' death to be permeated with an atmosphere of life, thus' giving dramatic expression to his theology that the raising up of Jesus on the cross was simultaneously a raising up to glory (8:27; 12:32), that his death is a source of life(l 2:24). In addition, the protective presence of God which had been revealed to Israelites in the temple is now revealed in Jesus. This presence had been announced during liturgy in Old Testament times by formulas such as "l, the Lord, am your God" (Ex 20:2) and "I am the first and I am the last" (Is 44:6); throughout John's gospel Jesus echoes such expressions, identifying himself, for example, as the Vine, the Good Shepherd, the Resurrection and Life and thus conveys that the life-giving presence of God in the temple is now to be found in Jesus' own person. Seeing Understanding the Biblical Symbols for Life God in the temple now happens in a new way, for one can look upon Jesus and see the Father (14:9). Of course, the themes of light and life repeatedly inter-twine throughout John's gospel. As in the Old Testament, this light is closely related to knowledge, revelation and truth; also, this truth has a strong moral dimension, for the light which Jesus brings is expressed in what the Father has commanded (12:46-50) and those who are loved by the Father obey the com-mandments Jesus gives (14:21), all summarized in the commandment of love 05:9-17). Just as the Israelite king ruled with justice (Ps 72), so Jesus associates his own kingship with the truth which is a life-filled communion with God: ". I am a king., the reason why I came into the world is to testify to the truth" (Jn 18:37). The.moral dimension of truth is further expressed by speaking of the light as showing the way one should walk (l 1:9-10; 12:35-36). It receives its fullest formulation when Jesus proclaims that he is the Way, the Truth and the Life (14:6), thus indicating that union with God reaches its fullness through union with the person of the risen Jesus. Implied in this union is a sharing in the "sabbath rest" of God himself, a life-filled, activity-filled rest which belongs unceasingly to Jesus, who revealed on a sabbath day that "My Father is at work until now, and I am at work as well" (5:17). Several other New Testament Passages express a similar theology of life, among them Jesus' praise of his Father and invitation to his disciples in Mt 11:25-30. Jesus proclaims the mutual knowledge between Father and Son, suggesting the intimacy frequently found in the gospel of John. As in this lat-ter gospel, the Son can reveal the Father to those whom he wishes (Mt 11:27). He then offers to the weary a promise of refreshment and rest, which is actually a fullness of life. Speaking after the manner of ancient kings, Jesus proclaims his gentleness in ruling, and by means of the symbol of a yoke, invites his followers to obey his commandments, much as he does more explicitly in the gospel of John. In Matthew, the teaching of Jesus is likened to a "yoke," a symbol which stands for the discipline needed to achieve wisdom (Si 51:26) and which reenforces the association between Jesus' commands and the truth. Also in the gospel of Mark, Jesus holds out an invitation to his disciples to come with him and rest (6:31). One might think that the crowds who then followed Jesus were disturbing this rest, but they rather come and share in it. Here Mark subtly alludes to Psalm 23, in which the king, shepherd of his people, proclaims that the Lord is his own shepherd who gives him rest in green pastures, saving him from the darkness which is the threat of enemy powers and showing him the right paths by which he may govern the kingdom in justice. The king celebrates this intimate relationship with God in the tem-ple, where a festive banquet is spread before him. In Mark 6:30-44, these themes are echoed as Jesus looks with pity on the crowds who are like sheep without a shepherd. He teaches them at great length; we are to understand that his words are a source of life to them, parallel to the wise proclamation of 520 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 the ancient kings. The meal of bread and fish is distributed as the people are seated on the green grass. Here there is no temple, but the passage retains a liturgical atmosphere, for the meal clearly symbolizes the Eucharist. The peo-ple eat their fill and give symbolic expression to the life-giving property of this sacrament, given, as Jesus elsewhere says, so that the people may not grow weary along the way (Mk 8:3). This scene in Mark 6 can lead in turn back to the gospel of John, for it shows why the theme of the Good Shepherd (Jn 10) is apropos in a gospel concerned with the theme of life in its fullness: "I came that they might have life and have it to the full" (10:10). Food and Water The multiplication of the loaves in Mk'6 also illustrates the association between the word of God spoken by Jesus and food. They can be related inasmuch as they both sustain life. Such a connection can be found in the traditions about Elijah, who announces a drought that will last until he says otherwise (1 K 17:1). However, for the poor widow whom he visits, his word provides a supply of food that will continue through the drought. This story contains the same central theme as that expressed in the subsequent episode, when the prayer of Elijah causes the widow's son to come back to life, namely, the life-giving power of God's word spoken through his servant Elijah. As in Genesis 2-3, there is strong polemic here against the claims of the Canaanite religion to impart life through nature worship.'3 This opposition reaches its greatest intensity when the command given by Elijah spells death for the four hundred Canaanite prophets (1 K 18:40). A similar theology of God's word is probably contained in Exodus 16, where the manna is given in sufficient supply for all, provided the people follow exactly God's instructions for gathering it (vss. 4, 18).'4 The mention of the manna tasting like honey (vs. 31) probably alludes to the sweet taste of God's law proclaimed in Ps 19:11. In Dt 8:3, the link between God's word and the manna is made quite clearly: the Israelites' nourishment with manna was a sign that "not by bread alone does man live, but by every word that comes forth from the mouth of the Lord." Jesus' use of these words during his temptation in the desert (Mt 4:4) shows that his fasting is a symbolic dying, a depriving himself of one means of sus-taining life, so that he might be filled with another, God's word.'~ Such im-agery is also well established in several prophets. Amos likened the absence of God's word to a famine (Am 8:11-12) and Jeremiah spoke of "devouring" the words of God (Jn 15:16); Ezekiel elaborated on Jeremiah's imagery by an '~ See F. Eakin, "Yahwism and Baalism before the Exile," Journal of Biblical Literature 84 0965), pp. 407-414. " For additional material on the symbolic character of Ex 16, see C~ Carmichael, "Deuteronomic Laws, Wisdom, and Historical Traditions," Journal of Semitic Studies 12 (1967), pp. 198-206. '~ On fasting as "dying," see T. Gaster, Thespis: Ritual, Myth and Drama in the Ancient Near East (Anchor Books; Garden City: Doubleday, 1961), pp. 26-34. Understanding the Biblical Symbols for Life / 52"1 allusion to Ps 19 in describing his eating the scroll of God's word and finding it sweet as honey (Ezk 3:3). In John's gospel, Jesus speaks of having food to eat of which his disciples do not know, namely, the doing of his Father's will (Jn 4:32-34). Later, after giving bread and fish to his disciples at the lake shore, he commands Peter to "feed my sheep" (Jn 21:17), a charge which in the context of John's gospel undoubtedly means allowing the sheep to hear the "voice" of the Good Shepherd 00:3-5, 16), much as they heard his teaching in Mark's gospel, when they ate bread and fish supplied by Jesus (Mk 6:34). Such passages establish the close bond between word and sacrament in Christian eucharistic theology, as most clearly expressed when the disciples on the road to Emmaus recog-nized Jesus in the breaking of the bread, but only after having their hearts prepared through Jesus' explanation of the Scriptures (Lk 24:31-32). Israel expressed its reflections on life also through the natural symbol of water. In the creation account of Genesis 2, the stream which waters all the surface of the earth provides the clay from which man is made (vss. 6-7) and a river in Eden is the source of fertility in the garden (vs. 10). This river should be understood as a further specification of the stream in vs. 6, for it divides into four branches (vs. 10), symbolizing the four directions of the earth and thus marking out Eden as the source of life for all the earth. Such symbolism had a concrete application to the Jerusalem temple, which was regarded as a representation of the garden of Eden and thus through poetic imagination was provided with "a stream whose runlets gladden the city of God, the holy dwelling of the Most High" (Ps 46:5). Once again, as with the imagery of the eagle wings, the temple stands as a source of life for the people. The most dramatic elaboration of such symbolisn~ can be found in Ezekiel's vision of the stream which flowed from the temple (Ezk 47) and grew to a mighty river changing the Dead Sea into fresh water filled with fish. The trees along its banks, with their copious fruit and medicinal leaves are an adaptation of'the tree of life from which Adam and Eve were permitted to eat. This association between the temple and healing helps to understand why Israelite liturgy, as a source of life, implied forgiveness of sin in its very performance, a belief against which various prophets struggled when such healing was understood as occurring automatically (e,g., Am 5:21-25; I~ 66:3). Since sunlight and water were both perceived as natural symbols for life, there are several other ways in which water symbolism coincides with that of light, most notably in the role assigned to the king and also to the command-ments of God. In 2 S 23, the images of sun and water coalesce when it is proclaimed that the king "is like the morning light at sunrise on a cloudless morning, making the greensward sparkle after rain" (vs. 4). The state of "rest," a synonym for "life," is associated with water as the king thanks God for leading him "beside restful waters" (Ps 23:2). The state of war is a threat to this rest and so when the king faces enemies, he speaks of himself as af-flicted with a thirst which symbolizes his nearness to death: "My throat is 522 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 dried up like baked clay, my tongue cleaves to my jaws; to the dust of death you have brought me down" (Ps 22:16). The natural experience of thirst in battle (see Jg 5:15-19) allows the king to express his desire for victory as a long-ing for water: "As the hind longs for the running waters, so my soul longs for you, O God (Ps 42:2). Do me justice, O God, and fight my fight against a faithless people" (Ps 43: l ; Psalms 42 and 43 were originally a single psalm). ,6 When the victory comes, it can be symbolically expressed through the slaking of the king's thirst: "From the brook by the wayside he will drink; therefore will he lift up his head" (Ps 110:7). The life which he has absorbed, he then transmits to his kingdom through the just exercise of his power: "He shall be like rain coming down on the meadow, like showers watering the earth. Justice shall flower in his days." (Ps 72:6). A just rule is carried out within the framework of just laws, enacted in con-formity with God's will. Thus water symbolism can be readily applied to laws insofar as they are life-giving, particula~'ly so because water is life-giv.ing when it is transformed from a chaotic force into channeled streams and into rainfall that comes in the proper, well-ordered time. Thus in Genesis 1, life can begin upon the earth once the chaotic waters have been assigned their proper place (Gn 1:6-11). In similar fashion, several psalms contrast the tumultuous primeval waters with the life-giving streams and rains which result from the divine ordering of the seas (Pss 46:3-6; 65:8-14; 104:5-18). Thus the decrees of God, ordering the life of man, can be compared to life-giving water. When Moses changed the bitter waters into fresh because he followed the directions of God, his action could be joined to the notice that the Lord there gave the Israelites laws which would let them.experience his life-giving healing power (Ex 15:22-26). Later on, an episode in the area of Horeb, the place for receiv-ing commandments from God, seems to have been transformed by an editor into a scene at the Jerusalem temple (Ex 17:1-16). The water from the rock at Horeb symbolizes both the commands of God and the water associated with the mountain of the Lord in Jerusalem (see Ps 46:5). MoseS seated high on a rock with his arms outstretched and growing weary resembles the king in the psalms, enthroned on a high rock and stretching forth his arms in prayer as he grows weary against his enemies (Pss 61:3; 62:5; 143:6-7). Just as in these psalms the king places his hope in a faithful following of God's will, so the people receive their strength from faithfulness to God's commands, symbol-ized by the water from Horeb. Such theology is quite close to that of the prophet Isaiah, who combined in his own fashion the themes of water, rest, and trustful adherence to the com-mands of God. For Isaiah, the gently flowing waters of Shiloah, which sup-plied Jerusalem with water and perhaps also suggested to him the motif of the See note on Psalm 42-43 in the New American Bible {Paterson: St. Anthony Guild, 1970). Understanding the Biblical Symbols for Life / 523 "stream flowing from the Temple," symbolized the quiet trust of faith which was a source of life for Israel; because the people rejected this gentle stream, the waters of the Euphrates River, that is the destructive power of Assyria, would engulf them with its chaotic force (8:6-8). Jerusalem was meant to be a place of rest for the weary, that is, a center of life for the people (28:12), but the king of Judah rejected faith and thus brought weariness (7:13). This rest could be achieved if only the king would cease seeking aid from foreign powers (30:2, 15, ] 6; 31 : l) and provide for just rule within his own kingdom,'7 giving a share of life to the poor and defenseless among his own people (1 : 17, 5:22-23; 10:1-4). Far from being an expression of inactivity, the theme of rest and quiet in Isaiah is a call to reform to a just distribution of wealth according to God's will, so that Jerusalem could again be a center of life, a city of rejoic-ing: "Justice will bring about peace; right will produce calm and security. My people.will live in peaceful country, in secure dwellings and quiet resting places. Look to Zion, the city of our festivals; let your eyes see Jerusalem as a quiet abode" (32:17-18; 33:20). The waters of life is a theme of special richness in the Gospel of John 18. '~ In the story of the wedding feast at Cana (Jn 2:1-12), the jars of water are pro-vided according to the rules for ceremonial washings and thus the water can aptly symbolize the Jewish law. The wine is a familiar symbol for messianic fulfillment ,(e.g., Ho 14:8) and here expresses the centrality of Jesus who replaces the Law as God's 'primary means of revelation. The episode of the Samaritan woman (Jn 4:1-42) employs a clearer allusion to the imagery of revelation in the symbol of "living water," that is, water which both flows and symbolizes life; here the source of this "living water" is Jesus rather than the biblical traditions symbolized by the well of Jacob. This "replacement" theme continues in John 7 and 8 in connection with the Feast of Booths. This ancient autumn harvest,festival, at which the Israelites joyfully thanked God for his blessings and prayed for a fruitful harvest in the months ahead, com-bined the symbols of sunlight and water, both naturally associated with the fertility of the fields. Probably Psalm 84, a pilgrimage song which calls God a '°'sun" (vs. 12) and sings of the "early rain" of autumn (vs. 7), was part of this festival. The temple was the scene of illumination and water libation during this feast, but now the new center of life is the person of Jesus, God's new tem-ple (Jn 2:21), as he proclaims during the festival that he is "the light of the world" (8:12) and the source from which living waters shall flow to give life to those who believe (7:37-38). These waters finally do flow from the body of Jesus on the cross, when the soldier pierces him with a lance (19:34-35). In ac- ~7 For the idea that "being still" in Isaiah refers to a gradual reform from within the nation, I am indebted to Rev. Henri Cazelles. ,8 For most of what follows on the theme of water in John, see R. Brown, The Gospel According to John (The Anchor Bible, 29 and 29a; Garden City: Doubleday, 1966 and 1970). 524 / Review for Religious, Volume 39, 1980/4 cord with John's theology th

Issue 34.6 of the Review for Religious, 1975. ; Revtew ]or Rehgtous is edited by faculty members of the School of Diwnlty of St Louis Umverslty, the editorial offices being located at 612 Humboldt Budding, 539 North Grand Boulevard: St. Louis, Missouri 63103. It is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute; St. Louis, Missouri. Published bimonthly and copy-right ~) 1975 by Review [or Religious. Composed, printed, and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri. Single copies: $1.75. Subscription U.S.A. and Canada: $6.00 a year; $11.00 for two years; other countries, $7.00 a year, $13.00 for two years (for airmail delivery, add $5.00 per year). Orders should indicate whether they are for new or renewal subscriptions and should be accompanied by check or money order payable to Review ]or Religious in U.S.A. currency only. Pay no money to persons claiming to represent Review Jot 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. Miss Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor November 1975 Volume 34 Number 6 Renewals, new subscriptions, and changes of address should be sent to Review for Religious; 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 for Religious; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen. S.J.: St. Joseph's College; City Avenue at 54th Street; Philadelphia, Pennsyl-vania 19131. Unmarriageable for God's Sake Peter G. van Breemen, S.J. Father van Breemen studied nuclear physics in Amsterdam, Holland, and in Rochester, N.Y. He was novice-master in his home province (Netherlands), has a broad experience in Working with priests and religious as spiritual director and lecturer both here and abroad, and is presently in charge of the combined Flemish (Belgian)-Dutch novitiate. His present address is Priorijdreef 21; 1160 Brussels, Belgium. The Old Testament often speaks of virginity, but always the reference is to the virginity of the people as a whole; e.g., Jeremiah says, "I build you once more; ¯ you shall be ri~buiit, virgin of Israel" (3, 1-4), and again, "Come home, virgin of Israel, come home to these towns of yours" (31, 21). In Isaiah we find the same concept: the chosen people as a whole is the virgin bride of Yahweh: Like a young man marrying a virgin so will the one who built you wed you, and as the bridegroom rejoices in his bride, ,so will your God rejoice in you (62, 5). For now your creator will be your husband, his name, Yahweh. Sabaoth; your redeemer will be the Holy One.of Israel, he is called the God of the whole earth (54, 5). We can make the general statement that in the Old Testament virginity is never lived in a personal way. On the contrary, lJersonal virginity is far removed from the mind of an Israelite. Fertiliiy was a blessing, and the com-mandment of Genesis (1, 28) "Be fruitful, multiply, fill the earth" was very sacred to the Jews. This article is a chapter from Father van Breemen's forthcoming book, Called by Name, scheduled to be published by Dimension Books, Denville, N.J., in January, 1976. 839 a40 / Review for Religious, ~'olume 34, 1975/6 The natural longing for posterity found in all people, but especially in more primitive people, was deepened to a far greater degree for the Israelite by,the fact that the messiah had been promised as one of his race. To the Jews, therefore, the role of father and mother became sacred in a heightened ~ense. They had many sayings which illustrated their convictions in this matter; e.g., "Who does not marry is like a person who sheds blood," or ". is like a murderer!" A person who did not marry had the power of life within him but did not transmit it. Even as lateas prophetic times Jeremiah's celibacy was a shock. The most striking example of this sacredness of parenthood is found in the Book of Judges (11, 30-40), where we read the story of the daughter of Jephthah, who was to die for a mistaken and unlawful interpretation of a vow made by her father. She accepts her death submissively, but for the young girl, even worse than the death itself to which she is condemned is the fact that she must die without having been fruitful. "Grant me one request," she pleads, "Let me be free for two months. I shall go and wander in the mountains, and with my companions bewail by virginity." The whole longing of the Israelite for children is heard in that plea, as it is also in the words of Rachel: "Give me children or I shall die" (Gen 30, i). It is only in the New Testament that personal celibacy becomes a factor in human life. This is most probably connected with the incarnation and demonstrates that only an incarnate God can enable us to live as celibates, since it is the person of Jesus Christ who is at the heart.of celibacy. Virginity can be realized only because of Christ and with Him since it is only a con-tinuous focusing on Him .which enables us to persevere in purity of heart and flesh without becoming turned in on ourselves. Matthew lists three categories of eunuchs: There are eunuchs'born that way from their mother's womb, there are eunuchs made sot by men and there are eunuchs who have made themselves that way for the sake of the kingdom of heaven. Let anyone accept this who can (19, 12). Because "eunuch" is such a horrible word, it is a very humbling experience to dwell upon the reality of this mystery. A eunuch is one who is incapable of human marriage. The very starkness of the phrase is in .one way the highlight of all considerations of the mystery of celibacy. "Eunuch" sounds so much like "freak," an incomplete person, one somehow lacking an essential that con-stitutes him human. It intensifies the harshness of the truth which the word "virgin" softens somewhat. On the surface, to "make myself unmarriageable" seems to imply that I should make myself as unattractive as possible so that no one will be interested even in looking at me. But that would be a shallow and exterior approaqh to being unmarriageable. A more valid understanding of the mystery of celibacy would be this: a woman, very much in love with her hus-band, would have eyes for no other man. In this sense, she is no longer marriageable for any other man. She is bound and committed to this one alone--freely, happily. The real mystery of consecrated celibacy lies. in the reason for it, expressed by Christ in the words "for the sake of the kingdom of Unmarriageable for God's Sake / 841 heaven." The kingdom is where God truly reigns,~where the will of God is fulfilled entirely; in other words, where God is fully God. In the history of salvation the kingdom of God so far has been fully realized only in Jesus Christ and in His mother Mary. In the person of Jesus, God's Will was totally accomplished; He is the kingdom of God enfleshed. From His time onward, celibacy for the kingdom of heaven is possible because now it can find inspira-tion and impetus from contemplation .of the kingdom as shaped in Jesus Christ. This is another way saying that Jesus Himself is at the heart of New Testamental celibacy. In its final analysis, celibacy means being captured by Christ. He is our life (Col 3, 4), fascinating us so completely that eventually we become un-marriageable, In its deepest sense, this is what celibacy means. It is not on the basis of pros and cons that one undertakes freely to live one's entire life in celibacy, nor is it just a state of being unmarried; rather, it is existentially be-ing incapable of marriage. When Jesus says there are eunuchs that have made themselves thus for the sake of the kingdom of heaven, He is pointing out that true celibacy is achieved not in a single leap, but by a process of slow growth. The Rule of Taiz6 says, "This work of Christ .in' you demands infinite patience." When a person takes first or even final vows, usually he is not yet unmarriageable. What he expresses in his vow is a two-fold covenant: he professes publicly for everyone to know that he recognizes as an ideal for himself the state of being unmarriageable for the sake of the kingdom of heaven; and he promises that he will put forth every effort to achieve this goal. He will not try to preserve himself marriageable as long as possible; on the contrary, he will try seriously, honestly to make himself unmarriageable. It is a long, .sometimes difficult road to become unmarriageable for the sake of the kingdom, It can take years, even decades, to. progress far on this narrow way of being fascinated by Jesus Christ, but by his vow the religious promises to advance as quickly as he can. He will not procrastinate~ This is his ideal, and he will run to meet it. Only when the point of really being unmarriageable has been reached has celibacy become fully mature. In a book written for priests, La Peur ou la Foi, Maurice Bellet has observed: Suppose one morning a priests reads in his newspaper that the Pope has changed his mind on the En-cyclical Sacerdotalis celibatus; from now on celibacy will be optional for priests. If that priest at this point has to make up his mind what he is going to do--make use of the new opening for marriage or remain celibate--th~ mere fact that he has to deliberate indicates that he is not yet existentially un-marriageable. Thus far, he is only juridically unmarriageable. Genuine celibacy goes so much deeper than a law because it is the interiorization of the goal of that law. The content of celibacy is eminently positive. It involves not just being un-married, but being fascinated by another--Christ--to such a degree that marriage is no longer possible. Celibacy does not mean that on~ has lost something, but rather that the celibate has found Someone. In essence, celibacy is love which can no longer wait; that is what makes it fruitful. There 842 / Review for Religious," Volume 34, 1975/6 is another dimension, at once ecclesial and eschatological, which enhances the value of celibacy and helps to prevent it from becoming myopic or introspec-tive. The celibate stands as an enduring witness that all Christians are pledged to a new order of grace, the fullness of which is that kingdom where no one will be given in marriage. He thus becomes by his celibacy a prophetic voice, recalling to all men that there are ultimate values not wholly attainable in our present life, and that it is only at our journey's end that we shall experience the fullness of God's giving. En route, there is only one thing necessary: God's love as revealed in Christ. Celibacy is a pilgrimage, a tremendous adventure. Along this way we meet magnificent people who have really become unmarriageable because of God. Unhappily, we also meet some who in their celibacy have not come to complete fulfillment, but have become bogged down along the road. Negative Celibacy There is a danger, of course, a risk involved in celibacy because there we lack the incentives provided by marriage and the care of a family. This means that celibacy can lead to a coldness of heart, a lack of affection, possibly even to laziness. The only radical remedy against this danger is to focus all our attention on the heart and inspiration of celibacy, for unless it is based on deep attraction for the person of Christ, celibacy can be irresponsible. In this lies its real challenge. It would be unrealistic to ignore the fact that the celibate life in-volves a genuine deprivation, something which we miss because we are celibates. 'Jesus answered the man who wanted to follow Him wherever He went: "Foxes have holes and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head" (Lk 9, 58). So, no home of His own for the Son of Man, no home of his own for the celibate! One who follows Christ in the celibate why has no conjug~d ties--no husband or wife or children--and he m'isses the warmth these can" provide and the appeal they can make on him. This is the negative element in celibacy. There is also a positive element: viz., the fascination which Christ has for this person, the dedication to the apostolate or to contemplative life, the commitment to the kingdom of God, the being available for the people of God. In every celibate life boththe positive and the negative elements are always present, but in varying degrees, and in this lies the differing quality of celibacy. We call that a negative celibacy when the negative element predominates even though .there is, of course, some minor positiveelement present. The first im-pression this type of celibacy gives is a kind of frustration, .a deprivation; something is missing. We speak about a positive celibacy when--the negative element being present to a certain degree--the over-all impression is that of a wholesome life at once fulfilled and appealing. It is the celibacy in which negative elements prevail which presents the greatest difficulty, yet its problems are not ineradicable. There is always possi-ble a genuine conversion which will transmute the negative, making it genuinely positive. This conversion may require that the religious relinquish some things in or.der to find Christ and to contemplate Him more deeply so Unmarriageable for God's Sake / 043 that he may fill the emptiness. Perhaps there is .some foreign element blocking Christ's way in the life of negative celibacy, and until this is removed, the joy of.positive celibacy remains elusive. It is important that there be a genuine transformation of this negative celibacy into a positive one, a transformation that is truly worth the price it exacts. There is a second way to cope with negative celibacy: to seek dispensation from the vows and then to leave in order to search for happiness elsewhere. Apart from these two radical ways to overcome negative celibacy, there are also two forms of compromise open. In these methods of temporizing the celibate does not break his promise by giving up his vows, nor does he take the radical measure to make his celibacy really positive, but he seeks the in-between solutions of either sublimation or compensation. In sublimation the gap which is there and which is predominant is filled up with important human values. In themselves,~of course, these human values were not the reason why the religious chose celibacy, but having more or less failed in the option he did choose, he tries to make the best of the situation by sublimating it into human values which in themselves are good: work, relations with others, influential positions, broad culture, wide interests. The pain of not being able to'marry, of not being father or mother, is assuaged to some extent by these other values. People attempting this sublimation work very hard; they frequently carryoalmost a double load, and others may marvel at their efficiency and their energy. Outwardly, their life seems anything but a failure. And yet, deep down, :this celibacy is a failure because it was never in-tended for this excessive work-load. Or such a person may seek out many social contacts and relationships, many friends, Or it may be a devotion to study or a drive for power which preempts his attention. In all this, the reac-tion is a sublimation of tlae real core of celibacy. The other type of compromise for coping with negative celibacy without ~ibandoning it completely or transforming it into the positive is compensation, basically the same substitution of a lesser value for the real one, but here the human values used to fill the gap are no longer important ones, but rather of a lower species: insipid literature, curiosity, shallow hobbies. Neither of these ways out of negative celibacy--sublimation or compen-sation- is a sufficiently radical solution to the problem. The only effective way to combat negative celibacy is to grow into positive celibacy, that is to strengthen the positive element by means of a deeper, more intent focusing on the kingdom of heaven incarnate in Jesus. True Celibacy Since the deepest root and inspiration of true celibacy is the person of Christ, the people of God also play an important role in celibacy, and this in two ways: dedication to the kingdom of heaven always means dedication to the body of Christ as formed by the .people; and celibacy needs the support of the people of God and, even more pointedly, the support of the community. Celibacy is not constituted by turning away from the people; rather it is con- 844 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/6 stituted by the fact that through the celibate God turns Himself towards the people. A celibate is not divided, torn between Christ and the people. He lets his affection for the people coincide as completely as pos.~sible with Christ's love for them because he is taken up in this covenant relation between God and His people. Thus, a person who gives himself to Christ gives himself to the Christ who offered Himself for everybody; therefore, genuine dedication to Christ is always dedication to all whom we encounter. In fact, celibacy always implies ,the call to devote oneself to the~ neighbor with Christ's own love. If we really give ourselves to Christ, He will enlarge our hearts so that we can em-brace many and live truly fruitful lives. This dedication to Christ, however, is lived in the darkness of faith and the longing of hope, and often the fruitfulness of our lives is not apparent. We commit ourselvesto Christ, but we have never seen Him. We have to live with a certainty that has no basis in this visible world; there is no hand to hold. The man whodives thus is brave and mature: no one who has seen this or who has tried it hims~elf will deny that. A celibate life is a courageous life, one that has a kind of poverty about it because it offers nothing tangible to which I can cling. I can never grasp God. Sociologically, the poverty of celibacy is often looked upon as something to be pitied. This can be a grace to be.exploitedmone that the celibate would betray if he sought to create an impression of heroism before the people. Instead of trying to elevate celibacy to a pedestal, let him live it as one of the poor of Yahweh: You have seduced me, Yahweh, and 1 have let myself be' seduced: you have overpowered me: you were the stronger. I am a daily laughing-.stock, everybody's butt (Jer 20., 7). In some of our recent theologizing it is possible that we cross the narrow line between giving reasons for the hope that is within us and giving proof for the validity, of our way of life. Underlying this is the sometimes barely acknowledged desire to make ourselves important to .ourselveS. Nor should the celibate claim that his celibacy makes him completely available to the people, because such a claim would be too pretentious, giving him an honor which he does not deserve. Celibacy for the sake of the kingdom of heaven does not need anything outside itself to justify it. In itself it is a ser-vice, provided that it is lived to the full. The ultimate service I render is not that I have more time, that I am more free for people, but that I have pledged as my most constant ideal openness to God and the public testimony of the reality of God in my life. Celibacy is not to be admired by the people. All that is important is that I should.be captured by Christ and spread the news 0f His love. It is enough that religious be a "light to the world~" a beacon to travelers, not so much something for people to admire, as a light for them to see the direction in which they are to go. The very simplicity in which we live our celibacy can in itself be a sign which silently and humbly promotes the reality of God. This is the greatest service we can render to people by our celibacy--to show them that God is so real that He can truly fill a human heart and can Unmarriageable for God's Sake /,,845 bring a human life to fulfillment. Cardinal Suhard says: "To be a witness does not consist in engaging in propaganda nor even in stirring up people, but in be-ing a living mystery. It means to live in such a way that one's life would not make sense if God did not. exist." There is a final way in which other people enter into our celibacy: for a truly celibate life we need the support of others. A cold community which affectively isolates a celibate can do great harm to the growth of positive celibacy in its members. We can never come to God completely by ourselves; we need the inspiration and affection of our fellowmen. It is not that we should claim that support or demand it; that is a most sure way of ruining it. But we should be able to hope for it. And we certainly should be poor and humble enough to be receptive to it when it is freely and purely given. This means that the people in the parish are partly responsible for the celibacy of their priests, and members of a religious community have mutually promised to be respon-sible for one another's celibacy. We are to be living signs of God's love. Celibacy would be a mere caricature of the gospel if it did not make visible God's love in the human community: "See how they love one another!" Commitment in a Changing World Sisters Margaret Farley and Doris Gottemoeller, R.S.M. This article represents the proceedings of a seminar sponsored by the Sisters of Mercy on the topic indicated in the title. The proceedings were edited for publication by Sisters Margaret and Doris. Sister Doris resides at the Generalate of the Sisters of Mercy; I0000 Kentsdale Drive; P.O. Box 34446; West Bethesda, MD 20034. Introduction For many years now religious have been accustomed to hearing that one in three marriages ends in divorce, so that we are no longer startled by that bit of information. More recently, however, we have also observed that the number of dispensations from religious vows now exceeds the number of religious professions, and, in some regions, laicizations outnumber ordinations. Furthermore, in today's professional world several career changes are ex-pected in one professional lifetime. In such a context of flux and imper-manence, can a commitment made for a lifetime have any relevance or viability? It was to explore this question that the Sisters of Mercy undertook a study pr6ject on "permanency in commitment." Religious communities have not been exempt from the currents of change: the reluctance of younger members to commit themselves for life, the waning of vitality in the commit-ment of some older members, and the increased number of dispensations from religious vows all testify to a new interpretation of "permanence" as a value. It can certainly not be concluded that the challenge to permanency in cofia-mitment springs from a lack of generosity. Rather, in many cases it appears to be the result of new insights into the developmental character of the human person, into the dynamism of change in all areas of life, and into the inter-relationship of all aspects of human life, sothat change in one area necessitates an adjustment in another. Nor, on the other hand, can it be concluded that the situation has so changed in the last generation that a case can no longer be 846 Commitment in a Changing World made today for lifetime fidelity to commitments. The lives of untold thousands testify to commitments freely'entered into and fruitfully lived out in ever-unfolding contexts. The purpose of the study reported here, therefore, was to bring together the new insights of contemporary research and reflection and the lived reality of contemporary experience in order to illuminate various practical questions. The immediate context of the study was commitment in religious life, since the project was inaugurated by a religious community, but it was felt that the reflections would have a wider applicability. An investigation such as this must necessarily be multi-disciplinary: the sociologist, the psychologist, the philosopher, and the theologian have all reflected on human experience from a particular vantage point. Many fine ar-ticles have been published in recent years on the phenomenon of change and of non-commitment; but 'all of them necessarily examine the issue from the author's individual perspective. Accordingly, in the fall of 1973, the Sisters of Mercy invited a number of participants to engage in a dialogue which would attempt to bridge the gaps between various disciplines and to widen the con-text of contemporary discussion. The dialogue which ensued was not intended to come up. with "answers" nor to bear fruit in a consensus which would be unanimously endorsed only because it represented the least common denominator of the discussion, but rather to enrich the collective understand-ing of the participants and to furnish a context for future reflection and; perhaps, decision-making. The participants in the study all entered enthusiastically into the dialogue and contributed a rich variety of intellectual viewpoints and life experiences. A brief introduction to the. members of the study group follows: Sidney Callahan: columnist in the National Catholic Reporter; author; lecturer. Thomas Clarke, S.J.: theologian; author; staff person at the Gonzaga Center for Spirituality, Monroe, New York. Norita Cooney; R.S.M.: assistant professor of sociology, College of St. Mary's, Omaha, Nebraska; Director of the Office for Pastoral Development, Archdiocese of Omaha. Margaret, Farley, R.S:M.: associate professor of ethics, Yale Divinity School. Jean Flannelly, S.C.: clinical psychologist; instructor at Cathedral College, Douglaston, New York; active i9 personnel servi6es for the Sisters of Charity. Doris Gottemoeller, R.S.M.: General Councilor of Sisters of Mercy; member of the Planning Committee for this study. John Haughey, S.J.: associate editor of ,,lmerica," adjunct professor of theology, Fordham University; author. ~ Theresa Kan¢, R.S.M.: Provincial Administrator ot: Sisters of Mercy, Province of New York; member of the Planning Committee for this study. Ellen Marie Keane, R.S.H.M.: .professor of philosophy at Marymount College, Tarrytown, New York. Mary Evangeline McSloy, R.S.M.t staff associate at St. Clotilde's parish in Chicago; formerly Executive Secretary of the Sister Formation Conference; member of the Planning Committee for this study. Miriam Sharpe, R.S.M.: Provincial Councilor of Sisters of Mercy, Province of Providence. Richard Westley: chairman of the Graduate Department of Philosophy, Loyola Univer-sity, Chicago. a4a / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/6 In the initial phase of this study project, the participants all undertook to read a selection of articles pertinent to the topic, as a kind of basic orientation to the: discussion. Therefore, the bibliographical references included should be seen as integral to the report, rather than as merely an appendage. In several of these articles can be found more extended statements of some of the par-ticipants~. Furthermore, anyone who reads these references will be led to other sources which will further enlarge the parameters of his or her reflection. In the second phase of the study, which provides the basis for this article, the participants gathered at Mount Mercy, Dobbs Ferry, New York, for a weekend which was described as a "think tank/retreat" experience--an oppor-tunity for free-flowing, uninterrupted dialogue on the topic of "permanency in commitment." The sessions were taped, and this report is an: attempt to distill from the hundreds of pages of transcript a sampling of the opinions expressed: The comments chosen have been rearranged and/or paraphrased .in order to allow~ for, a greater economy of words, but the dialogue format has been preserved in order to convey the liveliness and immediacy of the exchange. The reader,must also be aware that not everyone agreed with every opinion ex, pressed, nor did every comment represent a carefully-reasoned-out position. Rather; some remarks were more in the nature of trial balloons, insights and fragments which were intended to stimulate further responses from the :com-panions in the discussion. Early in the dialogue the participants recognized that there is a degree of artificiality about isolating the element of permanency from commitment. It was,generally felt that.the nature of commitment itself was at issue, ,and that permanency merely designated one quality or aspect of it. Thus it was felt tha~t if the nature of commitment itself was explored, the place of "permanency" in our understanding of it would be clarified. Accordingly, much of what follows is a shared reflection on commitment itself, with the element of temporality as a recurring motif."Commitment," as this was generally understood and used by the group, referred to an interpersonal promise, rather than to a pledge to some ideal or abstract entity. It was used to refer to promises made to God (for example, through baptism orthe profeSsion of Vows in religious, life) or to another person (as in marriage or family or friendship). A strict dichotomy was not intended here: thus, promises made to God have their human expres-sion and commitment to persons has a God-ward dimension. The term "com-mitment," therefore, was used both for the fundamental option and for other interpersonal involvements. When the focus is more specific, the statement is qualified in some way to indicate the proper context in which it should be read_. The following pages, l~hen, are the record of a dialogue, arranged in such a way as to encourage the reader to enter into the flow of ideas and to challenge and qualify and enlarge upon them. As every discussion does, this one" flowed freely and occasionally rambled down some p,retty tangential paths. But in retrospe6t the group's reflections seem to fall under four headings: the challenge to commitment; commitment and human life; commitment and time; and the institutionalization of commitment. Commitment in a Changing World ! !!49 I. "The Challenge to Commitment~ Commitment is challenged today ~'rom many sides and o~ man)~ grounds. The following are a sampling of some ~f the objections which the participants observed. It should be noted that these alleged difficulties spring from both theoretical and existential ~considerat'ions. Some comments in this section deal with the waning of commitments once made, rather than with the reluctance to make them. ~ - E~,en our getting together to talk about commitment might be a sign that the concept is threadbare! ' -What I bear people saying today is that to promise to love someone forever . is to lock,-one's feelings into rigidity or into duty, and thus to destroy them. They are willing to say something like, "I do love you, but it's irrelevant~to think about whether I'll love you tomorrow. In fact, ~I won't be able to love you as well now if you make me think about tomorrow. What moves me to say I love you today may not move me tomorrow." -That's right. Sartre is known as the philosopher of commitment, and his whole point is not that we shouldn't be committed, but that we should be °~uthentic in our commitment. We shouldn't be hypocritical~ that is, we shouldn't say, "I love you and I'll, love you forever," and then when we stop loving, continueoto pretend that we do. The thing to do is to say, "1 love you now, and I'll be faithful to that now and take each day as it comes.:' -It seems to me, though, that there are a lot of perversions in the name of authenticity and honesty! In any kind of relationship you're going to have to go through some very dry, dead times., there can be just total periods of deadness in every living°~relationship. ~ -What I think is interesting, then, is how long do you let something be? .How long can you hope that the deadness is going to revive? That's the key thing. Even though.spring follows winter, if you had a winter that went on for twen-ty years, I'd begin to wonder. The point is, how much suffering and how much deadness can there be in a living relationship? -Or,.what if the deadness turns into something really destructive? We're all familiar, too, with the joylessness of some "committed" peoplewthe teeth-gritted, fist-clenched determination to "stick it out!" -We need creative ways to deal with genuine ~nguish. creative ways to live ~ the winter of~ commitment as well as the summer. It is not necessarily hypocritical to~ sustain a commitment through anguish it may be an authentic experience. -Anguish in commitment is one thing, but what about sheer indifference? The absence of any feeling at all is much harder to interpret than suffering. At .least the latter is a sign of some kind of lifel- -I wonder if some of the situations you describe, of the feeling of deadness or the absence of a relationship that had been vital, may not be experiences of , what the mystics used to call the "dark night.'°' Underneath the present pain . is.the conviction that it's still all right, and that somehow or other I'm being 850 / Review for Religious, I"olume 34, 1975/6 weaned off of one level of relationship, and after I go through this thing, this inertia or deadness, it's going to come out all right, But part of the commit-ment is to kind of "hang in there" when the fruits of the love are no longer tangiblemprecisely out of love--and out of the realization that the relationship is going to be deeper at the end. But 9ne of the cultural obstruc-tions we face is that we want to live in a constant positive feeling, a kind of constant ecstacy, a resurrection experience without the crucifixion. But that is just not a realisti~ expectation, given the human condition. -Another reason that people are constantly disappointed is because of the way that they define love. If they define it in the context of growth, of somehow meeting each Other's needs for happiness, joy, and affection, then that's a very limited context. Because then, if their needs aren't fulfilled, they conclude that love is no longer there. And they go on to redefine the relationship: they say, "I was infatuated with that person," even though they had said previously that they loved him. And then they start hunting for another relationship that will fulfill their needs, so that somehow love is not defined in the context of "forever with one person," but in the context of moving from one to another to another and growing as they .move. -That's an illustration of the concept of "Protean man, popularized by Robert Lifton. In this theory, modern man is like the mythical god Proteus, ,, who constantly changed shapes in order to conceal his identity. In its modern application it means that man constantly changes from one commitment to another without any continuity: every relationship is necessarily short-lived and without effect on what followsl If that is an accurate description of man, the human person, then any discussion of permanency in commitment is irrelevant. The only thing Protean man is permanently committed to is non-commitment! -Such a person is a perpetual wanderer. Kierkegaard uses the symbol of a butterfly moving from one experience to another, never investing itself-~-just kind of tasting and moving on. -The Protean-man image does give a picture, though; of many people who ex-perience themselves as. fragmented, without a sufficiently.clear self-identity to make an enduring and deeply-felt commitment. To talk about commit-ment to people who are devoid of self-confidence or of a firm self-concept is to raise an issue which isn't even a real option for them. -There is a diversity in contemporary experience, though, and I wonder if people don't resist making commitments for very different reasons--but reasons which come together in ways that may be interesting, especially for psychologists. I would identify two challenges to commitment, that from idealism and that from despair. The first is the situation of those who enter-tain a larger hope for humanity than human commitments seem to provide. , They are saying that only commitment i~ holding them back from a grander human adventure; it's reducing their f~eedom. 'But on the other hand, and perhaps even hidden in the first position somehow, is the challenge to com-mitment from contemporary~despair, articulated perhaps in behaviorism. In Commitment in a Changing Worm / 851 this view all talk of commitment is naive: human persons are not really capable of that much. Or our aspirations are necessarily limited because of what we see in society and in the surrounding culture. -To add to what you've said, there is another kind of pseudo-idealism that is promulgated in all sorts of ways. For example, the daily "soap opera" presents a picture of romantic love in which the most important thing seems to be to respond to each new lover that comes along lest one limit one's fulfillment; It would be impossible not to be conditioned by a daily.diet of that sort of thing. It's really akin to the quest for personal fulfillment above all else that is presented in more sophisticated ways by many, forms of the media and popular entertainment. -To change the topic somewhat, the difficulty which some people experience with commitment in midlife may really be due to an over-commitment in youth. In the idealism of adolescehce some people seem to over-extend themselves and then have a kind of"energy crisis" later. But this is endemic to the human condition. When the slowdown occurs, you sort of re-negotiate your priorities and plan how you will use your remaining energies. -Yes, when people are leaving commitments, are they in fact withdrawing from over-commitments? Have they over-subscribed their selfhood in a com-mitment which is too tied-in with a cultural formulation? If they have over-invested their personhood in a fixed notion of what their commitment was supposed to be, according to .what their church taught them or their culture taught them or their parents taught them, then withdrawal from that com-mitment is no great loss. -The situation we~described earlier, of a lack of self-identity or self-worth, may also lead to over-commitment. In other words, if I find it all a shambles inside, I'll put on a religious habit or awedding ring and at least I'll know a little bit of who I am. Then I'll be discernible as Sister or Mrs. or Father. II. Commitment and Human Life Havihg dwelt at length on the difficulty of making commitments and of preserving their vitality, the discussion moved to a description of commitment itself and of the role it plays or can play in human life and development. This portion of the dialogue presupposed some basic assumptions about human nature and human capacities, assumptions which were merely hinted at without being explored. -I wonder if the whole question of whether or not commitment is possible, or wise, isn't a meaningless question.After all, people make commitments, and they want to make them. It may be a problem to know what to do about them when they are made, but in fact people do make them all the time. Even those who refuse in principle to make any commitments make a kind of commitment to non-commitment. -I doubt that it's as simple as that. There are persons who are in some sense non-committed. If I were to try to characterize such a person I think I would Review for Religious, l,'olume 34, 1975/6 say that he or she goes through the same stages that a committed person goes through, only the non-committed person goes through these stages with a series of people. The committed person.goes through these stages with one person. We could, of course, say that the non-committed person goes through a series of commitments, but that nonetheless he or she is not a "committed person." -You mean that in the stages of, say, "highs and lows" or~"light and darkness" the uncommitted person attempts to re-experience the highs with another .person? -Yes, something like that. This is what I would want to say is a picture of a non-committed person. -:But you draw your picture assuming that it is better to be committed than non-committed in this way, Isn't that precisely the question we're asking? What is wrong with moving from one commitment to another? Isn't it possi-ble that we are .even called from one commitment to another? Isn't holding on to only one commitment stifling or narrowing or--especially if the one commitment proves destructive--isn't it a mistake to hold to it simply for the sake of holding to it? -I thi'nk we're going to go a~'ound in circles on that question unless we try to see what there is about our experience of human life that makes us want to make a commitment, that makes us even need to make commitments, and that makes us think that there is something good about living a commitment out to the end. For example, doesn't it have something to do with our ex-perience of being fragmented, of wanting to love with our whole heart and mind and strength and knowing that we are not yet whole? People say today that commitment 'makes love into a duty, and thereby undermines it. I don't think that that is so~ There are loves that awaken in us, that makeus yearn to be fait~hful forever. We have an inkling that it won't just "happen" that we will be'faithful, it won't just "turn out" that we will be faithful without our making some choices about that. That's why we make promises to love. We want to give our word to the one we love. We want to gather up our whole life, our future, and place it all in affirmation 0fwhat we love. It's a question of whether our freedom is powerful enough to stretch into the future. I cer-tainly can't wind it up like a clock and then let it go! I can't just choose to love forever and then it's all settled: "I will love forever." So I commit myself, I give my pledge, my word, my promise. "To commit" means "to send with," to place somewhere, to entrust, to dwell. I give or send my word, and in so doing I entrust myself in a way to the other. Now my word calls to me from within the other. I have given the one I love a kind of claim over my love.,It is no longer a question of my simply being faithful to or consistent with, my own resolution. It is a question of my being faithful to the other in whom I dwell by my word. When my inclinations to love falter, there is the ongoing call to me from the other. -Could I add that this all makes sense because I continue to want to love, even though I. recognize my own weakness? It is not a matter of love now being Commitment in a Changing World / 053 reduced only to duty. I want to love, though the feelings and emotions that made loving easy at one time have receded for now. Kierkegaard says something like, "Duty then comes as an old friend," helping me to do what it is I most deeply want to do though cannot do without the call to faithfulness which is grounded in my having given my word. -I wonder if we could say that commitment is necessary in human lif~ not in spite of the fact that we are weak and fragmented and sinful, but because of that. If we were in paradise, commitment would be unnecessary. I remember in some recent discussions on commitment being struck by the image of ourselves as mountain climbers. Commitment is like the process of getting in your stake up higher so that you can pull yourself up. Ideally perhaps we could just walk up the mountain, but in reality we are not the kind of people who can walk up mountains. -That's an interesting idea, to think of commitment in relation to our sin-fulness. On the one hand, I think the desire to be whole in relation to the one we love--whether God or a human person--is a sign of what is good in human persons, a sign of what is true about our being, Commitment, then, if it helps to hold us in fidelity, in truthful love, serves to make us whole and to continue in relation to another. On the other hand, there is something about our desire to be whole or to be satisfied, or even to be fully alive, that is a sign of the evil, the woundedness, in us. For our desires are insatiable, and they can pull us or press us to fidelity or to fickleness. Because we are never satisfied, we can be drawn offcourse on the mountain. Without the stake, to use your image, we can try this way and that up the slope, but gradually simply lose our grip, neither dwelling happily.~ in .one place nor climbing to another. -We don't~have to talk about that just in terms of sin, although that's clearly part of our experience. Wherever there is any person with a fallible will, with shakeable freedom, it makes sense for that person to give her word. As you said a minute ago, that's yielding to someone a claim, and we do that in situations where we think we might need to be claimed, The whole point of giving one's word is to Strengthen the one who gives it, and to assure the one who receives it, and to have a way of integrating one's self and expressing one's self and one's love. When God gives His word to us, however, it's not because He has a shakeable will, but because we need assurance. It's very important for us to receive His word, to know the incredible truth that He yields to us a claim even on His love. -We know our own love as embattled, in a sense, and there are built into human life counterforces to love. We know our weakness, and we cannot guarantee our fidelity, but we want to try to build in supports against the tendency to infidelity which we recognize in ourselves. We go beyond where we are, perhaps, (like the mountain climber throwing his stake) and express and affirm what we want to be though we know we are not yet. Sometimes the fact that we give our word in the pres~ence of others also increases the chance that we will love against adversity. 864 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/6 -Yes, and the fear of death through commitment (since we may find that it sours or grows cold), is perhaps importantly counterbalanced by a recognition that there is another kind of death which non-commitment can entail. If there is a danger that passion (devotion, power of feeling) will die in the process of commitment, so al~o is there danger that without commitment passion will be wasted, diffused in a superficial search for an intimacy that cannot.always be had in commitment, but can never be had without it. -You make commitment sound so good that I worry about persons' wanting to make a commitment and sort of going around looking for something to commit themselves to. I agree with what you are saying, but it presupposes a kind of prior call to commitment. That is, we can't just decide we'regoing to commit ourselves and then pick something or someone to commit ourselves to. No, I think commitment at the level you are talking about makes sense only if we experience ourselves awakened in love for someone who seems worthy of our commitment, whose loveableness calls to our love and our freedom. -Yes, and as we said earlier, that is part of the problem of commitment now. Persons despair of their finding anything worthy of their commitment. Everything, in a way, depends on the revelation of persons to persons of their beauty and ioveableness. That's why it makes sense to me that everything, in a deeper way, depends on God's revelation of His beauty and loveableness. -And on His revelation that unconditional love and commitment and fidelity are possible because He loves us with a faithful and unconditional love. And perhaps on His revelation, too, that we are somehow enabled by His gift, His grace, to respond to Him and to one another with fidelity in unconditional love. -This is perhaps neither here nor the.re, but it just occurred to me that if we were todo a study of great committed people, we might find that at least one ingredient in their lives was an awareness of something beautiful, of someone beautiful. Maybe we would find that ingredient in tension with a kind of restlessness, too. There may be a combination of feeling very gifted es-pecially through love and of being haunted by a restlessness which has something to do with feeling capable of doing something because of being loved and because of loving. The participants recognized that a great deal more needs to be said about the nature of human persons, human love and commitment. Everyone wanted to underline the importance of some kind of call to commitment, of commit-ment as a response, but of commitment as a process, a way, rather than an achievement or an end. Concern was expressed to clarify commitment as not just a means to one's own wholeness, but as a means to be wholly for another. A need was expressed to address further the difficulties,in making a commit-ment and in keeping a commitment, and to address these in as concrete a way as possible. A caution was introduced because of the failure thus far to dis-tinguish different kinds and degrees of commitment. Distinctions were offered Commitment in a Changing World / 855 in terms of conditional and unconditional, temporary and permanent, relative and absolute, instrumental and core commitments. The task of personal dis-cernment as well as fidelity regarding priority of commitments was noted. At this point, however, the discussion shifted to more explicit questions of com-mitment and time, of commitment lived through a lifetime. III. Commitment and Time A recurring theme throughout the discussions was the experience of time in human commitments. Again and again participants struggled with both con-crete examples of change in commitment and love, and with theoretical inter-pretations of human time and duration. Even a theology of time seemed to become important in considering issues of Christian commitment. -We spoke in the beginning of the problem of time and change within com-mitment. If I change (which I inevitably do), how can I pledge myself to re-main the same in my love for another? How can I even say I will continue to perform the deeds of love? What if new circumstances make that.iml~ossible? Or what if the one I love changes? Am I ever justified in changing my com-mitment, even in breaking it? I for one would like to focus on just these questions for awhile. -Yes, what about the current theory that commitments made by me when I was young are no longer binding when I become mature? I'm not the same person I was, and so I can no longer be held to what an earlier self pledged. -Is our understanding of the personal self at stake here? If so, I hold for some kind of continuity of the self, some kind of continuing self-identity. I think I am the same person I was as a childmeven though I am obviously also profoundly different. I am, therefore, responsible in the present for com-mitments I made in the past. -Always responsible, do you think? Or even if always responsible, always still obligated? -I think we need to be more concrete here. Surely it can be the case that even .though I am in some sense the same person throughout my lifetime, yet I can undergo sufficient change (or the situation can change drastically) so that, for example,~ I am unable to complete my commitment without clear destructiveness to others or to myself to an extent that outweighs whatever is to be gained by completing it. Or surely I can change so that my way of ex-pressing my committed love needs to be modified. It doesn't seem to me the most important question is whether or not a change in commitment is ever justified. It obviously can be justified if, for example, it becomes impossible to keep a commitment, or if a prior commitment conflicts with keeping this commitment, or if this commitment deepens into a commitment which fulfills it but is beyond ~. ,, -I agree with you, but you realize you are on what ethicists might call a slippery slope. While it is true that changes in commitment can be called for, we are also inclined to do a lot of rationalizing in that regard. I'm not 856 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/6 suggesting we should keep all commitments just because of fear of that. I'm only adding a note of caution. -We obviously can't delineate here exact descriptions of justified commitment-changes or unjustified commitment-changes. In fact, that might distort the whole question. It is important for us, though, to affirm that a person can in good faith discern a call to change.commitment. That change can be accounted for in terms of fidelity, not infidelity~ There is a kind of fundamental obligation which each person has to discern in con-science what is the way of fidelity. And that is never an easy task. On the other hand, it is important for us to affirm that every difficulty experienced in commitment (even terrible suffering at times) does not signify either a need for change or a justification of change. -Before we go further into the question of difficulties in keeping com-mitments, could we say something more about the beginnings of com-mitment? When, for example, do we know that we are capable of making profound commitments? Whether commitments remain binding, and whether they prove to be fruitful, depends to a great extent on our capacity for making them wisely and well in the first place. -I' don't think we always kno~ when a commitment actually begins. Its begin-ning doesn't always coincide with an explicit making of a promise or a vow. Sometimes we experience commitment as something that has taken place in us before we become aware of it at a conscious level. I may one day discover, for example (perhaps on a day when I see you in great need of my help), that indeed I have given you my heart in friendship; and I can now choose to ratify the commitment I find I have already made. -We certainly would want to note that commitment does not always begin with its external legal or ceremonial declaration; The latter is surely impor-tant, but we all know of commitments made long before their public celebra-tion and of commitments which are finally made long after their public form has been sealed. -If we look at the kind of maturity needed to make lifelong commitments, it is clear that certain healthy psychological levels of maturity are neededmand perhaps even faith levels of maturity. Yet I can't help resisting some of the present insistence on psychological, health as a basis for all commitment. While affirming it, I want to add that if the role of commitment is as we suggested earlier--namely, to help us to become whole in relation to another--then it cannot have full maturity or wholeness as its prerequisite. If I find commitment necessary for maturation (as does Eric Erikson, for example, in his presentation of the stages of human development), then it is clear that it cannot wait upon full maturity for its making. -That point must be made (with your same caution) in regard to Christian commitment as well. It probably bears pondering that Jesus declared, "I am not called to come to the healthy, but to those who are sick." And then there is Paul's reminder, "Who of you are well-born?" Though again I say this with the usual qualificati0.ns. Commitment in a Changing World / 857 -We might put ~the question this way: What kind of person makes a com-mitment? A strong person or a weak person? A person who is integrated or a person who is aware of fragmentation? I suspect our answer must grasp both alternatives. A person who makes a commitment wisely and well is one who is at home with himself or herself, who experiences' self-worth, etc. But perhaps also such a person experiences some uneasiness, some distress, some fragmentation. This relates to what we said before of the yearning of love to become whole, to deal with fragmentation. ,~ -We keep saying that commitment is a way of becoming whole, a way of growing in love. Clearly something more has to be seen in that regard, because we certainly have not in the past emphasized this aspect of commit-ment. The language of "states" of life, for example, was almost in opposi-tion to it. Now, it seems to me, we are trying to acknowledge that commit-ment (for example, in religious lifeor in marriage) does not mean that a love is once and for all sealed in union with the one loved. -Let me say something.here. I know people who think their first marriage is a 'trial run,' and then they enter a second and a third. Finally it dawns on them that it is marriage that is the problem; it's not the other person that's the problem. When I say marriage is the problem I don't mean here what some would mean--namely, that marriage undermines relationships, and'so forth. No, I mean that marriage is the way to relation, but if it isn't understood that way; it is no wonder that it doesn't work for many. If.t can put it this way, there is in marriage what many of you would understand as a kind of novitiate in selflessness. But that's only the beginning. -Yes, that's something of what I'm trying to say. Commitment is not the end of a story, but in a very real way the beginning (or at least an extremely im-portant point of impetus and direction along the way), We make com-mitments so that we may learn to love, grow in"love,,.There may be nothing more beautiful in all creation than a courageous love, but it is not born whole. The vows which have been characteristic of religious life or marriage, then, are ways of coming to love, means.for expanding one's mind and heart in order to grow into a great and wise love:. -But what assures that commitment will indeed lead that way? We simply must not pass over toolightly the very real problems that We saw earlier and that are being raised with sharpness and great credibility today. What if love finally is always unfaithful? What if the object of love finally always proves disappointing? What if commitment sours at least as often as it liberates? What if we who are created as always changing truly cannot bear the non-changing of commitment? -Wait a minute. Let me just say something about your last question. I think it is a pure and simple myth to say that our need for change can only be answered on a model of changing from one commitment to another (or remaining uncommitted, as I guess we described it before). In fact,.the ex-ample of this that we have had--Lifton's Protean mannis a perfect example of an experience of not changing. Let me explain what I mean. Protean man, 1~58 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/6 ~presumably, finds in each commitment he makes an inevitable ceiling--on his desires, his interest, his belief. Every time he engages himself in some project or in some love he comes to an end in an experience of inertia, dis-illusionment, lack of life. This proves intolerable--for it is indeed an ex-perience of the stopping of process and change in his life. To be free of this, he moves to yet another project or person. But notice that through this mov-ing from one thing to another he finally ends in cynicism, sadness, and a sense of the absurd. That hardly sounds like an overall experience of a living process! The truth is that within himself there is no process. Moving fran-tically from one thing to an6ther looks like life-process, but it never touches him inwardly; within himself he does not change. Nothing really is happen-ing inside. The possibility of something really new coming intoobeing, of real change in the heart of the self, may only occur in the process which commit-ment entails. Does that make any sense? -It may make more sense if you can say something more positive about what this process within commitment is. -Maybe we have to say something about the fabric of time which in a way forms the inner structure of commitment. In a way commitment," as everyone asserts, transcends time. It does have an element of the non-temporal-- or the eternal, if you will, or the non-changing (if that category is important to you).This is especially clear in a permanent commitment. -Isn't that what we mean when we say "forever?" We intend it as a way of transcending time rather than as a time statement~ We're saying, it seems to me, that "I will not let the 'conditions of time or the circumstances at the level of duration erode that which I now say about myself to you," -Yes, but let me quickly add that there is also in commitment, even and perhaps especially in permanent commitment, an element that is wholly tem-poral- that is, a reality that is stretched out and changing in time. Now this is to say that something is on the one hand. eternal about commitment, and something is on the other hand changing. Or better, something about the whole reality of the commitment radically changes. It might help to talk about it in terms of stepping into a relationship with the other. When I make a commitment to another person, I step into a new relationship with him or her. This relati6nship is qualified radically as "forever." I have given my word, and thus myself, in a way that is forever. Yet I, on my sideof the rela-tion, will change, and the one who rec(ives my word, on the other side of the relation, will also change through time. This means that the relation, too, will change: It does not, however, change into non-relation. It is qualified in new ways--for example, by a growth in intimacy. Certain aspects of the relation may emerge and others recede. One might almost draw an analogy between virtue in an individual person and virtue in a relationship. In both realities there is development, and we need a language to describe the growth of thee reality of relation as well as the growth of the reality of an individual person. Perhaps the virtue of a relationship is intimacy. -That makes a lot of sense. Your picture of commitment gets to the on- Commitment in a Changing World / 859 tological. I am now in relation to someone. I could never go back to the self that I was before the commitment except by saying that I now formally step out of the realm of being which has been created by the commitment. Even then I do not go back to that self, for I am forever in some way qualified by having made the commitment. It is my self that really changes, yet remains myself. ~ -Yes. Could I try to say it again? When I make a commitment a new reality begins--the reality of relation to another. Then it is this relation that remains, but moves through time, changing, hopefully growing. It is not a reality separate from myself, nor an appendage to myself. It is myself in relation. As it grows, so do I become new, again and again, yet more fully and wholly what ,I already, am. -Could we add that aspects of growth and change include dimensions of the total personality--imagination, memory, feeling? -Now we are in a position to look at the negatives in commitment. If it in-volves life-process, then the diminishments experienced within it must have the possibility of being taken up into that process. We surely experience, for example, our commitments being choked of their life, or distracted from their life, or overwhelmed in some way. W( know what it means to have barriers grow up in the commitment-relation. In one sense, we must learn a kind of creativity in the liying out of commitment. If it is a way, then we must learn what it means to go along that way. So we must learn creative ways to deal with what chokes us, what irritates us, what renders us helpless. Too little time and attention have been given to learning such things. Perhaps this is because we did not see clearly enough that commitment is a way that must be gone along. -There is something else that arises in the process of commitment, and which is experienced as negative. I've been thinking a long time about this because I've watched so many people go through it. I've experienced it myself in small ways, too, and I think there are clues to be gotten which will tell us how to deal with it. I'm not talking about the exlSerie.nce of being angered or frustrated, and so forth. The only way I can describe it is in terms of being "unhitched" from commitment. It's like driving along in a cart with a horse drawing it, and then the hors~ becomes loose, unhitched, and off it goes on its glorious way, leaving you sitt~ing there. It's like the world going on, or the community going on, and you are left simply sitting there. But in this in-stance it is your life that is somehow sepa.r_ated from you. Perhaps it could also be described as an experience of a.vacuum. Nothing is happening, nothing changes. The lid is on the future, so that it closes in on you. The past is somehow cut off from you and left behind only to.be stared at from a dis-tance. All sense of really living is gone. You become an observer of your life, only able to watch yourself doing what you.do, not able to enter into your own life as a participant. As soon as we back off and only watch ourselves living our lives, it is all over, .unless we discover how to enter into it again. In a sense what must be done is more than "renewing commitment." It is rather 860 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/6 like jumping out of the cart and running after the horse. All 1 can do is use these figures of speech to describe this experience. It is the experience I have '-heard countless persons describe as "something missing." There must be ways to redeem even such time, to make it fruitful in the life-process which is our commitment-relation. Once again, however, we have not yet done much to help one another to find such ways. -Is.all of this to say that it is not possible to truly keep a commitment (if it is a commitment to love) unless we learn the ways of nurturing its life, of freeing our own life and love within and through it? Commitment is a way to love and freedom, but the present task is to chart more clearly the yet shadowed way which it is. I suppose we have said from the beginning in our discussions together that the way is constituted somehow by both light and darkness. It is, as others have said, the darkness which raises the question of fidelity--fidelity which is not just gritting one's teeth and remaining con-stant, but which continues to believe in the light once seen andto watch and to wait and in some sense to serve that light even though we are not at times ourselves able to see it. Some discussion ensued as to how commitment may have the power to un-leash in us the springs of love and action. Attention was given to the role of forgiveness in the life-process of commitment. Finally, however, the .par-ticipants turned to a set of questions which had arisen from time to time throughout the sessions. These questions centered on communal dimensions of commitment, the implications of commitment for society at large, and the ex-istential, concrete framework for commitment. IV. The Institutionalization of Commitment When a commitment is made, it takes life in space and time, a given historical setting and era, within a framework provided by the free decision of the participants, community relationships, society and culture at large. Therefore, when we talk about a commitment to love God or another person, we have to deal with certain structures to which we commit ourselves as well. In this portion of their discussion the participants considered specific, issues regarding membership requirements for religious communities, structural changes and their implications for a community's understanding of its bwn commitment, and so forth. This led to a consideration of underlying questions of priority in commitments, implementation of commitments, and Church regulation of religious life and of marriage. A continuing focus was on the in-carnati0nal dimension of commitment. -A lot of what we,have said so.far applies most clearly to a commitment to love--to love God and to love another person or persons. But there is a whole area which"is just as problematic today as the fundamental commit-ment to love. That's the area of the structures we commit ourselves to--the structures which are, in a w.ay, part and parcel of our commitment to love because they are the concrete forms of living and acting that we commit Commitment in a Changing World ourselves to as an expression of love and as a means to love. Now, for exam-ple, I know many young religious today who have no problem with knowing themselves called to and responding in an unconditional commitment to God. But they have a lot of problems with the structures they find that com-mitment tied to in, for example, a given religious community. I'm just think-ing of some that I have lived with. They understand their permanent com- ~.mitment very differently from the way I understood it (and perhaps the way I understand it now). They see that the only absolute commitment they make is to God, and if they perceive that God calls them beyond their present religious community, then they must leave it (though I'm not saying that they're planning on doing that--only that it remains open as a possibility). -Well, in a sense there can be no denying the validity of that view. It is only God who can call us to absolute love and commitment. All other com-mitments are (or at least in a Christian view should be) relative to a commit-ment to God. The .problem is in discerning what "relative" means here. It means, of course, "related to." It means that the whole raison d'etre for them is their prior commitment to God. But it can also mean that the com-mitment'to God is in some way essentially expressed in these other com-mitments. It surely means, when we are talking about commitment to love other persons, that those commitments (at least to love, if not to live in cer-tain patterns of life expressive of that love) are forever--just as our commit-ment for God is forever. -There are many Sides to this question, and they are all in some sense perplex-ing. We can't on the one hand keep moving through life saying our commit-ment is to God and never really give ourselves to anyone else or never really yield our love for God to .concrete enduring patterns of life which express that love. On the other hand, our commitment to God cannot reify itself in a narroffly defined, immediate context which we refuse to see can and sometimes must be modified in order to be faithful to God. -The question is perplexing in the concrete, but at least what we have said thus far about priority of commitments, the relation of one commitment to another, etc., seems fairly clear to me in theory. -But concretely, we have to take account of the testimony of persons who are anguished now in their discernment of what is fidelity and what is infidelity. We mentioned those who perceive their call from God in a way that makes them necessarily chafe against certain patterns of life and activity which their community may still think are important. But there are also persons who feel that the religious community to Which they committed themselves has changed so much that they can no longer in conscience remain faithful within it. And then there is the problem of the dissonance not only between individual and community but between community and Church. We all know of the tension often felt now by communities within the Church who wish to see their fidelity to God in terms of fidelity to the Church, and yet who find a strange disparity at times between the two. If we didn't take any of these~ seriously--if tlie pattern of our commitments was not seen by us as a62 / Review for Religious, l/olume 34, 1975/6 im, portantly interwoven--we could opt for whatever we wanted at any time. But we obviously, both in marriage and in religious life, are offered the task by the Spirit today of finding the ways of fidelity within a whole pattern of relationships, ~all of which are held in our relation to,God. -I want to say that this kind of tension, even the experience of being "regulated," can work both ways. If everybody got up every morning and defined marriage or religious life in their own way, there would be chaos. Or more importantly, there would be total isolation. We can neither ignore our tradition, our interrelationships, our call, ultimately, to communion with all persons, nor distort it by mindless submission to what was intended as a point of interpersonal discernment and response. -You know, it might help to look at this for a moment as if we were discern-ing for ourselves, within the Church, what God is calling us to. After all, there is a sense in which we can do what we want within the Church. Groups of persons can discern themselves called in many different ways, and as long as these ways are authentic ways of living the Christian life they are free to embrace them, and to embrace them communally. The issue of canonical recognition is not necessarily a central issue--certainly not for everyone in the Church. If I want to live in poverty or chastity or obedience for three years and three years only, I can do it, and the Church doesn't say aye or nay. If I want to live celibacy but not poverty (in the usual sense), I can do it, and again the Church will neither command me nor forbid me. But it is ex-tremely important, it seems to me, to add that that does not rule out the possibility that some persons within the Church (myself included) will still want to gather up their whole future in a permanent commitment, and to make that commitment in terms of a life of poverty and celibacy and obedience within community. It is important that those who are called to that continue to find a way to celebrate it within the Church. Other forms of life may also need to be celebrated within the Church, but to be open to new ways need not (in fact, surely should not) mean to close off present ways. -Yes, I can affirm that and add that, within this context, there still remain practical decisions for each community of persons such as you describe. For example, the ever recurring questions of whether a community should have associate members or temporary members or married members are questions that simply involve practical decisions (based on discernment in prayer, of course) for a community. -You mean that a community, for example, must discern for itself in terms of its understanding of its call from God and the individual ways in which its members are called to participate in that communal call--must discern whether it is to have an associate membership or a third order or some other departure from present practice? -Yes, why not? There is plenty of precedent for that kind of thing, and room for many variations on a theme. Different cultural contexts, different com-munal ministries, and many other factors will all make a difference in a corn, munity's discernment of such things. There is no one law written in heaven Commitment in a Changing Worm / 863 about them to which all must conform. But it is important that a community take seriously a truly communal discernment and decision in this regard. Or even if a community postpones decisions on some of these kinds of questions, it is important for it to know why it postpones them. -If we agree that structures must follow on life experience, perhaps this is the time in history to reflect on the experience we now have of members who would prefer a status other than that conferred by "final vows"; that is, they want to renew their vows every three years or so in an "ongoing com-mitment." If we would re-structure our communities to include a core group and a transient group, we would eliminate some of the necessity for dispen-sations with their negative connotations. Maybe this is the Spirit directing these young people and somehow we as a church have to respond to them. -I think I agree in principle, but somehow I'm wondering wherewe are as a "core group" right now. There is the real question of where we are right now: is there strength at the center, so that the core could truly enliven the whole structure? I mean I can only think of a half dozen people that I really think are the core. By the core group I do not mean people who are going to stay in religious life; I am talking about those who are alive enough to share life in some way. This is not a pessimistic view, it's just saying that right now we are in a phase where it may be necessary to get ourselves together first. On the other hand, maybe extending membership to.associates may be a way of getting ourselves together. -I worry, though, about 'the traditional problems of first and second class citizens. You have to have a tremendous inner peace and sense of who you are and what you are about to avoid those kinds of difficulties. -As a matter of fact, it has been a policy in our religious community since 1971 thatwe would permit women who wished to do so to associate themselves with us in a kind of informal membership. The thought was that if we permitted this to develop spontaneously :for a few years, we would ac-cumulate enough data to enable us to structure something which would be mutually supportive and realistic. However, after more than two years we did a survey and found out that the total number of such applicants was almost zero. So should we go out and recruit them? How do you strike a middle ground between permitting something to emerge and institutionaliz-ing it prematurely? -One way traditionally has b~en to find ways to share the religious com-munity's gifts, to share life with others through retreats, courses in 'spiriiuality, days of prayer, collaboration in ministry, etc. In this way sodalities and third orders have originated, informally at first, and then more formally. The spirit of the religious community and its characteristic spirituality is shared with a larger circle of people who may then desire a kind of membership or more formal association. -You mentioned the characteristic spirituality of a religious community . There is some talk today about the blurring of distinctions between various communities and between celibates and non-celibates, clerics and non- 064 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/6 clerics, so that conceivably institutional distinctions could be wiped out. On the one hand, the elimination or relativization of distinctions emphasizes the basic Unity of Christians; on the other hand, the individual groups emphasize the rich diversity of gifts and graces. I think this is a situation ~where we should proceed somewhat pragmatically, not rushing to reduceall religious communities to one group, but rather asking ourselves what is congruous .with the unity and diversity of the gospel. Religious communities are distinct in this, at least, that their members have freely joined them, rather than be-ing born into them, and this deliberate choice is a kind of witness. -Yes~, we have to ask ourselves, what do we experience ourselves being called to, individually and as a community? What we designate as the "essentials" and the "accidentals" of our commitment should be a reflection of that call. And the fact that religious life was institutionalized in the form of certain es-sentials and accidentals tells us that, at least in the past and apparently to some extent today, people feel themselves called in terms of certain specific graces; for example, they are called to a life of celibacy or to evangelical poverty or to,live in community in Christ's name. -Another aspect of the institutionalization of commitments and their public expression is its value to society itself. We sense that somehow there is some damage to the objective order when a commitment is betrayed. Somehow . the fabric of s~ociety, of the whole body--be it the body politic or the Body of Christ--is strengthened or weakened by our fidelity to, or our betrayal of, commitment. The climate of mutual trust is strengthened or weakened. -Many people find their ability to remain faithful enhanced or threatened by the presence or absence of community support. Ongoing commitment in-volves continuous re-election, re-commitment, re-selection, and all of those . with whom and to whom we have committed ourselves figure in this process. Maybe the parable of the seed falling on good ground and on rocky ground, and so forth, is helpful here. For example, it seems to me not impossible that oa community could be bad ground. It could be the cause of the death of someone's commitment within him; if the community demanded too much from him or distracted him in some way, it could choke the commitment. Or the community COuld be just a dry wasteland. ~On the positive side, the community could be very fertile .soil indeed. If I were to describe the kind of support that I would expect or appreciate on a day-to-day level, I wouldn't look for high points such as the discussion we've been having these days. What~ I would look for in the members of my com-munity would be a kind of resonance, a sense that they were in sympathy with what I was doing, and supported, the .efforts I was ~making. I want to share a, common understanding with the members of my community about such things as who we are as a community, and why we are together, even though it isn't necessary to articulate it very .often. -But besides furnishing one another that basic affirmation, there also has to be an openness to the new, a willingness to challenge one another to reach for greater heights of generosity. I guess religious have to call one another to Commitment in a Changing World faith, as well as calling other members of the Christian community. -Perhaps our concept of ministry has to be re-thought or re-integrated into the Christian synthesis in terms of a call to faith. We have described commit-ment in terms of "radicality" and the committed person in terms of "marginality" vis-a-vis certain cultural norms which are often uncritically accepteduthese terms suggest a kind of presence, a~ very challenging and a personal presence. It isn't so much a question of the apostolate being done, but of understanding and living fully the kind of lives we are called, to and sharing that. Flowing out of that will be specific kinds of service: the healing ministry, teaching, or whatever. -Yes, there is a correlation between the diversity of commitment and diversity in ministry. Sometimes the stance of love is to stand alone, to be in protest; sometimes the stance is to .be a mediator, or to be co-opted in some way. Even while we're allowing for individual insights and calls within Ch°ristian service, there's such a thing as the total stance of the community. Sotit still seems important to me that we have the reference points of some specifications of commitment. Whatever the stance is, whatever it is that we're about, however we try to blend our lives together, it has something to do with being poor, something to do with celibate fLiendship, something to do with abandoning ourselves in union with the obedience of Jesus Christ which .at least implies listening to something beyond ourselves. Further reflections of the participants concerned the relationship of com-mitment and ministry and the necessity of a genuine interiority in apostolic service. Throughout the discussion there was a sense that the multitude of commitments which an individual, makes must be integrated in their inward reality and their outward expression. Toward a Conclusion As with every good discussion, the participants ended with a touch of reluc-tance: there was a sense of incompleteness, a desire to explore further paths only noted in passing, to qualify assertions that were perhaps too confident or too hesitant, and to raise new questions which might expand, the, horizons of understanding. Hence the discussion eludes neat summarization and does not provide ready solutions or conclusions. Some.threads did recur again and again, however, and it may be helpful to recall them here. First of all, promising is a persistent phenomenon. Despite all of the dif-ficulties attendant on making a commitment today and of living it out faithfully in an ever-changing context, people are still making them. Hence, the need to commit oneself to another seems to spring from some deep human need and instinct, something deeper than a merely cultural basis would ex-plain. Moreover, the participants in this discussion shared among themselves a strong "commitment to commitment": while they were not unmindful of the risks and hazards of commitment, they all affirmed its possibility and value in human life. Furthermore, they affirmed that interpersonal commitment must a66 / Review for. Religious, !/olume 34, 1975/6 be understood as the beginning of a relationship, a relationship that can be ex-pected to unfold gradually, in response to new circumstances. Such an evolv-ing relationship may well include periods of darkness and dryness which must be integrated into the whole dynamism of growth. As commitments move through time, there are tensions inherent in their continued existence, tensions between continuity and change, fragmentation and unity, spontaneity and pattern, contract and gift. In the face of our~per-sonai experience of fragmentation and conflict, we experience simultaneously the inability and the need to pledge our word. The framework which society and community furnish for our commitments may be experienced at one time as supportive and at another as restrictive. We may feel drawn by an invitation or bound by a legal agreement. Furthermore, our ability to commit ourselves deeply and without reserve is intimately linked to our own sense of self-identity and self-worth. The context of commitment is also integral to its nature: our promises must be incarnated in space and time. While structures follow life, they can also be supportive of life. That is, commitments should only~be formalized or institutionalized if they are genuine and viable, but then the framework which community ~and society provide must support them. Although structures are relative, the process of changing them should be a thoughtful and prayerful one. There is no virtue in either changing structures or in leaving them un-changed; what is important is their congruity to gospel, to the needs of our day, and to our fallible human resources. Where do we go from here?'The really basic questions~in life have a way of reasserting themselves again and again under new guises, and requiring fresh attention. Perhaps this is because the only entirely satisfactory response to such life-questions is the personal one, made in the context of one,s own relationships of family, community, and society, Each of us must question the possibility and value of a lifetime commitment in his or her own iife~: can I live a fully human and a fully Christiah life without it? BIBLIOGRAPHY Beha, Marie, O.S.C. "Paradoxes of Commitment," Sisters Today, 46 (August-September, 1974), ¯pp. I-9. Burrell, David, C.S.C. "A Fresh Look at 'Perpetual Commitment,' "Sisters Today, 41 (April, 1970), pp. 457-461. ~ Clarke, Thomas E., S.J. "Jesuit Commitment--Fraternal Covenant?" Studies in the Spirituality of Jesuits, II1 (June, 1971),'pp. 70-102. ~. "The Crisis of Permanent Consecration," Sisters Today, 41 (August-September, 1969), pp. 1-15. __. New Pentecost or New Passion? The Direction of Religious Life Today. New York: Paulist Press, 1973. Coville, Walter J. "The Psychological Development of Tentative Commitment to the Priesthood and the Religious'~ Life," Seminary Department Relevant Report. National Catholic Educational Association (June, 1972). Commitment in ,a Changing World / 867 Farley, Margaret A., R.S.M. A Study in the Ethics of Commitment within the Context of Theories of Human Love and Temporality. Unpublished Ph.D. Dissertation. Yale Univer-sity, 1973. Haughey, John C., S.J: "Another Perspective on Religious Commitment," Studies in the Spirituality of Jesuits, 111 (June, 1971), pp. 103-119: Keniston, Kenneth. The Uncommitted. New York: Harcourt, Brace & World, 1960. Lifton, Robert Jay. "Protean Man." The Religious Situation 1969. Edited by Donald R. Cutler. Boston: Beacon Press, 1969. Marcel, Gabriel. Creative Fidelity. New York: Farrar, Straus, & Giroux, 1964. __. Being and Having, New York: Harper Torchbooks, 1965. Murphyr David M., ed. Seminary Newsletter, Supplement No. 3. National Catholic Educational Association (November, 1973). Orsy, Ladislas M., S.J. "Religious Vocation: Permanent or Temporary?" Sisters Today, 40 (February, 1969), pp. 347-349. Toffler, Alvin. Future Shock. New York: Random House, 1970. Van Kaam, Adrian, C.S.Sp. "'Life of the Vows: Commitment to a Lasting Life Style." Envoy, V (September, 1968), pp. 125-131. Westley, Richard J. "Fidelity and the Self," Sisters Today, 45 (April, 1973), pp: 482-489. __. "On Permanent Commitment," Ame~'ica (May 24, 1969). __. "The Will to Promise," Humanitas, VIII (February, 1972), p. 9-20. (N.B.: This entire issue of Humanitas is devoted to articles on "Commitment and Human Development.") Space Fora Rose: Spiritual Ecology Sister Mary Seraphim, P.C.P.A. Sister Mary Seraphim is a Poor Clare of Perpetual Adoration and resides in the Sancta Clara Monastery; 4200 Market Ave., N.; Canton, OH 44714. "Time, then, is but the space for a rose to open to fullness." What is this element, time, which surrounds, sustains, measures and secures our existence? We cannot escape it under pain of death but we can never possess it securely. Money does not buy it nor can poverty prevent it. We love it but fume against its restraints. We are meant to transcend it but can only do so by fully integra.ting ourselves into it. Time is our most basic need if we are to be. We are born into time, :grow in its unfolding moments, die When our allotted span has been consumed. It is such a pervasive "given" that we take it for granted. God designed time as the cradle and matrix for His marvelously conceived creature: man. God does not need time to exist but He willed that humankind should need it. For man to exist as God dreamed him to be, he had to have time. There was a moment when he began to be--but he was not com-plete in that first moment. H.appily God does not expect him to be. For man is intended to delight God and His angels by coming to fullness in successive stages. Step by ~tep, we are to grow and develop. We could not do this without time. We could do it without clocks, perhaps, but not without the successive stages of change which time is. Kicking Against the Crib Somehow, somewhere, many of us have begun to harbor a rebellion against time, At least, I have, I began to see time as an uncontrollable tyrant which ruled me, drove me or caged me. I rebelled against it but, of course, quite uselessly. I could neither speed it up nor slow it down. Like a child in 868 Space for a Rose / a69 frustrated rage, I kicked against the very thing which should have been my security and source of hope. I failed to see time for what it really is: the shelter my Father has provided for me until I can~bear exposure to eternity. A sister-psychologist once gave a descriptive definition of time as that which allows things to happen bit by bit, Unless there existed the restraining and apportioning hand of time, everything would happen all at once.t I have enough difficulty trying to cope with troubles one by one. To have to face them all at one time? No thank you! Stop .Kicking and Look Gradually I began to wonder if it would be good to take a long and thoughtful look at this phenomenon known as time. Since it pervades my whole life as necessarily as the air I 'breathe, it seemed to merit some con-sideration. "I'll do it as soon as I have time," I decided. But come to think of it, time, like the poor, we always have with us! It was not that I had no time but that I was unwilling to use the time I had for that purpose. Revelation the first; I always have time. What am I doing with it? When I began to consider time,' I grew to be immensely grateful to my Father for this wondrous girl, Without it, I could not be me for I am a person who is always in the process of becoming. Like a rose~ I~need space to unfold; to happen. Fullness of being is not mine all at once or as asure possession. It is a gift Iam trying to grow into with each new second that is granted to me. Life is being continually re-given. And that, not from a distant heaven but by the Spirit of the Lord hovering, brooding over me. Indeed~ with each new breath I draw, this gift rises up from a wellspring inside me. It is the Spirit who breathes in me, who continues to hold me in being. And I take all this for granted ! What if all my being were given to me at once? Like the angels. Whatever I did I would do with my whole self--but only once. There would be no second doing, no future in which to try again, and, hopefully, do better: There would not be any hope! Instead my Father has allowed that I come to be bit by bit. I grow slow!y to maturity, making mistakes but learning as I go along.All the while I am sheltered, protected by the framework of time which keeps things~from closing in on me. Events happen at a pace and rhythm I am familiar with. Even when things seem to be coming at me too fast, I am called:to meet them only mo- ~ment by moment. It is when I .misuse my ability to mentally transcend time that I get into difficulties, Here and Only Now When I begin to picture future events (usually only possible ones) in the present mo.ment, I begin to get panicky. But if I am honest, I must admit that this not being truly reasonable. My Father may, or may not, have planned this imagined calamity as part of my future. But obviously He has not planned it as part of my present. He has grace for me to.handle the present events and that 870 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/6 is all He is asking of me. When the future becomes the present, it will bring with it all: its attendant graces. If I persist in projecting myself mentally into a non-existent future, I shall indeed have trouble--but not necessarily the kind that sanctifies. More likely, it will bethe type to foster neurosis! The same rule applies if I choose to live over a past that is no more. A child lives in wonder and contentment largely because he lives very much in the present. A small child has very little past to remember and an almost completely unknown future to contemplate. His horizons are limited to today--and, he is for the most part, happy. Do you recall those idyllic days of childhood when days were very long and a week a duration of unimaginable length? To wake in the morning was a thrilling moment (at least it was for me) with the gift of a whole day before me. What would happen that day I could hardly guess but I looked forward to finding out. As the years went by, the luster dimmed and I began to carry accumulated memories and worries into my new day. I began to darken the dawn by projecting storm clouds of anxiety onto the horizon. Joy and wonder went out of my life to a large degree. But Jesus said, "Unless you become as little children." Does that mean He wants us to live each new day as if it were the only one I have--as indeed it is? Yesterday is simply that--yesterday. Tomorrow--that never comes, as the wise man truly said. Here I am with today, just today. It will unfold minute by minute and along with it so shall I. The strong bulwark of time is here to insure that it shall not move faster or slower than I am designed for. There may be grave problems to be met along this unreeling road but they shall not fill every second--unless I allow them. There shall be many tiny islands of pleasure, comfort, joy to be met with too. I can limit the black times to their respective moments by simply letting them go when their time is past. About Pain . I read an account of an incident at Lourdes which has ever since remained an inspiration to me. A pilgrim--a priest, I believe--saw a little boy in one of the invalid stretchers. The child was in such a pitiful condition that the pilgrim was deeply moved and inquired gently how he could stand so much pain. The boy looked up with a bright smile and answered serenely, "It is not hard for I can stand today's pain. I don't have yesterday's anymore and tomorrow's is not here." For all those who have to cope with pain (and who of us does not?) these are words of ageless wisdom. Many have written of the problem of pain or more accurately of the mystery of pain. These theological and psychological studies are very helpful insofar as they provide us with a partial insight into the why and wherefore of suffering in our lives. We all find things easier to bear when they have meaning. But when it comes down to the actual bearing of pain day after day, nothing is more practical than the simple rule of "one day at a time." This may not sound very profound but it is effective wisdom. No matter what kind of pain we have, mental, physical or moral, we can cope with it most effec- Space for a Rose tively when we accept and live with it only moment by moment. For those peo-ple whose pain offers no proximate solution, the temptation to be overwhelmed by it is very real. Especially if it is a combination of physical and mental torments, as it usually is. We can lighten the burden for ourselves and others if we keep our eyes fixed on the God who doles out our life and breath one second at a time. In the same measure He supplies us with His grace, not only to bear but to embrace the pain in our lives. Unpolluted Time We should not pollute the gift of time with a compulsive attitude of rush and of works which absolutely must be done now. Time is the atmosphere of our souls. We must strive to keep it pure. This depends much more on our in-ner attitudes than on the circumstances around us. We don't always have con-trol over outside events but we can exercise control over our attitudes towards them. If you find yourself, as I often discover myself, unconsciously pushing time in order to get to the next event; the next assignment; the next problem, then something needs a bit of adjustment. We are missing the present moment toward which we pressed so eagerly yesterday. And in missing this moment we are missing the God who is waiting for us right now. We think we will find Him next time we are in church, or we will find Him tomorrow, and so we press on, hurry past Him and then wonder why He seems so absent from our lives. He is not absent; we are! Our lives are only a shell of half-lived moments and we are poor; poor and empty. This is not, however, the poverty of spirit which Jesus praised. If we realized how needy we are, we would receive the gift of each moment with grateful wonder and would not dare to abuse it by seeking another time or place. The phrase "spiritual ecology" comes to mind. We can create a beautiful environment for our spirit if we settle down and listen to the message of our beating heart. One beat at a time--not all of them at once (hopefully) and we are living healthily. We breathe in our needed amount of air .this minute and continue to live. Should not this tranquil rhythm permeate our spiritual living also? We have a luxurious amount of time--enough to last our whole lives! But we need to deepen our appreciation of it. Instead of bemoaning the limits it necessarily sets to our activiti,es, even our most spiritual ones, we should joyfully accept the room it makes for all of them. One half-hour is not a very long time for prayer but it can be most rich if each of its thirty complete minutes is cherished in their presence. Our God comes to us only in time. He Loves Time In Jesus' life, we see Him functioning with beautiful tranquillity within the framework of time. He appreciates it; He respects it. He waits patiently for the "hour" which His Father has appointed for Him. Jesus does not try to an-ticipate the time the Father has decreed. He awaits it with composure and uses to their full all the intervening hours and moments in His life. There is an ira- 872 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/6 portant task to be accomplished but Jesus sees that it is meant to be fulfilled by living and loving fully each successive, day. He moves in wide spaces of freedom; so gracious and spacious we think Him touched by eternity. But He found, eternity in the present moment. So can we. God does not do all He wants to do in us as soon as we ask. He has a definite "hour" in mind for us. He comes to meet us at special times in our lives which we cannot anticipate. We may only humbly await them. Sometimes His hour is one of special revelation of HimSelf--or of ourselves. It may be the hour of crushing trial or of joyous unexpected fulfillment. One hour surely awaits all of us, the most decisive one of our lives--our last. We shall scarcely be alive to these extraordinary hours of grace unless we have heard and heeded His word, "My time is at hand," in each ordinary hour of our lives. To develop a healthy spiritual e~ology is not complicated but it requires self-discipline. Our wandering, rushing mind and body must be slowed down, We must deliberately cloister our spirits in the gentle haven of right now. Then we shall walk in wonder and awe before a world most rich and beautiful. Time to See. and B~ If I rush into our enclosed garden determined to get a brisk walk in before 1 do more important things, I shall never see the garden. It shall remain "enclosed" also to me. But if I step out into the sunshine, reveling in the full five minutes my Father has given me, I shall walk with gratitude and wide-open eyes. I shall see the white butterflies with one black spot on each wing dance over the pink zinnias. I shall be able to laugh at the bumblebee who gets snapped at by the snapdragon it was so cautiously opening for nectar. And when these precious five minutes have elapsed I shall be refreshed and alive both physically and spiritually. My Father knows that a rose needs space to unfold, even a wild rose. How good of Him to provide me this room in His mansion of many dimensions, As I write these lines, the cicadas have momentarily stopped singing in the heat. Only the white butterflies are ecstatically circling each other among the blue petunias. It is very quiet., and very good in this moment. The New Law Versus The Gospel Jerome Murphy-O'Connor, O.P. Father Murphy-O'Connor is Professor of'New Testament at the Ecole Biblique de J~rusalem, P.O.B. 178, Jerusalem, Israel. By bringing the prescriptions regarding religious in the New Code of Canon Law to the attention of those who will have to li~e under them Father Kevin O'Rourke has rendered an immensely valuable service.~ Without his ad-mirably objective translations and summaries, the dialogue which should be an integral characteristic of the Christian community would be difficult, if not - impossible. His own evaluation rightly gives credit to the new spirit which animates the revision of this part of the Code, and his censure of the revisors' refusal to accept input from religious is well merited. However, his observation that "A new law can be well designed and constructed, but unless the people think it is 'their' law, it will not be observed as well as if they had some hand in its formulation''2 needs to be taken further. Dissatisfaction can be generated by failure to observe democratic procedures, but a more profound and lasting resentment is awakened when laws do not correspond to the self-understanding of the people they govern. Hence, the need to penetrate behind the statements of the New Code to the theology .of religious life that they embody, It is imperative that the revisors' assumptions regarding the nature of religious life be brought out into the open and subjected to searching debate, because once the New Code is promulgated it will inevitably tend to impose its vision of religious life. Despite the principle of subsidiarity which gives great latitude to particular institutes, it would be ~"The New Law for Religious: Principles, Content, Evaluation," Review for Religious 34 (1975) 23-49. =Art. cit., p. 49. 873 874 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/6 dangerously naive.to assume that the~e will not be pressures to make the con-stitutions of individual congregations conform to the "spirit" of the New Code. Should the revisors' vision of religious life be defective it will frustrate the work of renewal that has begun with so much pain and heart-searching. The advances that have been made will be gradually nullified, and the ground-work will have been laid for a repetition of the crisis that rocked religious con-gregations in the recent years. This danger, in my opinion, is not theoretical but very real. Despite their evident good intentions, the revisors assume an inadequate concept of religious life which has done untold damage in the past. In making this criticism I base myself on the truth that the religious life is but a particular manifestation of the Christian life. In consequence, it must faithfully reflect the pattern of Christian life laid down in the New Testament, and no theology of religious life can be considered adequate unless it successfully integrates 'all the insights of the New Testament. This point has been made explicitly by Vatican II: "Since the fundamental norm of the religious life is a following of Christ as proposed by the gospel, such is to be regarded by all communities as their supreme law" (Perfectae Caritatis, n. 2). When judged against this standard the revisors' understanding of religious life not only fails to reach the ideal proposed by the gospel but on occasion contradicts it. The Definition of Consecrated Life As given by Father O'Rourke, the first canon reads as follows: Life consecrated through the profession of the evangelical counsels is a stable form of life, by which the faithful, following Christ more closely, are dedicated totally to God loved above all, so that by a new and special title they are ordered to the honor of God, to the salvation of the world, and to the building up of the (~hurch, seek the perfection of charity in the service of the kingdom of God, and become clear signs in the Church foretelling heavenly glory. Which form of living in institutes of perfection, constituted under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit and canonically erected by the competent authority of the Church the faithful freely accept, who through vows or other sacred bonds, profess to observe according to the particular law of these institutes the evangelical counsels of chastity, poverty and ~ obedience, and who are united to the mystery of the Church in a special way by charity, to which the counsels lead. The elements I have italicized in this definition call for comment. (a) "Following Christ more closely (they) are dedicated totally to God." Since this canon has the form of a definition, these phrases can only mean that by definition religious follow Christ more closely and are, by definition, totally dedicated. They cannot be interpreted as meaning that religious should follow Christ more closely and should be completely dedicated to God. The canon, therefore, states that religious are better Christians than other believers. A view that makes sense only in virtue of the assumption that the form of life chosen by religious is of itself superior to that of other Christians. The revisors, therefore, revert to the concept of religious life as a state of perfec-tion, a concept that was deliberately abandoned by Vatican II. Dedication to The New Law Versus the Gospel / 875 God manifested in the following of Christ is exclusively a question of charity, and has no intrinsic relationship to any particular pattern of life. To imitate Christ means to love as He did, and the degree of perfection reached in such imitation is conditioned only by the quality of love that is actually displayed. (b) "United to the mystery of the Church in a special manner by charity. '° Charity is specifically mentioned here, but the meaning of the phrase is anything but clear, because charity has a unifying effect only between persons. In the strict sense one cannot be united through love to an institution. If the revisors intended to speak of the bond of charity which should obtain between the members of the Church they could have expressed themselves much less ambiguously. It may well be, however, that the vagueness was deliberate, and that the phrase was intended to be suggestive rather than meaningful. In the light of the previous paragraph the purpose can only be to insinuate that religious occupy a special place in the Church. Yet the second canon insists that religious do not pertain to the hierarchical structure of the Church. Hence, while affirming that religious belong to the laity, the revisors make a distinction between two groups of laity and, incredibly, the basis of the distinc-tion is claimed to be charity. By definition, therefore, religious are more perfect in charity than other members of the Church. Since this is manifestly untrue in terms of actual loving, one can only conclude that the revisors operated on the assumption that religious are more perfect in virtue of their state. This, the most natural interpretation, ~is confirmed by the fact that the charity in question is that "to which the counsels lead." (c) "The evangelical counsels of chastity, poverty, and obedience." Because all the other meaningful elements in the definition apply equally to all Christians, it is clear that the revisors' understanding of religious life is based on the concept of the "evangelical counsels" which, according to the third canon, "are founded in the teaching and example of Christ." They suppose that some Christians are called to a higher level of practice than others, and that the acceptance of this option is a matter of free choice. Were this assump-tion correct it would certainly constitute a secure basis for the distinction that the revisors make between two groups of laity, but the fact is that it is in flat contradiction with the teaching of the New Testament. There is a formal consensus among scholars of all confessions that the New Testament does not discriminate between different types of Christians. It makes no provision for an "elite" because the divine demand is addressed equally to all, and the fundamental condition for the reception of baptism is the acceptance of this demand in its totality: All are imperatively summoned to the perfection of charity, and all are guilty to the extent that they fail to manifest the love which animated Christ. The so-called "counsels" are not offered to some. They are binding upon all. More specifically, there is nothing in the teaching of Jesus that can be con-strued as an exhortation to renounce material good or marriage.The poor are blessed, not because they are poor, but because the messianic era has arrived in 876 / Review for Religious, l/olume 34, 1975/6 which their poverty will be relieved. The central thrust of the incident involving the Rich Young Man concerns faith, and the exhortation to sell all that he possessed pertains to his specific psychological state. The same condition for following Jesus is not imposed on the fishermen disciples. The statement con-cerning those who make themselves eunuchs for the kingdom of heaven is' directed towards married persons, and deals with celibacy only to the extent that it concerns the celibacy forced on a sincere married Christian by the obligation to remain open in love to a spouse that has abandoned the marriage? All this is but the current coin of serious exegesis, and it is incredi-ble( given the emphasis on Scripture in Vatican II).that the revisors did not de-mand competent advice before declaring that "the profession of the evangelical, counsels" entailed "the renunciation of certain values which are to be undoubtedly esteemed" .(canon 4), I intend to return to the revisors' understanding of the vows, but enough has been said at this point to show that the revisors are completely mistaken in their comprehehsion of the so-called "evangelical counsels." Since this is the key~element in the definition and the basis of their assumptions concerning the state of perfection, it is evident that the whole definition is erroneous. In itself this is sufficient to compromise all that is said subsequently. Community It will be noted that community plays virtually no role in the above defini-tion. The function of the institute of perfection to which a religious belongs is to specify the precise conditions of the vows of lboverty~ chastity, and obedience. It has nothing to do with growth in love, with the salvation of the world, or with the building up of the Church. These duties all belong to the members taken as individuals, as the plural verbs indicate. The justification for this limitation appearsin Part II of the New Code where it becomes evi-dent that the above definition is intended to apply not only to religioUs com-munities but also to hermits and to secular institutes which are not bound to the common life. There is no doubt that both hermits and members of secular institutes lead consecrated lives, but there is no justification for the watering down of religious life that the revisors' quest for a common denominator necessarily involves. The community dimension of religious life' is pushed into the background with the result that the theology of religious life is completely distorted. By deciding to make the status of the individual the basis of the New Code the revisors have consecrated an individualism which is in radical con-tradiction with the teaching and example of Christ. If the fundamental status of believers is that of members of the Body of Christ how can they be treated as if they were autonomous entities? The revisors, of course, will reply that they consider individuals not in themselves but as belonging to various institutes of perfection. This is simply untrue in the case of the hermit whose only relationship is with a superior. 3For detailed justificfition of these statements, cf. my study What is Religious Life?, Dublin: Dominican Publications, 1973. The New Law Versus the Gospel / 877 Much could be said about this point. The assumption of the revisors is that the hermit can cut him or herself off entirely from the world. It would be ex-tremely difficult, if not impossible, to find any justification for this mod+ of life in the New Testament, and historically no hermit who achieved sanctity was ever totally separated from the world. People came to them with their problems and to learn the secrets of prayer with the result that they were in fact involved with a community. The member of a secular institute belongs officially to an institute of perfection, but the New Code glosses over the ambiguity of the ,word '.'belonging." The members "belong" to the institute in the sense of a legal relationship, but such a relationship can be real or ptlrely formal. A real relationship necessarily involves presence, because it is constituted by the reciprocity in need and response. For sincere Christians the most imperative needs are those about them, because they recognize that the situation in which they find themselves is God-given. Providence, therefore, imposes limits on the universality of charity. Both St. Augustine (De Doct: Christ., I, ch. 28) and St. Thomas Aquinas (II-II, q. 26, a. 6) were conscious of the need to prevent charity evaporating. The precept of charity towards all men"could be taken so literally that no one would be lo~;ed properly. Hence, with the immense com-monsense that is the characteristic of saints, Augustine said, "All men are to be loved equally, but since you cannot be useful to all, it is strongly advised that you concentrate on those who fortuitously are closest to you by reason of time, place, or any other circumstance." It is impossible to love all men, unless charity is understood as a vague theoretical attitude of openness, i.e., when be-ing prepared to love is equated with actual loving. The reality of charity is ac-curately defined by Augustine in terms of utility which implies service. Those to whom service is to be rendered are those whom God has placed in .our path through the providential circumstances of time and place. Jesus commanded "Love your neighbor as yourselt" (Mt 22, 39 and parallels), and all the texts which imply the universality of love are to be interpreted as prohibitions of dis-crimination. Hence, the community to which a Christian really belongs is con-stituted by those who are the actual fabric of his or her daily existence. No legal affiliation can break this fundamental evangelical bond, or be substituted for it. The members of secular institutes working alone belong less to the institute khan to their apostolic environment. Their commitment to intensifying the Christianity of that environment may differ in degree from that of the average layperson, but it is essentially the same. One has only to read the Sermon on the Mount to realize the extent to which every believer is obligated to be the ferment of love, And that love in. order to be real demands the reciprocity of sharing. To the extent that the members of secular institutes depend on their apostolic environment for physical and affective sustenance, and in turn con-tribute on both these levels, the vows of poverty and chastity become real. But this ~haring is only an intensification of the spiritual and corporal works of mercy to which all Christifins are obliged. Therefore, the community to which ~178 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/6 the isolated member of a secular institute really belongs is the local parish or subdivision thereof. In the light of the gospel his or her relationshp to the in-stitute is no different than his or her relationship to the family. Both exercise a formative.influence which served as the foundation for lasting affective bonds, but the reality which manifests the call of God in the present moment is the apostolic environment. To give priority to the institute is to fall back into a merely formal relationship which is equivalent to the sterile legalism that Jesus and Paul condemned so severely. The situation is very different in the case of institutes of common life, because the community in which the members live is distinct from the apostolic environment in which they work. In other words, the community to which they are legally affiliated is the community to which they really belong. That community is the primary context in which the call of God is heard, because according to the order of charity, on which Augustine and Thomas in-sist, those with whom one lives have the first claim on one's love. The needs of those outside the community (i.e, the local community which is the only place that the institute becomes real) must take second place to the needs of the members. The situation is reversed in the case of a member of a secular in-stitute, because those who are legally affiliated to the institute are remote whereas those who constitute the apostolic environment are immediately pres-ent. ~. Legalism can obfuscate this difference, and lawyers may believe that it is not important, but for those who take the gospel seriously it is crucial, because the seed of the Word can take root only in the soil of reality. There is a real distinction between those who consecrate themselves to the service of God as members of a community and those who as individuals consecrate themselves to that same service within the potential community constituted by an apostolic environment. A common denominator can be sought in the idea of "consecration," as the revisors have in fact done, but the value of such a com-mon denominator is precisely what needs to be questioned. There are criteria more important than sterile intellectual neatness or the convenience of lawyers. To ignore reality for the sake of superficial classification is to in-troduce, ambiguities which can have disastrous consequences for the self-understanding of those who have to live under the New Code. This is manifest in the definition of consecrated life adopted by the revisors. It applies much more accurately to hermits and the members of secular institutes than it does to those who belong to institutes of common life. The inevitable consequence is to make community appear as something secondary. It functions as a legal point.,of reference rather than as the basic Christian reality designed to render a unique service both to the Church and to the world.4 4It should also be pointed out that the revisors' understanding of secular institutes depends entirely on the above-criticized concept of "a state of perfection." l f, according to Title I11 of Part il, the members of such institutes "lead their temporal life as the rest of the faithful" all that dis-tinguishes them from the rest of the laity is "the practice of the evangelical counsels." This conclu- The New Law Versus the Gospel / 879 The Difference between Institutes of Perfection The diminution of the importance of community appears even more clearly in Part II of the New Code. The first preliminary canon (n. 91) states, "These institutes follow Christ more closely either~"by prayer, by active works which benefit mankind, or by communicating with people in the world," and Father O'Rourke has correctly observed that the purpose of this canon is to found the distinction between various types of institutes on the type of apostolate carried on by each one? It is perfectly obvious that different institutes in fact do different things, but the way in i,which the revisors deal with this aspect leads to the conclusion that they considered such activities the raison d'~,tre of these institutes. Not only is this assumption in tension with the concept of a state of perfection adopted elsewhere, but it represents a complete misunderstanding of the nature of any Christian community. The revisors neglect the fact that there are two specifically different types of community. For convenience they can be termed the action-community and the being-cornmunity.6 An action-community is one whose raison d'etre is the performance of a series of related actions. It is brought into existence for that purpose. Thus, an army exists in order to execute a plan of defense or attack; a business company exists in order to produce and sell a product. The goal desired in each case is beyond the capacity of an individual, so a number band together to extend the power and scope of their activity. A being-community, on the other hand, is composed of those who come together in order to be or become something as individuals. The purpose of a fitness-club is that the members be fit and healthy. The importance of this distinction is that it permits us to see that the posi-tion of the individual varies considerably according to the type of community to which he. belongs. In the action-community'the individual is for the com-munity, and takes second place to the action which represents the common good of that community. In a business company the individual executive or worker is much less important than the product, and his or her value is judged exclusively in terms of the product. Any sort of damage to the product will result in dismissal. Built into the structure of an action-c6mmunity is the sion is confirmed by the history of the secular institute movement. Th~eir struggle to gain recogni-tion within the Church was based on the assumed relation between the vows and a state of perfec-tion. It was felt that a special value was attached to a lift th(ough profession of the vows, and that the acquisition Of this value conferred a staths that the rest of the laity did not possess. Social recognition of this status was desired as a reinforcement of the members' conviction that what they were doing was worthwhile, in the light ofthe gospel there can be no dispute as~to how this quest for status and recognition should be judged. Love is the only authentically Christian title to status. ~Art. cir., p. 42. ~For a more developed exposition of this distinction, see ch. 2 of the study mentioned in note 3 above. ~180 / Review for Religious, IZolume 34, 1975/6 assumption that a number of ihdividuals will be losers. They can forfeit their lives in an army or be wiped out economically by taxes--and this is rightly taken for granted. In a being-community, however, the community is for the individual, because the raison d'etre of such a community is to provide the individual with stimulus and opportunity. This is perfectly evident in the example of a fitness club. Since its goal is that all the members interiorize the ideal of optimum fitness, it follows that such a club has no common-good distinct from the achievement of the individual. The success or failure of the club. is judged in function of the success or failure of the individual. To which category of community does the Christian community belong? In the light of the New Testament there can be no hesitation. It is a being-community, for its raison d'etre is to make it possible for its members to follow Christ, and thereby to prolong His mission incarnationally by demo.nstrating the double reconciliation (with God and.other human beings, cf. Eph 2, 14-16) that He came to accomplish. In order to be truly Christian, therefore, each community of believers must reflect this basic characteristic. Of its very nature it exists to provide the opportunity of authentic Christian ex-istence for all its members. But such existence is fundamentally a sharing; itis not something that each individual possesses absolutely. This is evident in the Johannine allegory of the vine and the branches (Jn 15, 1-11), but the most,for-mal affirmation comes from St. Paul, "As many of you as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ. for you are all one person in Christ Jesus" (Gal 3, 27-28; cf. Col 3, 10-11). Believers are different from non-Christians because they exist in union, whereas the existence of the latter is characterized by divisions. The mission of the Church to transform the world involves breaking down the barriers of hostility and suspicion that divide humanity. In order to ach!eve this it must first show that such divisive tendencies no longer exist within itself. It must show itself to the world as a profoundly reconciled com-munity. Only within the context of such reconciliation are t

Issue 21.6 of the Review for Religious, 1962. ; JOHN XXIII Letter to Religious Women TheI largest church of Christianity is being prepared to receive the fathers of Vatican Council ii. On October 11 will begin the great meeting which has been the object of the prayerful expectation of al! Catholics and We may add of all men of good will. This is a solemn hour in the history of the Church, for it is a matter of stirring up the forces of spiritual renovation which the Church always possesses so that a new dynamism can .be communicated to the activities and the institutions of her age-long history. The clergy are already reciting the Breviary every day in union with Us for the successful outcome of the ecu-menical Council.2 The laity, especially children, the sick, and the old, have frequently been asked to offer prayer and sacrifice for the same purpose; and they have re-sponded with generous promptness. All are eager to offer their help, for the Council is assuming the role of ',a new Pentecost."s In such a climate of zealous preparation it is natural that those should distinguish themselves who have made a total offering of themselves to God and who have given thermelves to the exercise of. fervent prayer and charity. Beloved daughters, the Church has gathered you under her protective mantle; she has approved your constitu-tions; she has defended your rights; she has derived and will continue to derive great benefits from your works. As an expression of gratitude for what you have done up to x This letter, I1 tempio raassimo, is translated from the Italian text as given in Osservatore Romano, July 8, 1962, pp. 1-2. 2Apostolic Exhortation Sacrae. Laudis, January 60 1962, in Acta Apostolicae $edis, v. 54 (1962), pp. 66-75. ~Prayer for the Council in Acta ApOstolicae Sedis, v. ~51 (1959), p. 832. ÷ ÷ ÷ l~ligious Womtn VOLUME 21, 1962 493 ÷ ÷ John XXIII REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS now and as a joyful hope.for your future work, the'words of the Apostle may be deservedly applied to you: ¯. making mention of you in my prayers, that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may grant you the spirit of wisdom and revelation in the deep knowledge of him: the eyes of your mind being enlightened, so that you may know what is the hope of his calling, what the riches of his .inher-itance in the saints. (Eph 1: 15-18). I would ask you to give every consideration to this let-ter; in the words of the humble Vicar of Christ hear what the Divine Master wishes to suggest to each of you. The preparation for the Council demands that the women consecrated to the Lord according to approved canonical forms should reconsider wi~h renewed fervor the duties of their vocation.In this way your response when the enact-ments of the Council are made will be prompt and gener-ous, for it will have been prepared for by a deeply intense endeavor of personal sanctification. In order that life consecrated to God should always cor-respond in the best way possible to the desires of the Divine Heart, it is necessary that it be 1) a life of prayer, 2) a life of example, and 3) a life of the apostolate. THE LIFE OF PRAYER Here Our thoughts turn especially to the nuns and sisters of the contemplative and penitential life. As We re-distributed the candles given to Us on February 2, 1961, the feast of the Presentation of our Lord in the temple, We remarked: The first destination of the candles, religious houses with the strictest rules of mortification and penance, is meant to re-affirm once more the p~:eeminence of the duties of worship and of total consecration to a life of prayer over every other form of apostolate; and at the same time it is meant to emphasize the greatness of vocations to this way of life and the need of vocations to it? This corresponds to a truth that is universally valid even for religious women of a predominantly active life: the interior life is the only foundation and the only soul of every apostolate. All of you should meditate on this truth, you who are rightly called quasi apes argumentosae because of your continual exercise of the fourteen works of mercy in sisterly conjunction with your fellow sisters. So also those of you who are consecrated to God in secular institutes must draw from prayer all the efficacy of your enterprises. Like every other form of societal living, life that is of-fered to the Lord entails difficulties and sacrifices. Only ' Discorsi,Messaggi, Colloqui di Sua Santitd Giovanni XXIlI, v. 3 (Vatican City: Vatican Polyglot Press, 1962), p. 143. prayer will obtain the gift of happy perseverance. The good works to which you are dedicated will not always be crowned with success; disillusionment, misunderstand-ing, ingratitude await you. Without the help of prayer you will not be able to bear up on your difficult road. You should not forget that a misunderstood dynamism can lead you to fall into that "heresy of action" reproved by Our predecessors. If this danger is avoided, then you can be confident that you are truly cooperators in the salvation of souls :and you will add many merits to your reward. All of you, those devoted to the contemplative life as well as those in the active life, should understand the meaning of the expression, "a life of prayer." It does not mean a mechanical repetition of formulas; it is rather the indispensable means of intimacy with our Lord and of a better comprehension of the dignity of the daughters of God and of the spouses of the Holy Spirit, that "gentle Guest of the soul" who speaks to those who know how to listen in recollection. Your prayer should be nourished by the wellsprings of a profound knowledge of Sacred Scripture, especially of the New Testament; it will be further fostered by the liturgy and the teaching of the Church in all its fullness. Holy Mass should be the center of each day in such a way that each action becomes both a prepar~ation and:a thanks-giving for it. Holy Communion is the daily food which will sustain, comfort, and strengthen you. In this way you will avoid the danger of lacking oil for your lamps as did the foolish virgins in the parable. You will find yourselves ready for everything: for glory and for ignominy, for health and for sickness, for continuing your work and for dying--"Behold the bridegroom comes, go out to meet him" (Mt 25:6). And here it will be useful to recall to you once more the often repeated statement of what We consider to be the three fundamental devotions even for the simple faith-ful: "For the understanding and. encouragement of the adoration of Christ, there is nothing better than to con-sider and to invoke Him under the triple light of His Name, His Heart, and His Blood."5 The Name, the Heart, the Blood of Christ: these are the substantial nourishment of a solid life of piety. The Name of Jesusl In all truth, Nil canitur suavius, Nil auditur iucundius, Discourse at the close o[ the Roman Synod in dcta Apostolicae Sedis, v. 52 (1960i, ÷ Religious Women VOLUME 21, 1962 4. 4. + .John XXIII REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 496 Nil cogitatur dulcius, Quam Iesus Dei Filius. Song never was so sweet in ear, Word never was such news to hear, Thought half so sweet there is not one, As Jesus God the Father's Son.6 The Heart of Jesusl In his encyclical "Haurietis Aquas'" of May 15, 1956 (which we recommend to your attentive reflection), Pius XII of venerable memory remarked: If the reasons for devotion to the wounded Heart of Christ ~re duly considered, it should-become clear to all that this is not an ordinary form of piety which one can esteem less than other devotions or regard as a minor matter; rather it is a form of worship perfectly adaptedto lead to the attainment of Chris-tian perfection.~ The Blood of Christi "This is the loftiest sign of the ¯ redemptive sacrifice of Christ which is mystically and really renewed in holy Mass; it gives meaning and orienta-tion to all Christian fife.''s A LIFE OF EXAMPLE These are. the words of Christ: "I have given you an example, that as Ihave done to you, so you also should do" (Jn 13:15). To those who desire to follow the steps of Christ faithfully is presented the practice of the evangeli-cal counsels, "the royal road of Christian sanctification.''6 Poverty Christ was born in a stable; during His public life He had no place to lay His head at night (Mt 8:20); and He died on the naked cross. The first condition that He laid down for those who wish to follow Him was this: "If you wish to be perfect, go, sell your possessions, give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven" (Mt 19:2f). You have been drawn by the example and teaching of our Divine Master; you have offered all to Him: "I have offered all these things joyfully" (1 Chr 29:17). It is in the light of the imitation of the poor Christ that your vow receives its full value; daily you must content ~ourself with what is indispensable; what is superfluous you should give under obedience to the poor and to good works; the e Vesper-Hymn of the Feast of the Holy Name of Jesus; [the English translation is that of Gerard Manley Hopkins, S.J.]. ~ dcta dpostolicae Sedis, v. 48 (19.56)¢ p. 346. 8 Discourse to the Religious Family of the Most Precious Blood, June 2, 1962 (Osservatore Romano, July 3, 1962). e Encyclical Letter Sacerdotii Nostri Primordia in Acta Apostolicae Sedis, v. 51 (1959), pp. 550-51. ~ unknown of tomorrow, sickness, old age--these should be entrusted tO Divine Providence after prudent provisions have been taken. Detachment from the goods of the earth attracts general attention since it shows to all that poverty is neither stingi-ness nor avarice; it makes persons reflect seriously on the divine words: "What profit does a man make by gaining the whole world while losing his soul?" (Mt 16:26). Live your vow or your promise to the full, for it makes you like Him who, though rich, became, poor in order that we might become rich through His poverty (see 2. Cor 8:9). In this matter there will be no lack of temptation such as the seeking of small comforts or satisfacti6n in food or the use of goods. Poverty, as you know, has its thorns which must be painful because they will become the roses of heaven. Again the need for legitimate modernization may be-come excessive by ostentation in construction and equip-ment, matters that have sometimes occasioned comments that were scarcely favorable even if there was no question of the modest rooms of the sisters. But understand this well, beloved daughters; it is not Our intention to say that what is indispensable for physical health and for reason-able and needful recreation is contrary to poverty. Never-theless, may the eye of the Divine Master never be sad-dened by that elegance which can have a negative influence on the interior life of persons consecrated~to. God when they live in surroundings which lack the atmosphere of austerity. Let poverty be held in great honor among all of you. We wish to extend a special word of comfort to clois-tered nuns for whom "sister poverty" often becomes "sister indigence." Christ, the Son of God become poor, will be your consolation. Meanwhile in His name We Ourselves stretch out Our hands for you to your fellow sisters who are in a better economic state and to generous benefactors. We encourage the enterprises begun in this connection by the federations of cloistered nuns under the direction of the Sacred Congregation of Religious. And We recall to all of you the divine promise: "Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God" (Lk 6:20). Angelic Chastity We read in the Gospels how jesus suffered and 'how great were the injuries that afflicted Him. Bu~' from Beth-lehem to Calvary the splendor which radiated from His divine purity always increased and won over the people. So great was the austerity and the charm o[ His deport-ment. So also must you be, beloved daughters. Blessed are the carefulness, the mortifications, and the renunciations ÷ ÷ I~ligious Women VOLUME 21, 1962 497 4. 4. 4. John XXIll with which you seek to make more radiant the virtue about. which Pius XII wrote a memorable encyclical letter.1° Live the lessons of.the encyclical; let your conduct show to all that chastity is not only possible but that it is a social virtue which is forcefully defended by prayer, vigi-lance, and the mortification of the senses. May your example show that your heart is not enclosed in a sterile egoism but that it has chosen the indispensable condition for making itself solicitous for the needs of the neighbor. For this purpose cultivate the rules of good man-ners. We repeat: cultivate and make use of them without paying attention to those who would introduce into your life a mode of behavior less adapted to rightful respect and reserve. In your apostolic works reject the theory of those who do not speak or speak very little of modesty and decency so that there may be introduced into methods of education criteria and orientations in opposition to the teaching of the Sacred Books and of Catholic tradition. Even though on the one hand materialism,.theoretical or practical, is a threat and though on the other hand hedonism and corruption wish to break all barriers, Our soul is restored to serenity by the contemplation of the angelic bands who have offered their chastity and who through their prayer and sacrifice draw down on the erring the marvels of divine mercy in a propitiation of pardon for the sins of individuals and of peoples. Obedience The Apostle St. Paul has developed the theme of the humiliation of Christ made obedient even to the death of the cross (Eph 2:8). In order to follow the Divine Master better, you are bound to Him by a vow or promise of obedience. This continual immolation of one's own "I," this annihilation of one's self, can be very costly; but it is also true that victory lies here (see Prv 21:28), because to this spiritual crucifixion there corresponds heavenly graces for you and for humanity. The teaching of the Church is clear and precise con-cerning the inalienable rights of the human person. The peculiar endowments of each person must be allowed to develop in a fitting way in order that each one may corre-spond with the gifts received from God. All this is a recog-nized thing. But if one passes from respect for the person to the exaltation of personality and to the affirmation of personalism, the dangers become great. There are valu-able directives also for you in the words of Pius XII in his exhortation Menti Nostrae: REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Encyclical Sacra Virginittu in Acta Apostolicae Sedis, v. 46 (1954), In an age such as this in which the principle of authority is greatly shaken, it is absolutely necessary that the priest, stand-ing firm on the principles of faith, should consider and accept authority not only as the bulwark of the social and religious orders, but also as the foundation of his own personal sanctifi-cation. 11 At this point Our discussion continues by directing it-self to thbse who have the responsibility and the duty of directing others. Demand the most generous obedience to the rules; but at the same time be understanding toward your fellow sisters; encourage in each the development of natural aptitudes. The duty of superior.s is to make obedi-ence lovable and not to obtain a merely external deference and mu~h less to impose unbearable burdens. Beloved daughters, We exhort all of you to live accord-ing to the spirit of this virtue which is nourished by deep humility, absolute disinterestedness, and complete detach-ment. When obedience has become the program of all of life, then the words of St. Catherine of Siena will be under-stood: "How sweet and glorious is this virtue in which all the other virtues are containedt Obedience, you sail without fatigue and without danger you arrive at the harbor of salvation. You are conformed to the only Son, the Word . ; you set sail in the bark of the holy cross, bringing yourself to remain firm and not to neglect the obedience of the Word nor to abandon His teaching . You are great in your perseverance; you are so great since you stretch from heaven to earth, for heaven is un-locked by you.= THE LIFE OF THE APOSTOLATE St. Paul teaches that the mystery revealed to us by God, the plan conceived from all eternity in Christ and come to realization in Him in the fullness of' time, is this: "To re-establish all things in Christ, both those in heaven and those on earth" (Eph 1:10). No one who consecrates him- .self to the Lord is dispensed from the sublime duty of continuing the salvific mission of the Divine Redeemer. The Church has special and great expectations with re-gard to those who live in the silence of the cloister. Like Moses, they hold their arms uplifted in prayer, conscious that in this suppliant attitude victory is gained. So im-portant is the contribution of religious of the contem-plative. life to tl~e apostolate that as the co-patron of the missions and hence as the equal of St. Francis Xavier Pius XI did not choose a sister of the active life but a Carmelite, St. Theres~ of the Child Jesus. You must be spiritually present to all the needs of the Church militant.' No misfortune, no loss, no calamity ~ Acta Apostolicae Sedis, v. 42 (1950), pp. 662-63. ~Dialogue, c. 155. 4. 4. 4. Religiot~s Woraen VOLUME 21, 1962 499 ÷ ÷ ÷ John XXIII REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS should find. you a stranger. No scientific discovery, no cul-tural meeting, no social or political gathering should make you think: "These are things that do not concern me." May the Church militant perceive your presence wherever there is a request for your spiritual contribution, to the good of souls and also to true human progress .and to universal peace. May the souls in Purgatory receive your suffrages that the beatific vision may come to them more speedily. United to the choirs of the angels and the saints, continue to repeat the eternal Alleluia to the august~ Trinity. Those who are dedicated to the active life should recall that not only prayer but also work will bring it about that the new course of society draws nourishment from the Gospel and that everything be done to the glory of God and for the salvation of souls. Since persons can not be used in the area of schools, of charity, and of assistance, if they are not prepared for the increased needs which modern conditions impose, exert yourselves under obedience to complete your studies and to take a diploma, quick to overcome all difficulties. In this way there will be a higher appreciation not only of your tried and tested ability but also of your spirit of dedica-tion, of patience, and of sacrifice. Moreover, further needs show themselves in the new countries that have entered the community of free nations. Without affection for one's own land being diminished, the entire world, more than in the past, has become our common fatherland. Many sisters have already heard the call. The field is immense. It is useless to lament that the children of this world have arrived before the apostles of Christ. Lamenting solves nothing; what is necessary is to bestir one's self, to anticipate, to be confident. Nor are the sisters dedicated to contemplation excluded from this duty. In some regions of Africa and of the Far East the inhabitants are more attracted by the contem-plative life since it is more congenial to the development of their culture. Some social classes which are more cul-turally advanced regret that the dynamic life of the mis-sionaries can have only a small degree of coincidence with their way of conceiving religion and of adhering to Chris: tianity. Thus you see, beloved, daughters, how great are the motives that lead to the encouragement of national and international meetings of superiors general that have beer; called by the Sacred Congregation of~ Religious. In this way you are enabled to adapt yourselves better to modern conditions, to profit by common experiences, and to con-~, i sole yourselves with the thought that the Church pos-I sesses a valorous throng of persons capable of meeting every obstacle. The consecrated souls of the new secular institutes know that their work is also appreciated; and they are encour-aged to contribute to the penetration of the Gospel into every phase of the mod6rh world: Those in positions of great responsibility should be dis-tinguished by competence, hard work, and a sense of re-sponsibility. They should also be distinguished by the ensemble of virtues that grace builds up lest persons be put in charge whobase themselves only On human wisdom and on the power of economic, scientific, and technical means: "It is in the name of the Lord our God that we are strong" (Ps 19:8). We invite all of you who are souls consecrated to the Lord in the contemplative or the active life to draw close to each other in charity. May the Spirit of Pentecost rest upon your families, uniting them in that oneness of soul which was manifest in the Cenacle where together with the Mother of God and the Apostles pious women were present (Acts 1:14). CONCLUSION These are Our desires, Our prayers, Our hopes. On the vigil of Vatican Council II the Church has summoned all the faithful, proposing to each of them a state of mind of awareness, of testimony, and of courage. Be among the first, beloved daughters, to cultivate a holy enthusiasm. On this point the Imitation of ChriSt has some touching words: We should daily renew our pqrposes and stir ourselves up to greater fervor as though this were the first day of our conver-sion. Each day we should say: "Help, me, my God, in this my good purpose and in Your holy service; and grant that I may now begin this day perfectly; for what I have done up to now is as nothing" (Bk I, c.19). May the Mother of Jesus and our Mother enkindle you with a new fervorl Have trust in your heavenly Mother and at the same time grow in familiarity with her spouse St. Joseph, the patron of Vatican Council II. Pray also to the saints that are held in particular honor in your various institutes in order that they may unite their powerful in-tercession to obtain that "holy Church reunited in unani-mous and intense prayer around Mary the Mother of Christ and guided by Peter may spread the kingdom of the Divine Savior, a kingdom of truth, of justice, of love, and of peace." The apostolic blessing which We impart to all religious communities and to each person consecrated to God is a + + + Religious Women sign of heavenly favor and of encouragement in a life and an activity for good "in the Church and in Christ Jesus" (Eph 3:21). From the Apostolic Vatican Palace, the second day o[ July of the year 1962, the fourth of Our pontificate. JOHN XXlII ÷ + + John XXIII REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ELIO GAMBARI, S.M.M. Teaching. Sister in, the Church The purposet of my conference will be to indicate the position, function, and mission of the teaching sister in the Church considered as the perfect juridical society founded by our Lord, for the salvation ,and sanctification of souls. Its purpose is also to respond to certain rumors which are spreading in certain places--this does not seem to be the case in France--and which tend to affirm that the teaching sister assumes a role in the Church and in society which does not belong to her but rather pertains to other types of persons. According to this opinion the teaching sister is merely substituting in a task which in normal condi-tions belongs to others. In this pap~er we shall consider not only the sister's right to exist in the Church but also her special position of commitment with its dignity, rights, and egpecially its duties and obligations. In the Church everything, including dignities and rights, is service; indeed, I should rather say that espe-cially dignities and rights are ~services. If the position of the sister in the Church is a special one, then it necessarily follows that this position carries with it correspondingly greater obligations and duties, which impregnate and ab-sorb the life of the religious institute and of the individual religious. Religious life enlists everything to be found in the person who is marked, with the character of religious. It is my opinion that from the matters to be presented here, whether considered individually or collectively, there will spontaneouslyflow important consequences for teaching sisters with respect to their mission in the per- 1This article is translated with permission from the original French entitled "Le mandat de la religieuse enseignante dans l'Eglise!' which appeared in Ecole chrdtienne et monde d'aujourd'hui pub-lished by the Union des Religieuses Enseignantes de France; 20 rue Gay=Lussac; Pads 5, France. Elio Gambad, S.M.M;; Via dei Monfortani 41; Rome 934, Italy, is an official of the Sa-cred Congregation of 'Religious. VOLUME 2"]., 1962 503 l~iio Ga$m.Mba.M~,. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 504 spective of the Church; this applies perhaps even more so to superiors, since these have the responsibility of form-ing and guiding religious ,teachers. It is my intention to present this subject from a prin-cipally juridical aspect. In recent years there have been a number of publications which have stressed the theologi-cal and even the mystical aspect of teaching; there is, for instance, the work of Father d'Alzon on the mystique of teaching. But I do not think that the juridical position of the teaching sister in the Church has been sufficiently treated; certainly it has not been treated exhaustively. After recalling that the mission of the Church is to teach and to form followers of Christ, I shall show how this proper mission of the Church is communicated to religious and that they partidipate in this mission by the establishment of the religious institute, by the approbation of the constitutions and rules which direct the life and activity of religious, and by the content of the vows of religion. I shall then consider with you some of the char-acteristics of the mission confided by the Church to teach-ing sisters and shall conclude by emphasizing the conse-quences ¯ that result from this mission. The Teaching Mission of the Church The teaching to which sisters d~dicate their lives is linked to the apostolate and the mission which Christ gave to His Church; moreover, it is linked to the mission of Christ Himself, the divine Teacher. The apostolate of education, taken as a whole in its general aspect, is a mis-sion, a function, a mandate for our Lord, for the Church," and for the religious herself. This assertion is verified first of all in the case of Him who is the Teacher par excellence, the unique Teacher Christ who is given the name of Divine Master. Christ came on earth with a mission of education and of teach-ing; He came to communicate life through knowledge of the Father. "I have come that they may know you, the one true God, and him whom you have sent." Before the judgment seat of Pilate Christ made this statement about Himself: "I have come to give testimony to Truth." The Word of God, since 'He is the consub-stantial Image of the Father, must by His very nature manifest and radiate the Truth; He must transmit the light which emanates from the Father. He has described Himself by saying "I am the truth." Those who follow Him and who have accepted His message are His disciples. Such is the mission of Christ our Lord, a mission of education and of teaching; such also is the mission which He has given the Chu¢ch. When He sent His apostles, how else did He express Himself except" by saying "Go, teach": [i make disciples, communicate the truth? Hence the founder of one of the first institutes of religious dedicated to teach-ing, St. Joseph Calasanctius, has correctly said: "Educators are the fellow laborers of truth"; and another saint has called them "sowers of divinity." This mission of edu~a~iofi and 0f teaching is destined to engender Christ in souls, to communicate to them this substantial Truth. Here let us recall the magnificent definition of teaching given by Pope Pius XI in 'the en-cyclical Divini Illius Magistri: the continuation of the Incarnation of Christ in souls. . Even a rapid glance at the rich collection of pontifical documents which treat of education will show us that the educative mission of the Church is presented as a gener-ating of Christ, as a formation of the Christian by a com-munication to him of divine life and of the charity which should inflame the whole world and thus bring truth to realization by means of this charity. The educative mission of the Church is based on her power of teaching and on her maternal, role. The Church, whom we frequently call "holy Mother Church," is essen-tially maternal; as such she is also an educator. Is not education one of the duties that result from maternity; is it not the prolongation of motherhood? In the same way in the case of the Church, her function and m~ssion of edu(ation is the prolongation of her maternal mission. This mission which the divine Founder gave to the Church in which He wished to perpet~Jate HimSelf shows the Chux~ch to us in her~ double aspect of a mystical organ-ism and of a juridical organism, as the mystical Christ and the juridical Christ perpetuated in a permanent way through the course of time by the Church as Pius XII has told us in so masterl~ a way in the encyclical Mystici Cor-poris. From this educative role and mission the Church de-rives her rights and duties. All of us of the present time know the pressing necessity she is under to defend her rights and prerogatives in the area of teaching. Canon 1375 at~irms the right of the Church not only to teach and preach religion but also to found schools of every type; the Church maintains this not as a privilege nor as a substitu-tional function when others fail their duty but as an innate right by virtue of her foundation and of her role. History confirms the exercise of this right by the Church. She it was who has maintained culture in the world, even under its civic.fispects. It has been she who founded and approved universities--theology at Paris, law at Bologna, medicine at Montpellier. All these universities have an ecclesial character. This is important, for even today the Church exercises ÷ ÷ ÷ Th~ Teaching Sister VOLUMI~ 21, 1962 505 ÷ ÷ ElioGamba~ S.M.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 506 her right of teaching and of founding schools of every type. This right she exercises in great part through re-ligious institutes. By means of these institutes which serve her as ministers, the Church has her own schools with a completely ecclesial character; they are schools not of the state nor even of families but of the Church herself. And the Church communicates her own rights to the men and women by whom she accomplishes her mission. All of this shows that the Church's right to teach and to educate is not limited to religious instruction in the proper sense Of that word but also extends to all other matters the purpose of which is the formation of the spirit, of the heart, and of the will; it includes everything which is a means to charity and to love. Other papers of this convention have spoken to you compellingly, instructively, and ardently of the way to construct and rebuild the world and of the way to radiate the message of Christ in the world. This radiation and this reconstruction are not done merely by religious instruction in the strict sense of the word but by a religious instruc-tion that permeates all other matters. Every ray of truth, every treasure of goodness and beauty comes from God and leads back to God; it is by reason of this treasure of truth and goodness that one can lead the world to God. The philosopher Antonio Rosminl has written magnifi-cent pages on this aspect of education and on that unity of education which seeks to insert man and the Christian into the divine plan.2 It is this final!ty that justifies the Church's presence in schools of every kind from the pri-mary level up through the university. The place of the Church in education is linked to her authority. The teaching given by the Church is not merely a statement of the truth; it is rather a presentation of the truth made with authority but without violating con-sciences. Men speak of respect for freedom of conscience; the Church desires that the acceptance of the message of Christ be consciously voluntary; otherwise there can be neither education nor formation. The Church's right to instruct is connected with her power of jurisdiction which includes the two aspects of teaching and of ministry. But the Church instructs by presenting her truth in a way in which it will be accepted. She must prepare the human mind to welcome the truth; for these minds are made for truth as the will and the heart are made for goodness. It is the work of the Church and of those who represent the Church to present truth in ~ Antonio Rosmini, Sulla unittl dell'educazione (Rome: Tipografia del Senato, 1913). a way that corresponds to the exigencies of the mind and the needs of the heart. Communication of the Church's Mission Even when she takes into.account all the Earying de-grees of ministers in the hierarchy of orders and of juris-diction, the Church finds herself unable to attain by her-self an integral realization of her teaching mission. She must then--and this is so especially at the present time-- have recourse to the assistance of her other members. In our own times how providential has been the appeal to the laity to collaborate with the Church and to feel them-selves united in the action of the Church as participants in the mission of the Church. If she used only the hier-archy, how could the Church exercise among all nations her entire teaching function of formal religious training and of Christian formation by means of general teaching? Let us here recall that the Church seeks the aid and collaborati6n of other persons in a twofold way. First of all, the Church stresses the duties which flow from the natural law. So, for example, with regard to the family, it pertains to the parents to pro~)ide their children with an education. The Church calls them to fulfill this ob-ligation and to exercise their inalienable and pressing rights. Perhaps we too easily forget that families have an obligation to obtain for their children an education and that a Christian one. Besides this, the Church recalls the duty which devolves on every Christian as a result of baptism and confirmation'. Every Christian has the d~ity of radiating God, of making God known. Karl Marx, I believe, once said: "It is easy to be a saint if one is not solidary with society, if one does not feel responsible for society." What is true for every man in so far as he is social is particularly true for every member of (he Mystical Body. Each one is bound to the others by reason of baptism and confirmation. In an important text St. Thomas declares that "the con-firmed by reason of his state has the obligation of making the Church kno~vn, of defending her, and of spreading the doctrine of the Church." This is why the Church faces each Christian with his duty to collaborate. She emphasizes the consequences of baptism and of confirmation; and natu-rally she urges these consequences especially in the case of those whose situation permits them to aid her more easily. This is the reason why she.insists so solicitously that all Catholic educators be faithful to their baptismal com-mitments. These commitmems, it is true, are proper to all Christians; but among educators the practical possi-bilities are much greater. All Catholic educators, no .mat-ter at what level they teach, precisely because they are ÷ ÷ ÷ The Teaching Sister VOLUME 21, 1962 5O7 + ÷ ÷ Elio Gambari, S.M.M. REVIEW FOR RELiGiOUS Catholic, should feel th~ obligation they.have to exercise their educative charge for the purpose of aiding the Church to realize her mission. I state this here because it is highly important that re-ligious teachers, when .preparing future teachers, should recall this fundamental duty of every Christian without consideration of membership in this or that association. It is not Only the teachers and other instructors belonging to organizations of Catholic Action who are bound to exercise the apostolate of teaching; every'teacher and every professor is so bound. Religious who form teachers must show them their special responsibility for this com-munication of truth and of Christian truth. There is a duty to radiate truth, divine.truth. His Excellency Bishop Ancel has recalled to us the missionary character of the school; the foregoing is an occasion to realize, propagate, and radiate this missionary character. The Church has recourse to the cooperation of the laity by giving them a particular charge, by conferring on them a mission and a responsibility, and by making them sharers in her own mission and rights. There is no doubt that the Church can commfinicate to others ithe mission that is proper to herself. This she does through the various de-grees of the hierarchy which are of ecclesiastical institu-tion. Nevertheless, the Church's power of delegating her proper mission is not limited to persons engaged in the hierarchy of jurisdiction or orders. She can also com-municate it to other persons without at the same time mak-ing them enter the hierarchy. It is in this way that she calls the laity to participate in her mission and hence to act and to teach in the name of the Church. The Church realizes this communication by making use of the riches of the kind of priesthood given to every Christian in baptism. To the title proper to baptism there is added a further title which unites itself to that of Christian and which is given to the Christian by the Church. It would be disastrous to build up in the Church an almost impregnable wall between the hierarchy and the faithful as though the hierarchy were the only active element and the faithful were p.urely passive. All of us know that according to the divine will a difference exists between clerics and laity, between :the various members of the hierarchy and those who are not part of the hier-archy. There can be no question of making the Church a democracy; nevertheless, those who are not members of the hierarchy do not form an exclusively passive element. Every Christian must be active; and, in some cases, the Church adds a further title to the activity of every Chris-tian. About this possibility of delegation there can be no doubt. On October 5, 1957, during the Congress of the ~.Apostolate of the Laity,' Plus XlI clarified once and for all this possibilityof communicating to the laity a mis-sion, a mandate, a canonical mission. "It is the same canonical mission," he said, "that the Church wishes to communicate to priests and to lay persons; but it'is exer-cised by the former in so far as they are priests; it will be exercised by lay persons in so far as they are lay persons."8 This communication of the Church's proper mission to lay persons can be realized in different degrees. In the Church there is a providential and.remarkable variety of forms. The Church is a living ~and fecund reality; she pos-sesses within herself an abundance of riches which she manifests in the course of history according to the needs of the times and of the persons she must lead to God."Ac-cordingly the teaching mission, of the Church can be com-municated tO lay persons in a greater or lesser degree, (When I speak of a lesser degree, I have no intention of minimizing the role of those who participate in the mis-sion of the Church in a limited degree. Every vocation in the Church is excellent and we must avoid comparisons for they are always odioug.) The lesser degree is that which the Church entrusts to lay persons who juridically remain in the position of simple lay persons. The fact that they are invited to work with the Church does not separate them from other lay persons; it does ,not make them a special class in the Church. They rerfiain lay persons liv-ing in the world under the same conditions as the other faithful. Nevertheless, one can say--I am thinking here espe-cially of Catholic Action organizations--that the Church adds a new title to that which these Catholics already possess as private persons. They possess their private title as well as a title given, to them by civil authority for the exercise of the profession of teaching. (When I speak here of civil authority I am referring to the area in which civil authority is competent; unfortunately we all know from experience that it can exceed its competency.) Civil au-thority for the sake of the public good can organize the preparation required for the exercise of certain functions. To this title which lay persons possess the Church adds a supplementary title, an ecclesial one, which, as I have said, does not remove them from their fundamental con-dition. Their association with the educative mission of the Church is, let us say, a generic one; it involves a part of their time and Of their capabilities; it ennobles their work and gives them a certain representativeness of the Church. s Les Lai'ques dam l'Eglise. Documents du DeuxiOme Congr~s Mon-dial pour l'Apostolat des Lai'ques, Rome, 5"13 octobre, 1957. V. 1, pp. 14-16. + + + The Tea~hlng Sister VOLUME 21, 19(:,2 509 ÷ ÷ ÷ Elio Gambari, S.M.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS In the Congress on the Lay Apostolate which I.have al-ready mentioned, Cardinal Montini in the course of a conference treated the different degrees of ecclesial repre-sentativeness conferred on lay persons; he emphasized the role which they.possess o[ representing the Church in a more or less varied way according to the varying ecclesial context. One must not think that a member of Catholic Action is representing the Church in all his actions and in all his different activities. The Cardinal also emphasized the fact that the repre-sentative role of lay persons is proportioned to the ec-clesiastical character of the profession and of .their activ-ity; they are not representative of the Church in everything and for everything. A Catholic professor, for example, is not the representative of the Church in his other activi-ties; he possesses an ecclesial personality which is limited to a determined sphere and to a special sector; in other words he possesses a mandate. Even here the degree of representativeness is not always the same; and the passage from ecclesial representativeness to individual activity is a gradual one. On different occasions the ~sembly of the Cardinals and Archbishops of France have clearly deline-ated the mandate that is given to lay persons; likewise. Pius XII spoke of the mandate conferred on Catholic Action: "Carry. out the mandate which the Church has given to the members of Catholic Action." Here again there is question of a mandate which leaves lay persons in their proper situation; it organizes them indeed into a juridical entity, but this entity is not so profound or so absorbing as to change their condition. The mandate of collaboration with the Church which is conferred on the members of Catholic Action, while it is a true mandate, yet does not transform their juridical condition: they re-main private persons. Over and beyond this lesser degree of representativeness of the Church there is a greater degree given to lay per-sons; it involves a greater degree of association with the teaching mission of the Church; it is the degree given to religious who are destined and consecrated to education. To these the Church communicates a mandate and a mis-sion which makes them share her proper mission in the highest degree possible short of entrance into the ranks of the hierarchy. I would almost say that teaching religious reach to the very limits of the hierarchy. Nevertheless, we must .not be presumptuous and desire to enter the hierarchy. However, religious devoted to edu-cation are completely invested with an ecclesial function; by this fact they become representatives of the Church--, always and in all their actions and activities. In the action and activities of religious we can not introduce the dis- tinctions which can be made in the case of ordinary lay persons. Since they are entirely consecrated to the mission of the Church, they are completely invested with this ec-clesial representation; they no longer work as private per-sons called by reason of their profession to aid the Church and to collaborate with her in cert~iin ways according as time and the dutiesof their state in life permit. Religious, however, have only one duty in their state of life: to work for the Church and in the name of the Church. Religious do not merely have one title which is added to another; rather their title and their rights are conferred on them entirely by the Church. Both in educa-tion and in teaching they possess a mandate given them by. the Church, and the juridical position they enjoy is entirely communicated to them by the Church. This does not exclude the fact that to this ecclesial title there may be added other titles; for example, that given them by families. Families have the right to choose the educators of their children; hence they can choose re-ligious. In this case the family communicates its rights to these religious. Nevertheless, their fundamental right remains the one communicated to them. by the Church herself. So also the state can give a title to religious, but tills will always be a secondary one. The right of religious to teach depends neither on the will of the parents nor on the will of the state. We realize, of course, that parents have a right to teach and this independently of the Church. Religious teaching goes back to the Church who communicates her rights and her obligations to religious as her ministers. Accordingly religious are invested with a mission and a mandate that is totally ecclesial; it is such at every moment and in every circumstance. The teaching done by religious is performed in the Church for the good of the Church in the name of the Church. Religious, let it be repeated, are invested with the very personality of the Church. It is the Church, a per-fect society and a juridical one, that teaches and instructs through them. This should be clearly fixed in the minds both of superiors and of teaching religious. Perhaps some may think that I insist overly much on the idea that religious have an ecclesial mandate. I think, however, that it is fundamental because all their obliga-tions and r!ghts flow therefrom. Their responsibility is rooted in this communication of a mandate, in this ec-clesial function which, as I have said, becomes their whole reason of existence. They do not contribute their, hours of time accordingly as their taste impels them to their work; they are not their own masters; they belong to the Church and precisely for this function. They have a moral and juridical obligation in conscience to be at the disposi- + + + The Teaching Si~ter VOLUME 21, 1962 511 ÷ ÷ ÷ llliO Gambarl, S.M .M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS tion of the Church and to perform everything that the Church demands of them. One can and should apply to teaching religious the magnificent remark of Pius XII to hospital religious at the Congress of 1957: "It is the Church that supports the feeble steps of the old." And the Pope went on to give an almost poetic description of the Church which in the per-. son of the hospital sister assists the dying, the newly born, the aged; this description the Pope repeated in his great encyclical Sacra Virginitas. Pius XII was a poet but also a jurist. What the Pope said on these occasions to hospital. religious is also true of all religious and of teaching re-ligious in particular. While charitable assistance, hospital or social, can be assumed by other organizations, religious formation can not be; it is proper to the Church. Hence the statement made by the Pope should be given a'juridi-cal justification; we must show its juridical foundation. The Juridical Foundation One can well ask how the teaching.religious becomes invested with a mandate; furthermore what arethe juridi-cal foundations of this mandate? To this we reply that the religiousis invested with a mandate because his institute has been established by the Church, because the constitu-tions and rules have been approved by the Church, and because the religious vows, since they are public, have been received by the Church. Establishment oI the .Religious Institute Religious institutes are juridical organizations formally founded by the Church for a definite apostolic purpose. The true founder of a religious institute is not this or that mother, or this or that saint. The formal founder is the Church; she is therefore for us holy Mother Church in a double sense. Founders only prepare the matter to which the Church gives the breath of life. The whole pur-pose of these institutes is entirely ecclesial; this purpose gives them an existence that is not a private matter but a public one; consequently their ,existence touches on the fundamental constitution of the Church. The juridical existence given by the Church to a re-ligious family is different in nature from the one she gives to pious ~issociations or unions of the faithful. One can say, I believe, wittiout fear of denial, that the establish-men~ of a religious institute has cfose analogies with the establishment of a diocese in the sense that the Church is territorially organized for all persons on the basis of dioceses while for some of these persons she is organized on the basis of religious institutes. A religious institute is not a mere spontaneous and free grouping either in its foundation or in its continued ex-istence; once the institute has been established and once one has entered it, one finds oneself linked with a juridi-cal organization which is obligatory both from the view-point of conscience and that of the society as such. While a member of an organization, of a confraternity, or even of Catholic Action, can withdraw for personal reasons without any obligation of giving an account of his de-cision to anyone, this is not the case for religious. They have entered a state that is intimately fundamental to the Church; they no longer belong to themselves but to the Church. It is important to note that a religious institute is not an organization of merely personal and individual perfec-tion and sanctification. The religious institute has a pub-lic function in the Church; it is the. official, juridical, public expression of the holiness of the Church. And it is remarkable to contemplate how in the course of centuries religion, pertaining as it does to individual and public perfection, has enriched itself with the fundamental and basic element that is the apostolate and how it has given rise to religious families essentially consecrated to holiness and the apostolate. This is especially interesting here in France where were born the first religious institutes of women consecrated to the apostolate: the different congregations of the Ursu-lines; the canonesses of St. Augustine of St. Peter Fourier; the Congregation of Religious of Notre Dame of St. Joan de Lestonnac; as well as many others. Besides it was in France that there grew up the congregations which have spread throughout the entire world (for example, the Daughters of Charity, the~ Sisters of St. Joseph). All of these are the first and highly significant examples of these institutes of holiness and the apostolate. What I wish to emphasize at this point is that in these institutes the apostolate is not an accessory, accidental, and secondary element; it is an essential one and as prin-cipal as is the pursuit of perfection. Moreover, this ele-ment of the apostolate shares fully in the institute's public and ecclesial character. The fact that the Church erects an institute for perfection and for the apostolate confers an entirely ecclesial character and mission on the institute. The document that establishes a teaching religious in-stitute determines its finality and its purpose by har-moniously combining the sanctification of its members and the apostolic ideal of education. The juridical ex-istence and character conferred on the institute are shared in by the mission which is assigned it. The apostolate of the institute shares in the juridical nature of the institute itself. Religious life in an institute destined for the apos-÷ ÷ ÷ The Teaching Sister VOLUME 21, 1962 ÷ ÷ Elio Gambari, $.M.M . REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 514 tolate is a consecration to God both in perfection and in the apostolate; it is both a state of perfection and a state of the apostolate. Take, for example, the constitutions of the Ursulines, of the religious of the Assumption, and oI other teaching institutes; in them is to be found this fun-damentally apostolic element given them by the Church in such a way that these, institutes and these religious have their whole purpose of existence in this mission. Approbation of the Constilutions The Church not only gives an institute its juridical ex-istence but she also governs it, gives it rules and constitu-tions which derive their force not from the general chap-ter nor from the superior general but from the Church. Hence when the constitutions impose teaching, (t is the Church which imposes it. In this case teaching is not a private initiative stemming from the institute and its members; it is rather an imposition made by the Church, an imposition which may have been requested but which nevertheless does not cease to be a thing that comes from above. This is true to the extent that whatever religious do, they do by reason of a title communicated to them from above; that is, from the.Church. The constitutions, once they have received pontifical approval, become pon-tifical law. One Can and must say that the contents of these laws receive an ecclesial character. The document that establishes the institute and its con-stitutions brings it about that an ecclesial mandate and a canonical mission to teach is given to the institute and that through the institute it passes to the individual mem-bers. The activity of religious is not .left to their personal choice; it is entirely ruled by authority--by an authority that is not private in nature. The Holy Father Plus XII in his discourse to superiors general on February I 1, 1958 --and this applies also to all superiors--stated: "You govern with an authority that I have giyen you; you share in my authority." Accordingly, it is the authority of the Church that regulates the matter of teaching. Public Vows Let me now consider a third point which also illustrates that ecclesial character which perhaps was better ex-pressed in former times by the fact that institutes dedi-cated to teaching wanted from their origin to have a spe-cial vow of education. Thus ihe Ursulines, the canonesses, the Brothers of the Christian Schools took a vow to conse-crate themselves to teaching. This vow was a public one like the other vows of religion; hence it was accepted by the Church, sanctioned by the Church, offered to God ifil the name of the Church, and--what is most important-~ lived in the name of the Church. This vow expressed the public and ecclesial character of teaching. At the present time this public vow is not explicitly expressed because it is contained in the vow of obedience. Teaching is one of the principal elements of the vow of obedience. In teaching institutes 6he promises obedience above all with regard to being employed in teaching. This is true to such an extent that the articles of the constitu-tions which.concern teaching are not articles which simply oblige one to assume certain obligations; they are ,articles that touch the very purpose of the institute and which oblige in conscience; they regulate the specific purpose of the institute. Religious who have made a vow of obedi-ence are bound by reason of their religious profession to devote themselves to teaching. It is interesting to note how in the history of religious life of apostolic institutes a phenomenon took place that is identical with what hap-pened in the case of contemplative institutes. In their profession ceremonies nuns dedicated to prayer receive the book of the Divine Office in order that they might pray in the name of the Church. What has happened in the case of apostolic institutes? These religious are given the constitutions; through this they are given the children and all those who will benefit by their teaching; the result is that at profession there is realized for each member what was realized for the institute as such at the moment of its establishment and of the approval of its constitu-tions. It is at the moment of profession that the superior gives to the new religious the book of the constitutions and the mandate to work in the name of the Church; the religious is thus consecrated to God in and through teach-ing. The vow of obedience and its entire content gi~ie to the profession a public character; hence the apostolate of teaching also becomes public, exercised, that is to say, in the name of the Church. In the encyclical Sacra Virginitas the Holy Father extols the motherhood of religious who receive in trust young Christian generations to form them in the name of the Church or, better, to continue and de-velop the virginal fecundity of the Church herself. I have recently been reading an interesting study which develops the. comparison between the Church and the Blessed Virgin, between the Church and the religious, in their role of forming Christians. Pontifical Statements These fundamental juridical arguments have been re-echoed in numerous pontifical statements that present teaching religious as collaborators of the Pope. Plus XII at the Congress of Teaching Religious in 1951 thanked ÷ ÷ ÷ The Teaching Sister VOLUME 21, 1962 515 ÷ ÷ ÷ Elio Gambari, $.M.M . REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 516 the members for the valuabl.e work of collaboration they give to the Vicar of Christ. The same Pope at the beatifica-tion of Rose Venerini recalled a remark of Clement XI to the future Blessed: "Madame Rose, you are helping Us to fulfill Our task and you are doing what We could not do by Ourselves; for this We thank you greatly." These words of Clement XI to Rose Venerini have been repeated on numerous occasions by sovereign pontiffs with regard to religious devoted to education. In a document of 1954 concerning teaching brothers sent by the Pope to Cardinal Valeri, the charge and the role confided to teaching re-ligious are emphasized. One could assemble a magnifi-cent anthology of such pontifical declarations relating to the association of teaching religious with the action of the Church, to the work they accomplish for the Church, and to the gratitude of the sovereign pontiffs who have said among other things: "What would We do without you?" Indeed, if religious should one day wish to call a strike in their schools, it is my belief that the greater part of Catholic establishments would be closed. But let us limit ourselves to a few texts: How could the Church have been able in past times to fully accomplish her mission without the help that hundreds of thousands of religious have given so zealously in the fields of education and of charity? How Could she do so in our own time? (Allocution of October 15, 1951). Thanks to the work of your motherly hands., the Church sustains the feebleness of old age; thanks to the tenderness of your hearts, she rekindles the souls of little orphans; and thanks to the ardor of your devotion, she assists the sick . " (Allocution of April 24, 1957). The Church then counts upon you as the appropriate in-struments which priests should use for the perfect formation of young womanhood (Allocution of January 3, 1958). The actual teaching of the Church puts special emphasis on the ecclesial char~icter of the religious; in and through her the Church realizes her purpose, communicates life, and fulfills the work of Christ her Spouse (Sacra Virginitas). Mission of the Teaching Religious Now I wish to emphasize briefly for you certain char-acteristics of the mission which religious have received {tom the.Church. This mission has a juridical, public, pontifical charac-ter. This sharing in the very mission of the Church is given to the religious not by the pastor who requests her for teaching catechism nor even from the bishop; it is given to her by the Pope, the Vicar of Christ. But since everything in the Church should be done according to order, this mission given to religiom by the Pope may be exercised in a territory only with the consent and ratifica-tion of the authority represented by the pastor of the diocese who, in accepting the community, g!ves it the freedom to exercise its work of the apostolate.4 The character of the mission, then, is pontifical; but it must be coordinated with the apostolate of the diocese. And here it is right to make religious realize the necessity of not being a closed city but rather an intense center of collaboration with all the apostolic activities of the dio-cese. It is necessary that each Teligious house be a source Of~ the apostolate not only within itself but around itself. Consequences I turn now to the consequences that flow from the mis-sion conferred on teaching religious by the Church. The first consequence is that the mission of the reli-gious is ecclesial and spiritual, Even if from an exterior viewpoint a religious seems to exercise a profession, this is only an external mark and appearance; interiorly the religious is an apostle; she represents the Church; she ex-ercises a ministry. This is wh~ Plus XII stated that teach-ing is a kind of priesthood and that the teaching religious participates in a certain sense in the priesthood (Allocu-tion of January 4, 1954). And Saint John Baptist de la Salle, who forbade his brothers to become priests since everyone in the Church has his own Cole and comparison should not be made among them, reminded the brothers that teaching is like a priesthood; in a.magnificent medi-tation (number. 195) he applied to teaching brothers everything that the Apostle said about the sacred min-ister: "You are the .dispensers of the mysteries of God; you communicate the bread of the word of God.''5 Like the minister of the altar, the educator breaks the bread of the word of God; he prepares Christian life, the meeting and communion with God. This character also marks the teaching of so-called profane matters. The teaching religious carries on the apostolate in and through teaching. Profane matters are not merely occa-sions for the apostolate of a teaching religious; the teach-ing of such is itself an apostolate. The Church has only an apostolic finality; and this is the ultimate purpose of a Christian school. The second consequence is that the religious has no personality other than the personality of the Church. Greatness implies duties; hence she must always act as befits this personality of the Church. Hence comes the ' See canon 497~ § 2. s See Fr. Michel Sauvage, F.Sc.X., "Finalit~ ~postolique de notre Institut d'apr~s les M~ditations pour le temps de la Retraite," in Bulletin des Frdres des Ecoles Ghrdtiennes, October, 19ill, pp. 131--43. 4. 4. 4" The Tea~hbtg Sister VOLUME 2I, 1962 517 4. 4. ÷ l~lio Gamba~i, S.M.M . REVIEW FOR RELIG|O~JS 518 striking difference between secular teaching and religious teaching. The first is done by reason of a personal or par-ticular title in the name of the family or in the name of the state; the second has no other personality save that which is given by the Church. Hence it is that the sector of work is limited for religious, that their way of devoting themselves to teaching is subject to restraints. It is under-standable that superiors are sometimes embarrassed by this; and it may happen that they are heard to say: "Our state as religious, the framework of religious life, seems to be a hindrance in certain cases." This is possible; but is not such a disadvantage on the natural and professional level slight when compared to the immense benefit de-rived from their ecclesial character and when compared to the charge of personifying the Church in the exercise of the~teaching profession? To this title of representing the Church there may be added other ones: the charge entrusted to them by the parents who have the right to choose their own substitutes as the educators of their children; the charge entrusted by civil society. If there are elements of the religious life which consti-tute by their nature a hindrance and an obstacle to the. efficacy of education, then there is place for the appli-cation of the counsels of renovation and adaptation. We can not demand that students fit into our religious life; it is the responsibility of religious to adapt themselves to concrete circumstances in those things which concern their students. If properly understood, this can be done without sacrificing or eliminating the constitutix~e ele-ments of religious life. In any case the central idea here is this: the activity oi~ religious is not a profession; it is a kind of priesthood.; it is a ministry, an ecclesial one, which carries with it all the greatness and the responsibility proper to the educative ministry of the Church. The third consequence is that the religious has the right to teach, a right that is given by the Church. Anyone who attacks this right of religious and who hinders the exercise of this right, attacks the Church and the rights of the Church. Numerous documents show us that the Popes have intervened to defend religious and Catholic schools as pertaining to inalienable rights of the Church. One can not touch Catholic schools or teaching religious without touching the Church. One of the lessons of history is that those who wish to fight the Church begin by fighting teaching religious. This has happened in different countries and I have no doubt that it will happen again. The reason for this is that teaching religious in their teaching really radiate the . action.of the Church. Whoever possesses youth, possesses society; and whoever possesses society, possesses the state. Hence religious, since they have youth in their schools, exercise a definite influence on al! of society. His Excellency Bishop Ancel has reminded us of the need there is for religious who are capabl~ of teaching religion. According to canon 1373, § 2 those who attend secondary and. higher schools are to be instructed in Christian doctrine; the ordinaries are to see to it that this mission is fulfilled by zealous and well-prepared priests. Does this canon exclude teaching religious arid brothers from the teaching of religion? In their schools is it the work of priests to give the courses in religion? Not at all. Speaking personally and as one who teaches law, I would say that this rule does .not apply formally to institutions which are held by men and women religious. The insti-tutes of teaching religious have been established and or-ganized by the Church primarily for the teaching of re-ligion; it is this that they are bound to in the first place; for this their members must be prepared in a special way. This does not mean that they can teach independently of the bishop, for it is he who gives or confirms their man-date. The bishop, having accepted teaching religious, should not look elsewhere for teachers of religion if these religious meet the demands of religious teaching. The in-stitutes are thereby obliged to fulfil the necessary condi-tions, and the bishop has the right and duty to control how religion is taught in the schools held by religious in his diocese.~ A fourth and very important consequence is the re-sponsibility that flows from all this for religious. If they share in the mission of the Church, they also bear all her responsibility. It may sometimes happen that we forget that we are not sealed-off compartments in the Church, cells separated from all the rest. On the contrary, we exist as a function of the entire Church; if the personality of the Church is communicated to us, this involves not only all her rights but all her duties as well. Superiors and the sisters themselves can truly say that they carry on their shoulders the weight of the entire Church. This is not merely a manner of speaking; it is a reality which results from their universal mandate. The religious has a re-sponsibility that surpasses the limits of the parish and of the diocese to extend to the extremities of the earth; she has assumed the educative responsibilities.of the Church. Superiors as well as subjects must come to a realization of this responsibility which includes mission, duties, and rights. From this flows a fifth consequence: the serious re-eSee canon 13~6, 1381, §§ 2-3. + + + The Tearhing Sister VOLUME 21, 1962 519 Elio Gambari, $.M .M . REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 520 sponsibility that superiors have to provide for the forma-tion of true educators. It is not a question of preparing only young religious who are goo~t and delicate in con-science but who have only a rudimentary training for the task which awaits them. It is rather a question of forming servants of the Chur'ch who ought to respond to the needs and necessities of the entire Church. Greatness involves duties; and the. prestige of the Church herself is at stake. Pope Pius XII has enjoined us to see that the religious school is not inferior to other schools but rather superior to them even from the technical and professional view-point. And is it not the teacher above all that makes the superiority of a school? To give to a teacher the interior and exterior prestige .due to professional worth is a mis-sion interior to culture itself. We all rightly lament the decline in religious vocations; but it may be asked whether besides a numerical lack there is not also an insufficiency of quality. One of the best ways of increasing vocations is first of all to utilize to the utmost and to make the most of those whom the Lord has already sent. If superiors know how to communicate this ideal, to the young subjects who present themselves to their communities and if they succeed in organizing for them a program of formation which corresponds to the needs of the mission to be performed, the results will recompense the efforts expended. They will have placed at the disposition of the Church riches and forces of the utmost importance. We are all aware what the Church demands of religious in the matter of formation and how she is always developing and improving the course pre-paratory to the sacred ministries. The complaint is made that there are no vocations; but if we make an examina-tion of conscience, it can be asked whether there are not enough vocations because teaching is not sufficiently ecclesial. In one of his allocutions Pius XII stated: "One mark of the teaching that truly corresponds to the direc-tives of the Church is that it arouses vocations. When you have religious and priestly vocations in your schools, then you are sure that your teaching is truly ecclesial." But there is another aspect I would like to emphasize. It is true that there is a lack of vocations; but do we channel and utilize the vocations we possess? I am not speaking of physical powers, but of moral forces, intel-lectual and moral values and capacities. There will always be a disproportion with the needs of the school today and with the necessities that must be met. But what is im-portant is that superiors act in such a way that the reli-gious who have entered the institute at the call of God and of the Church should find themselves in the possi-bility of self-development and of giving to the institute, to. the Church, and to souls everything of which they are capable. For this it is necessary to educate them and to develop in them everything which they are capable of giving. I believe--and this is an entirely personal remark that we have not sufficiently formed our religious in their spiritual, apostolic, and professional aspects. His Excel-lency Bishop Ancel has told us of the duty of the cultural apostolate through one's profession. It is necessary that religious should have in the name of the Church and to give prestige to the Church a prestige from the cultural and professional aspect. How is it possible to conceive that persons who work and who study in order to improve their professional standing or for a higher salary should be superior from the professional viewpoint to persons who teach because of the love of God and of souls? But unfortunately it happens that we do not take sufficient account of cultural prestige. I do not mean that external prestige to which perhaps too much account is taken; I am referring to that interior richness which is so impor-tant and which ennobles your schools and the Church her-self. Conclusion I shall conclude my conference by saying that the ecclesial mission confided to religious is the continuation on earth of the mystery of the Incarnation; hence it is a prolongation throughout the course of the centuries of the role of the Blessed Virgin with regard to the Savior and to the Church. There is no Christian life that should not be marial. In particular does not the religious edu-cator find in the Virgin Mother an ideal example of her own vocation? She is more than an example, for she is the first educator and teacher, the one who has given us substantial Truth, the incarnate Word of God, the Truth of God. In the constitution Sedes Sapientiae the Pope held up before the eyes of those who form others as well as before the eyes of those who are to be formed the radiant image of the holy Virgin, the Seat of Wisdom, the Throne of the incarnate Word; she it is who, although not pertaining to the hierarchy, received from God the mission to give us the Word, the consubstantial Utterance; and it is still she who wishes to continue this mission through the work of each teaching institute and in each teaching religious. ÷ ÷ + The Teaching Sister VOLUME 21, 19~,2 521 THOMAS DUBAY, S.M. Psychological Needs in The Religious Context Thomas Dubay, S.M., is a faculty member of Notre Dame Seminary, 2901 South Carroll-ton Avenue, New Orleans 18, Louisi-ana. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS The strictest of religious orders have always agreed that their members must eat, drink, and ~'elax. Congregations may vary in the amount and quality of the food, beverage, and recreation they permit, but they are of one mind in principle: men and women have bodily needs that must be met; and if they are not met, nature will have its venge-ance. But we are not so well assured that religious commu-nities are fu!ly aware that their members have psychologi-cal needs every bit as real as their corporeal ones. We are not confident that even given the high contemporary in-cidence of mental disordel~s and the widespread popular literature dealing with man's psychological ailments, our present day religious men and women really grasp the concept of mental needs. And if this lack of confidence is realistically based, we are justified in suggesting that the psychological needs of priests, brothers, and sisters are often not met or at least are not met in as happy a way as we might hope. The Problem The mere experience of living some years in a religious community and especially the experience of working with the spiritual problems of consecrated souls make clear the fact that man does not live by bread alone. Only too fre-quently does one who works with religious meet persons who are beset with serious problems with apparently in-tangible roots, problems that are not due to physical ill-ness nor to a dislike for the religious life as such nor to ill will nor to difficulty with the vows. Unless he cuts off a full discussion by the prompt and pat solution, he will often find that the problem is due to poor adjustment in the community or to a lack of security or to inferiority feel-ings or to a whole collection of assorted fears or to an un-satisfied hunger for affection. And this is to say that the problem is psychogenic. A man or woman does not have to be neurotic or psychotic in order to suffer from psychologi-cal malnutrition. Just as the human person can be under-nourished in the bodily sense without being therefore seriously ill, so can he be underfed in the mental and emo-tional sense without being seriously deranged. But the similarity can be pushed a step .further. Just as prolonged and marked malnutrition.can issue in grave illness on the physical level, so can it on the mental. However, we are not directly concerned in this study with serious mental illness. We are not even concerned with illness as such. We are concerned with the simple fact that religious priests, brothers, and sisters have psychological needs in common with the rest of men, needs that must be satis-factorily met within the context of their vocations if they are to function normally, happily, and holily. Whence Psychological Needs? Only an imperfect being experiences need. This is so because need bespeaks a lack of something due: comple-mentation, aid, perfection. God does not need because He is the fullness of perfection. Man needs because he is in-herently imperfect, limited by his potencies. Man needs on three levels because he is subject to three types of imper-fection or limitation: physical, psychological, supernatu-ral. His eating, drinking, working, recreating are remedial of his physical needs. His prayers, reception of the sacra-ments, practice of the virtues are aimed at satisfying his supernatural deficiencies. He can grow normally on nei-ther of these two levels unless these needs and deficiencies are met. The same must be said of his psychological perfectibil-ity. Man is mentally and emotionally imperfect. He needs to grow and to be fed in his intellect and will and emo-tions. He has psychological needs that donning a religious habit does not delete. He may act as though these needs do not exist. He may ignore them, hoping that they will go away. But they will not. More than that, if they are neglected, they will catch up with him and make him pay a price for his foolishness. For the same reason that bodily needs arise from incom-pleteness and imperfection in the organism, so do psycho-logical needs arise from an incompleteness and imperfec-tion in one's mental-emotional life. Man needs precisely because he is an unfinished being seeking ends as yet un-attained. Meeting Psychological Needs in Religious Lile In God's providential plan for man, every state in life is meant to lead its followers to a rich personality develop-ment together with (and we might add, because of) their Psychological Needs VOLUME 21, 1962 523 $.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS achievement of the beatific vision of the divine Trinity. Marriage aims not only at the preservation, and increase of the human family but also at the individual good o1! husband and wife, and that on all levels, physical, psycho. logical, supernatural. Such is true also of the religiou,,; state, for a vowed consecration to God is orientated toward. both individual and communal goods. From the point of view of the individual good the re-ligious life is directed toward the fulfillment of the. per. son's whole being, the actualization of as many of his po-. tentialities as possible. If it is true that the religious is imperfect on physical, psychological, and supernatural. levels, it follows that the institute must provide for the per-fecting process on all three levels, not only on the first and the third. If it does not so provide, it is harming both the individual and the group. A prolonged unsatisfied psycho-logical need leaves the human person truncated, ill at ease, unhappy, and even at times frustrated and neurotic. More-over, an ill personality is a marked hindrance to the achievement of sanctity. One may dispute whether a neu-rotic can be a saint, but he may not dispute the fact that neurotic tendencies are hurdles in the path to sanctity. They are imperfections, and imperfections can aid one in acquiring holiness only per accidens, incidentally. From the point of view of the common good, the insti-tute hui-ts itself likewise for the obvious reasons that a~ psychologically ill-adjusted member can cripple commu-nity effectiveness, peace, and joy. This member is himself less productive in that part of the community's apostolate committed to him, and he often enough is an impediment to the productiveness of his companions. For the same reasons, then, that a religious congrega-tion is interested in promoting the physical welfare of its members through ,satisfying their bodily requirements, so should it be concerned about furthering their mental wel-fare through meeting their psychological needs. What are these .needs? And how can they be met in the religious context? Realization of. Personal Worth The first of man's general psychological needs with which we propose to deal sends its tap root deep into meta-physical truth. This need sends up a cry from the depths of man's being, a cry that demands of a man that he eval-uate himself rightly, realistically, according to what he is. The metaphysical truth pertinent here is axiomatic: every being is good. Insofar as a thing is, it is valuable; it is a good, good for itself and good for others as well. Surely, to be is immeasurably better for a given reality than not to be. To be a reflection of the divine goodness is likewise a glory for Another. Since reality is good, worthwhile, valuable, it can come as no surprise that deeply hidden in man's psyche is a yearning that he recognize and acknowledge to himself his own value, his own worth. Every man needs to know that he has an intrinsic value, that he isimportant, worth-while. Religious are no exception. Their psychology, like that of the rest of men, reflects the metaphysical law that being is good. Drastic consequences can follow in a man who is really .persuaded that he is worthless.,Selbconfidence is paralyzed and the energetic pursuance of a task becomes almost im-possible: Inferiority feelings may fill the conscious mo-ments of. each day and make healthy prayer and construc-tive thinking mere fond wishes. The man or woman who is devoid of a realization of personal worth is not thereby humble. He or she is ill, psychologically ill. A religious formation in postulancy, novitiate, or ju-niorate that "humiliates" the young candidates into think-ing that they are next to worthless has done both them and the institute a disservice. It is perfectly true that without God we are nothing, but it is just as true that we are not without God. With Him and from Him and through Him we are a great deal. A.realistic self-esteem is not incompatible with the deep-est humility. 0nly exaggerated selbesteem issuch. Christ Himself was well aware of His perfection and infinite worth, and yet He practised the most sublime humility. Priests, brothers, and sisters need to esteem themselves if they are going to be mentally healthy. And there are any number of just reasons for thi~ judgment of self-worth, all of them consonant with humility. We ought to rate ourselves highly because of our God-given rational nature, a nature that marvelously elevates us above the rest of visible creation. If God could judge on the day of'creation that the inanimate earth was "ex-tremely good," what must He think of man whom He placed at the peak of visible reality to rule it? The religious ought to rate himself even more highly because of his state of grace and his unspeakable destiny, the face-to-face vi-sion and enjoyment of the Trinity. He must be precious in the sight of this Trinity, for God became man for his sake and went to the death on a cross for him. What better proof can we have of our personal worth than the fact that God loves us? "For God so loved the world that he gave his only-begotten Son, that those who believe in him may not perish, but may have life everlasting" (Jn 3:16). If God loves us, we must be lovable. Since God's love is communicative of the goodness that He loves, we must grant that He has a special love for re-ligious on whom He bestows the special goodness of a con-secrated vocation. ÷ ÷ ÷ Psychological Needs VOLUME 21, 1962 ÷ ÷ ÷ Thomas Dubay, S.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ~2~ A priest, brother, sister are good indeed. And honesty demands that they recognize their goodness. So does their psychological w~lfare. How can the religious life foster both a healthy selb esteem and a salutary humility? The norm must be reality, nothing artificial, nothing exaggerated, nothing.pseudo. Formation personnel must teach humility according to sound principles, such as those of St. Thomas presented in his Summa of Theology. They must not give postulants, novices, and juniors the impression that they are of small worth. They should not so harp on a candidate's faults that he imperceptibly imbibes the unhealthy conviction that he is thoroughly inferior and will be of little use in the apostolate. Like the rest of the human race a religious man or woman simply cannot function smoothly and ade-quately unless he is aware of his basic worth. Novice mas-ters and mistresses must teach this as well as the bases for genuine humility, God's excellence and our utter depend-ence on Him. Those engaged in formation work should heed theology's careful formulation of its concept of hu-mility. It is a virtue which moderates (not destroys) one's desire for his own excellence and prompts him to evaluate himself as he is. Humility, of course, prompts a man to love to be hidden in God and unknown among men, but this is not to say that it encourages inactivity or damages magnanimity. By it "each one regards the others as his superiors" (Phil 2:3), but this does not imply that a man deny his own good. Religious, superiors and subjects alike, foster a salutary sense of self-worth in their companions by a deep and sin-cere reverence, respect, and politeness. We may remark in this connection that those in authority precisely because they are in authority experience a special openness to fail-ure on this point. Especially can the superiors of large communities begin without realizing it to act toward the rank and file as though they were indistinguishable, in-habitants of the religious habit, almost mere numbers in a personnel register. When a higher superior, for example, treats a sister indifferently, coldly, or with an artificial smile or greeting, who can be surprised if the sister sees this coldness as a reflection on her personal value? If this sort of treatment is repeated by enough people, we can at least fear that this religious' need for a wholesome self-esteem is being shoddily met. What we say of superiors in this context applies also to companion religious.4 ll should show reverence to all: old toward young as well as young toward old, well-educated toward the less well-educated as well as vice versa. The fundamental reverence of religious for one another is founded on more substantial grounds than age and ad-vanced degrees. One may argue that people striving after perfection ought not to need small marks of politeness and esteem in order to maintain and further their psychologieal health. Possibly so. But the hard fact remains that these people are human and many of them do need this food for their personality growth. The common life, unless well lived, can have a damag-ing effect on a man or woman's need to be considered an individual. While this life is good and conducive to hu-mility, yet that goodness does not .imply that commonness and individuality must always be opposed. We feel that a religious' need for self-esteem is properly answered by small marks of indir~idual consideration: praise for a work well done, .greeting on his feast day, non-prying inquiry about the family back home, the noticing and considering of personal preferences. These marks of individual con-sideration are not merely psychologically beneficial for the recipient; they are supernaturally advantageous for the one bestowing. What are a word of praise, a feast day greeting, an interested inquiry, the recognition of a prefer-ence but the basic marks of the fraternal love religious are to have for one another: "As long as you did it for one of these, the least of my brethren, you did it for me" (Mt 95:40). We must be careful that we do not restrict our fraternal love to pious affections at prayer. These latter must be prolonged into the hard arena of daily contact. A superior especially can contribute to a subject's sense of personal worth in a number of inconspicuous ways. A word of commendation for work well done means even more for a religious when it issues from his superior than when it comes from an. equal. Then, too, the man or woman in charge should not be above asking for ideas and opinions and advice from subordinates. Even aside from the obvious benefit that will accrue to him, he will aid his fellow religious in realizing that their views are valued and hence that they themselves have value. Further, a superior should be generous in providing an unrushed hearing to any who wish to approach him with their problems. This is especially true of religious women. One can easily ap-preciate the psychological harm done when a sister finds that her superior seldom has time to see her or, when she is available, b~ushes the sister off in summary fashion and with a pat a.nswer that solves nothing. The sister may draw the conclusion, and unfortunately there is basis for it, that administration and reports are more importantin the su-perior's eyes than the sister is. A superior should likewise make an effort to initiate and provide conveniences for individuals: the use of a car, a bit of extra rest, the pur-chase of a useful tool of employment, an unusual but needed permission. Superiors must be concerned not only with the common welfare of the group but also with the 4, 4. 4- Psychological VOLUME 21, 1962 4. Thomas Dubay, S.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 52g particular needs o[ individuals. In large communities this kindly foresight requires a generous heart together with a gift for detail, but no one can deny that it contributes not a little to a family' spirit and a healthy sense of personal Worth. Finally, the superior should encourage his subjects to use their initiative and develop their talents. Even when he must refuse a permission in an "initiative matter," he should do so with open reluctance and should leave the re-ligious with the impression that more new ideas will be welcome in the future. Then there is the question of corrections. Badly exe-cuted they can do notable psychological damage, espe-cially with the young and with timorous souls beset with the fringes of inferiority feelings. As a class religious are better able to receive corrections with a reasonable out-ward equanimity, but one would be naive to think that most of them are exempt from a more or less deep inner pain. Nor are most exempt from sustaining psychological harm especially in their early years in the religious life from too frequent or clumsily executed corrections. We are not opposed to corrections. Healthy realism de-- mands that a man recognize the fact that he is going to err and to fail and that at times he will need correction if not for bad will at least for faulty judgment. But we are op-posed to damaging corrections, corrections that leave the subject with the limp feeling that he must be of small value to the community, rather tolerated than appreci-ated. To avoid this sort of result, a superior should correct with moderation as regards both frequency and manner. He should be on the lookout for mitigating circumstances and let the subject know that he recognizes their presence. He should rarely hop on first offences and be extremely circumspect about correcting in public or in the presence of others. In addition a sister superior especially (men at times need the same caution) must be fair and operate according to her intellect rather than her feelings. Unless she already possesses a sympathetic understanding of human weak-ness, she should attend carefully to the acquisition of a balance that steers a middle course between a laxity that overlooks everything and a rigorism that never winks at a defect. Sense of Accomplishment Closely allied to the sense of personal worth is the sense. of achievement or accgmplishment. The latter tends to in-sure the continuation of the former. If a man never achieves anything, he will soon doubt that he is worth anything. There is a deep metaphysical truth hidden in this psy-chological need just as there was in our previous one: op- eration follows on essence. As a being is, so does it act. A duck cannot act like a squirrel, and a borderline pupil cannot perform like a geni.us. And so if a man does not produce, he is likely to conclude (perhaps with a violation of logic) that he .cannot produce; and if he cannot pro-duce, he must not be much. Though the logic may be par-tially faulty, the damaging effect of repeated failure on one's sense of personal worth is a given fact of life. A saint may come through a series of this-world failures with his psychological equilibrium undisturbed, but that is due to the fact that he knows he is succeeding in the far more im-portant business of attaining God. Even a saint is not ex-empt from the laws of psychological needs and their ful-fillment. The priest's, brother's, or sister's need for some measure of success should be met predominantly in the realization that he is succeeding as long as he is pleasing God. This religious may be a poor preacher or a mediocre teacher; but as long as sincere effort springing from supernatural motivation is a part of the picture, he should experience a sense of accomplishment. He is succeeding. He is worth something. However, we must face the fact that even religious who are supernaturally motivated will be aided in maintain-ing a sense of personal value by at least moderate success in their fields. The responsibility of a religious community in aiding its members to achieve this success devolves chiefly on superiors, major and local. They can discharge this duty in several ways, 1. Major superiors should see to it insofar as such is possible that religious are adequately prepared for the tasks to which they are assigned. This is especially true of the young woman who by nature is usually more appre-hensive about facing a new task than is a man. One does not need a lively imagination to gragp the impact felt in the heart of a young sister entering her first classroom knowing rather little about her subject matter and per-haps less about methods of teadaing and the keeping of discipline. She is going to have a hard time achieving a sense of competency, if she ever does achieve it at all. 2. On differing levels of responsibility both major and minor superiors must take care that they do not assign work too difficult for given subjects. One is asking for trouble if he assigns to the teaching of philosophy a man who is slow in abstract thinking or nursing to a woman who is short on practicality. 3. Again, both major and minor superiors must moder-ate the work load in their communities. A priest, brother, or sister who has too much to do is either going to suffer damage on the physical level by overwork or on the psy-chological level by the conflict resulting from his failure 4- 4- 4- Psychologiral Needs VOLUME 21, 1962 529 + ÷ ÷ Thomas Dubay, $.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS to do it well. Time pressure and overwork are perhaps the single most urgent problem American religious, as a group face today. It has ramifications in more areas of the re-ligious life than is within the scope of this article to detail. Superiors should take it in hand--and resolutely. 4. Any modern business knows that if it is to survive, compete, and succeed, it must be housed in an adequate plant and be equipped with efficient tools of operation. If a religious is to be given a reasonable opportunity to com-pete with his secular counterparts in school or hospital and attain a sense of success in his work, he, too, needs adequate tools. Principals in our schools and administra-tors in our hospitals should see to it that their religious collaborators are given the equipment, books, and sundry aids that will enable them to achieve satisfactorily. 5. We are all aware that it is bad policy for a mother ceaselessly to correct her children from dawn to dusk. Ex-cessively severe discipline makes them nervous and can give rise to resentment feelings and/or an inferiority com-plex. But we may forget that a mature adult is not im-mune from these deleterious effects of an over correcting superior. While a religious superior has an obligation by reason of his office to secure the observance of the commu-nity's constitutions, he need not feel that nothing at all may be overlooked. Nor ought he to emphasize the failures of his subjects. If circumstances suggest that he discuss a notable failure with the religious responsible for it, he should discuss it. Yet at the same time he should praise what can be praised in the situation and he should assidu-ously avoid discouraging a timid person or one already prone to believe himself next to useless. Sister superiors especially need circumspection in this area, since women are probably more inclined than men to discouragement in the face of a difficult task. They need encouragement more than blame when they err. 6. Superiors and subjects alike can promote the sense of achievement in one another by the sincere commenda-tion of success. Most religious, we should hope, are ma-ture enough not to nourish a vanity over the compliments their cbmpanions pay them. If a particular relig!ous be-lies Our hope, we can for the most part skip complimenting him he has already too much of a sense of achievement. Others, however, are aided by a kind word of recognition, and we further their welfare by offering it to them. Such, then, are the first two general psychological needs that.must be met in the religious context: a realization of personal worth and a sense of accomplishment. We shall .pursue in a concluding article a discussion of further gen-eral needs of religious men and women, and we shall add several considerations concerning those of sisters in par-ticular. ROBERT J. ROTH, S.J. Contemplation in Action ¯A Clarification More and.more frequently in recent years the phrases "contemplation in action" and "finding God'in all things" are being used as titles of articles, books, and chapters in books. To a large extent, the treatment of these themes has been confined to technical works of asceticism written for religious, but these topics are beginning to find their way into articles and add(esses dealing with the lay apostolate and are being received with enthusiasm by the layman. This interest on the part 0f the layman has been in-spired in great measure by the growing appreciation of the important role that the laity must play in the apostolic mission of the Church. Laymen are everywhere urged to be mindful of the implications of baptism and confirma-tion whence flow their privilege and obligation to assist the hierarchy in the christianization of the world. Such activity is to be exercised by men and women in a wide variety of situations and in all walks of life. Further, one can easily see that a person engaged in.such activity needs a type of spiritual life which is suited for the work that is to be undertaken. An apostle, and here we mean primari!y the lay apostle, must be a very active per-son if he is to fulfill his commitments to his family and his job and unify these commitments in the fullness of the one Christian, apostolic life. He requires a spiritual life which is geared for action, which permits him to live a deep interior life in the midst of absorbing activity. No better theme could be chosen, it is said, than that expressed by the phrases "contemplation in action" and "finding God in all things." Moreover, an. appeal is sometimes made to authority in the person of St. Ignatius Loyola who exemplified in his life the ideals contained in these phrases and who incorpo-rated them into a type of spirituality which is known as "Ignatian." One can cite texts from his writings where he ÷ ÷ ÷ Robert J. Roth, s.J., is professor of phi-losophy at Fordham University, Ford-ham Road, New York 58, New York. VOLUME 21, 1962 Robert Roth, S.]. REVIEW FO~ RELIGIOUS enjoins the shortening of .the time given to formal prayer so 'that the apostle c~n be off and away on some apostolic venture. The ideal Ignatian man is portrayed as one streamlined for action, unhindered by long periods of prayer and liturgical service. Such a man must be able to do without long spiritual exercises and in this he is not taking anything away from God. Rather he must be a "contemplative in action," he must learn to "find God in all things." Naturally this ideal will appeal to the active man who has already experienced the di~culty of joining a dee[, spiritual life with an intensely active one. It is especially appealing, perhaps, to the American, who, not without reason, is called the activist, the practical man, the man of action. That such interest in working out an appropriate spirit-ual life has been awakened in recent years is a clear sign that many people, both cleric and lay, are becoming alive to the sense of what it means to be a" Christian, to be a member of the Mystical Body. It would be unfortunate, however, if one were to stop short at catch phrases and to use them in entirely different ways while remaining under the illusion that he is using them in their original sense. Whatever else was meant by the phrases "contemplation: in action" and "finding God in all things," they never stood for a heedless rush into external activity, a substitu-tion of external work for a deep interior life or of action for prayer. This is not to say, at this point at least, that such substitutions are harmful. That they are harmful will, I hope, become clear as we proceed. But what we wish to emphasize first is that such substitutions radically alter the meaning which these phrases originally had. Therefore, as long as interest has been aroused regard-ing the type of spirituality best ~uited for the lay apostle in modern times, it would be profitable to examine closely our two phrases in their historical context so that we may understand their original meaning.1 At the end of the dis-cussion, some may judge that such a meaning has little validity/today; but at least we shall, have satisfied ourselves that we have examined the matter carefully, and, by way of elimination at least, our future procedure will be a bit clearer. Actually, in the judgment of the present writer, 1 Perhaps the best treatment in English of this subject, a work which was followed closely in the preparation of this paper, is Joseph F. Conwell, s.J., Contemplation in Action: A Study in Ignatian Prayer (Spokane: Gonzaga University, 1957). Other excellent works on the same subject are: Jean Danidlou, "The Ignation Vision of the Universe and of Man," Cross Currents, 7 (1957), pp. 357-66; Alexandre Brou, S.J., lgnatian Methods ol Prayer (Milwaukee: Bruce, 1949); Alexandre Brou, S.J., The Ignatian Way to God (Milwaukee: Bruce, 1952); William J. Young, S.J. (ed.), Finding God in All Things: Es-says in lgnatian Spirituality (Chicago: Regnery, 1958). anyone who understands the meaning of these phrases will see implications which are valid for the contemporary layman. In order to understand the meaning given by Ignatius to the two phrases in question, it would be well to examine the prayer proper to the order which he founded since the two phrases are really expressive of that prayer. In turn, the nature of !gnatian prayer can best be understood by examining the end oi- purpose 9f his order. Our proce-dure, then, will be through an examination of the purpose of the Society of Jesus to come to an understanding of Ignatian prayer and thence to an understanding, of the two phrases under discussion. What, then, was the nature of the new order founded by Ignatius Loyola in the middle of the :sixteenth "century? Its purpose, perhaps broader than any yet envisioned, was the salvation and perfection of self and of neighbor, in-cluding the defense and propagation of the. faith and the spiritual and corporal works of mercy--in brief, any work that had in view "the greater glory Of God and the good of souls." What must be emphasized is that the goal envisioned in-cludes salvation and sanctification of others as well as of self. At first glance, this goal may not seem to be particu-larly unique. The mendicant orders of the late Middle Ages had already, dedicated themselves to apostolic ac-tivity. Moreover, the second great commandment has al-ways been love of neighbor; and every spiritual orienta- .tion, whether it be of a religious order or of an individual Christian, goes out to others as well as to self. Even a con-templative religious or a bed-ridden layman can further the spiritual welfare of his neighbor by example, prayer, and sacrifice. This is at the center of the whole doctrine of the Mystical Body and has been given expression in a beautiful way by Pope Plus XlI in his encyclical: Deep mystery this, subject of inexhaustible meditation: that the salvation of many depends on the prayers and voluntary penances which the members of the Mystical Body of Jesus Christ offer for this intention, and On the assistance of pastors of souls and of the faithful, especially of fathers and mothet;s of families, which they must offer to Our divine Savior as though they were His associates3 But what is perhaps unique in the Ignatian goal, giving it a distinctive note, is the importance accorded to the ÷ salvation and sanctification of neighbor. This aspect 'is ÷ not accidental but essential to the Ignatian ideal, and the Ignatian apostle will fail in his vocation if he does not Contemplation deeply concern himself with others.3 In this respect, one in Action ~ The Mystical Body oI Christ (New York: America Press, 1943), p. 21. s There is no attempt here, of course, to minimize the primacy of VOLUME 21, 1962 Robert Roth~ REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS can look upon the salvation and perfection of self and that of neighbor not as two goals but as two aspects or compo-nents of a single goal. Or to put it in another way, concern for self and concern for neighbor as described above move in a circle (in this case not a "vicious" one!); that is, the more one perfects himself through contact with God, the more he can accomplish for his neighbor. And in.turn the more one labors for others the more he develops virtues within his own soul; for example, charity, zeal, patience, humility, faith, confidence in God, and self-sacrifice. This concept breaks completely with the picture some-times given which compares the perfection within the soul to a reservoir storing up water to be carried off to whatever place may need it without any return to the source. Work for neighbor shou!d not be considered ex-clusively as a drain on one,s supernatural resources; it can also be a means of increasing the perfection within the apostle's soul.4 This orientation will have its effect on one's outlook towards his natural talents, gifts, skills, and abilities. These are given not merely for the furthering of one's own su-pernatural development. They must be brought to their highest potential and used to their fullest capacity in order to advance the we/fare of others. This orientation has an effect too on the direction given to the life which one leads. Whereas members of the older, monastic orders, and to a large extent of the newer mendicant orders, dedicated themselves primarily to formal prayer, long "liturgical services, especially solemn Mass and the chanting of the Divine Office, the members of the order founded by Ignatius sharply curtailed these exercises and gave them-selves wholeheartedly to the active apostolate in any work dictated by time and plaice. We are now in a position to move from the Ignatian goal to Ignatian prayer. First of all, if the former is apos-tolic, so too is the latter. It is designed to help souls. Ft. Joseph Conwell, S.J., states that this affectsthe orientation one's own salvation and sanctification. We need only to recall St. Paul's precaution against becoming a castaway. But the opposite ex-treme should also be avoided where, out of selfishness or excessive caution and fear or even sloth,.one would ignore the salvation and sanctification of others. In this regard, we would raise the question as to whether an individual could s:ive his own soul by deliberately excluding the salvation of neighbor, or whether he could reach the full perfection of the Christian life without being deeply concerned with the spiritual welfare of neighbor by prayer, example, sacrifice, and, when possible, good works. ~ Even this picture should not be exaggerated, for again we must recall St. Paul's warning and also his remedy against exhaustion of spirit which consists in refreshing the soul from day to day (9 Cor 5:16). The main point made here, however, is that work for one's neighbor should not be considered a mere waste as far as one's per-sonal spiritual development is concerned. of prayer rather than its content. Prayer should arouse a great thirst to help souls; otherwise the devotion found in in prayer, even though good in itself, would be danger-ous. 5 When the Ignatian apostle prays, he is no longer praying as an individual. He prays as one intimately in-volved in the apostolic mission of the Church. Conse-quently his prayer is to be a help for the souls of others as well as for his.own soul, and his prayer is to be the in-gpiration of apostolic activity. Secondly, at times the individual will have to curtail the periods devoted to formal prayer in order to engage in the apostolate. This helps us to understand the some-times strong statements of St. Ignatius arid of Father Jer-ome Nadal who officially interpreted find promulgated the Constitutions of the newly-fo~'med order, against cer-tain prominent members of the order. These latter had a tendency to look upon prayer as an end rather than as a means and to place perfection in the passing of long hours inprayer and penance.~ It was necessary to censure protracted recollection and solitude, and by these were meant such as would withdraw one from the task of help-ing his neighbor. There will be times when the apostle must forego.the consolation and quiet of formal prayer in favor of the active apostolate. In doing this he should .not be disturbed but should be assured that he is acting according to his vocation. But one must point out with equal emphasis that the apostle cannot entirely forego recollection and solitude. This balance, I think, is an answer to those who would view the Ignatian ideal as an excuse for feverish activity without the quiet of formal prayer and recollection. As we shall see, the emphasis on shortening formal prayer would seem to be relative; relative, that is, to the amount prac-ticed by other orders while the amount that is left is con-siderable. Let us pursue the matter a bit further. So far we have seen that the Ignatian goal is apostolic, that it comprises the he!p of self and of neighbor, that these two cannot be attained in separation, ~hat consequently Ignatian prayer is apostolic, aimed at helping others as well. We are now able to understand that which was unique in Ignatian prayer, especially in its relation to activity. There is one way of explaining this relationship which, while good and salutary, isnot precisely Ignatian. Accord- ~ Conwell, op. cir., pp. 69-70. 0 In taking their stand; neither St. Ignatius nor Father Nadal had any intention of passing judgment on the superiority of one type of religious order over another. It was a question of clarifying the goal and hence the spirituality proper to the Society of Jesus. This task took some time since.in important ways the orientation of the new order differed from that of others existing at the time. See Brou, The Ignatian Way to God, Chapter 7 and passim. + + + Contemplation in Action VOLUME 211 1962 535 4. 4. 4. ing to this view, one would look upon prayer and activity as two distinct steps. Thus one would engage in formal prayer in order to receive grace, motivation, and inspira-tion for apostolic activity. He then turns from prayer to activity and in the course of that activity prayer as such ceases. In fact, activity may be looked upon as an obstacle to prayer, something to be taken up and completed after which one returns to prayer. Ignatius wanted more than this. He wanted to bridge the gap, to eliminate the line, as it were, between prayer and activity. There are not two stages but only one; that is, continued prayer and contemplation even in the midst of action. In this sense, action literally becomes prayer. Ft. Conwell expresses it as follows: It is not enough, therefore, that prayer incline to the apos-tolate; it should carry over to the work itself. There can be no question of a life of prayer and a life of action with a huge gulf in between. Prayer should not only incline to the apostolate but bridge the gap between them, even more, close the .gap, fill the gap, so that no gap exists between prayer and actxon . Not only does prayer lead to action, not only does it accompany a man as he crosses the threshold of the apostolate, but it pene-trates the entire action. Not only is there a connection between prayer and action, but a vital union of the two, the same spirit vivifying both. Action has become a prolongation of prayer, or to put it another way, prayer is prolonged by action itself? We can see, then, that the purpose of both prayer and apostolic activity are the same; namely, union with God. This means first of all union of intellect where under the divine light we share His vision of the universe. In some dim but definite way we have in the very course of our activity an increasing awareness of the divine mission of salvation and sanctification carried on by the Mystical Body in the people with whom we come in contact and in the circumstances and events in which we find our-selves. All things great and small--the whole created uni-verse in its natural and supernatural dimensions, the events of i~dividual~ and of nations, the growth of the Church, ordinary, everyday events--all become meaning-ful as we see in them the unfolding of the divine plan. Union with God in prayer and activity means also a conscious union of the will with God, especially in charity. It is charity which brings the individual to prayer and action and it is charity which consciously animates his actions, giving them meaning, direction, and unction. In being united more fully to God by charity, the soul also comes to love more fully the divine plan of salvation and all things in Him; love moves out also to one's neighbor, and this in turn inspires him to spend himself the more in works of zeal for the salvation and sanctification of the world. ~ Conwell, op. cit., pp. 72-73. All this applies not only to works which are in them-selves apostolic, for example, the preaching of the word of God or the dispensing of the sacraments, nor does it apply only to works upon which one has just meditated and to which he goes under the proximate impetus of that prayer. It applies also to works upon whi~:h he'has not specifically meditated and to works, events, and circum-stances which are not directly apostolic; for example, the teaching of mundane subjects and even the directing Of games for active youngsters. Hence the apostle contem-plates and finds God in the action, any action, which he is performing and performs the action precisely because in it he does find God. Viewed from this aspect, activity need no longer be looked upon as an obstacle to prayer. "The revolution accomplished by St. Ignatius showed that that which ap-peared to be an obstacle could become a means.''s Ac-tivity now joins hands with prayer in enabling the soul to attain union with God, to "find God in all things," in action as well as in prayer. It is from this viewpoint, too, that St. Ignatius himself along with the apostle whom he attempts to fashion is called a "contemplative likewise in action," and the prayer that he practices is termed "con-templation in action." Moreover prayer of this kind does not withdraw a per-son from action nor does it distract the active person from being absorbed in the matter at hand. It enables him to go deeper into i.t, to immerse himself in it precisely be-cause in doing so his intellect understands deeper dimen-sions of the divine plan and his will is consumed with greater love for God and for all His creatures. What has been said should be enough to help us catch a brief glimpse of the profound meaning behind the Ig-natian phrases, "contemplation in action" and "finding God in all things." They express the spiritual orientation achieved by Ignatius himself during his own lifetime of continued growth in holiness and union with God. They express also the ideal which he proposed for the members of his own order. We must, of course, recognize that it is an ideal which in its fullness will be achieved but rarely by his followers; but it is nonetheless one which can be striven for and attained in increasing perfection according to God's grace and one's cooperation with grace. We may now ask about the training which Ignatius prescribed for the members of his order so as to bring them to such a high ideal. First of all, it cannot be the result merely of daily morning prayer, as though the thoughts and affections that unite one to God in the morning medi-tation carry through the day so that we find God in every- Jean Dani~lou, op. cit., p. 364. 4. 4. 4. Contemplation in dction VOLUME 21, 1962 ÷ ÷ ÷ Robert Roth, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOU~ 538 thing. "This is an oversimplification. For there is besides a deeper continuity with a richer and broader and deeper background of prayer than the morning meditation."" There are presupposed the various trials of a two year novitiate with a retreat of thirty days in which the indi-vidual experiences the full Spiritual Exercises or Ignatian retreat. It is the Spiritual Exercises which lay a foundation for the development of a life in God. They develop a deep union of the soul with God by bringing about the illumi-nation of intellect and impulsion of will so important for the attainment of the ideal of Ignatian prayer. In addi-tion, it is presupposed that the individual will continue a program of spiritual practices which include daily Mass, mental prayer, and two examinations of conscience, and throughout the year an annual retreat of eight days and the other ascetical practices necessary for growth in holi-ness. From all this it is clear how superficial is the inter-pretation which sees in the notion of contemplation in action an invitation to set aside any concept of a deep spiritual life so as to rush off into activity. In the course of our discussion, we have insisted on the original meaning of th~ two phrases in question and on the type of spiritual program needed to reach the ideal contained in these phrases. It would be inaccurate, not to say disastrous, to interpret this as an attempt to belittle or hinder the progress made in recent years in helping the Christian to find God more easily in his daily life and to make his prayer life more consciously the inspiration of his apostolic activity. Beyond this there is more than mere pedantry at stake. At its worst, a lack of precision in this regard can lead to the .tendency to do away with a deep spiritual life in favor of activity. "At last we have a 'spir-ituality of action' which enables us to maintain a program of feverish activity without too much worry about a life of prayerI" That such an attitude is naive in the extreme and for-tunately is encountered only occasionally may well be true. Yet one has the feeling that even more careful treat-ments of the question miss the heart of the problem. For if the original meaning.is maintained, a high ideal is pro-posed without a full appreciation of what is required to reach the goal. This can lead to discouragement on the part of those who strive for it and fail because they are ill-prepared. And if the original meaning is diluted, we lose contact with the initial insights of Ignatius'as well as the high ideal proposed by him. Consequently there is also lost the possibility that some lay people today may aspire to this ideal and find in it a means of reaching sanctity in their lay lives. ' Conwell, op. cit., p. 85. We must be aware, of course, that if the layman is to strive for sanctity it cannot be a question of living the life of a religious in the world. And here we have in mind the layman who marries, raises a family, holds down a job, and so forth. This brings up the problem, one which we shall not even attempt to ~tnsw~r here, Of just how such-a person can attain sanctity through an intensely apostolic life. At present we merely suggest that the answer would seem tolie in the direction of discovering what lay spirit-uality really is rather than in watering down the spirit-uality of religious for the layman. This would apply to the lgnatian ideal as well as to any other. We suggest further that there are many aspects of the Ignatian ideal which will provide valuable insights for working out a solution to the problem. This suggestion be-comes especially meaningful when we recall the back-ground of the Spiritual Exercises in which are found the principles of "contemplation in action" and "finding God in all things." The Spiritual Exercises were primarily in-tended neither for Jesuits nor for prospective candidates to the Soicety of Jesus. Anyone can make them. And though Ignatius gave prudent suggestions as to how much of.the Exercises should be given, depending on the health, intelligence, spiritual progress, and occupation of the ex-ercitant, it is clear that he envisioned the possibility of giving to the layman, for the perfection of his life in the lay state, the full Exercises, containing as they do all that we have said about the phrase~ under discussion.1° In any case, our discussion of Ignatian prayer as applied to members of a p9rticular religious order should point up the importance of careful training for the attainment of the ideal proposed. St. Ignatius fully realized that he was aiming high, and he did not leave anything to chance. Hence, whatever form the phrases "contemplation in ac-tion" and "finding God in all things" may take for the layman, if a high ideal is to be maintained there is de-manded a carefully developed spiritual program. That some program is necessary is clear to anyone who takes seriously the statements of recent sovereign pontiffs regarding the deep spiritt~al life needed by those who en-gage in the lay apostolate and Catholic Action. This is true even if we limit ourselves to an ideal not quite as de-manding as the one proposed. So much more true is it for the one under discussion. St. Ignatius, in drawing up the plans for his order, was facing a concrete situation with a concrete spirituality. One could ask whether one man can do the same today for the layman in terms of his concrete situation. It would The Spiritual Exercises of St, Ignatius, trans. Louis J. Puhl, S.J. (Westminster: Newman, 1957), "Introductory Observations," pp. 7-9. 4- 4- 4. Contemplation in Action VOLUME 21, 1962 539 take a very gifted and saintly man. :Perhaps we lesser mor-tals will have to recognize our limitations and Open our minds to the possibility that the task can be done by a team of men, both cleric and lay, pooling their resources to work out-under God's inspiration a spiritual life which will enable the layman truly to be a "contemplative in action," to "find God in all things." + + + Robert Roth, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 540 THOMAS RADLOFF, S.J. Interpersonal Relationships Christlikeness is the goal of Christian asceticism. The purpose of novitiate and seminary training is essentially a matter of taking the given material of youth--as it is-- and orientating it to a personal commitment to Christ. The basic structure of this asceticism is an interpersonal relationship geared to the Pauline "I live now, not I, but Christ Jesus." Within the structure ~of this relationship, grace building on nature is the dynamic force achieving growth in the deiform life of Christlikeness.1 Neither gra~e nor nature exist in a vacuum; rather, God gives individualized graces that are tailored to the needs of individualized human nature. Youths come to novi-tiates and seminaries already conditioned by environment. The uniqueness of this youth and the uniqueness of his vocational graces must be taken into account if he is to be effectively saturated with the highest spirituality summed up in the epitome of Christlikeness: to love God and to love others.~ " The following pages offer some few, limited reflections on the two great commandments and. the relation of these two commandments to the already conditioned human nature they are meant to permeate. 1 The concept of the life of grace as an interpersonal relationship is not new, but it is a notion that is rece

Issue 11.1 of the Review for Religious, 1952. ; Review, f Religious Salesian Spirituality . Qui~qu'ennial Rdpbr÷ Directive " ,. Edward J. Car.n.ey Joseph F. Gallen Perfect Self-'Love ~ ¯ " Wlnfrld Herbsf What are Secular Institutes? . Francis N. Korfh ~ Open Letter to.Self . o. Evereff J. Mibach Rellcjio'us Vocation Today Father ~Paul of. Gra~ymoor . Jerome B~eunig o Questions and Answers o Book Reviews ~ VOLUZ~ XI . NU/vIBER 1 ~ RI VII:::W FOR RELIGIOUS VOLUME XI JANUARY, 1952 NUMBER I CONTENTS SALESIAN SPIRITUALITY-~Edward J. Carney, O.S.F.S . 3 THE QUINQUENNIAL REPORT: OBLIGATIONS AND DIREC-TIVES--- Joseph F. Gallen, S.J . 12 PERFECT SELF-LOVE--Winfrid Herbst, S.D.S . 18 SECULAR INSTITUTES : JURIDICAL NATURE:- Francis N. Korth, S.J . 24 OPEN LETTER TO SELF--Everett J. Mibach, S.J . 31 CONTEMPORARY DEPRECIATION OF THE RELIGIOUS LIFE-- P. De Letter, S.J. . . 34 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS~ 1. Supplying for Absent Counclilor . 42 2. Printing Greeting Cards; :. . 42 Community Press and Outside Contracts . 42 3. Delegate's Duty regarding Promulgation . 43 ¯~. Following Rubrics in Private Recitation . 4,t ¯ 5. Plastic Cover for Scapular . 45 6. May Religious Enlist in Armed Forces? . ". ¯ 45 OUR CONTRIBUTORS . ~ . ' . 45 FATHER PAUL OF GRAYMOOR--Jerome Breunig, S.J . 46 OFFICIAL PRAYERS FOR UNITY OCTAVE . 52 BOOK REVIEWS--Religious Obedience . 53 BOOK NOTICES . 53 BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS . 54 TEN-YEAR INDEX--READY IN FEBRUARY . 56 NOTE FOR DEANS . , . 56 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, January, 1952. Vol. XI, No. I. Published bi-monthly: January, March, May, July, September, and November at the College Press, 606 Harrison Street, Topeka, Kansas, by St. Mary's College, St. Marys, Kansas, with ecclesiastical approbation. Entered as second class matter January 15, 1942, at the Post Office. Topeka, Kansas, under the act of March 3, 1879. Editorial Board: Jerome Breunig, S.J.; Augustine G. Ellard, S.J.; Adam C. Ellis, S.J.; Gerald Kelly, S.J. Copyright, 1952, by Adam C. Ellis, S.J. Permission is hereby granted for quota-tions of reasonable length, provided due credit be given this review anal the author. Subscription price: 3 dolla~s a year; 50 cents a copy. Printed in U. S. A. Before wr;tincj to us, please consult notice on Inside back cover. Review t:or Religious Volume xi January--December, 1952 Published at THE COLLEGE PRESS Topeka, Kansas Edited by THE JESUIT FATHERS SAINT MARY'S COLLEGE St. Marys, Kansas REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is indexed in ~'l~e CATHOLIC PERIODICAL INDEX Salesian Spiril:uali y Edward 3. Carney, O.S.F.S. AS A DIRECTOR of souls St. Francis de Sales is equally at home among people in the world and those in religion. ever-popular lntr6ductlon to a Deoout Life attests to his abil-ity to form the laity. The continuing vitality of his own founda-tion, the Order of the Visitation of Holy Mary, .and his choice as patron by other religious congregations are ample.proo'f of his influ-ence on the religious life. These two forms of Salesiafi spirituality have a fundamental unity in that both rest on resignation or con-formity to the will of Goal. Their point of divergence lies in the fact that the circumstances and obligations of the religious and secu-lar life are different, and thus God's will is made known in keeping with the duties of each life~ In this paper the manifestation of God's will in the life of a religious, and specifically in the life of a Vis-itandine, will be considered. In numerous places throughbut the ~a, int's writ.ings the neceksity of conforming one's self to God's will appears. In a letter to St. ,Jane de Chantal, his collaborator in the founding of the Visitation, St. Francis writes: "When will it be that dead before God, we shall live again to this new life in which we shall no more will to do any-thing, but shall let God willall that we have to do, and shall let His will living act upon ours quite dead?" Elsewhere the saint reaffirms this teaching on the will of God. He calls it the orand tr,,th and his onl~ Sonq: "This is the grand truth; we must look at what God ¯ w~ints, and when we know it we must try to do it gaily, or at least co.urageously." "It is remarkable that this-always comes back to my mind, and. that I know only this song . My father, be it not as I will but.as thou wilt." Since. a person is constituted a religious through .the vows of tell, gion,. St.- Francis sees thd primary manifestation of God's will in the religious life as being embodied in the vow of.obedience" '~If religious do.not obey,-they cannot have any virtue at all; because it is obedi~ ence especially that makes them Religious." Such obedience is directed toward, the Rule of the Order, the superior, and .various' disciplinary commands, all of which represent in some way or other God's;:will for the religious., It is, perhaps, on the ~elationship between superior and subject that St. Francis especially excels. For ,the subiect the EDWARDJ. CARNEY superior holds the place of God, and provided the command of the superior does not involve any sinful violation of a divine or ecclesias-tical law, it is to be considered as coming from God. Thus in those countless occurrences in religio~s life where, strictly speaking, one way of doing a thing may be just as good as another, the mode of action counselled by the superior becomes preferable since it represents for the subject God's will. Even in the event where the superior's judgment may be less perfect than that of the subject, it still repre-sents God's will, and in following such a command the religious achieves union with God. St. Francis especially treats this matter of obedience in the Spiritual Conferences. Herein he gives its qualities as blind, prompt, and persevering, exhorts to a loving acceptance of it, warns against criticism of the superior or the command, and coun-sels confidence that God, who inspires the various forms of obedience, will give the graces necessary for their fulfillment. St. Francis does not restrict this teaching on conformity to the will of God merely to matters of obedience. It is all pervasive, touching every phase of the religious life. Outwardly the individual act may take on the character of charity towards one's neighbor, of resignation to sickness and death, or of some such other act, yet its inner motivation is loving consent to the will of God. The follow-ing are given as examples. Charity toumrds one's neighbor--"For example, if when I am going in one direction I meet a sister who tells me to go in another, the will of God for me is that I should do what she wishes rather than what I wish; but if I oppose my opinion to hers, the will of God for her is that she should give way to me, and thus it is in all indifferent matters." Acceptance of illness--"I understand, my dear daughter, that you have an illness more troublesome than dangerous, and I know that such illnesses are prone to spoil the obedience to doctors; where-fore I tell you not to deprive yourself of the rest, or the medicines, or the food, or the recreations appointed you; you can exercise a kind of obedience and resignation in this which will make you extremely agreeable to Our Lord.' In fine, behold a quantity of crosses and mortifications which you have fleither chosen nor wished. God has given you them with his holy hand: receive them, kiss them, love them. My God! they are all perfumed with the dignity of the place whence they come." Resignation to the death of a parents"Weep now, but rood- 4 January, 1952 SALESlAN SPIRITUALITY erate your tears and bless God; for this mother will be good to you, as you must hope, much more where she is, than she could have been where she was. Behold her then there with the eyes of your faith, and so calm your soul." This teaching on conforming one's self to the will of God leads to a cultivation of those two virtues which are fundamental to the Salesian system, namely, charity and humility. From these flow all the other virtues. "Humility and charity are the mainstays, all the other ropes are attached to them. It needs only to keep ourselves well in these virtues; one the lowest, the other the highest, as .the preservation of the whole edifice depends on the foundation and the roof. Keeping the heart closely to the exercise of these, there is no great difficulty in getting the others. These are the mothers of the virtues, which follow them as little chickens their mother hens." Here charity means love of God. It is, of course, a supernatural virtue, a gift of God. Yet St. Francis often accentuates the effect such a gift produces in its possessor. It incline~ the creature to love God and gives him the strength to do good. Thus under proper cbnditions it~,,t~ends to produce'in the individual a loving conformity to God's will. Now the greatest hindrance to performing God's will is the following of one's own will: "Everyone loves according to his taste; few according to their duty and the taste of Our Lord." As a counter-action to self-love the saint recommends the virtue of humility, which harmonizes love of self with love of God and of neighbor. Within the frame-work of the Rule this virtue brings the religious to union with God: "By humility we unite ourselves to God, submitting ourselves to the exact observance of His will as sig-nified to us in our Rules." In the Introduction to a Devout Life St. Francis also shows how this virtue leads to gentleness towards one's neighbor. Thus emerges the spirit of the Visitation: "And now to come to the particular end for which our Congregation of the Visitation was founded, and to understand more easily what the peculiar spirit of the Visitation is. I have always considered that it is a spirit .of profound humility towards God and of great gentleness with our neighbor." In any consideration of the virtue of humility one must not neglect the letters of St. Francis, whether to religious or to persons living in the world.I Herein the saint insinuates the neces-sity of this virtue by cleverly pointing out the faults of pride: "It is not good to walk on tip toe~ either in mind or body; for if we stumble the fall is all the wors~." "The love of ourself often dazzles EDWARDJ. CARNEY Revieu~ ]:or Religious us: eyes must be very true to avoid being-deceived when we look at ourself." Finally as a correlative" virtue confidence in God always accom-panies humility: "It is a very good thing to mistrust ourselves, but at the same time how will it avail us, unless we cast our whole confi-dence upon God, and wait for His mercy? . . . the virtues of humil-ity, abjection, and confusion are intermediate virtues by which the soul must ascend to union with her God." Thus charity and humil-ity are fundamental virtues in the Salesian system, and humility is always accompanied by confidence in God and gentleness toward the neighbor. In the acquisition of the other virtues of the religious life Sf. Francis again emphasizes the same idea of seeking God's will and not one's own. The following rules may serve as a gauge of choice. 1) "Among the virtues we should prefer, that which is most conformable to our duty, and not that which is most conformable to our inclination." Applied to the religious life this would lead a per-son to a careful observance of the vows and the constitutions: "I can-not sufficiently impress upon you the importance of this point-- namely, punctual attention to the .smallest matters ten'ding to the more perfect observance of the Rule, and at the same time an unwill-ingness to undertake anything more. That is the way to preserve a Religious Order undivided and in its first fervour, and to do other-wise is to do what destroys it and causes it to fall away from its orig-inal perfection." 2) "Among the virtues which do not concern our particular duty, we should prefer the most excellent and not the most showy ¯ . . the best x;irtues and not the most esteemed." This is St. Francis' famous doctrine'of the little virtues--virtues" best adapted to ordi-nary life antt based on the humble recognition of a person's littleness. The phrase "little peddler, little pack" delightfully expresses this teaching. A partial list of these virtues would include patience, bearing with one's neighbor, submission, sweetness of te.mper, affability, and toleration of one's own imperfection. Here it may be well to say somethinR of St. Francis de Sales' attitude toward bodily austerities. The saint's position is often mis-understood, as if countenancing neither fasting nor penitential prac-tices. This is, of course, erroneous. In writing to a superior of a Visitation Convent St. Francis advises: "I am quite willing that ~,ou should wear the hair-shirt once a week, unless you recognize that this danuar~t, 1952 SALESIAN SPIRITUALITY makes you:too slothful in c~ther more important exercises, as some-times happens." Yet~ at the same time it must be. admitted that there is no rigorous corporal mortification in the Visitation. This is excluded by the very purpose of the Order's foundation.: "to be abI~' to receive, delicate women, maidens and widows,, whose physical powers are not great enough, and who are not inspired and drawn to serve (~od.and, to .unite themselves to Him, .by means of such.austeri-t~ ies as are practiced by other Religious Orders." Still other reasons prompt St. Francis in the::assumption of this position. The Salesian system rests on a correspondence to the will of God. Thisis achieved piimarily by an internal subjection of the human judgment and will to ~he divine Wile Bodily :mortification, as something external, may contribute toward such.subjection. Yet it does not necessarily produce it and.at times may. be contrary to it, as in the case of a religious fa~ting against the advice of the superior or the ,prescriptions of the Rule: "She is right, undoubtedly, this good daughterl in thinking that her fasting humour ~s'a tempta-tion: it was, it is, and it will be, so long as she.continues to practice these abstinences. It is true that by them she weakens her body and its sensuality; but by a poor exchange she stren, gthens her self-love and her self-will; she starves her body, and she ,overcharges her heart with the poisonous growth of self-esteem and self-pleasing. Abstin-ence which is practiced against'obedience takes ,away the sin from the body to put it in the heart. Let her give attention to cutting off her own will, and she will soon quit these phantasms of sanctity in which she reposes so superstitiously." Moreover, the saint is not opposed to mortification as such, but to its extreme use and the consequence of such imprudence: "The " want of this moderation in fasting, taking the discipline, wearing the hair-shirt and other austerities, makes the best years of many useless in the service of charity, as it did even in St. Bernard who repented him of having practiced excessive austerities; and inasmuch as tlSey have maltreated it in.the beginning, they are forced to pamper it in the end. Would they not have done better to have treated it fairly and in a manner suitable to the duties and works to which their condition of life obliged them?" In addition to this formal treatment of the virtues there .dan be found in the writings of St. Francis a consideration of the emotions insofar as they affect the spiritual life of man. Not all of this material deals with the religious life, yet it is indeed,applicable. For EDWARD .J. CARNEY Review for Religious after all, whether a person is religiou~ or lay, he possesses human nature and is subject to its vagaries. The orientation of emotional control with the teaching on conformity to God's will lies in the fact that emotional difficulties with pride at their root, may prevent a person from fulfilling God's will. Thus the virtue of humility is at least a partial answer. The foliowiaag are given as examples of St. Francis' teaching on. emotional problems as they enter into the spiritual life. Impatience and eagerness--"Let us not be at all eager in our work, for in order to do it well, we must apply ourselves to it care-fully indeed, but calmly and peacefully, without trusting in our labour, but in God and His grace. These anxious searchings of heart about advancing in perfection, and those endeavours to see if we are advancing, are not at all pleasing to God, and only serve to satisfy our self-love, that subtle tormentor which grasps at so much but does almost nothing. One'single good work done with a tranquil spirit is worth far more than several done with eagerness." Recognizing what great difficulty impatience causes a person St. Francis recom-mends both patience with self and with the world outside self: "Know that the virtue of patience is the one which most assures us of perfection; and if we must have patience with others, so we must with ourselves. Those who aspire to pure love of God have not so much need of patience with others as with themselves." Thus the devout follower of St. Francis de Sales strives after a certain tran-quillity and calm: As a further manifestation of impatience there can be mentioned the desire of progressing too quickly in the spiritual life. St. Francis prefers a gradual progress, one that could be called "step by step." Anger--"It is better, then, to undertake to try to live without anger than to seek to make a moderate and wise use of anger, and when, through imperfection and weakness, we find ourselves sur-prised by it, it is better to repel it promptly than to seek to come to terms with it; for if we give it the slightest opportunity, it makes itself mistress of the place and acts like the serpent, which draws its body easily through any aperture into which it can insert its head." As a remedy against anger St. Francis recommends prayer to God, less sensitiveness on the part of the angry person, and acts of gentle-ness toward the person offended. Sadness--"Evil sadness troubles the sotil, leads it into disqui-etude, gives birth to inordinate fears, causes a distaste for prayer, dulls SALESIAN SPIRITUALITY and oppresses the brain, deprives the soul of counsel, of resolution, of judgment and of courage, and weakens her energy: briefly it is like a hard winter which takes away all sweetness from the soul, and makes her almost paralyzed and powerless in all her faculties." St. Francis assigns various causes of sadness, such as a melancholy temper or the rebuffs of fat~. Whatever the cause, it is evident that he considers this emotion as always unprofitable and opposed to the servic.e of God. Such expressions as: "If you have a sorrowful face at the conclusion of your prayers, it is a clear sign you have not prayed as you ought to have done," dearly show his mind. Perhaps the best expression of his attitude on this emotion is found in the tra-ditional saying ascribed to him: "If a saint were sorry, he would be a sorry saint." Jog, Courage, Optimism--There is, however, a very funda-mental reason why the holy prelate is opposed to sadness. When a person attempts to see the will of God in everything, he ordinarily faces life joyously. No matter what the circumstance--good, bad, or indifferent according to human judgment--in some way or other it represents God's will for the individual experiencing it. God's ul-timate purpose in this particular instance can never be evil; it must always be good. Properly attuned to God's will a religious is joyous, for in the emotional order joy results from the possession of good. Since every circumstance represents in some way God's will, life must be faced not fearfully but courageously: "Above all, keep from dis-couragement. Believe me, you must sow in labour, in perplexity, in anguish, to gather with joy, with consolation, with happiness: holy confidence in God sweetens all, obtains all, and establishes all." Thus a spirit of optimism pervades Salesian spirituality. "Live joyful, courageous, peaceful, united to our Saviour--Keep that holy gaiety of heart, whida nourishes the strength of the soul, and edifies our neighbor," are counsels frequently given to those under his direc-tion. The following excerpt from one of the saint's letters shows how this joyous spirit permeated his life: "I have just come from giving catechism where we have had a bit of merriment with our children, making the congregation laugh a little by mocking at balls and masks, for I was in my bhst humour, and a great audience encouraged me with its applause to play the child with the children. .They tell me it suits me well, and I believe it." Finally, St. Francis' teaching on prayer must be considered. He sees it as effecting a union of the human will with the divine: "As EbWARDJ. CARNEY' ¯ , ¯ Review for Religious prayer puts our understanding in the clearness of the divine light, and exposes our will to the heat of heavenly love, there is nothing which so purges our understanding of its ignorance or our will of its depraved inclinations. As children, by listening to their mothers and stammering with them, learn to speak, so we, by keeping near our Saviour and observing His words, His actions, and His affections, learn by His grace to speak, act, and will like He does." The fol-lowing are the principal types of prayer recommended by St.' Francis de Sales. Meditation--The meditations given in the first part of the Intro-duction to a Deoout Life show the form employed by the saint. Elsewhdre there are detailed instructions on how to meditate and on how to overcome the difficulties involved in this form of prayer. The advice on spiritual dryness, as a token of God's love, is especially consoling. Exercise of Preparation for the Da~j--This exercise is concerned with the daily actions of the religious. It forms part of-the morning prayer and is an attempt to avoid sin by prudently foreseeing the circumstances of the day and preparing one's self to meet them properly. It includes five parts--an invocation to God, foresight, disposition, resolution, and recommendation to God. Direction of Intention--For St. Francis de Sales the direction of intention is a very important means of adapting one's self to the will of God. The saint maintains that the habit of charity, whereby every virtuous human act is dedicated to God's divine goodness, is sufficient to destine all the just man's actions to God's glory. There-fore, he does not require an explicit direction of intention before each act but only before the principal actions of the day. This conditions a person to meet with peace and gentleness of mind the actions of daily life, whether pleasant dr unpleasant, as coming from the fatherly hand of God. Spiritizal Retreat--Since the mind has a tendency to be distracted by the purelyworldly affairs of every-day life, St. Francis .recalls it t~ recollection through the exercise of the spiritual retreat: "Remem-ber then, Philbthea, always to make many withdrawals into the solitude of your heart, whilst you are outwardly in the midst of intercourse and business . our hearts should take and choose some place every day either upon the mount of Calvary, or within the wounds'of our Lord, or in some other place near him, in order to retire thither on all sorts of occasions, and to be refreshed and recre- 10 ,January, 1952 SALESIAN SPIRITUALITY ated there in the midst of exterior occupations, and .to be there as in a stronghold, for a defense against temptations." Aspirations and EjacuIatory Prat.ters--Closely connected with the exercise of spiritual retreat, and also serving as a renewal of the direction of intention are aspirations and ejaculatory prayers. St. Francis de Sales recommends no, set form of words but simply in-dicates that these should be the out-pouring of love: "Aspire, then, very often to God, Philothea, by short but ardent movements of ¯ your heart; admire his beauty, invoke his help, cast yourse*If in spirit at the foot of the cross, adore his goodness, speak to him frequently about your salvation, give him your heart a thousand times-a day, fix your interior eyes upon his sweetness, give your hand to him as a little child to its father., plant him in your soul as a standard, and make a thousand different movements of your heart to give yourself the love of God, and to excite yourself to a .passionat,e and tender love of this divine Spouse." The importance of spiritual retreat and of ejaculatory prayers can only be understood in the words of St. Francis himself: "Now in this exercise of spiritual retirement and ejaculatory prayers lies the gr.eat work of devotion: it can supply the lack of all other prayers. but the failure of this can scarcely be made good by any other means. Without it the contemplative life cannot be properly followed, nor the active life lived otherwise than ill; without it repose is but idle-ness," and work but embhrrassment; and therefore I beseech you to embrace it with all your heart, and never to abandon it." In the course of the centuries many attacks have been made against the system of St. Francis de Sales. To enumerate and refute these singly is unnecessary. Answer enough ma3i be found in the fecundity of the saint's teaching. It has played its part in the pro-duction of three canonized saints--St. Francis de Sales, St. Jane de Chahtal, and St. Margaret Mary. How many other uncanonized saints it has produced and will produce oialy God knows. Finally, the saint's personal title as Doctor of the Church and the official approval of his teaching lead one to conclude that St. Francis de Sales has been one of the Church's brightes~ glories. 11 The Quinquennial Repor!:: Obligations and Directives Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. m~mHE manner of compiling the new quinquennial report to the | Holy See, now obligatory for all religious institutes, has been fully explained in this REVIEW (January,. 1951). A partial study of this report under another aspect will not be without profit. The ~'arious questions of the report implicitly manifest what is of obligation or at least directives of the Holy See. We can thus study some of these obligations and directives in themselves. They are not. confined to the superior general and his council but are wider in appli-cation and of common interest. I. Conforming Constitutions to the Code of Canon Law "In the first Report following the issuance of this formula, the following things are to be sent: '"l~wo well bound copies of the Constitutions or Statutes, revised to conform to the Code." Pontifical, B) 1. a) ; Diocesan, B) 7. a).; Independent Monasteries, B) 4. a). ¯ The numbers cited above command all pontifical and diocesan congregations, as also all independent monasteries and other indepen-dent religious houses, whether pontifical or diocesan, to send with their first report two copies of their, constitutions that have been con-formed to the Code of Canon Law. The Holy See therefore will know exactly what institutes have thus far failed to conform their constitutions to the Code. The Code of Canon Law became effective May 19, 1918. The primary meaning of a codification is not a change of law but a sys-tematizing of laws aIready in existence. However, the Roman Pontiff abrogated many past laws of the Church and added many new laws in the codification of canon law. These changes in the laws of the Church made it necessary for all religious institutes to correct their constitutions. This correction consists of omitting the laws contrary to the Code,and adding the pertinent new laws established by the Code. The obligation of making the correction falls on the religious institute itself. The corrections in a pontifical institute must be ap-proved by the Holy See and in a diocesan institute by alp the Ordi- 1Cf. can. 495, § 2; Schaefer, De Religiosis, n. 241; Maroto, Commentarium Pro Religiosis, I (1920), 196. 12 QUINQUENNIAL REPORT naries in whose dioceses the institute has houses. The Code has now been of obligation for more than thirty years, and it is somewhat startling to find institutes that have not as yet conformed their con-stitutions to the Code. This can have very serious consequences. The more limited scope of conforming the constitutions to the Code does not constitute a general revision of the constitutions. However, in adapting constitutions to the Code it will be found that the older the'constitutions are, the greater will be the necessity also of a general revision. The HolySee did not evolve a complete plan for the constitutions of lay congregations until 1901. Older constitu-tions can be deficient in ma~ter and number from the canonical and other legal articles now demanded by the Sacred Congregation of Re-ligious for both pontifical and diocesan institutes. II. A Diocesan Congregation Should Become Pontifical "Common law does not contemplate the division of a diocesan Congregation or Society into Provinces; moreover this division can scarcely be admitted, and the mind of the Holy See is that, if special reasons exist for a division into provinces, the matter be taken care of rather by the attainment of the status of a pontifical Congregation." Diocesan, B) 3. "If the necessary conditions are verified, has a petition been made or is.it the intention to.make a petition to the Holy See to obtain the status of a pontifical Congregation? Are any and what is the nature of the difficulties foreseen or actually verified with regard to this mat-ter?" Diocesan, 4. These numbers ate of great practical interest, since they consti-tute the first explicit statement of the Holy See that a diocesan con-gregation is not in a definitive but only in an'initial and temporary state that is to terminate in the attainment of pontifical approval. This doctrin~ was true in the past but it was contained implicitly in the laws and documents of the Holy See and also in the explicit teaching of canonlsts.2 The first number manifests clearly that diocesan congregations that are capable ot~ division into province.s should petition pontifical approval. The size of such congregations is indicated by the condi-tions now demanded by the Sacred Congregation of Religious for the division of a pontifical institute into provinces. These are: a) in every province there should be at least four larger houses, that is, houses consisting of at least twelve religious; b) the total number of 2Cf. Review for Religious, March, 1950, 57-68. 13 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for Religious religious in each province must be at least one hundred; c) the insti-tute must be capable of division into at least three provinces. These conditions are to be carefully noted, since they are less strict than the former practice of the Sacred Congregation as contained in several authors) A~ is clearly indicated in the second number cited above, a dio-cesan congregation should not delay its petition for pontifical approval until it has the size that admits or demands a division into provinces. Unless special difficulties exist against this petition, and such difficulties must be explained to the Sacred Congregation, the diocesan institute should request papal approbation as soon as the necessary conditions are verified. Tb~se are: a) the congregation by a sufficient test of time should have given proof of stability, religious observance, piety, ~ind spiritual profit of its work; b) it is sufficient that the congregation number one hundred and fifty members. It is not required that the congregation have houses in more than one dio-cese. These conditions also are to be most sedulously noted. They constitute the present practice of the Holy See and are less strict than the former practice as explained in authors.4 III. Division into Provinces "Is the Institute legitimately divided into Provinces (c. 49.4 § 1) ; if not, does it seem that it should be.so divided?" Pontifical, 16. The usual reasons for a division into provinces are the great num-ber of subjects, or the wide territorial diffusion of the institute, or the diversity of language of its members. Congregations can and do exist whose number of subjects de-mands a division into provinces but whose concentration within a relatively small area appears to preclude the ordinary arrangement of provinces. Some of these congregations have a number of members far beyond the power of a superior general to govern alone. All such congregations should propose this difficulty completely to the Holy See, and the Sacred Congregation may give some method of solving the problem. IV. Erection and Suppression of Religious Houses "In the erection and suppression of houses, were the rules of law (cc. 497, 498) and the standards of prudence observed, among which must be numbered a written contract, clear, complete and 3Cf. Bastien, Direetoire Canonique, n. 379, 3; Coronata, Institutiones Iuris Canon-ici0 I, n. 519. 4Cf. Bastien, ibid., n. 71: Sartori, 3"urisprudentiae Ec¢lesiasticae Eleraenta, 74. 14 January, 1952 QUINQUENNIAL REPORT drawn up in accordance with canon law and the Constitutions, with due regard to the civil law?" Pontifical 21 ; Diocesan, 11. This question is found in identical language in the pontifical and diocesan lists of questions. The primary insistence of the question is on the observance of the norms of canon law in the erection and sup-pression of religious houses. These norms are frequently emphasized by diocesan law in the United States, and since the matter is essen-tially a relation between dioceses and religious institutes, it will not be without profit to give a summary of diocesan law in this respect. Diocesan statutes almost universally contain the declaration that a pastor may not introduce or dismiss a religious community from the parish school, high school, or works of mercy and charity with-out the written consent of the Bishop. This consent is demanded in most cases by canon law. The admission of a religious community usually implies the canonical erection of a religious house or the opening of a filial house, and for bbth of these canon 497, § I and § 3 demand the written permission of the local Ordinary. The dis-missal of a community" usually implies the suppression of a religious house. The local Ordinary alone is competent to suppress a canoni-cally erected house of a diocesan congregation, and the superior gen-eral of a ponrificaI congregation must have the consent of the local Ordinary before suppressing such a house. The suppression of a filial house in a pontifical congregation appertains to the superior general; in a diocesan congregation both the local Ordinary and the superior general possess this right. Diocesan law frequently extends beyond the Code in this matter and demands the permission of the local Or-dinary even when the opening or suppression of a religious house is not involved, for example, when sisters go out daily from the motherhouse to teach in a parish school. The admission and espe-cially the dismissal of a religious community.is a very serious matter, and prudence seems to demand that a pastor should not even take an initial step in such a matter without consulting the Bishop. This can also be the sense of the diocesan statutes that demand both the consent and the advice of the Bishop.5 Religious superiors should be equally diligent in observing ~he rights of the Ordinary and the parish. The Code forbids the superior general of a pontifical congregation to suppress a house without the consent of the local Ordinary. Before withdrawing from any work religious should inform the Ordinary in proper time, that he may make other provision for the work. One diocese demands that tell- SGreen Bay, n. 73; Pittsburgh, n. 63. 15 ,JOSEPH F: GAI~LEN Ret~iew t~or Religions gious superiors give a year's notice before withdrawing from a parish.6 The difficulties' that can occur in this and similar matters manifest the necessity of a written and detailed contract between the diocese and the religious institute. Such a contract is either inculcated or presumed in some diocesan statutes,7 and the present question makes it also a directive of the Holy See. V. Presidencg of the General Chapter "Who presided at the Chapter: a) In the election of the Superior General? b) in the other elections and in the business meetings." Pontifical, 29; Diocesan, 20. "Who presided at the Chapter of election?" Independent Monas-teries, I 1. Canon 506, § z~ reads: "In congregations of:women the Ordi-nary of the place in which the election is held shall preside, either in person or.by delegate at the election of the superioress general.". A religious congregation is an institute in which all the members should and do take only simple, not solemn, .vows. The canon cited above refers to all congregations of religious women, whether pontifical or-diocesan. The canon confers on the Ordinary of the diocese in which the election is held the right and the duty of presiding at the election of the superioress general. The Code of Canon Law gives the local Ordinary no right of .presiding at the election of the other general officials, who are ordi-narily the four general councillors, the secretary general, and the bur-sar general, or at the chapter of affairs. If there is no declaration of the constitutions, n6 custom or usage to the contrary, it is certain that this presidency applies solely to the newly elected mother gen-eral. Three authors, Vermeersch,8 Schaefer? and Berutti?° hold that the local Ordinary can have the right of presiding at the election of the general officials and at the chapter of affairs from a prescription of the particular constitutions, and Vermeersch and Schaefer admit also custom or usage as a foundation of the same right. It cannot be said that this opinion is certainly false, but the question is one that may 6Lincoln, 24. ~Nashville, n. 170; Port. Ore. Prov., n. 29; San Francisco, 125. 8Vermeersch-Creusen, Epitome Iuris Canonici, I, n. 626. 9Schaefer, ibid., n. 509. 10Berutti, De Religiosis, 60. 16 January, 195Z QUINQUENNIAL REPORT be authoritatively settled by the Holy See after receiving th~ answers to the new lists of questions. Bastien aptly remarks that such a presidency is in conformity neither with the Code nor with the prac-tice of the Sacred Congregation of Religious in approving the consti-tutions of pontifical congregations, aiad Vermeersch agrees with the latter observation.11 A general chapter is something.that by its na-ture appertains to internal government. Therefore, external author-ity should have only that part in the general chapter that is express~ly given to it by the positive law of the Code. There is no distinction. in this matter between pontifical and diocesan congregations. The Code makes no such distinction, and it is an admitted principle that" in legal articles diocesan constitutions should be the same as pon-tifical, except in those matters in which the Code or the practice of the Holy See demands a distinction. Canon 506, § 2 reads: "In the monasteries of nuns, the assem-blies for the election, of the su~erioress shall be presided over, with-out however entering the cloister, by the local Ordinary or his dele-gate, with two priests as tellers, if the nuns are subject to the Ordi-nary: if not, by the regular superior; but even in this case the Ordi-nary should be duly informed of. the day and hour of the election, at which he may assist, either in person or by a delegate, with the regu-lar superior, and, if he assists, he presides." The canon is thus con-cerned with the presidency and the tellers at the election of the supe-rioress in a monastery of nuns, whether the vows of the nuns are actually solemn or simple. If the nuns aie not s~bject to regulars, this presidency appertains to the Ordinary .of the diocese in which the monastery is situated; if the nuns are subject to regulars, the same Ordinary presides if he attends; otherwise the regular superior is the president. Whoever actually presides also chooses two priests as tellers, neither of whom may be the ordinary confessor of the mon-astery. 12 This canon also is concerned only with the election of the superioress and not with the president and the tellers at the election of other officials or at the chapter ofoaffairs of the monastery. The two priests as tellers is something distinctive of institutes of nuns. In congregations of religious women the Code itself (cc. 507, .§ 1; 171, § 1) prescribes that the tellers must be members of the chapter and thus sisters. Any priest who accompanies the presiding local Ordinary or his d~legate may be admitted only as an attendant llBastien, ibid., 172, note 1; Vermeersch-Creusen, loc. cit. 12Cf. Berutti, ibid., 59. 17 WINFRID HERBST Revietu [or Religious or mere spectator. He is no~ permitted to take any active part in the election; such as to collect, count, or examine the ballots, to compute or record the votes.1~ I believe a fairly serious reason should exist for the admission of such priests. Chapters of their very nature apper-tain to the internal government of the institute. The unofficial at-tendance of persons who are not members of an institute at a chapter is thus just as foreign as would be their presence at a meeting of a local, provincial,, or general council of the institute. Matters that constitute natural secrets occur of necessity at every election, for ex-ample, the number of ballots and the number of votes received by various candidates in a particular election.14 A justifying reason should exist for permitting unofficial persons to acquire this knowl-edge. Religious institutes are also justifiably sensitive of the protec-tion of the secrecy of their chapters, which is manifested by the fact that many constitutions explicitly oblige the capitulars to secrecy. In some orders of nuns of simple ~ows the Holy See has approved the prescription of the constitutions that two nuns are to be, the tellers, is Pert:ec!: elrr-love Winfrid Herbst, S.D.S. y~ou have been exhorted many times and in many different ways to heap up treasures for heaven, to use each moment of every day in order to gain an ever higher place in heaven, to keep adding to your store of sanctifying grace because your degree of glory in heaven will be determined by the amount of sanctifying grace you have when you die. And at times you have been puzzled, wondering whether all such striving isn't rather selfish. And the other day you were told by someone that this is good selfishness, that it is the self-love of hope. You were assured that it is perfectly all right to love God and do good in order to gain a high place in heaven. That indeed, so you were told, is Catholic doctrine. It is. 13Normae Secundum Quas S. Congr. Episcoporum et Regularium Procedere Solet in Approbandis Novis Institutis Votorum Simplicium, 28 iun. 1901, n. 224. 14Cf. Bastien, ibid., n. 253, 1, and note 5; Vermeetsch-Cteusen, ibid., n. 286. ~SUrsuline Nuns of the Congregation of Paris, Pittsburgh and Brown County, Ohio, aa, 215-217. 18 danuarq, 1952 PERFECT SELF-LOVE Protestants have denied the proposition that we are permitted to act in view of the rewards God promises us. But such a denial is contary to the express teachings of the Church. The Council of Trent solemnly states: "If any one says that the just ought not for their good works done in God to expect and hope for an eternal recompense from God.; let him be anathema." And again: "If any one says that the justified man sins when he performs good" works with a view to an eternal recompense; let him be anathema." (Sess. 6, can. 26 and 31.) Anathema is a solemn ban or curse pro-" nounced by ecclesiastical authority. It is a consoling thought that we can always add to our future glory in heaven while we are still on earth. And it is interesting to reflect wherein this increase of glory of one blessed soul above another consists. Of course, we know that as far as the substance of happi-ness is concerned, it is the same for all the elect. The essential hap-piness of heaven is the beatific vision, the happy-making sight of God. Still there is a difference of degree according to the difference of merit. This difference, however, does not cause jealousy, because each one knows that a higher degree of glory than he enjoys would not be becoming or suitable for him. The consoling truth is that here on earth, during the time of merit, each one can make his future glory always' greater and greater. Now, since the least degree of heavenly glory is an almost infinite good, what a great good must not be a still higher and higher degree of that glory! And now we can always add to our future glory if we but wish, though many neglect that, and most people do not even think of it. Would that they had more selfishness in this regard, more of the self-love of Christian hope. Would that they might be prevailed upon to excel in prayer and good works proptec retribu-tionern, because of the reward. You ask wherein this higher degree of glory in heaven consists. It consists in a clearer vision of God; in a greater likeness to God; in a higher rank among the saints; in greater joy. Wherefore, how grateful you must be to God, Who preserves you that you may earn more glory in heaven. What a good use you ought to make of time, taking care to be always in sanctifying grace and living in union with God through prayer and the good intention in whatsoever you do. Reflect a little more upon this good seIf-love, this increasing of your merits and consequently of heavenly glory. God does not re- 19 WINFR1D HERBST Reoiew /or Religious quire anything extraordinary of you in order to gain heaven. He ac-cepts your daily and even in themselves trivial acts as meritorious of glory, if you do them in the state of grace and for Him, that is, for God's sake, with a good intention, out of love for God. God is so generous that He has ordained that your supernaturally good works cannot merit anything but grace and heavenly glory. Moreover, you cannot give this merit away to others, as you can the satisfac-tory value of all your good works; indeed, the very giving away of the satisfactory value in favor of the poor souls, for example, is a good work that again gives you an increase of merit which you can-not give away. And here is another striking thought. It is a very probable view of theologians that your good works continually in-crease in merit mbre and more according to the measure of the increase and augmentation of sanctifying grace. The more sanctifying grace you possess when doing good, the greater is your power of meriting just then. How is'this to be explained, you ask. The answer is simp.le enough. The higher the degree of grace we have, the more we please God; and the more we please God, the nobler, the more agreeable our actions are to Him and, therefore, the more meritorious. Hence it is that living a more fully supernatural life, having a higher degree of grace, the quality of our' actions will be better and deserving of a greater reward. It is an article of faith that good works merit an increase in sanctifying grace and eternal life. Therefore, by multiplying your meritorious acts you daily increase your stock of grace. This increased stock Of grace enables you to put more love into your good works and these thereby have more efficacy to further the growth of your spiritual life and to obtain still more merit. According to the degree . of grace does merit increase; and the just man through his merits can increase his amount of grace. "He that is justified, let him be justified still," says Holy Writ. Every good work done in the state of grace can merit an increase of sanctifying grace. Even in the reception of the sacraments, which give grac~ automatically, of themselves, every second of devout preparation and thanksgivirig, being a good work, merits an increase of sanctifying grace, over and above that given by the sacraments of themselves. Every pious ejaculatory prayer, every devout aspiration, every rosary, every such ~bing done in the grace of God, can heap up treasures in heaven. What a goodkind of self-love it will be i~ you devote your whole 2O danuar~t, 1952 PERFECT SELF-LOVE attention to this business of gaining heaven--and that, right now, since this day may be your last. Yes, today at least-you will labor in earnest. All your thoughts, words, and daily" duties shall be directed to heaven by a good intention; heaven must spur you on to true devotion and to the frequent .practice of virtue; heaven must make you humble, patient in adversity, constant in temptation, until you possess at last for all eternity'as an exceedingly great reward for your labor that happiness which is now shown you afar off by the light of faith. Remember that the essential j6y of heaxieh is :t.he beatific vision, the happy-making sight of God. After this life,, if you die in sanc-tifying grace, you shall by a wonder of Go~t'~s ~omnipotence, directly and without intermediary see God, which means to know Him with your intelligence, to understand God according to your degree of glory. You shall see God, not merely in the sense of looking at Him, for one only looks at an outside object, but in the sense that God shall come into immediate contact Mth our mind, with nothing between us and Him. Only God Himself could ever make us eter-nally happy. When, therefore, you work for heaven you are striving to attain God, your first Beginning and your last End. Thus striving to attain to God is self-love. It is good love of self. It really is the keeping of the great commandment: "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself!" Here the Savior gives you the measure of the love of the neighbor, tells you how much to love him. That measure is the love of self. Remember that there is indeed a beautiful and highly virtuous self-love. Recall that it is the heresy of the Quieti~ts to hold, among other errors, "that no form or act of self-love, however spiritual and however fully referred to God, can at all befit a person eiatered upon the way of perfectlon. Remember that there is the love of Christian h6pe. But there is a higher self-love than that, a self-love that looks to our own interests, indeed, even to our own highest possible interests. But it looks to our interests out of the purest and most perfect love of God. We can loire ourselves for the sake of God Himself alone. Just suppose that you are a poor sinner. It seems that there are but. few mortals who have not offended God grievously at some time or other. Suppose you are such a one as has grievously offended Him. And suppose that you are a repentant sinner, t15at you are working hard for heaven. By prayer and good works you seek an ever higher degree of bliss and glory for yourself in the dearer vision and closer 21 WINFRID HERBST Review/or Religious union with your Creator and Father and Savior and Sanctifier for all eternity in heaven. You are constantly thinking ot: greater merit as you strive for higher virtue, and closer Chri~tlikeness. But in thus striving for your personal happiness in goodness here on earth and the highest.possible deli~ghts in heaven hereafter, your motive is not any good or happiness merely as your own, praiseworthy though that motive is. Your motive is really the greatest honor and glory of God your Father in heaven. How is this to be understood? You try to heap up treasures for heaven, to get an ever higher place in heaven, because of your loving conviction that your very presence there, and especially your greater bliss and glory, will be in the eyes of all the saints and angels throughout eternity an exceptionally marvelous manifestation of the infinite power and the incomprehensible mercy and goodness of the incarnate Son of God crucified for you, a poor sinner. "He loved me and delivered Himself for me," you will be proclaiming by your very bliss in heaven. Thus you will be loving and praising and glo-rifying Him in return for ever and ever. And the greater the degree of your glory, the greater will be your eternal praise of God. For all eternity your happiness will be a most evident proof and exhibition to all heaven of the absolutely pure and 'unselfish love of the infinite, eternal charity burning for you in the bosom of the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost. In still other words, you will be casting down your heavenly crown before the Triune God. As we read in the Apocalypse: "And they do not rest day and night, saying, 'Holy, holy, holy, the Lord God almighty, who was, and who is, and who is coming.' And when those living creatures give glory and honor and benediction to him who sits on the throne, who lives forever and ever, the twenty-four elders will fall down before him who sits upon the throne, and will worship him who lives forever and ever, and will cast their crowns before the throne, saying, 'Worthy art thou, O Lord our God, to receive glory and honor and power; for thou hast created all things, and because of thy will they existed, and were created.' " (Apoc. 4:8-11.) The above, of course, suggests the highest perfection of self-love. It may seem hard to understand and practice such perfect self-love. Then you can at least practice a less perfect, though good, self-love. Keep the divine law of self-love. Live a virtuous Christian life, seeking to become ever more and more conformable to the Savior. 22 PERFECT SELF-LOVE Be Christlike in your goodness. Look forward with joy to that reward which he has promised to those who serve Him faithfully and who die in His love and grace. To repeat, if you strive for the highest possible place in heaven within your reach merely because of your own bliss and joy iri:, the vision and possession of God, you do well; for the Church teaches that you are permitted to act with a view of the rewards God prom-ises us. That would be good, though rather narrow, self-love. But it is much better, self-19ve, the very perfection of it indeed, if you keep thinking that the higher your place and glory in heaven, the more will all the angels and saints wonder that you ever got to heaven at all, not to mention such heights of glory and bliss, and the more they will praise God for it. Keep thinking that for all eternity they, and you too, will be "admiring and praising the infinite power, mercy, and love of God, which raised you from your nothingness--to which you had added the sinfulness that is less and worse than nothingness--to the glory of he~ven and even to such a high degree and place of everlasting bliss. And you want your God to be eternally praised because of your glorious reward. That is why you strive for it. Behold the perfection of self-love! It is blended with the perfect love of God-- loving God for His own sake, because He is the highest, most perfect, and most amiable Good. If you understand this perfect self-love, you will be filled with an ardent desire to attain it. And if your desire were put into weak words it would be a prayer for the perfection of self-love, as follows: O my God, let me daily, even hourly, indeed at all times strive sensibly to grow in virtue, to increase in sanctifying grace, knowing that my place in heaven will be determined by the amount of sancti-fying grace I have when I die. Let me so live that I may merit a high place in heaven, in order that Thou, my Creator, Savior, and Sanctifier mayest receive from me and from all the.angels and s~ints of heaven for all eternity the greatest everlasting admiration and praise in return for the mercy and love which Thou hast expended upon me by creating me, redeeming me through Jesus Christ Thy Son, and sanctifying me through the Holy Spirit, the soul of the Church, which is the Mystical Body of Christ. Let them all look upon my place in heaven and cry out: "He that is mighty has done great things to this soul and holy is His name!" O Holy Spirit, Spirit of wisdom and understanding, help me to 23 FRANCIS N. KORTH realize that, to be perfect, my interest in my eternal happiness and glory in heaven, my interest in higher m.erits, higher degrees of glory, higher bliss in heaven must all grow out of and be directed to the greater honor and glory of God. This I can only do if I have a pro-foundly humble estimate of myself, if I realize that of myself I am nothing and that Thou art "my God and my all." O Mary, my Queen and my Mother, that perfection of self-love was thine, as we see from the Magnificat, in which thou didst refer all to God. May it be also mine. Help me to realize that to be truly Christlike my love of "self must be God-centered, that it must be' directly and intentionally perfect love of God. Help me, dearest Mother, to live so that both here on earth in time and in heaven for all eternity I may look up and see, no longer me, but only God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. oAmen. Secular Institutes: Juridical Nature Francis N. Korth, S.J. ~N A PREVIOUS ARTICLE some historical notes on secular in-stitutes were offered. Now let us glance at the juridical structure ¯ of these institutes. I shall follow the catechetical form of presen-tation because it might be better suited to our purposes. I. What are "'secular institutes"? "Secular institutes" are a new juridical institution, recently recognized officially as a component of the juridical state of perfec-tion to-be-acquired in the Church. In brief, secular institutes are a new juridical state of perfection. 2. Does a state of perfection implg that the individuals in that state are perfect? No, not necessarily so. There is a difference between ~i state of perfection and the moral perfection or holiness of a person in that state. Just as individuals in the world, in societies of common life, or in religious institutes are striving after personal holiness or moral perfection, so too do members of secular institutes. But a juridical slate of perfection does 'not necessarily imply that persons in that 24 Januarg, 1952 SECULAR INSTITUTES state have already acquired moral perfection; perhaps so, perhaps not. Of itself, a juridical state says nothing about the personal sanctity of individuals in that state. 3. Wh~/ then are secular institutes called a state of perfection? Secular institutes are now recognized by the Church as a state of perfection because their members must bind themselves in a stable manner to the practice of the three evangelical counsels of poverty, chastity, and obedience. 4. How do secular institutes differ from religious institutes? The essential difference lies in this point. Religious take public vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience. Members of secular insti-tutes do not take those vows of the religious state but similar vows, oaths, promises, or consecrations. They likewise differ in the fact that religious live a common life in the sense of sharing the same board and roof under the direction of common superiors, while members of secular institutes for the most part do not lead such a common life. 5. Are societies of common life the same as secular institutes? Obviously not, since secular institutes do not have common life or at least not the canonical common life, while societies of common life imitate religious in that respect. Thus we arrive at a descriptive definition ~f a secular institute. A secular institute is the juridical state of perfection in which the members, for the purpose of acquiring Christian perfection a'nd of exercising the apostolate, bind themselves to the practice o~ the evan-gelical counsels in the world, that is, to the practice of evangelical poverty, chastity, and obedience by a vow, oath, promise, or special consecration accdrding to the provisions of their proper constitutions and under the direction of common superiors, but often for the most part without leading a common life. 6. Consequent upon the definition proposed; what are the main re-quirements of a secular institute? The main requirements of a secular institute can be grouped under three headings: (1) profession or full consecration to a life of perfection, (2) membership in the institute with its concomitant bond, (3) common house Or houses (even though common life for the most part is not required). 7. What is the nature of the profession or consecration to a life of perfection ? The profession or consecration is threefold. Besides the exercises 25 FRANCIS N. KORTH Review for Religiou~ of piety and self-denial common to all who aim at perfection, this profession embodies: (1) a vow or promise of poverty which regu-lates the use of temporal goods; (2) a vow, oath, or consecration of celibacy and perfect chastity; (3) a vow or promise of obedience by which the individual gives himself entirely to God and to the works proper to the institute under the guidance of superiors. Each of the above is made according to the constitutions of the particular insti-tute. 8. Does an~t obligation in conscience arise from these vows, oaths, promises, or consecrations? Yes, an obligation binding in conscience does result. The obli-gation would come from the virtue of religion, or from justice or. fidelity, as the case may be. (See the individual constitutions and the particular formulas of profession.) 9. ]n regard to the second requirement, how is incorporation into an institute effected ? An applicant is incorporated into a secular institute by profession. 10. What is the nature of the bond resulting from profession? By profession a stable, mutual and complete bond arises between the institute and the member making the profession. 11. Why is the bond stable? The bond is s~abte because the profession is either perpetual (taken once for all), or temporar~r (taken for a definite period but with the oMigation of renewal at the end of that period). It might be well to note, in passing, that even'if the profession is temporary, the member should have the intention of remaining per-manently in the institute if nothing calls him away, merely renewing his profession from time to time as required. If that were not the case, the bond would seem to lack stability. Stability of the bond also demands that the institute be not free to dismiss a member arbi-trarily but only for reasons permitted by law. 12. In what sense is the bond mutual and complete? The bond is mutual and complete in the sense that the individual gives himself entirely to the institute, and the institute in turn takes care of its member by providing for his spiritual needs and, if neces-sary, also for his temporal wants. There is some flexibility in the application of this point; the constitutions will determine the matter more fully. 13. As to the third requirement, why are common houses needed for secular institutes? 26 danuarg, 1952 SECULAR INSTITUTES At first glance it might seem strange to list "common houses" as a requirement of secular institutes which in general have as one of their distinguishing characteristics the lack of common life for their members. But the answer is rather simple. For proper functioning, an organization needs headquarters. In a secular institute a common or central house is to serve as the seat of th~ supreme or regional gov-ernment o1~ the institute and to be the dwelling-place of the superiors. Likewise some common house (or houses) is necessary for training prospective members, for conducting spiritual exercises for members, for meetings and gatherings, for taking care of sick and aged mem-bers, for providing for those who have lost their employment or have no means of taking care of themselves, or for assisting members in moral danger (such as removing them from an occasion of sin). 14. Is a common house necessar!t before a secular instituie could be established? Even though a common house is listed as one of the requirements of a secular institute, in practice it seems that permission can be ob-tained to establish a secular institute although at the time a common house is lacking, provided that sufficient assurance is had that such a development will take place. However, the force of this requirement is not too clear. 15. What is the procedure for establishing a secular institute? The preliminary pattern is as follows. A group of the devout faithful (lay people or clerics) function for some time as a loosely-knit organization with a common purpose (apostolic, charitable, pious). Gradually the organization develops into some form of canonical pious association of the faithful, such as a pious union, sodality, confraternity. During this time " . . . vigilant care must be exercised to see that nothing be permitted to these associations, either internally or externally, which is beyond their present condition and seems to belong specifically to secular institutes. Those things espe-cially should be avoided which, in case the permission to establish the association as a secular institute is later refused, could not easily be taken away or undone and would seem to exert a sort of pressure on superiors to make them grant approval outright or too easily" (Instruction of the Sacred Congregation for Religious, March 19, L948, n. 6). After the association has proved itself sustaining and capable of carrying out its purpose and of living up to the require-ments of a secular institute, application should be made to Rome for permission to be established juridically as a secular inst.itute. 27 FRANCIS N. KORTH Review for Religious 16. I~ an association [ull~lls all the requirements for a secular insti-tute, doesit have an option of remaining in its status quo, e.g. as a pio'us union of the faithful, or must it make application for establish-ment as a secular institute? When an association has all the nec.essary requisites, it must apply to Rome for permission to be set up as a secular institute. 17. Who is to make such application to Rome? The local Ordinary (and not. a mere titular BishOp nor a Vicar Capitular orVicar General) is the proper person to make such appli-cation. 18. To whom should the application be sent? ~ The application is to be sent to the Sacred Congregation for Reli-gious, since this Sacred Congregation moderates things pertaining to the juridical state of perfection to-be-acquired. 19. What information is to be forwarded with the application? The Sacred Congregation for Religious wishes to have informa-tion, with the proper adjustments, on all the points required by the Normae (nos. 3-8) issued by the same Sacred Congregation in 1921 in regard to the establishment of religious congregations. The infor-mation to be sent includes, therefore, the following: name and quall-ficati~ ns of the founder, reason for establishing the new secular insti-tute, proposed name of tb~ new institute, number and nature of works proposed as proper to the institute, means of support, list of similar~ institutes in the diocese (if any) with their proper work's. Six copies of the constitutions must also be sent, as well as coigies of the directory and of other documents which can be of service in showing the spirit of the association. The constitutions would give information 'about the nature of the proposed institute, its proper works, its government, common houses, classes of members, the fo~m of consecration, the bond resulting from incorporation in the insti-tute, training of the members, exercises of piety, and other relevant matter. Besides the above, any further information the Sacred Congrega-tion may require must also be sent. 20. After permission has been obtained from the Sacred Congrega-tion, what is the next step? After permission (the nihil obstat) has been obtained from the .Sacred Congregation, the local Ordinary may proceed to establish the secular institute as an ecclesiastical moral person. Official notice of 28 January, 1952 SECULAR INSTITUTES such establishment is then to be sent to the same Sacred Congrega-tion. 21. What is the juridical status of the new institute? The new secular institute is an ecclesiastical moral person of diocesan right, that is, a diocesan secular institute. 22. Could a diocesan secular institute later receive recognition as a pontifical institute? Yes, after a period of time such papal approval could be obtained. The procedure is similar to that followed for obtaining pontifical approval for a religious co.ngregation or a society of common life, with some necessary adjustments and additions. 23. Wh~t expansion is possible for a secular institute? A secular institute need not necessarily be confined to one dio- Cese; interdiocesan and even universal expansion might be possible. 24. By what laws are secular institutes governed? Secular institutes are governed by: (1) the provisions of the Provida Mater Ecclesia; (2). further provisions, interpretations, or applications of that Apbstolic Constitution made by the Sacred Con-gregation; (3) their own individual constituti6ns (which would embody the regulations of the Provida Mater Ecclesia and the further provisions of the Sacred Congregation, and make them more specific in conformity with the purpose of the institute) ; (4) the common law of the Code in matters pertaining to them or to their members and which are not provided for by their own special or proper law. 25. Do the members of secular institutes consequently have the obli-gations, or share in the privileges, of religious or clerics? As a general ru.le, they do not have the obligations nor share the privileges of religious. As fa~ as the obligations and privileges of clerics are concerned, again as a general thing, members of secular in-stitutes who are clerics share those obligations and privileges, while non-clerics do not. 26. What about the novitiate, training of candidates, transfer to another institute, dismissal, suppression of an institute, and the like? A secular institute, even if only diocesan, can be suppressed by the Holy See alone. The other points could be determined in the constitutions of each institute or in future communications from the Holy See. The three existing Roman documents on secular insti-tutes do not treat these points. 29 FRANCIS N. KORTH Review for Religious 27. Which are the three documents referred to in the preceding answer? They are: (1) the Apostolic Constitution of Pope Pius XII, Provida Mater Ecclesia, of February 2, 1947; (2) the Motu proprio Primo feliciter of March 12, 1948; and (3) the Instruction Cure Sanctissimus, issued by the Sacred Congregation for Religious on March 19, 1948. Up to the present, these are the main documents about secular institutes. (An English translation of these docu-ments can be found in Bouscaren's Canon Law Digest: Supplement 1948, pages 63-86). 28. If a secular institute bad been established with the approval ot~ the Holy See prior to the Prouida Mater Ecclesia, do the prou[sions of that Apostolic Constitution apply to such an institute? The Prouida Mater Ecclesia is not retroactive in regard to those secular institutes (any association which fulfills the substantial 're-quirements, no matter under what form it was approved) which had been previously approved by the Holy See or established after con-sultation with the Holy See, as far as their rights and obligations are concerned, but they now come under the classification of secular in-stitutes. In regard to all other associations the Provida Mater Eccle-sia does apply. 29. One [inal question. Why was the name "'secular institutes" chosen? In the 'deliberations preceding the official recognition of secular institutes as a new juridical state of perfectibn, various names were proposed for the new institution. Among these were: "religious sodalities," "religious unions," "societies without vows and without common life." However, in order to bring out the specific character of the new organizations, the present name, "secular institutes," was happily chosen. That 'name spotlights the fact that members of the new institutes do not live a cloistered life but live in the world and support themselves by the same occupations and employment as do other people. A concluding'remark. As the Holy Father in his Motu proprio (II) emphasized: ". in working out the general as well as the par-ticular organization of all these Institutes, this must always be kept in mind, that in all of them their special and peculiar character as secular Institutes, which is the whole reason for their existence, be clearly expressed. Nothing is to be subtracted from the full profes- 30 January, 19~2 OPEN LETTER TO SELF sion of Christian perfection, solidly based on the evangelical coun-sels, and in substance truly religious; but this perfection is to be exer-cised and professed in the world, and therefore in all things which are licit and which can be brought into conformity with the duties and works of that same perfection, it must be adapted to the secular life. ". [The] apostolate of Secular Institutes is to be faithfully practiced not only in the world, but as of the world, and therefore with avowed aims, practices, forms, and in places and circumstances corresponding t~o this secular condition" (Bouscaren, op. cir., pages 77-78). Open Letter to Sell: Everett J. Mibach, S.J. DEAR SELF: You have often asked me why it is that you make such little progress in the things of God. You complain, dear Self, that you often have clear lights and high aspirations after holiness only to have them vanish like a puff of smoke that never was or like the seed in the gospel withering away before it brings forth the promised fruit that lay pregnant in its husk. You resign yourself to a spiritual mediocrity. You leave, the "why" of it unanswered. I am afraid that you have forgotten, dear Self, a lesson that you were taught many years ago when you first set out in quest of God. -Then it was that you had explained to you the importance of t~delitg in little things. This means simply: fidelity to grace. As you grew older, but not wiser, you noticed the "great deeds" won the applause of the day. You concentrated your efforts on performing the big things" and have neglected the little ones. Because things seem little you should not account them of no value. A man's thumb can cover the button that will plunge a bril-liantly lighted city into aconfused darkness. A bronze door weighing several hundred tons can be easily opened because of a little pin in the hinge. Five cents worth of iodine in the thyroid gland keeps this world's genius from being an idiot. Little things? Yes. Unimportant? Hardly. If you insist, upon spurning the seemingly little things, 31 EVERETT3. MIBACH Review t:or Religious Self, you will never attain to sanctity. Fidelity to little things is the small button that will flood the soul with the light of God's grace. It is the small pin upon which swing the gates to our eternal glory. Self, think back to some of the little things you have neglected. What far reaching consequences that' neglect has had! Every time Christ whispers--and He does so constantly to the Christian soul-- He is offering you a greater share in His divine life. He is inviting you to a closer participation in Him. All of His invitations have written upon them R.S.V.P. R3loondez, s'il oous plait. Answer, if you please. You can throw the invitation aside unans~wered, thinking it too unimportant, too inconsequential to merit your serious atten-' tion. Nothing that Christ invites you to is unimportant. Nothing is inconsequential. Christ is God. His divine life of grace in us is the all-important thing in this life. When He offers you a greater .degree of this divine life, a closer union with Him, do you dare to say that it is unimportant, to say it is a little thing? I have told you, Self, that Christ is constantly whispering to your soul. Do you not hear Him? Do you not know what I mean by the "whisper of Christ"?Can it be that you have never, experienced it? Of course you have. Because you have told me of your aspira-tions that were still-born. He speaks daily to your intellect, to youi right judgment, to your conscience. Perhaps if we recall together a few of the neglected little ~hings you will better understand what I mean. Remember the day when everything wasgoing so well. You had been living in union with your Divine Guest, turning to Him in the quiet of your soul. And then you found yourself with some "other Christs." The conversation was of many things. Suddenly you thought about a little remark you could repeat about an "absent Christ." It was just a little thing, a word or two, nothing more. A little mocking inflection of innocent words, a little raising of the ey~- brows with a knowing nod--little things in themselves but just enough to start the ball rolling. Like a snow ball rolling downhill, it grew in size as it passed from one to another. How you blushed when you saw the consequences! Before you gave it your little push you had heard Christ's whisper, "Don't say that about Me. It is just a little defect and my 'other Christ' and I are sin-cerely trying to work it out. R.S.V.P." But the thing asked was too small, one or two words held back. Christ would not ask that of you, Self. So you said it because it was just a little thing. Then you went back to find again your Divine 32 Januarv, 1952 OPEN LETTER TO SELF Guest and resume your communing with Him. But He hid Himself from you. Perhaps He went to console His "absent Christ" who was wounded by your infidelity. Do you recall the night 9t supper when the potatoes were burnt? The thought occurred to you to eat them and not complain about it. That was Christ's invitation: "My other Christs are suffering. Won't you fill.up my sufferings in union with theirs? R.S.V.P." And you answered, "This is'nothing. What a foolish thought! That is for novices. I'll do some real penance tomorrow." But you had turned your back on the invitation of the moment. Christ offered you a greater share in His life and you refused it. That unguarded look, that littl~-~oh, so little--self indulgence in curiosity, that little un-pe~: ceived concession to ease that is known only to.you and your Divine Guest, that little slurring off of modesty, that little lack of silence--and all the time you knew what Christ asked of you. With the timelessness of thought you were able to weigh in the balance what was asked of you. You chose yourself. You could have chosen Christ but you did not. It was too little. Imagine Christ's life to be bought for a trifle and you refused to buy it! Do you still wonder at .your lack of progress? Self, I want you to stop and think of what a mistake you are making in neglecting these little things. You are stifling the growth of Christ in your soul. He is nourished by your willing acceptance of His graces. He is starved by your refusals. Nothing is too small to offer Christ when He asks for it. "When you hear His voice harden not your heart." You wonder, I know, why it is so very hard at times to give these little things, it should be easy because they are so small. Yet what a struggle it costs you. Don't look too far for the answer, Self. It is in your very name. You bear in your-self the seeds o'f death. Your very name betrays you. I can promise you, Self, that if you take a firm resolution to be faithful to~ the !ittle things of the present moment you will make progress. Keep saying, "Yes, yes, dear Christ, this little thing" for You, and an increase of Your divine life for me. In giving You this little thing I am giving part of myself to You, my body, my judg-ment, my will. There can be no vacuum in nature, so You must fill up the void with Your sweet presence." God Bless you, Self. " Your constant companion, ME ¯ 33 Cont:emporary Depreclat:ion ot: t:he Religious Lit:e P. De Letter, S.J. OF LATE in many a religious institute, particularly of nuns, scarcity of vocations has provoked a veritable crisis and raised a r~roblem. The ideal of the religious qife, apparently, no longer appeals to the young. They dream of something greater and more modern, more active and efIicient, offering them a better chance of developing their tMents and personality. This practical deprecia-tion of the religious life may be due to many causes, from a worldly spirit with its desire for comfort and of the sensational, up to the specious pretence of more fruitful apostolate and more widespread action. But it is a fact that together with it, and perhaps as its par-tial if not chief cause, echoes are heard of a plain theoretical deprecia-tion of the religious state. However well-intentioned may have been the praise and commendation of another ideal, that of the secular priesthood and of' the secular apostolate, which gave occasion to this slur on the religious life, the errors involved cannot but be harmful in the long run, even to the other cherished ideal. Religious writers have not failed to take up the challenge and to defend the Catholic idea of the religious state against its detractors. It must have been gratifying to them and to all religious that recently the Holy Father himself took up their defence when he addressed the members of the First Congress for Religious, held in Rome, Novem-ber 26-December 8, 1950) The congress had expressed the wish for a papal pronouncement which would condemn the errors rampant about the state of perfection, and give clear directives for the adapta-tion of the religious life to modern times. In answer to this desire the Holy Father stated in unmistakable language the erroneous opin-ions concerning the traditional idea of the religious life. It is not out-of-place for religious to reflect awhile on the Pope's teaching about the religious state. This reflection should increase our oivn appreciation of our vocation, and enable us t9 inspire others with the same ideal. The Holy Father deals with five main causes of the present-day 1The Latin text of this allocution is found in the Acta Apost?licae Sedis, 43 (1951), pp. 26-36. 34 DEPRECIATION OF RELIGIOUS LIFE depreciation of the religious life; the first two concern the position of religious priests; the last three concern all religious. They comprise both theoretical and practical errors, to which he opposes the tradi-tional Catholic teaching. He thus indicates both the ill and its cure. The Place of the Religious Clergg within the Church The first cause of undervaluing the religious state, particularly that of the .religious clergy as distinct from the secular clergy, 'is a wrong idea of its place within the Catholic Church. This is mainly a theoretical error but it entails practical consequences. It has been said that the hierarchy instituted by Christ is that of pope, bishop, and parish clergy. The religious state is not of divine origin; it is only an ecclesiastical institution. The religious clergy derives from and is secondary to the secular or diocesan clergy. Religious priests do not exactly fit in the degrees of the normal hierarchical order; they are practically outside the hierarchy. Proof of it is their exemp-tion from the bishops. This theoretical view naturally inclines one to underrate the state of the religious clergy and to consider them as more or less irregular. Should we not rather abide by the normal hierarchical position of the secular or diocesan clergy? A.practical consequence, logically flowing from this pr~mise, would divert aspirants to the priesthood grom the cloister and direct them to the seminary. To this partly erroneous view the Pope opposes what may be called the first papal decision in the age-long rivalry between secular and regular clergy. The Church, he says, is hierarchical by divine institution, that is, composed of clerics and laity.' Both of these, clerics and "laity, can enter the religious state which is, it is true, of ecclesiastical origin. Both religious and non-religious can be clerics and priests. But neither of the two pechliar forms of life for the, clergy that exist today, secular or regular, was established by Christ. The divine law does not give the preference to one above the other, nor exclude one or the other. Christ left to His Church the task of ¯ settling their mutual differences and relations, and their respective labors. Accordingly, the religious clergy is not less within ~he hierarchy than the secular clergy. Both religious and secular priests are helpers of the bishop, as determined, for the religious too, by the Code of Canon Law (626-631; 454, § 5). At times, especially in the mis-sions, the whole diocesan clergy happens to be religious. This, the Pope says, is not an abnormal situation which should be ended as 35 P. DE LI~TTER Reoieu) t:or Religious soon as possible. Accordingly also, the exemption of religiou~ !s not against the divine institution of the Church nor against the general principle that priests are depqndent on the bishop. For two reasons: first, because even exempt religious depend on the local bishop to the extent determined by canon law; secondly, because they are subject, both by the ruling of the Church law and by virtue of their vow of obedience, to the pope who has immediate ordinary jurisdiction in every diocese and over all the faithful. The practical sequel of this papal teaching is self-evident: reli-gious priests are as much in place in the Church as the secular clergy. The specious pretext for depreciating the religious life of priests, as though it placed them outside the hierarchical order of the Church, vanishes into thin air. Which Is the State of Evangelical Perfection? A second cause of depreciating the religious life is a mistaken idea of the state of evangelical perfection. It is right and necessary to exalt the sanctity of the priesthood and to inculcate in all priests their need of personal holiness required by their saintly fur~ctions. But this well-meant endeavor has sprea.d the idea that the clerical state is a state of evangelical perfection. The clerical state, it has been said, of its nature and by virtue of its divine origin demands that its fol-lowers keep the evangelical counsels. If that were correct, then the clerical state would be preferable to the religious life. A state of perfection instituted by Christ Himself would be, in itself, more essential than the state of perfection which is only an ecclesiastical institution. But, the Holy Father says, it is not fully correct. Before hearing his criticism, it may be well to say that there is something true in the exalted idea of the priesthood and in its connection with the evangelical counsels. This was brought out clearly in two recent documents on the priesthod; one, the great pastoral of the late Cardinal Suhard, Priests among Men; the other, the exhortation of the Pope himself, Menti nostrae, on the sanctity of the priesthood. Both of these show that the spirit and, when pos-sible, the practice of the three evangelical counsels of poverty, chas-tity, and obedience are the ideal setting for the priestly task and for the apostolic ministry. But this does not mean that the priesth.ood itself entails the state of evangelical perfection such as is sanctioned by the three religious vows. A cleric, the Pope teaches, is not bound by divine law to the evangelical counsels of poverty, chastity, and obedience. Particularly, 36 January, 1952 DEPRECIATION OF RELIGIOUS LIFE a cleric is not bound to them in the" same manner as a'religious is bound by his public vows. A cleric may take these obligations upon himself privately and freely. Even the canonically established law of priestly celibacy for clerics of the Latin rite does not take away the essential difference between the religious and the clerical state. A cleric who is a religious professes evangelical perfection not because he is a cleric but because he is a religious. This important papal teaching means that the state of evangelical perfection is not found without the three vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience; that these three excellent means for perfection are not just casual and more or less replaceable bY other means or counsels. The many means of sanctification or apostolate which the priestly state includes, however excellent they may be, are not sufficient to establish priests in the state of evangelical perfection. This state sup-poses the three counsels opposed to the threefold concupiscence which St. John names (I John, 2:16) as the great obstacle to charity, the substance of Christian perfection. The Pope confirms this teaching by answering the objection one could draw from the approbation he himself g~ve to secular insti-tutes. His Apostolic Constitution Provida Mater canonically ap-proved these in I947, as one form of the state of perfection. Mem-bers of these institutes, he says, are in the state of perfection, not be-cause they happen to be clerics, but because they ~ire members of an approved institute. As such they follow the three evangelical cdun-sels, even though not being religious or regulars and whilst keeping externally to the secular life. This teaching involves a grave practical cotisequence. It .means that when young men feel drawn to the state of evangelical perfec-tion, and when this attraction, after due scrutiny and probation, proves to be a genuine, divine inspiration, then it would not do just to direct them to the seminary. The Holy Father himself states that the priesthood by itself does not place one in the state of perfection. Only the ~eligious vows do this, or the vows of a society or institute approved by the Church. This teaching cuts at its root any under-valuation of the religious life considered from the viewpoint of Christian or evangelical perfection. Motives/:or Joining or Not doining the Religious Life A third symptom of contemporary undervaluing of the religiotis life is shown in the way the motives for entering the religious state are interpreted. It has b'een said that the cloister is a haven of peace 37 P. DE LETTER Review/:or Religious for the timid who are afraid of'the battles of life in the world--who are what is called escapists. Better pray for grace to be courageous ¯ and stay on in the battle. That means, in plain language, that reli-gious life is not for the courageous but for the faint-hearted. To this imputa.tion the Holy Father takes exception in strong words. Generally speaking, this alleged reason for joining the religious life is false and unjust. The religious vocation demands gre~it courage and devotedness. Proof of it is the history of the religious orders. Another proof is the work done today by religious in the missions, the ministry, hospitals, and education. Most of the religious are fighting the battles of the Church not less than priests or laymen in the world. Why then, the Pope asks, are there few vocations today? Not because of the specious reason just set aside, but because many of the young find it too hard to strip themselves of their freedom by the vow of obedience. The reason vocations are fewer is the. lack of courage to face the real sacrifice involved in the religious vows. Yet some try to justify this refusal of giving up one's freedom on prin-ciple, a false principle which is a novel error concerning Christian perfection. A new ideal of perfection is being proposed to the young --no longer, as formerly, the sacrifice of one's freedom for love of Christ, but a controlled freedom: restrict freedom, they say, as far as is necessary, leave it full scope as far as possible. Again, if this novel asceticism is right, then religious life is no longer the better part. But the Pope condemns it in plain terms. Not only is it problematic, he says, whether the new basis of Christian sanctity will prove as firm and fruitful in the apostolate as the old rule of obedience for love of Christ, but that concept contains a serious ~rror regarding the nature of the evangelical counsels whose excellence it slights. The new form of perfection is not of the same spiritual value as the vow of obedi-ence by which one imitates Christ who became obedient unto death. In other words, to place the new ideal of perfection on a par with the religious vows, or even to place it above the ideal of the religious life, is erroneously to depreciate the. state of evangelical perfection. Accordingly, the Holy Father concludes, it is wrong to propose only the new ideal of perfection to one who asks for advice about a vocation. When signs of a vocation to the state of perfection are present in a young person, the ancient ideal of freely immolating one's freedom by the vow of obedience must be proposed to him. It is contrary to Catholic principles about Christian perfection to ad-vise against it. And so the depreciation of religious life, implied in 38 danuar[l, 195"2 DEPRECIATION OF RELIGIOUS LIFE the exaltation of this new ideal of freedom, rests on an erroneous understanding of evangelical perfection. Depreciation of the Contemplative ,Lille in Favor Action That Yields Results The preceding causes of undervaluing religious !ife are mainly found among non-rellgious. They are errors in the theory about the life and organization of the Church, about the perfection of Christian life, about the meaning of the evangelical counsels; the-oretical errors that dictate the practical advice to look for the better thing, not in the ranks of the world-fleers, but among the courageous warriors who stay in the thick of the world's battles. Religious themselves easily keep free from these errors but not from the next two causes of the depreciation. The.first oLthese,.consists in. .~y.e.r~[!.ng. external activity which aims at tangible results and in undervaluing interiob-life or the con-templation of the eternal truths. Even religious do not always keep clear of this danger. Stated bluntly, the implicit objection against the religious life, which is always contemplative to a great extent, and in some cases almost exclusively so, comes to this: that contem-plation is useless, or nearly so, for practical results in the work for Christ and His Church; it is mainly a waste of time. Evidently. this grievance is rarely put in this extreme form. But something of it is at the basis of many an "actionist's" depreciation of religious life. Not so rarely is something of it also in the mind or practice of reli-gious. Is it any wonder? Have we not been warned time and again against the modern heresy of action? Shall we be surprised that even religious who labor in the world without being of the world, imbibe something of the atmosphere in which they live, and that they too, in their active life, either in theory or in practice or in both, exalt action to the detriment of contemplation?' But on the assumption that action comes first and contemplation second it would logically follow that the state of life in which contemplation takes a large place is less excellent than a life which can be wholly given to the activity of the apostolate. This, again is wrong. The error originates, the Holy Father says, from a mentality of our day which is reflected in the latest phi-losophy, existentialism; this underrates eternal values and is all taken up with the action of the moment and its result. The right manner for the apostolate, after the example of St. Francis Xavier and St. Theresa of Lisieux, is to unite action and interior life. Religious 39 P. DE LETTER' . Review for Religious ought to grow in interior life in the measure that their action ex-pands. And pure contemplatives are not less necessary for the life of the Church, nor are they less apostolic than active religious. They are needed in the Church to ensure harmony between exterior work and the interior life. It is only when interior life penetrates into our action that reli-gious can counteract, more in deeds than in words, the modern tend-ency to laicize the works of charity. Christian charity is radically different from lay philanthropy. It is incomparably stronger be-cause it draws its spirit and inspiration from the love of Christ. This strength even non-Christians acknowledge and 'appreciate. And that is the direct answer to any depreciation of the religious life. It is up to us religious to take care of this interior inspiration of our exterior action. Unless we do this, we willy-nilly play into the hands of. those who in practice depreciate the religious state. Adaptation of the Religious Life to Modern Needs and Wags A last modern grievance against the religious life is its lack of adaptation to modern needs and ways. The Holy Father faces the objection and strikes .the right balance in answering. The objection, he says, is partly founded. It is true that adaptation is necessary, but it ought to be done in the right way and unite the old and the new. The zeal of young religious--for the objection does not only come from outside the cloister--"to be of their time" is good and legitimate to an extent. Why? Simply because religious foun~lers adapted their institutes to the needs of their own times. But the needs change with the changing times. Their present-day successors have to do as they did; they have to study and to know the aspirations and needs of their contemporaries if they wish to help them. After granting that much, the Pope insists on what must remain unchanged, on what never grows old and is ever new. Such is the patrimony of the Church. The Holy Father recalls his defence of it in his encyclical Humani generis. Another part of that inalienable patrimony is this: the purpose of .the state of perfection is to make saints. This too is ever modern. And it involves this capital truth of Christian asceticism: that the only way to perfection is self-abnegation for love of Christ: Of this eternal truth no adaptation is needed or allowed. Once these substantials are safe, other things regarding the exterior setting of religious life can and must be adapted to the circumstances of the times. Much of this, the Pope says, has been done already; and more was pla~ined in this congress. The 40 danuarg, 1952 DEPRECIATION OF RELIGIOUS LIFE adaptation concerns the works of education, schools, and care for the sick. In these avocati6ns religious may and must strive to'be as up-to- date as any of their contemporaries. That way, we may add, they will help to remove a pretext for depreciating religious life. The Pope himself formulates the guiding principle' of this adap-tation: we must detect the spiritual resources, the secret desires, the true frame of mind of our contemporaries, and their good aspira-tions in order to encourage and develop them. What are these good aspirations? Th, ey are the three main characteristics of the modern ¯ mind: broadness of views, unity of organization, and promptness in execution. These qualities are good; they ought to be taken up and favored. They are, moreover, not only modern; they are as old as the gospel, dust read the New Testament: for broadness of view, (I Cor. 3:23); for unity of organizat, ion, (I Cor., 15:28 and Mark, 12:28-34) ; for promptness in execution, (Luke 9:62). And look at St. Paul: he is a modern man, as modern in spirit as any today. we religious follow these teachings of the gospel and the example of the Apostle, then we shall be adapted to our modern times. We ~hall feel that we are of our time and thus expel from our minds a secret pretext for not valuing as we should the better part for which we were chosen. We shall also answer, in deeds better than words, the modern grievance against the religious life. Conclusion In conclusion the Holy Father points out what ought to be the religious's own contribution to the revaluation of the religious life. He tells them in substance: "Be what you are. Let your lives bear witness to the reality of the religious state." Then men, within and without the Church, will understand and esteem the state of perfec-tion. In the religious life both action and contemplation aim at Christian perfection and at the apostolate. For perfection, the most effective means will always be the three religious vows that aim at uprooting the threefold concupiscence; austerity of life will show that. For the apostolate, ever-active zeal, grounded in faith and charity, radiant in the union of charity among yourselves and with ¯ other laborers of the Lord's vineyard, practically shown in 'justice and charity towards 'the poor, will preach to the world the right esteem for evangelical perfection. We should take to heart this warning of the Holy Father and strive as hard as we can that our lives may answer our name and that in re~ility and truth we may come up to what we profess. 41 ( ues ions and Answers ~l[--- Our constitutions state~ "Elections shall never take.place except in full council. Therefore, if one of the Councillors cannot be present, and the election cannot be postponed, the superior of the house shall take her place, or the council shall choose one of the Sisters in perpetual vows who has an active and a passive voice." No mention is made in the constitutions of supplying the absence of a councillor in meetings when there is no question of an election. In that event, must the substitute be chosen in the same way, or may the superior general appoint a Sister of her own choice to take the place of the absent councillor? " The general principle is that absentees are not to be supplied for meetings in which no elections are had, when the constitutions are silent about the point. Ali councillors are to be called: subsequently, in order that the council might act, the presence of only one councillor would suffice (except for the case of dismissal of a religious with per-petual vows in an exempt clerical institute according to canon 655, § 1, which requi~es the presence of at least four councillors). Whether justice would always be satisfied when on.ly one or two councillors are present in discussions of more important matters is a different question. Therefore, according to general principles the superior gen-eral is not to appoint another Sister to take the place of the absentee councillor nor is a substitute to be chosen by the council itself.' However, since the particular constitutions mentioned in the ques-tion are following the precedent set by the Norrnae of 1901 for elec-tions, if those constitutions demand a full council for certain other matters, then it seems probable that absent councillors could be sup-plied in the following way. If one councillor is absent, call in the local superior as a substitute. If another councillor is absent, have the council choose some other Sister of the house who has perpetual vows. The superior gene~ral is not to make the choice. A religious of the community draws up the designs for a series of reli-gious greeting cards, while another religious composes the verses. The cards are printed by on outside press. To be perfectly frank, the main purpose of the project is profit for the community. Is this against canon 1427 The community owns and operates a small press. A lay brother does QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS the actual running of the press. Can ÷he community accept outside con-tracts in order to increase its profits? Again it must be admitted that profit is a major consideration. Canon 142 forbids clerics to engage in lucrative industrial or commercial trading, whether they do it personally or through others, whether for their own or someone else's advantage. The following four elements must be present simultaneously before a given actiofi would fall under the classification of forbidden trading. (1) Some-thing must be bought, (2) for resale. (3) unchanged or changed by hired help, (4) at a profit. Now for the cases presented. "A religious or cleric is always al-lowed to print (or have printed) and sell at a profit whatever he has written himself" (REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS;, V [1946], 61). This applies also to designs and verses prepared for greeting cards. "If the religious run the press themselves and do all the work, they may print and sell not only books and writings of the members of their institute, but also books written by others who are not mem-bers. If the religious merely own and direct the press and the work " is done by hired help, they may print all works written "by members of their institute but nothing else unless they have a special indult from the Holy See; nor may they .engage in ordinary commercial printing" (Op. cir., p. 62). Hence, to answer the second question specifically, the community may accept outside contracts provided all the w6rk is done by m,embers of the community. If the work is done by hired help, permission must be obthined from the Holy See to ac-cept outside corltracts. 3 When the enactments of a general chapter fall to be promulgated within a reasonable period after the chapter, what obligation devolves upon the individual delegates in the matter of urging their promulcjatlon, and of mainta!n[ncj secrecy which shields such a failure? Enactments of a general chapter are to be promulgated according to the provisions of the constitutions of the particular institute (usually promulgated by the superior general). At times the consti-tutions require such enactments to be submitted to the Holy See (for pontifical institutes) or to the local Ordinary (for diocesan institutes) for confirmation prior to promulgation. This is always the case when there is question of any change in the constitutions themselves or in the interpretation of the constitutions. A general chapter has power as long as it remains in session; then 43 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS Reuiew for Religious its power ceases. If the superior geneFal fails in his duty of promul-gating the enactments of the general chapter, the constitutions might possibly make some provision for such failure. If the constitutions say nothing, it seems that the matter should be taken up by the suc-ceeding general chapter, convened in ordinary or extraordinary ses-sion. Meantime if some point covered by an enactment became urgent, that matter could be referred for settlement or action to superiors, either internal or external, as the case would warrant, but without any reference being made to the chapter's unpromulgated enactment. During the considerations that would follow, the negligence of the su'~erior general might become apparent; otherwise the succeeding general chapter could investigate the case and act. accordingly, in con-formity with the constitutions. In regard to secrecy, "the members of the chapter should remem- ¯ bet that they are bound by secrecy regarding the matters discussed in chapter until the promulgation of the results of the chapter are made by the superior general. Even after such promulgation they should observe secrecy as to details regarding names and matters discussed or voted upon in chapter:' (REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, I [1942], 258). Delegates to a succeeding general chapter could be made familiar with the details of the case as far as necessary. That would seem to be the extent of the obligation devolving upon individual delegates of the preceding chapter. When a Sister, with permission, reads the Divine Office, or the Little Office, in private, may it be read in Encjlish, or must if always be read, as well as chanted, in Latin? Also, we are told that when sayincj the Office in private, we should not follow the rubrics. Does that include the lowering of the sleeves, as well as the prostrations, and the like? A distinction must be made between the Divine Office and the Little Office of the Blessed Virgin. To take the latter first: unless the constitutions or custom require that the Little Office be recited in Latin when said privately,a Sister may recite it in the English. The Divine Office must always be said in Latin when it is of obligation. Should a religious who is not obliged to recite the Divine Office wish to do so out of devotion, it is obvious that this may be done in Eng- Following the rubrics, strictly speaking, refers to the directions originally given in red (rubrum) print in the liturgical books, such 44 danuaryo 1957. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS as the Missal and Breviary. Lowering of the sleeves, prostrations, and the like, rhay be called rubrics in a very wide sense. Hence if the rubrics, strictly so-called, are not to be followed in the private recita-tion of the Little Office, then a fortiori, such observances as lowering the sleeves and the like are to be omitted. Is ff permissible ÷o use a protective plastic cover over a cloth scapular (single or flve-fold) without losing the indulgences one gains from wearing it next to the skin? Also, is the cloth scapular preferred to the medal or are both given equal value in the eyes of the (~hurch? A protective plastic cover may be used over cloth scapulars with-out the wearer losing the indulgences. The scapular need not be worn next to the skin. (Decree of the Sacred Congregation for In-dulgences, March 12, 1855). In the decree of the Holy Office, December 16, 1910, allowing the use of the scapular medal, it is stated that the then reigning Holy Father, Plus X, while makin~ the conc~ssion, strongly desired the faithful to keep on using the type of scapular to which they were ac-customed, namely, the cloth scapular. However, it should be noted that one who does wear the medal instead of the cloth scapular could gain all the indulgences attached to the wearing of the scapular. A member of a Congregation of Religious Brothers wishes o enlist in the armed forces, and asks his major superior to obtain an indult of ex-claustration for him. May his major superior ask for such an indult? Canon 592 of the Code of Canon Law tells us that religious are bound by the obligations of clerics. And canon 141 states that clerics shall not voluntarily enter upon military service except it be for the purpose of being released from the obligation more quickly, and then only with the permission of his major superior. Hence in countries in which clerics and religious are exempt from military service, a re-ligious Brother would not be allowed to volunteer for military service, nor would an indult of exclaustration be given him for this purpose. OUR CONTRIBUTORS EDWARD J. CARNEY teaches.theology and is superior of the House of Studies of the Oblates of St. Francis de Sales, Washington, D.C. JOSEPH F. GALLEN teaches Canon Law at Woodstock College, Woodstock, Maryland. P. DE LETTER is from St. Mary's Theological College, Kurseong, India. FRANCIS N. KORTHand dEROME BREUNIG are on the faculty and EVERETT .J. MIBACH, a former mission-ary to China, is studying theology at St. Mary's College, St. Marys, Kansas. 45 I a!:her Paul ot: Graymoor Jerome Breunig, S.J. 44~VfHY, you lazy monk: I wouldn't give you a red cent." was Wthe answer an Anglican in Franciscan garb received when he asked a man to pay his subway fare. This "lazy monk," as an 'Anglican,. founded a threefold counterpart of the Franciscan order, instituted a Church Unity Octave, won acclaim as an outstanding preacher and journalist, and prayed and worked and co-operated with the striking graces he received to bring himself and his works into the fold of Peter. Ordained a Catholic priest, "the lazy monk" through crushing disappointment carried on his aposto-late with ever-growing success until his death in 1940. But, most of all, this monk left in his life about as literal a transcript of Christ's Gospel as imperfect flesh-and-blood parchment could hold. His name in religion was Paul James Francis, S.A., and the story of'his seven-ty- eigbt, busy years is told by David Gannon, S.A., in a definitive biography entitled Father Paul of Gra~moor.1 In view of the coming octave, January 18-25, it might be well to review some highlights of Father Paul's life as well as the history and salient features of the Chair of Unity Octave he founded. Atonement A single word sums up Father Paul's life and work, At-One- Ment. This is the name he gave or rather was given for the.society he founded. In seeking a name he followed a practice be read about in an Anglican life of St. Francis of Assisi. After a prayer he opened the New Testament at random and read the text (King James ver-sion): "And not only so, we also joy in God, through Our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom we have now received the atonement" (Ro-mans 5:11). .In the word atonement he knew he bad the answer. Atonement, which the Catholic Encyclopedia notes as "almost the only theological term of English origin," well expressed the Society's aim, "the At-One-Ment with God of all the redeemed through Unity. For the theological definition of the term atonement is 'the satisfaction of Christ, whereby God and the world are reconciled or made to be one' " (p. 36). IThe book was published.by Macmillan in 1951 and sells for four dollars. It is recommended,for public and private reading, perhaps even re-reading. 46 PAUL OF GRAYMOOR Born in Eastern Maryland, 3anuary 16, 1863, the future Father Paul was christened Lewis Thomas Wattson. His father, the Rev. 3oseph Newton Wattson, who had been expelled f~om General Theological Seminary on the groundless suspicion of being "a 3esuit in disguise," led him to love all that was best in the High Church tradition. On one occasion the elder Wattson remarked with em-phasis, "What we need in the Episcopal Church is a preaching .order like the Paulists." The younger Wattson never forgot these words. Like his predecessor, 3obn Henry Newman, Lewis Wattson seemed a dedicated man from the start. After ordination as an Anglican presbyter he repeatedly turned aside the urging of his ves-trymen that he marry. He did not wish "'to degenerate" into a married priest and trundle a baby carriage." He was thirty years old before the never-dormant inspiration "to found an order" spurred him to seek actualization. .The answer seemed to be in Omaha where he was asked to be a superior for a group of unmarried clergymen. But it was not, as three years of "Mass, Matins, and Mush," and trying "to make monks out of mefi who did not want to be monks" proved. His three companions at this time later became Episcopal .bishops. A Franciscan Cast The answer came in a letter from Lurana Mary White, an Epis-copal Sister, who wished to be an Anglican Franciscan and had heard of the zealous presbyter's desire to found an order. Father Paul found Sister Lurana's devotedness to II Poverello contagious and a help to'crystallize the latent Franciscan' cast of the Society of the Atonement. His exaggerated love of poverty is illustrated by his vownot to touch money; this explains why he asked a stranger to pay his subway fare. In actual poverty that at least rivals that of Clare and Francis of Assisi, Mother Lurana began the foundation of the Sisters of the Atonement in 1898 in a century-old farm cottage that had never seen a paint brush, and Father Paul, after a novitiate with the' Order of the Holy Cross (Anglican), began a year later in an abandoned . paint shed which he weatherstripped with ra~s and old papers. A Third Order of the Atonement was also begun at this time. Their co-religionists welcomed the new Franciscan community in their midst at first and a number came to the "convent" and "mon'astery" that were being-built. Very few were hardy enough to remain. Besides, the talk about reunion with Rome began to dis- 47 ,JEROME BREUNIG Ret~iew [or Religious turb many. If others had any doubts about Father Paul's mind in this matter, the doubts were explosively dispelled by his memorable .sermon at the opening of an Archdeaconry meeting. Beginning with the account from Acts of St. Peter"s cure of the lame man at the temple gate, Father Paul pointed out that the Anglican Church was the lame man and would only get b~ick on its feet with Peter's help, that is, by corporate union with Rome. Open Pulpit Opens Eyes After this, though he was said to have had no equal as a preacher, he found pulpits closed to him. He took up the pen. "A born journalist,he knew the power of the printed word." "He lit The Lamp." The official High Church publication which dismissed the first issue as the effusion of an erratic priest soon found that "the sun never set on the readers," non-Catholic and Catholic, of The Lamp. The following magnificent words on Christian Unity appeared in the first edition of The Lamp, February, 1903: "Is then Christian Unity a visionary dream? Will the prayer of the Son of'God never be answered? Was He a lying Prophet when He foretold the time of its fulfilment, saying: 'Other Sheep I have which are not of this fold (the one Catholic and Apostolic Church), them also I must bring and there shall be. one fold and one Shep-herd.' Let who will deride or shake their heads in doubt saying: 'Heresy and schism have gone too far; the seamless robe of Christ is, too much torn to tatters ever to be mended; the reunion of Christen-dom is utterly out of the question; Rome is too proud and un-bending; England is too self-satisfied; the East too orthodox; Prot-estantism too much enamoured of letting everybody do and think just as they please. They never can and they never will come to-gether. Christian Unity is hopeless!' Our answer is, God's Will is Omnipotent; the Fiat Of the Most High .must prevail; the prayer of Jesus Christ has got to be answered; the. Almighty Father would never refuse the dying request of His Only begotten Son; sooner or later every petiti6n of Christ will inevitably be granted. Were moun-tains of difficulty to be surmounted a thousand times higher and vaster than they are, God is able to cast them into the sea. Faith serenely rests her case with Him. "Yet even Faith must 'Tarry the Lord's leisure' for with God 'a thousand years are but as one day.' Patience must be allowed plenty of time to do her work pdrfectly. She cannot and will not be bur- 48 PAUL OF: GRAYMOOR ried, the fabric is exceedingly delicate, the pattern most elaborate; the Robe of Unity she is weaving for the Son of God will be of match-less b+auty. And it is the work of many generations and Hope with smiling countenance kneels and prays, being quite happy and content to wait. And Love, standing between the two, looks over the shoulder of Patience and cheers her on, saying: 'Be of good courage, He, the desire of all nations, will come and will not tarry and b~hold His reward is with Him.' " These words were written more than six years before his recep-tion into the Church. In the meantime he adopted in good faith an untenable position. He recognized 'the authority of the Pope but held out for a corporate reunion of the Anglicans with Rome, When the Episcopal Church in 1907 officially opened their pulpits to any ap-proved minister of another sect, his eyes were opened. He took steps to enter and to'transplant the threefold Society of the Atonement in the Catholic Church. The New York Times of November 14, 1909 told of the conversion of Graymoor under the headline: "The Con-vent That Changed its Faith." The sub-title read: "Convent of the Society of the Atonement, Formerly an Anglican Institution, Joins the Church of Rome~Why this Conversion is Unprecedented in Church Annals." The following year Father Paul received an un-questionable priesthood. Chair of Ur~itg Octave The conversion of Graymoor was slow in coming. It was the result of much atoning sacrifice and prayer. In particuIar, it seemed to be the "first fruits" of the Church Unity Octave which Father Paul inaugurated two years before his conversion. In his devotion to Peter and his own patron, Father Paul noted that an octave sepa-rated the feast of the Chair of Peter and that of the Conversion of St. Paul and he underlined this part of the sanctoral cycle for prayers for the intention nearest his heart, the reunion of Christendom. Anglican clergymen and Catholic priests and prelates welcomed the octave whose first observance was announced in The Lamp for 1908. The scope of the reunion was extended to include all man-kind as the intentions show~ They are: January 18--The return of the "other sheep" to the One Fold of Christ. January 19--The return of Oriental Separatists to Communion with the Apostolic See. January 20--The submission of Anglicans to the Authority of the 49 JEROME BREUNIG Re~ieto [or Religious Vicar of Christ. January 21---That the Lutherans and other Protestants of Conti-nental Europe may find their way back to Holy Church. January 22--That Christians in America may become One in Union with the Chair of St. Peter. January 23--Return to the Sacraments of lapsed Catholics. January 24--The Conversion of the Jews. January 25--The Missionary conquest of the World for Christ. After the conversion of the Society of the Atonement Arch-bishop Farley of New York and the Apostolic Delegate, Monsignor Falconio, approved the observance of the Octave under Catholic aus-pices. Pope Plus X gave it his blessing. In 1916, in the midst of World War I, Pope Benedict XV extended the devotion to the Uni-versal Church. The hierarchy of the United States in 1921 unani-mously approved a resolution that the Unity Octave be held in all dioceses throughout the country. To keep the purpose of the Octave from being confused with other ecumenical movements the Sacred Congregation of Rites in 1927 gave it a sub-title--Chair of Unity Octave. "The octave is now known exclusively as The Chair of Uriity Octave. Pope Pius XII has confirmed and further enriched'the Oc-tave. The latest token of his approval was his designation of the Apostleship of Prayer intention for January, 1951, "that all be gathered into the true Church of Christ," making it coincide with the Octave intention. The observance of the Chair of Unity Octave continues to grow each year.[ Unitas.2 an international quarterly review promoting Church Unity, devoted twelve pages of its first 1951 issue to a description of the world-wide celebration of the Octa'~e last year. The most solemn celebration was in Rome where different Cardinals or eminent prelates presided on successive 'days of the Octave. The Vatican radio gave the daily announcement on all 26 different lan-guage broadcasts while L'Osseroatore Rornano gave a lengthy ac-count of each day's intention and emphasized the Octave with an editorial. In the United States the outstanding celebrations took place at the Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in Washington, D.C., and in St. Patrick's Cathedral, New York. The Unitas article singled out special observances in Holland, France, Germany, as well ~Unitas is published in Rome by the Unitas Association. The English Language Edition, however, is published by the Graymoor Press, Peekskill, New York. Sub-scriptions are two dollars a year. 5O danuarg, 1957. PAUL OF GRAYMOOR as in Athens, Lebanon, Istanbul, Scandina~cia and .other cities and countries. It is safe to say that more things are wrought by the prayers of Chair of Unity Octave than this world dreams of. Some of the notable fruits are the following: the Society of the Atonement (1909) ; the village of Jesu Raja, Tuticorin diocese, Indih; the An-glican Benedictines of Caldey (1912) : the Benedictine nuns of Mil-ford Haven (1913): and Archbishop Mar Ivanios and 80,000 Jacobites (1930-1943). When Father Paul wished to make the observance of the Octave obligatory, an English prelate who favored the Octave pointed out th-~t making it obligatory would be too much like depending on the calendar to promote its observance. Neither the calendar nor any obligation seem necessary to urge all men today to join Christ in His prayer that there may be one fold and one Shepherd, that all may be one. As a Father of the Atonement remarked, in substance, after ex-plaining to a large religious community the nature and purpose of the society Father Paul founded, "Our own inadequacy to fulfill our purpose, co-terminus with that of the Church, 'that all may be one," is apparent, but our confidence rests on the grace of God asked for by the united prayers of all, and especially by the prayers of priests and religious." A Dioine .Largesse Besides founding the Chair of Unity Octave and the Society of the Atonement, which after many lean years is now a growing Ben-jamin among the religious orders in the United States, Father Paul shared in more than one extensive apostolate. The~, too, are usually linked to the At-One-Ment cause. He was aco-founder of The Catholic Near East Welfare Association, and before he had men of his own to send to the missions, he sent hundreds of thousands of dollars to missionaries on every continent. He never touched money himself, but by ineans of The Lamp several million dollars passed through his hands. In the banner year of 1924,'$280,000 was given away. Beneficiaries of his charity, which reflected the divin~ largesse somewhat in the Mr.Blue manner included diocesan priests and mis-sionaries from countless religious institutes (p. 233). Closer home, on the Graymoor property, Father Paul gave homeless' men whom he called Brothers Christopher, food and lodging. "He was an apostle of charity who could pierce through 51 JEROME BREUNIG dishonored humanity and see the human soul with the indelible charm of Divinity on it" (p. 5). He ~lso gave the initial permission and support, to the successful Aue Maria radio broadcast. He had just spoken on the program a few days before his death. Whenever he was told that he would have to submit his talk beforehand and then follow his text, he in-dignantly asked: "Who said so? Don't the radio people know yet that God owns the air waves too?" Of these and many other achieve-ments and events of Father Paul's life the author writes with a detail that is ample but never tedious. Some retreat masters when speaking of our attitude towards the faults of others contrast the caricaturist and the artist. The former exaggerates the idiosyncrasies out of all prdportion. The artist takes in the whole man, ~nd the faults become merely the chiaroscuro shading that brings out the good features in the finished portr