Suchergebnisse

Issue 49.3 of the Review for Religious, May/June 1990. ; REVIEW I:OR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at St. Louis University by the Mis-souri Province Educational [nslilule of lhe Sociely of Jesus; Editorial Office; 360~ Lindell Blvd., Rm. 428; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis MO. Single copies $3.50. Subscriptions: United States $15.00 for onc year; $28.00 for two years. Other countrics: US $20.00 for one year: if airmail, US $35.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address, write: Ri~vn-:w FOR R~uc, ous: P.O. Box 60"/0; Duluth, MN 55806. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to RF:VlEW vok REI.I~;IOt~S; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Ol990 REVIEW voR REt.l~;Iot~s. 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 ~.~o' Assistant Editors 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. Ma\'/June 1990 Volume 49 Number 3 Manuscripts, books fl~r review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REVIEW ro~ REt.l~aOt~s; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the departmenl "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Rich-ard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave.; Berkeley, CA 94709-1193. Back issues and reprinls should be ordered from REVIEW VO~ REI.tC;IOt~S; 3601 IAndell Blvd.; St. I~mis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues are available from University Microfilms Internalional; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, M1 48106. A major portion of each issue is also available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually impaired. Write tn the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. PRISMS . Questions play an important part in our biblical tradition. The first question presented in the Bible is the one which God directs to us hu-man beings, "Where are you?" In the gospels, Jesus" question, "Who do you say that I am?," demands a response from every Christian, per-haps more than once in a lifetime. "Woman, why are you weeping? Who is it you are looking for?" challenges us in our sorrow and our dis-appointments. "Simon, son of John, do you love me?" pricks the con-science of sinner and saint alike. Not all questions are neatly answered. For example, "how does one pray" and "how does one love" have pieces of answers which together make up a simple but intricate mosaic that stretches as far as human ex-perience can reach. Jesus, in trying to share with us his experience of God, seemed to be most at home in everyday images of the living world around us and the parables which capture some basic human experience writ large. Who does not remember a woman sweeping a house for a lost coin? That is the way God searches out each of us in our lost moments. Who has not been touched by a story of a person, robbed and left half-dead by the roadside, and the various passers-by among whom there is one who cares? From such a parable, we all know a little better what it means to be neighbor. Stories, symbols, and images become so often the prisms whereby we gain new or fresh insight into some of our deepest human and divine realities. Some of our authors in this issue are directly led into their reflec-tions by a question. "What is a priest?" led Richard Hauser, S.J., to his considerations on the "Spirituality of the Ministerial Priesthood.'" Basil Pennington, O.C.S.O., is making a report on the Religious Life Futures Project as he looks at the question "Where is Religious Life Go-ing? . Whence Come the Candidates?" stirs Gabrielle Jean, S.C.O., to focus once again on the instrumentation for the screening of candi-dates for the priestly and.religious life vocations. William Mann, F.S.C., raises the question "Brothers, Do We Have a Future?" and enters into his own religious life experience to provide a response. If I could make five wishes for a new novice director, Melannie Svoboda, S.N.D., asks, what would they be? Her answer to that ques-tion is her article "Wishes for a 'Novice' Novice Director." Mary Polu-tanovich, D.C., faces the questions, "do the poor need the artist'? does 321 322 / Review for Religious. May-June 1990 the artist need the poor? how is Christ served and the gospel preached by this charism?" Her reflections are captured in her article "More than Bread: Art, Spirituality, and the Poor." Religious imagination unveils how God may be working in "The As-sociate Movement in Religious Life" according to Rose Marie Jasinski, C.B.S., and Peter C. Foley. Thomas F. McKenna, C.M., seeks out meta-phors as he tries to stimulate our thinking about "Images for the Future of Religious Life." Correcting some metaphors may be important in our understanding of "Obedience and Adult Faith" as presented by James D. Whitehead and Evelyn Eaton Whitehead. Other authors in this issue suggest creative ways to pair a deeper un-derstanding of violence and ministry as a response, the connection be-tween the stages of conversion and the gift of tears as imaged in the spiri-tuality of Catherine of Siena, naming experiences that represent the sur-rendering of ourselves to the Divine Other, discovering the gifts and the pitfalls of praying through a tradition which is non-Christian, and re-flections on the historical sweep of foreign mission involvement and its effect on the renewal movement in women religious congregations dur-ing the past quarter-century. It is true that questions sometimes only lead to more questions. But questions also lead to ways of responding that affect the direction of our lives and our ministry. Some questions can truly affect our relationship with God, with our fellowmen and women, and with our world. Perhaps our authors will raise some of those questions and also provide us with some of those images which will call forth such a personal conversion. The God who asks questions is also a God of surprises. Our Pentecost prayer: recreate in us your own Spirit, Lord. David L. Fleming, S.J. Spirituality of the Ministerial Priesthood Richard J. Hauser, S.J. Father Richard Hauser, S.J. is Chairman of the Theology Department at Creighton University in Omaha. Nebraska. His last article in Rv.\,lv.w FOR R~.L~(;IOUS was pub-lished in July-August, 1986. His address is Creighton University: California at 24th Street: Omaha, Nebraska 68178. [~uring a recent board meeting of the Emmaus Priest Renewal Program I had a disconcerting experience. The discussion moved to the question: what is a priest? For the next hour we worked in vain to come to a con-sensus. In exasperation someone said, '~No wonder priestly morale in the United States is so low. We don't even know what it means to be a priest?" At that point the Emmaus board commissioned me as their theo-logical consultant to put together a five-day retreat on priestly idefitity and spirituality. Immediately I found myself resisting the task, claiming ignorance of the topic. This resistance was even further disconcerting. Since I have been a priest more than twenty years and writing on spiritual topics for almost as long, why wouldn't I have something to say on the spirituality of the priest, supposedly my own spirituality? Gradually I realized that my hesi-tancy had many roots. First I was self-conscious about my identity as priest because rightly or wrongly as a priest I have felt under attack by two very important movements in the Church, the lay movement and the women's movement. As a result I have inadvertently downplayed this aspect of my identity so as not to occasion criticism from these groups. Further as I reflected on the documents of Vatican II, I became more aware that they gave thorough treatment both to the roles of the lay per-son and the bishop in the Church but have said very little about the role 323 :324 / Review for Religious, May-June 1990 of the priest. Though Vatican II did set some new directions for a recon-sideration of the identity of the priest, it did not develop this theology to any great extent. Finally I saw that many currents in the Church have subtly made me hesitant to reflect on the area: the debates on priestly celi-bacy and married clergy, the prevalent--and inadequate--theology of the priest as the "holy man" set apart in a separate caste to "mediate" grace to the laity, the tendency to "clericalize" most ministries in the Church, the ecumenical movement. I should also note that as a priest from a religious congregationl had defined my spirituality almost solely by the charism of n~y order and therefore neglected aspects of spiritual-ity related to my role as priest of the universal Catholic Church. In this I suspect I am typical of many religious order priests. The following reflections are an effort toward a theology of priestly identity and spirituality. I believe the lack of such a theology has had dele-terious effects both on morale of many current priests as well as on re-cruitment of future priests. The American bishops in their statement is-sued 1988 "Reflections on the Morale of Priests" agree that there is a morale problem: " . . it is aiso clear to us that there exists today a se-rious and substantial morale problem among priests in general. It is a prob-lem that cannot be simply attributed to one or another cause or recent event, but its profile and characteristics can be clearly described, and its presence needs to be addressed directly." It is my conviction that one of its causes is an ambiguity about what it means to be a priest. These reflections attempt to address that problem using guidelines from Vati-can II as well as recent documents from the Priestly Life and Ministry Committee of the American bishops. All Christian spirituality flows from incorporation into the Body of Christ through faith and baptism. The priest's spirituality is no excep-tion. Basically, then, priestly spirituality is Christian spirituality. How-ever, since the priest has a special role in the Body of Christ it is appro-priate to discuss how this role specifies the practice of Christian spiri-tuality. But an integral examination of priestly spirituality must first situ-ate the priest within the Body and only then discuss the aspects of spiri-tuality proper to the priest as priest. This article is concerned with priest-hood in the Roman Catholic Church; hence the terms Body of Christ and Church have primary reference to this community. Body of Christ: Priest as Member Priests are members of the Body of Christ. Their dignity as mem-bers of the Body has frequently been obscured by treatment of their spe-cial role within the Body. The Decree on the Ministt3, and Life of Priests Ministerial Priesthood / 325 from Vatican II clearly situates the priest's leadership role through ordi-nation within the priest's membership in the Body through the sacra-ments of initiation: "Therefore, while it indeed presupposes the sacra-ments of Christian initiation, the sacerdotal office of priests is conferred by that special sacrament through which priests, by the anointing of the Holy Spirit, are marked by a special character and are so configured to Christ the priest that they can act in the person of Christ the head" (par. 2). Membership and leadership must be seen together for comprehensive understanding of priestly identity and spirituality. It is significant that Vatican II chose the image of the Body of Christ to discuss priestly identity and ministry. This image highlights both the equality of all in the Body as well as the difference of roles in the Body. The equality of all members within the Body is clear: "There is but one body and one Spirit, just as there is but one hope given all of you by your call. There is one Lord, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all, who is over all, and works through all, and is in all" (Ep 4:4-6). Equally clear is the difference of roles within the Body: "There are dif-ferent gifts but the same Spirit; there are different ministries but the same Lord; there are different works but the same God who accomplishes all of them in everyone. To each person the manifestation of the Spirit is given for the common good" ( I Co 12:4-7). Furthermore Paul's image of the Body of Christ highlights the Spirit as the source of all life within the Body. Membership in the Body flows from the Spirit received through faith and baptism. Specific roles (charisms) within the Body flow from the special gifts given by the Spirit to different members of the Body for the sake of the entire Body, Finally, the Church as the Body of Christ shares Christ's mission. This mission so clearly presented in all the Gospels is serving the king-dom of God. Each member is called by baptism to assume a share of re-sponsibility by accepting ministry according to his or her specific charisms. This ministry is oriented to serving the kingdom of God both within the Body of Christ itself as well as beyond the Body in the world. The example is, of course, Jesus himself. Jesus ministered to his disci-ples; the washing of the feet in John's gospel is the most dramatic exam-ple of his role of service to his disciples. Still this concern for his own in no way lessened his ministry toward those outside his community of followers; his preaching, healing, and love extended to everyone he en-countered. These reflections presume that the priest's basic identity is that of a member of the Body of Christ and consequently the priest's ba-sic spirituality will be living that identity. 326 /Review for Religious, May-June 1990 Body of Christ: Priest as Leader As members of the Body of Christ priests have received the Spirit incorporating them into the Body and giving them charisms for the ser-vice of the Church and of the kingdom. What, then, differentiates the priest's identity and spirituality from that of other members of the Body? Most agree that ministerial priesthood in the Church implies a permanent office flowing from charism and formally recognized by the Church. The very important statement of 1977 from the Bishop's Committee on Priestly Life and Ministry "As One Who Serves" expresses the consen-sus well: "In summary, the holder of an office in the Church would be (1) a person endowed by the Spirit, (2) with personal gifts (charisms), (3) called to a public and permanent ministry, and this call is formally recognized by the Church" (par. 20). The fact that this office implies a role of leadership in the community is also agreed upon by the magis-terium and by most theologians. Yet there remain theological disagree-ments on the relationship of the priest's role as head of the Body (always with the bishop) to the Body itself. The discussion is focused on a pas-sage from The Dogmatic Constitution on the Church from Vatican II: "Though they differ from one another in essence and not only in de-gree, the common priesthood of the faithful and the ministerial or hier-archical priesthood are nonetheless interrelated. Each of them in its own special way is a participation in the one priesthood of Christ" (par. 10). Since this article is concerned primarily with the spirituality of priests as leaders of the Body--an identity that is acknowledged by most--it does not seem necessary to treat the doctrinal disputes. Christian spirituality flows from response to the Holy Spirit, the sanc-tifier. Priestly spirituality is simply the priest's effort to respond faith-fully to the Spirit in living the priestly identity as defined by the Church. The Church teaches that ordination establishes the priest in three new, distinctive, and permanent relationships: with Christ, with the Church, and with the world beyond the Church, This identity today includes-- for both diocesan as well as religious order priests--a call to observe the evangelical counsels. Since observing these counsels affects the living out of the three basic relationships, they must be discussed with them. It should be recalled again that this discussion focuses on those aspects of priestly spirituality that distinguish the priest as priest; it does not fo-cus on aspects of spirituality common to all Christians through baptism. Priest and Christ: Person-Symbol of Christ the Head of Body Through ordination the priest is established in a new, distinctive, and permanent relationship to Christ: the priest becomes the person-symbol Ministerial Priesthood / 327 of Christ, the head of the Church. Priests receive an anointing of the Spirit which enables them to act in the name of Christ the head. Thus priests are empowered to act in persona Christi. "As One Who Serves" makes the crucial observation that priests can be the person-symbol of Christ the head of the Body only because of their membership in the Body: "It is only because of the Church that the priest can be said to act in persona Christi. He is called to be an effective sign and witness of the Church's faith in the reconciling Christ, who works through the Church and through the one whom the Church has sent to be the steward of its gifts and services" (par. 22). It is the Body of Christ that is holy through the presence of the Spirit. The priest, as the preeminent head of this Body, becomes the symbol of the holiness of the Body. And as head of this Body, priests can now act in persona ecclesiae and so also in per-sona Christi. Through ordination the priest is established in a special relationship to Christ. As head of the Body, the priest becomes an "effective sign" or sacrament of Christ's authoritative presence in the Church. All aspects of priestly spirituality flow from this relationship. Since it is the role of a symbol to make present what it represents, the priest is called by the Church through ordination to awaken Christ's presence within the com-munity in all service for the community. Consequently all priestly min-istry to the Church must be done in a way that awakens faith within the community. This awakening of faith in others is possible only if the priest has a deep relationship personally with Christ. The biggest chal-lenge of priestly spirituality is becoming internally the Christ symbolized externally. To a great extent the effectiveness of priestly ministry flows from a heart transformed by the Spirit and then ministering to others. All Christians desiring to follow Christ fully are called to observe the evangelical counsels of poverty, chastity, and obedience within their own state of life. The priest is no exception. However, the priest's ob-servance of the evangelical counsels is orientated toward conforming the priest more closely to Christ and so increasing effectiveness as the person-symbol of Christ the head of the Body. The priest today is called by the Church to celibacy and so to meet personal affective needs in ways con-sonant with the celibate state. Christ is the model of priestly celibacy in his relationships with the Father, his community, and his apostolate. Above all the celibacy of Christ was founded on his relationship to his most dear Father, Abba. From within this intimate and often solitary pres-ence before his Father Christ's entire life flowed. Christ's relationship to the Father is the model for the priest's relationship to Christ. As 328 / Review jbr Religious, May-June 1990 Christ's heart flowed instinctively to the Father, so does the priest's heart flow to Christ and the Father. Love unites without obliterating personal distinctiveness. As Christ was able to say "The Father and I are one," and as Paul could say, "I live, now not I, but Christ lives in me," so the priest prays to become equally one with the Father and Jesus. By em-bracing celibacy the priest imitates Jesus in allowing sufferings of fail-ure, loneliness, and isolation to foster even deeper intimacy with God and with Jesus himself. Christ is the model of priestly celibacy in his relationship to his com-munity. He looked to certain of his apostles and disciples for the per-sonal support he needed to sustain the failures and loneliness of his min-istry. So Christ is the model for priests in developing deep human rela-tionship, especially with fellow priests. Finally Christ's affectivity was also directed toward those he served. We recall how Jesus wept over Jerusalem because he was not able to draw the chosen people of God to himself as a mother hen draws her chicks to herself. In embracing the vow of celibacy the priest strives to imitate Christ in each of these three dimensions of affectivity and so become a more effective person-symbol of Christ as head of the Body. To be faithful to the call of today's Church to live this identity of person-symbol of Christ we priests must ask some basic questions. First, do I see my vocation primarily as a call to become Someone, Christ, and not merely as a duty to perform certain ministerial functions closed to others? The Church today is saying to priests that who we are is more primary than what we do; presence has replaced power. We are being called to be so configured to Christ that our actions radiate his presence and so awaken awareness of God's own love. Have I built into my daily life the rhythms necessary both to grow continually in knowledge and love of Christ and to allow this knowledge and love to permeate my ac-tions? And second, have I actively embraced my celibacy'? Do I cherish my celibacy as a gift intended to foster intimacy with Christ and the Fa-ther and thereby increase my effectiveness as a person-symbol of Christ in my leadership? DO I imitate Christ in meeting my affective needs pri-marily in my relationships with Christ and the Father and with my pres-byterate? Do I allow myself to be supported by and do I support my fel-low priests'? Do I allow the crosses of celibacy to deepen intimacy with Christ? Priest and Church: Servant-Leader of Body Through the anointing of the Spirit at ordination the priest is also es-tablished in a new, distinctive, and permanent relationship to the Church: Ministerial Priesthood / 399 the priest becomes the servant-leader of the Church, the "effective sign" of Christ the head of the Body. As the preeminent leader of the community the priest thereby acts in persona ecclesiae. This leadership of the Body is marked by four functions essential for the community. The priest is called to serve the Church by proclaiming the Word of God, by presiding at worship, by pastoral care of the People of God, and by fa-cilitating the different charisms within the Church. But the priest's lead-ership will take many differing forms depending on the talents of the priest and the needs of the community. The American bishops high-lighted the importance of sensitivity to varying forms of priestly leader-ship with which the Spirit endows priests: "All priests are endowed by the Spirit in various ways to serve the People of God. There are forms of leadership . The gifts differ and each must discern in the Spirit how he has been gifted. No one has all the gifts. Some seem to disap-pear in the history of the Church; some are transient even in the lives of priests" ("As One Who Serves," par. 32). Christ is the model for the priest's leadership of the Church. Just as Jesus' love of the Father impelled him to live for the Father's kingdom, so does the priest's love of Christ impel the priest to live for the Body of Christ. The priest wil.I, furthermore, exercise leadership in the same way Jesus exercised leadership--through service: "The Son of Man has not come to be served but to serve--to give his life in ransom for the many " (Mk 10:45). And through the special anointing of the Spirit in ordination Christ now stands with the priest empowering the priest to be an "effective sign" of Christ in all ministry to the Church. Thus the priest can fulfill the vocation to be the sacramental symbol-person of Christ actually awakening Christ's presence in the community through his .daily service. In a new way since Vatican I! priests are being called to facilitate service and leadership of others within the Church. The role has been com-pared to that of a conductor of an orchestra: "The conductor succeeds when he stimulates the best performance from each player and combines their individual efforts into a pattern of sound, achieving the vision of the composer. The best leader is one who can develop the talents of each staff person and coordinates'all their efforts, so that they best comple-ment each other and produce a superior collective effort" ("As One Who Serves," par. 46). In facilitating ministry of others the priest is not unlike Christ who prepared the disciples and then sent them off on their own. The priest recognizes that the Spirit in baptism incorporates mem-bers into the Body and simultaneously gives them differing gifts of min- 330 / Review for Religious, May-June 1990 istry for the Body. Yet according to the above document the priest re-mains the one "in whom the mission of the Church, and therefore its ministry, finds focus and visibility" (34); thus the priest acts within the community preeminently in persona ecclesiae. To enhance the priest's effectiveness as a person-symbol of Christ, the Church calls the priest to evangelical obedience through the promise or vow of obedience to their bishops or ecclesiastical superiors. This prom-ise or vow of obedience places the priest in special union with the uni-versal Church and so enhances the ability to act in persona ecclesiae. The priest symbolizes the unity of the entire Church in Christ: the local parish or community, the diocese, the national Church, the universal Catholic Church. In addition, the priest symbolizes the continuity of the Church through the ages from the apostles and Peter to the present-day bishops and pope. It follows from this that the priest must fully own this position in the Church by loving, protecting, and defending it at every level and, even when called to prophetic criticism, by doing so with love. While acknowledging the Church's faults and foibles past and present, the priest still believes that it is the privileged place of the Spirit's activ-ity in this world for the kingdom of God: "I for my part declare to you, you are "Rock," and on this rock I will build my church, and the jaws of death shall not prevail against it" (Mt 16:18). The model for the priest's obedience is again Christ. Nothing stood between Christ and doing his Father's will. The priest's obedience is to God. The priest is convinced that the will of God is now revealed through the authoritative structures of the Church. In obeying these structures the priest is obeying the Father. The priest's obedience to the bishop or ec-clesiastical superiors gives eloquent testimony to the belief that Christ continues to work through the ages within the authoritative structures of the Church. By embracing the promise or vow of obedience the priest refuses to allow any personal desire not in accord with God's will as ex-pressed through Church superiors to determine actions. The sufferings of obedience to God's will are accepted and offered to the Father in the same manner as Christ's. To be faithful to living this identity of servant-leader of the Body we priests must reflect on our underlying attitudes toward ministry. First, do I truly see myself as servant to my community, that is, do I radiate the attitude of Christ who came to serve and not to be served'? Do I strive to be an effective servant-leader in each of the four major ministerial roles, that is, teaching, presiding at worship, pastoral care, facilitating gifts of community? Or do I find myself holding back in some particular Ministerial Priesthood / 331 aspects of my ministry'? Have I identified charisms of leadership that are unique to me and used these in a special way for the Church? Do I fully grasp that as a person-symbol of Christ in my leadership role I can trust that Christ stands behind each aspect of my ministry enabling me to be an effective sign of his presence'? Second, do I embrace my promise or vow of obedience? Do ! see it as a gift enhancing my effectiveness as a person-symbol of the universal Church, the Body of Christ'? Do I love the Church and protect and defend it at every leve~? If necessary to criti-cize, do I speak in love? Is my obedience ultimately to the Father? Do I allow the crosses of obedience to conform me more totally to Christ'? Priest and Society: Promoter of Justice in the World Through ordination the priest is established in a new, distinctive, and permanent relationship to Christ and to his Church. Contained in this iden-tity is a new relationship to the world beyond the Church. Because the priest now acts in persona ecclesiae and in persona Christi, the priest becomes the preeminent witness of the Church's and Christ's concern for the world. Vatican II and subsequent documents of the Church both on an international and national level have put increasing emphasis on this aspect of the Church's mission. The statement of the World Synod of Bish-ops in 1971 entitled Justice in the World is apt: ". action on behalf of justice and participation in the transformation of the world fully ap-pear to us as a constitutive dimension of the preaching of the Gospel, or in other words, of the Church's mission." The priest today is called to integrate this dimension into ongoing ministry. The American bishops echo this thrust by presenting their descrip-tion of the priestly ministry under four co-equal divisions: To Proclaim the Word of God, To Preside at Worship, To Serve the Christian Com-munity, To Serve Humankind. The last-named section begins as follows: "The Church is called to serve all of society: that is its mission and the hope of its ministry. While the priest may have a certain primary respon-sibility to the Catholic community which he serves, nonetheless he has been sent by Christ and the Church to all people who comprise the larger community in which the parish community exists. The concern for all people gives reality to the presence of the risen Lord" ('~As One Who Serves," par. 50). The priest has a double role in this ministry to humankind. As ser-vant- leader of the Body tile priest is called to be engaged personally in actions on behalf of justice to witness most effectively to the Church's concern. In addition, the priest is called to facilitate action and leader-ship by others for the transformation of society. Church teachings ac- 339 / Review Jbr Religious, May-June 1990 knowledge that time constraints may limitthe priest's personal involve-ment but also point out that the apostolate within society is also most ap-propriate for the laity: "The apostolate of the social milieu, that is, the effort to infuse a Christian spirit into the mentality, customs, laws, and structures of the community in which a person lives is so much the duty and responsibility of the laity that it can never be properly performed by others. In this area the laity can exercise an apostolate of like towards like" (Decree on the Apostolate of the Laity, para. 33). In addition to working for justice throughout society, the priest is called to have spe-cial concern for the poor: "Although the presbyter has obligations to-wards all persons, he has the poor and the lowly entrusted to him in a special way. The Lord himself showed that he was united to them, and the fact that the Gospel was preached to them is mentioned as a sign of his messianic a.ctivity'" (Decree on the Miniso3, and Life of Priests, par. 6). Again Christ is the model of the priest in this dimension of minis-try. Jesus' concern for others was not limited to his immediate commu-nity of disciples. He continually extended himself beyond his followers to others. His entire ministry is marked with personal compassion for any person who came to him in need. In addition to his one-on-one concern for others, Jesus also spoke out against society's injustices. At times the condemnation was marked by actual disobedience to laws when he viewed them as contradictory to the revelation he received from his Fa-ther. Indeed, his criticism was so threatening to the establishment that it eventually precipitated his death. And finally the Gospel reflects that Jesus had special care and concern for the poorest of the poor, the out-casts of society. The parable of the Last Judgment testifies to the cen-trality in Jesus' eyes of service to the hungry, thirsty, shelterless, impris-oned. To enhance the priest's effectiveness as a witness of Christ, the Church asks all priests to have special concern for evangelical poverty within their own priestly vocation, diocesan or religious. And again the model is Christ himself. Christ was poor. He let no material desire or possession come between himself and doing the Father's will. He was detached from possessions in order to be more free to serve. And Christ chose to live a simple lifestyle, perhaps to be more approachable by the poor or to witness to the sufficiency of the Father's providence for his material needs, taking his cue from the birds of the air and the lilies of the field. Through embracing evangelical poverty the priest refuses to al-low any inordinate attachment to food, clothing, shelter, possessions to Ministerial Priesthood / 333 affect service of the kingdom either within or outside the Body of Christ. With this inner quality of heart the priest thus becomes an even more ef-fective witness of Christ to the Church and world. To be faithful and responsive to the call of promoting justice in the world we priests must ask whether we have adapted to this rather new dimension of priestly ministry. First, does my ministry include leader-ship in witnessing to Christ's concern for the world both through actual "hands-on" service to promote justice in society as well as through fa-cilitating service of my congregation? Most especially am I an effective sign in witnessing to Christ's concern for the most needy and under-privileged of my parish and my society'? Second, what is my attitude to evangelical poverty? Do I desire to imitate Christ by adopting a simple lifestyle? Do I embrace evangelical poverty as a gift because it conforms me more closely to Christ and so makes me a more effective symbol-person of Christ in my leadership, especially in his concern for the poor'? Do I allow the crosses of poverty to deepen my bonds with Christ'? Ministerial Priesthood: Challenge and Consolation The challenge of priesthood is perhaps greater today than ever be-fore. In the ministry of leadership for the Church the priest is called to become the person-symbol of Christ and so live and serve in a way that awakens awareness of God's continual presence and love both for the com-munity and for the world. A recent document from the American bish-ops catches the immensity of this challenge putting it in the context of the role of the pastor today: "The pastor in the parish today becomes-- whether he knows and likes it or not--a religious symbol to his people. The pastor becomes a religious symbol of tradition, the keeper and speaker of the revealed Word in all of its rich expressions. He becomes the religious symbol of God's care for his people, expressing compas-sion for the wounded and outrage at injustice. He becomes the religious symbol of order, calling the community to an effective stewardship of its gifts and shared use of its resources" ("A Shepherd's Care: Reflec-tions on the Changing role of Pastor," 1988). But if the challenge is immense, so is the consolation. Through or-dination the priest exists in a new, distinctive, and permanent relation-ship to Christ, to the Church, and to society. But like all sacraments the sacrament of orders confers the grace it proclaims and signifies. There-fore, priests have the immense consolation of knowing that the Holy Spirit stands behind them enabling them to live this threefold relation-ship conferred at ordination. In their relationship to Christ, the Spirit en-ables priests to be configured to Christ poor, celibate, and obedient and 334 / Review for Religious, May-June 1990 so be more powerful person-symbols of Christ. In their relationship to the Church, the Spirit enables priests to be effective servant-leaders in the fourfold dimensions of priestly ministry: proclaiming the Word of God, presiding at worship, caring for the pastoral needs of community, and facilitating charisms of the community. Finally in their relationship to society, the Spirit enables priests to be eloquent witnesses of Christ's care for.the world in promoting justice in society and most especially in serving the poor both personally and in their leadership of the Body of Christ. Priestly ministry, like all ministry, is a charism, a gift of the Spirit. The challenge for us priests is living in a way that facilitates the Spirit's action. We must take a serious look at our daily schedules and ask whether they, in fact, foster our living in tune with the Spirit, thereby growing in knowledge and love and Christ and so radiating a Christ-presence in all our ministry. Being fully effective sacramental signs of Christ demands daily attention to our physical, emotional, and spiritual needs. And this may require rearrangement of our schedules, especially to assure we have the leisure to grow in an ever deeper union with Christ whom we sacramentalize in our leadership. A recent document from the Priestly Life and Ministry Committee pointedly advises us that the crite-ria for the effectiveness of our ministry ought not be the quantity of our work but its quality: "One of the most probable causes of difficulties with spirituality in a priest'~ life today is simply his ability to find (or at least justify) sufficient time to spend in solitude and prayer. A consci-entious priest, especially when under pressure of incessant demands, can forget that the quality of his work is more important than the quantity. What people are looking for in him more than anything else is a spiri-tual guide and model who will help them come to know the Lord and find his peace. Thus he must be, first of all and above everything else, a man of God's peace. Regular time each day for prayer, meditation, and spiritual reading is a sine qua non for the unfolding in a priest's life of an authentic Christ-centeredness" ("The Priest and Stress," 1982). There are many ministries in the Body of Christ. The priest's is but one of these, yet it is distinctive. Only the priest is called by today's Church to a ministry of leadership whose essence is symbolizing Christ's presence. Hopefully a deeper appreciation of this calling will have its ef-fect on morale of current priests as well as attract many others to this vo-cation. Where is Religious Life Going? M. Basil Pennington. O.C.S.O. Father Basil Pennington, O.C.S.O., is well known for his conferences and writings on centering prayer. His address is Assumption Abbey: Route 5: Ava, Missouri 65608. This is a question that is being asked with concern not only by religious themselves and the Church at large but even by the wider community. One significant indication of this is the fact that a secular foundation has recently given a secular university over a half million dollars to study the question. Lilly Endowment, Inc. has awarded Boston University a $575,000 grant to have its Center for Applied Social Sciences serve as the site to study the question "Factors Influencing the Transformation of Religious Life in the Catholic Church in the United States." This cur-rent research grant follows the successful completion of an earlier $100,000 planning grant. It is almost twenty-five years since the close of the Second Vatican Council which called for an adaptation and renewal of religious life. In that time the average age of members of many religious congregations and monastic communities has increased dramatically while the number of members has decreased just as dramatically. Many traditional works of religious have been called into question. New works have been un-dertaken and the whole understanding of mission reconsidered by some groups. The sense of separation from the laity is greatly diminished. Lay persons take a much greater part in the life and mission of religious and religious generally feel closer to the active lay Catholic. What does all this portend for the future'? More importantly, what must religious do in order to be truly renewed, adapted to the twenty-first century Church, so that they may continue to bring to the Church 335 336 / Review Jot" Religious, May-June 1990 and to society as a whole the gift that they are? The proposal submitted to the Lilly Endowment set forth six basic or broad objectives for the study: I. Identify the interpretative schemes used by reli-gious to describe the meaning structure of their commit-ment and their perceptions of the distinctions of religious life in relation to the other ministerial roles in the Church. The interpretive schemes will be examined from the perspective of the psychological, theological, and or-ganizational changes that have occurred over time, with special attention to the degree to which religious orders are becoming more or less distinct. 2. Describe and analyze the psychological, struc-tural, and organizational changes that have occurred and those yet to occur both in religious life in general and within congregations in order to predict the future shapes of religious life. 3. Identify individual religious who are perceived as the emergent leaders of religious life and explore with them systematically the changes that have occurred and must yet occur if religious life is to remain a vital social and ecclesial reality. 4. Describe and analyze some effects of change and perceptions of religious life on the commitment of in-dividual religious, former religious, and recent candi-dates to religious life. 5. Describe the environmental influences on re-ligious life in the United States, including cultural shifts that influence commitments, the supply and demand econ-omy for religious service, and the enhancement of the role of the laity in the Church within the historical con-text of theology. 6. Provide a paradigm for developing strategies of leadership that will enable leaders to move the pro-cess of renewal that was begun in Vatican II through a process of systematic transformation. The term "interpretive schemes" may not be familiar to many but it refers to a very important factor in religious life. Interpretive schemes are made up of the understanding the members of the group or commu-nity share in regard to the world and their place in it. They are primary Where is Religious Life Going? in drawing the members together, giving them a shared sense of belong-ing. These guide religious as they interpret their own past and look at their present environment, select their value priorities, and allocate their resources. Oftentimes these interpretive schemes are not explicitly articu-lated by a group. They are revealed rather in the metaphors the mem-bers use to describe their community, the stories they tell and the rites they celebrate. Transformation involves a shift in interpretive schemes. The pro-posal describes transformation as "qualitative, discontinuous shifts in organization members, shared understandings of the organization, accom-panied by changes in the organization's mission, strategy, and formal and informal structures." Transformation usually begins with a crisis that unfreezes dominant organizational members' current interpretative schemes by presenting a significant challenge to their validity. The Sec-ond Vatican Council did this to religious. But not the Council alone. The transition from the modern to the postmodern era, one of the three great cultural shifts in the history of humankind necessarily brought on a "cri-sis" for all human organizations. The next step in the transformation pro-ess is the development of alternative interpretative schemes leading to new types of action which in turn leads to changes in the structure of the organization. There is likely to be considerable conflict among the origi-nal and developing interpretive schemes and the subgroups espousing them. Leaders of the community will necessarily have a large impact on the process and its outcome. If they support only one perspective they are likely to decrease the potential creativity of the transformational pro-ess and the sense of belonging and involvement of the members whose perspectives have not been taken into account. If they try to separate out the different perspectives they are likely to perpetuate splints within the community. If they facilitate the interaction among the conflicting per-spectives they will increase the chances of paradoxical outcomes of trans-formation, of new and creative shared understandings, of a truly renewed and vital religious life. During the course of the process members will experience discomfort both with the ambiguities and the confusion. The conflict of understandings and those who espouse them will create ten-sions. But when (and if) a new synthesis is reached that is experienced by the whole group as acceptable, there will not only be a sense of satis-faction but there will be a new force in the community for life. In its study of the factors influencing the transformation for religious life, the study is going to give special attention to two: the environment, 338/Review for Religious, May-June 1990 that is, the factors external to the community that impinge on it in some way and can effect the transformation process by inducing the crisis and affecting the development of new interpretative schemes, and the lead-ership. Two types of leadership within the communities need to be and will be considered. There are formal leaders, those who are designated to see that the roles, resources, and necessary structures are maintained to provide for both the mission and the members. Emergent leaders are members who are generally recognized in the community as complemen-tary to the formal leaders, but distinct from them in purpose and func-tion. These often act as catalysts for new ideas within the community and, as such, are seldom selected by the membership to represent them. The study hopes to explore the underlying changes in interpretive schemes both qualitatively and quantitatively arid at several levels: within the social institution of religious life as such, within individual congre-gations, and within individual members of religious communities. This will involve questionnaires, regional meetings, and individual interviews to be carried out over the course of the next two to three years. The proposal sees as the outcome of the project: I. Identification of the normative beliefs about reli-gious life and how they will likely shape the future of re-ligious life in this country. 2. Build a national comparative data base of all male and female religious that includes current demographic data, membership information, existing and emerging structures, current member attitudes on multiple dimen-sions, and projections for the future. 3. Enable the leadership of religious communities to identify in the current context paradigms of planning that enable transformation, consolidation, merging, or extinc-tion. 4. Label the changes that must yet occur if reli-gious life is to remain a vital social and theological gift to the Church into the next millennium. The results of the study will, of course, be published and generally available to interested parties. But the researchers hope also to work with organizations and groups of religious to consider and further explore the findings. The principal researchers for the project are David Nygren and Miriam Ukeritis. Father Nygren is a Research Associate at the Center for Applied Social Science, a unit of the Graduate School of Boston Uni- Where is Religious Life Going? / 339 versity. He has been a member of the Congregation of the Mission (Vin-centians) since 1968 and has served his congregation in many capacities over the years. He holds six academic degrees. Sister Miriam, a mem-ber of the Congregation of Sisters of Saint Joseph of Carondelet, is com-pleting a term as a Post-Doctoral Fellow at the Harvard Community Health Plan, Boston. She is a clinical psychologist by profession and has served as a director of the House of Affirmation in Hopedale, Massachu-setts. Besides the extensive facilities of the Center for Applied Social Sci-ence, the researchers will be aided by a National Advisory Board which includes Archbishop Thomas Kelly, O.P., the newly elected chairper-son of NCCB's Committee on Religious; Abbot James Jones, O.S.B. of Conception Abbey; Howard Gray, S.J., former provincial of the Detroit Province, five religious women, two brothers, a monk and two represen-tatives from the Lilly Endowment. The Advisory Board will meet regu-larly with the researchers to assess the results of their work and offer guid-ance to the pursuit of the project. The success of the project will, of course, depend largely on the col-laboration of religious, both as groups and as individuals. But the bene-fits that they can hope to reap from it are considerable, so such collabo-ration is well assured. However, they will not be the only ones to profit from the study. Reviewing the expected outcomes it is easy to see why the Lilly Endowment and a community oriented university are willing to make such a considerable investment in this study. If the study does suc-ceed in producing the results it projects, there can be little doubt as to the significance of the contribution it will make not only to the Church but to society as a whole by enlivening and promoting the social outreach which depends so heavily on the leadership and support of the religious communities. Whence Come the Candidates? Gabrielle L. Jean, S.C.O. Sister Gabrielle Jean, S.C.O., last appeared in these pages with her article. "'The Alcoholic Religious Woman," in September/October 1985. Her address is 715 Per-shing Drive: Silver Spring, Maryland 20910. Over the past several years, authoritative articles on the assessment of can-didates for the priestly/religious life have appeared in Catholic periodi-cals. Kraft (1978)~ clearly stated the differential role and competencies of the psychiatrist and psychologist relative to evaluation and treatment of religious personnel. While both professional groups are involved in therapy, the psychiatrist focuses on the abnormal behavior while the psy-chologist deals with a much broader range of human behaviors. The psy-chiatrist's forte lies in his medical expertise and pharmacological arma-mentarium; the clinical psychologist's educational background provides for research and evaluation of human behavior, especially personality as-sessment. Kraft strongly recommended that such professionals have a working knowledge and appreciation of the role of spirituality in the life of religious men and women. Values incongruent with those of the cli-ent could prove prejudicial to his or her ongoing spiritual growth. A more recent article by O'Connor (1988)~- addressed the appraisal of candidates with attention directed to the formation process, the test-ing of the applicant's spirit, assessment of his or her motivation and fit-ness for the chosen institute. The key elements lie in the interactional pro-ess of interview and dialogue. The present article focuses on the instrumentation for the screening of candidates, that is, the psychological tests selected for that purpose. It is intended to inform superiors, vocations directors, and formation teams of the rationale and philosophy inherent in the selection of instru- 340 Whence Come the Candidates? / 34"1 ments; a "model" battery will then be suggested. Do the candidates come from the general "normal" population or from a psychiatric pool? The choice of instruments such as the MMPI (Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory), TAT (Thematic Apper-ception Test) and Rorschach Inkblots reflect the latter since they are stan-dardized or normed on a psychiatric or dysfunctional population. Granted, they provide valuable information (in terms of impairment), but would it not be more helpful for the formation teams to know the strengths and weaknesses of the personality of their candidates? Would they not be in a better position to maximize the psychological and spiri-tual growth of their charges with a positive set of data on them'? If one begins the psychological screening process with scales normed on a psy-chiatric population, the results can only reveal the extent of the pathol-ogy found in that individual when compared to psychiatrically impaired individuals. The strengths of the personality are clouded by the pathol-ogy and the formation personnel are left to ferret for themselves the per-sonal resources of the recruits. Personality measurement is a typically American phenomenon; it originated in the United States and has evolved greatly, especially since the early 50s. Its scope includes both personality inventories (standard-ized on the general population) and instruments designed more specifi-cally to detect the presence and extent of behavior pathology. The re-spective personality theories provide the background for such instruments and caution the user relative to the holistic nature of the person. Because of the importance of the psychological screening process, further clarification seems warranted, especially since Vatican II alerted to the need of heeding the advances made in the behavioral sciences. So-ciology and psychology do shed scientific light on human behavior both as individuals and in groups. Purpose and Ethics Tests are standardized tools for the measurement of individual dif-ferences in intellectual, emotional, social, and motivational aspects of behavior. Personality assessment focuses primarily on the emotional ad-justment, social relationships, motivation, attitudes, interests, and val-ues of the individual. The American Psychological Association has codified ethical prin-ciples to govern psychological testing. Many personality tests are re-stricted to qualified users, and the qualifications vary with the type of test. The rationale is that test scores should be released only by and to persons qualified to interpret them. The candidate is entitled to know the 342 / Review for Religious, May-June 1990 information he or she revealed in the testing. Knowledge of the test scores only may be emotionally disturbing to the candidate; they should be properly interpreted to him or her in a situation that allows for dis-cussion of the results. Many personality instruments and measures of emotional, motiva-tional, or attitudinal traits are necessarily disguised; the subject may re-veal characteristics about the self without realizing that he or she is do-ing so. It is of primary importance that the examinee have a clear understanding of the use that will be made of the test results, who will receive the report, and how long it will remain in his or her file. Quot-ing directly from the Ethical Standards of Psychologists: "The psycholo-gist who asks that an individual reveal personal information in the course of interviewing, testing, or evaluation, or who allows such information to be divulged to him, does so only after making certain that the person is aware of the purpose of the interview, testing, or evaluation and of the ways in which the information may be used." No report should be sent without the consent of the examinee through a "release of confiden-tiality" form. The receiver of such information is bound by confiden-tiality; the information is privileged; if the examinee agrees to release such information, it is because it will be handled as privileged commu-nication. Evaluation: Testing, Interviews, or What? There are many arguments for and against testing, and I wish to share my biases with you; I do so willingly because psychological test-ing is my area of specialization and, therefore, I feel better qualified to support them than I would be in other areas of psychology. The arguments I would advance in favor of a sound testing program are these. First, it serves to provide an appraisal of candidates who feel attracted to the religious/priestly life. Secondly, it can help the candidate gain insight into his or her own behavior. Thirdly, it can serve as a basis for counseling in view of overall personal growth. The reservations I would have to comprehensive testing are many; my remarks here pertain primarily to candidate assessment for the priestly/religious life. ( I ) Psychiatric screening should not be required of all candidates; if the findings on the personality inventory suggest more than average pa-thology, a psychiatric instrument could be used to determine the extent of the pathology. If psychiatric screening is required for all candidates, are we not suggesting that our pool of subjects lies in the "disturbed" group? However, I favor scheduling a psychiatric interview/evaluation Whence Come the Candidates? / 343 for applicants to monastic life. The withdrawal from the world implied in the lifestyle could attract individuals ill-equipped for social inter-course. (2) There is a danger of categorizing people for life, very much like the penal system where no room is allowed for growth and change. (3) In the hands of poorly trained people, these instruments are ex-tremely dangerous. Granted that most formation personnel would not ad-minister the tests themselves, there is still grave danger that reports will be misinterpreted. People with little sophistication in this area tend to put more faith in the instruments than is warranted. (4) The use of test information for acceptance/refusal makes sense only if the results are validated by information from other sources: let-ters of reference, observed behavior, and the like, No matter how good and competent that psychiatrist or psychologist is, the dynamics of grace elude measurement, and everyone involved in the assessment process must be mindful of this fact. (5) I would not advocate involvement in a screening program unless there is a willingness to share the information with the candidate. A good policy is to provide a feedback interview to discuss the test findings with the examinee. Should the evaluation be psychodiagnostic (with the use of psychiatric questionnaires), the feedback would then be provided by the therapist who would be in a better position to decide on the timing for such disclosure. In all such work, Catholic psychologists consciously strive for the fundamental attitude which Pope Pius XII advocated in 1953: 'Psychotherapy and clinical psychology must always consider man as a psychic unity and totality; as a structured unit in itself; as a social unit and as a transcendent unit, that is to say, in man's tending towards God.' ,3 Candidate Assessment We are reminded through the Second Vatican Council documents that the unity of the Church thrives on the variety of gifts in its mem-bers. In Perfectae Caritatis, it is explicitly stated that religious are to bring "to the execution of commands and to the discharge of assign-ments entrusted to them the resources of their minds and wills and their gifts of nature and grace" (PC, Art. I). The text is supported by Paul's I Corinthians: "All these gifts are the work of one and the same Spirit, distributing them separately to each individual at will" (I Co 12:l I). The decree on religious life was intended for all religious men and women, whether in the ranks or in authority. It must be admitted; how- 34"4 / Review for Religious, May-June 1990 ever, that when it comes to acknowledging the "special gift of each," we are somewhat in the dark. The Superior/Director/Coordinator is ex-pected to be respectful of the Giver of gifts by avoiding arbitrary assign-ments. The religious man or woman may be an individualist who feels that one owes it to oneself to fulfill the self in the sense of using one's gifts for personal enhancement and satisfaction; a correct interpretation would lead one to regard all gifts as intended for service to the commu-nity and to the whole Church. A scientific way of arriving at a knowledge of these gifts is psycho-logical testing and evaluation. I would set as one of the primary func-tions of candidate assessment: the identification of the assets of the indi-vidual. There is room for screening out undesirable applicants but this aspect of screening should not supersede the screening in of those who have great gifts of heart and mind to use in the service of the Church. As a marginal note, may I add that it is usually enlightening for the vocation directors (or whoever requests the assessment) to subject him-self or herself to the whole process. It may be an eye-opener as to the anxiety-provoking experience of personality assessment. For some cli-ents, self-disclosure is a very traumatic experience, and counseling may be advised. For most who have been exposed to testing in all forms, the whole procedure is taken in stride. Criteria Used What are we looking for in a good candidate to the priesthood/ religious life? The criteria have generally been clearly stated by the vari-ous religious groups, rectors of seminaries, experienced masters in the formation of candidates, and vocation directors. In general, they can be grouped as follows. ( 1 ) Intelligence I think we are justified in looking for average intelligence or better; without it, a religious professional cannot grasp the import of his or her commitment to Church service within the framework of a religious life-style. During the assessment, the candidate's intellectual efficiency is con-sidered in the light of one's intellectual potential. Does the client oper-ate better in a situation where conformity is rewarded or where auton-omy and independence are viewed as positive behaviors? The individ-ual's cognitive style is also studied along with factors capable of reduc-ing his or her mental efficiency such as anxiety, perfectionism, compul-sivity, or poor thought control. (2) Personality Here, it is important to have inventories/questionnaires standardized Whence Come the Candidates? / 345 on a non-psychiatric population; the candidate is not expected to live in a psychiatric ward! Instruments are usually selected which address prin-cipally the personality characteristics important for social living and so-cial interaction. Attention focuses first on personal integration: the individual's self-concept as covered by such factors as social presence, sociability, self-acceptance, sense of well-being. The candidate's social maturity and re-sponsibility come under scrutiny in a cluster of scales tapping socializa-tion, self-control, and tolerance. Temperamental variables such as per-sistence, cooperation, aggressiveness, tact, moodiness, impulsiveness, and adaptability are given some attention. The motivational aspects of the applicant are usually considered in a separate scale covering the home environment, career, religion, social endeavors, needs, values, and in-terests. A social-religious orientation is usually a more favorable indica-tor of a true call than a political or power orientation. (3) Sexuality This area is considered critical for today's candidates who will com-mit themselves to a celibate life. Projective techniques (disguised tasks) are used in this case to assess the basic sexual orientation of the candi-date and impulse control. The leads provided by the test data are openly discussed with the candidate in view of verification of the findings and subsequent recommendations. Not all information gathered in the inter-view need to be reported; problems resolved earlier fall in this category. (4) Magisterium The candidates are also queried about their attitudes toward author-ity, toward the Church and her teachings, and toward the ministry or apos-tolate. Feedback The feedback interview can be used advantageously to cover impor-tant areas such as interpersonal relationships: at home, at school, and at work, and for the older candidates, relationship to the local church. The individual can be further interrogated relative to anger and hostility: what triggers his or her anger and how is it handled? Recommendations for the proper handling of st.tong emotions are usually in order. The area of sexuality is probed further: orientation, ~,ex education, if given (when, by whom), dating history, the applicant's understanding of celibacy/ chastity, and his or her readiness to make the commitment to a celibate life. The last area tapped in the interview pertains to "spiritual evolu-tion," or the applicant's personal spiritual journey. When was he or she first attracted to the Church, (rites, sacraments, music, service, and so 346 /Review for Religious, May-June 1990 forth) and how did that attraction grow (or lapse) in the course of his or her life? Conclusion It is obvious to whoever has read up to this point that the evaluation/ assessment of candidates is serious business and a time-consuming propo-sition. Is it not worth the effort for a lifetime of service to the Church? The full day of testing and the few hours needed for the feedback/ interview are little when one considers the benefits to be derived through a lifetime of dedicated service to others. It is a rewarding task tbr the examiner who is constantly confronted with the promptings of grace in the life of today's young people. NOTES ~ William F. Kraft, "'Psychiatrists, Psychologists and Religious." R~vw.w FOR RF.LIGIOUS, Vol. 37, (1978), pp. 161-170. 2 David F. O'Connor, "Appraising Candidates for Religious Life or Priesthood," Human Development IX (Fall. 1988), pp. 26-30. 3 Address of His Holiness Pope Plus XII, "On Psychotherapy and Religion," Fifth International Congress on Psychotherapy and Clinical Psychology (April 13, 1953). Converted i come into Your glorious presence Changed, Newly dressed In Your garments, Feeling strangely at home there. Delighted, excited, I am waiting . . . Longing once more For Your kiss of peace. Sister Columba Howard St. John of God Convent P.O. Box 14 SUBIACO 6008 Western Australia Wishes for a "Novice" Novice Director Melannie Svoboda, S.N.D. Sister Melannie Svoboda, S.N.D. is currently dividing her time between teaching and writing. She served as novice director for six years. Her address is Notre Dame Academy; Route One, Box 197; Middleburg. Virginia 22117. For six years I was novice director for my religious community. During those years, the number of novices I had was anywhere between nine and one. As I reflect back on my experience as novice director, especially now that I have a little distance from that ministry, I ask myself, "What advice would I give to a new novice director--to a novice novice direc-tor? What would I wish for him or her?" There are many things I could say, much I could wish for. But if I had to limit myself to five words of advice, five wishes, what would they be? My answer to that question is this article. Warning.t Self-knowledge. Beware.t And give thanks. In my second year as novice director, I made my annual retreat as usual. During my first one-on-one conference, the retreat director asked me what my min-istry was. When I told him I was novice director for over a year, he smiled and said, "Well, well! I bet you've come to a beck of a lot of self-knowledge this past year!" His words struck me. They encapsulated something I had been experiencing, but something I had not yet been able to name: formation ministry has a terrible and marvelous way of en-couraging growth in self-knowledge--and this growth is usually accom-panied by discomfort, confusion, or even pain. Prior to becoming novice director, I had been a successful teacher and free-lance writer. It was easy for me to begin to find a good meas-ure of security in my obvious successes in these two areas. Success has 347 348 / Review for Religious, May-June 1990 an insidious way of leading us into a kind of "spiritual coziness." My success tended to give me the illusion that, indeed, God is in his heaven, I am in my classroom or at my typewriter, and all is well in the world. Formation work, which was both new and challenging, had a way of nudg-ing me (sometimes even shoving me) out of my complacency. I noticed my prayer becoming less pharisaical: "I thank you, Lord, that I am so successful!" and more "publican-ish": "Lord, now what do I do? Help!" As disconcerting as this growth in self-knowledge was at times, I see it now as a very real blessing for me. There is another reason why formation work was such a challenge for me personally. Both teaching and writing have goals and objectives by which one can, to an extent, measure one's success. Are my students learning? Yes. Are editors accepting my articles? Yes. The'n I am doing something right. I am a success. But formation ministry does not have such clear-cut ways of measuring success. In fact, by some measures, I was quite unsuccessful as novice director. Were novices flocking to our novitiate now that I was director? No. In fact, the formation team and I were not even accepting all of the few that did apply. Once they came to our novitiate, did they stay'? No. Some stayed, but many left. And, worse yet, some of the ones that did leave, ! even encouraged to leave. Formation ministry forced me to redefine success. More than that, it caused me to question how much l needed success in order to minis-ter. The ministry of formation challenged me to devote time, energy, and creativity to a work that, for the most part, did not give me the steady encouragement of measurable results. It called forth new kinds of strengths in me--such as patience, trust, letting go, and greater depen-dence on others who could help me. I needed such qualities which might otherwise have remained undeveloped because of apparent outward suc-cess. Decisions, decisions! Shortly after receiving my appointment as nov-ice director, I met my own novice director in the lunch line at our pro-vincial house. She had been a novice director for more than twenty years. Now, confined mostly to a wheelchair, she continues to serve the com-munity in the mailroom and archives. When she saw me in the lunch line, she took me aside, wished me well, and then said, "Just remem-ber: as long as you believe your decisions are right before God, that's all you've got to worry about." In those few words, my novice director had gotten to the core of for-mation ministry: the making of decisions. For me, the crux of being nov-ice director (and I use the word "crux" intentionally) was having to Wishes for a Novice Director I 349 make a decision that affected the future of another human being. Of course, I knew that I was not totally responsible for deciding whether a woman should remain in our novitiate or leave. The novice herself played a paramount role in that decision. I also knew full well that I had other people I could and did consult for valuable advice and input. I also realized that the provincial and her council ultimately were responsible for this decision. But despite knowing these things in my head, I still felt in my heart that the decision whether a novice should stay or leave was essentially mine. For me there was nothing ever easy about making such a decision--one way or the other. And there certainly was nothing easy about being the one to tell a novice that she could not stay--especially if she was unable to understand why. As I told my provincial superior onc+ after the council had decided to let a candidate go, "You're not the one who has to look into her eyes and tell her. I do." For me personally, this was the greatest challenge as novice direc-tor: trying to make the right decision for each individual. It meant I also had to face the possibility that, despite my conscientiousness and my good will, I could, indeed, make the wrong decision about someone. I had to ask myself, "Do I trust God enough that ! can be at peace with every decision I make? Can I entrust even a possible wrong decision to his love and creativity?" I never fully appreciated what a burden this was for me until I no longer bore it. After | left formation work, I was given other big respon-sibilities- among them was being local superior of a rather large com-munity. But, so far, none of these new responsibilities quite compares with the responsibility I felt as novice director: having to make a deci-sion that profoundly affects the future life direction of another person and a religious community. At the risk of sounding pious, this is a burden we cannot bear alone. As my own novice director implied, we make our decisions before God. I add: we also make them with God. With hoops of steel. In Shakespeare's Hamlet, Polonius gives some beautiful advice to his son, Laertes, before he sets out on his own. His words of advice should be given to every new novice director: Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, Grapple them unto thy soul with hoops of steel. l, iii One of the greatest needs of a novice director is friends. Hopefully, most novice directors enter their ministry with a "generous supply" of good and loyal friends. But even if this is the case, a novice director soon 350/Review for Religious, May-June 1990 learns that the ministry of formation has some built-in obstacles to the retention of friends. First of all, as novice director, I was in a ministry all by myself. No one else in my community did exactly what I did. As a teacher and writer, I had enjoyed the camaraderie of other sisters in my community who were actively engaged in the same ministry. We swapped stories, shared ideas, and encouraged each other in our com-mon ministry. But when I became novice director, I suddenly had no one. There is another reason for the sense of aloneness that novice direc-tors sometimes feel. Much of our ministry involves things we cannot talk about or share with others. Even our schedule may prevent us from so-cializing with our friends. For example, as a teacher I looked forward to weekends when I had a little time to "unwind" with my sisters and friends. But as novice director, my weekends suddenly became my busi-est time. That was when 1 had classes with the novices, I tried to see them individually, and I "socialized" with them. These factors cannot be allowed to become excuses fo~" losing touch with our friends. But they are challenges for us to find new and creative ways to "grapple" our friends to our souls "with hoops of steel." Eventually, I did find considerable support from novice directors in other religious communities. Sometimes when we got together, we tended to "talk shop." We found ourselves talking only about problems in formation and expressing to each other worries and frustration. This has its place, of course, but we soon realized we needed each other not merely to "gripe with" but also to "play with." As a new novice di-rector, find ingenious ways to hang on to your old friends, and be ready and eager to make new ones. The wideness of the sea. One of my favorite old hymns says this: "There's a wideness in God's mercy like the wideness of the sea." I think we could paraphrase those words and say. "There should be a wideness in a novice director's life like the wideness of the sea." A nov-ice director could be tempted to live in a very narrow world--a world no larger than his or her novitiate. Do not succumb to this temptation. It is important for a novice director to receive some professional prepa-ration for the ministry of formation. Yes. It is also vital for him or her to keep abreast of developments in the field of formation. Definitely. But we novice directors must not limit our input solely to formation. My ad-vice is to widen your world. Get involved with other groups of people, with issues besides formation and religious life. As novice director, for example, I taught a course in pastoral ministry at our college almost Wishes for a Novice Director / 351 every semester. The course met once a week in the evenings. Teaching that course was extremely healthy and beneficial for me. When I was not teaching a course, I was often taking a course. Some of these courses had nothing to do directly with formation. I also continued to write arti-cles for publication--the vast majority of them riot on formation. I know other novice directors who widened their world by being life guards at swimming pools, music ministers in parishes, volunteers in soup kitch-ens, or teachers in seminaries. As directors, we need ample time for a ministry of formation, true. Bui we also need time to extend our bounda-ries beyond the walls of the novitiate and our religious community. Let them love you. So far I have said nothing specifically about the novices themselves. As novice director, you must love your novices. Sometimes your love will take the form of gentleness and kindness. Other times it will assume the shape of firmness or even apparent hard-ness. Whatever form it takes, love is essential. This goes without say-ing. But there is a flip side to this fact that gets too little attention: allow your novices to love you. Be open to their love. More than that, encour-age it, welcome it. As directors we can become overly conscious of our role as director, as formator. We can shield ourselves from the give-and-take of relationships by setting strick boundaries with our novices. I am director, you are directee. I form you. I love you. Formation becomes a one-way street. When we do this, we are forgetting this great truth about formation: while we are helping to form our novices, they are also helping to form us. If we allow them. My novices helped form me in many ways--sometimes gently, other times almost roughly. They formed me by their honesty and humility-- especially in the one-on-one sessions I had regularly with each one. I was always amazed at how the novices were, for the most part, incredibly honest with themselves. By their honesty, they encouraged me to be more honest with them. During my six years, I found myself trusting the novices more and more. I had always basically trusted other people, I believe, but my six years as novice director only encouraged this atti-tude. The novices ministered to me at times in my need. One time a friend of mine in the community was dying of cancer. I left her infirmary room one night on the verge of tears. Shortly afterwards I ran into one of my novices in the hall. My initial reaction was to put on a cheerful front and hide my tears from her. After all, I was her director. In fact, I was the one who had dried the tears of this particular novice on more than one 359 / Review for Religious, Mav-Jttne 1990 occasion. But when I saw the concerned expression on her face, I was unable to hold back my tears. I cried, "Nadine's dying." Without a word, she took me in her arms and held me for a few minutes, comfort-ing me. In one way, it was a reversal of roles, but I still treasure the mem-ory of that moment when I allowed the novice to minister to me. Sometimes novices will love us in "tougher" ways--challenging our judgments, questioning our decisions, asking us to explain something we would just as soon leave unexplained. As novice directors, we must be open to that kind of love, too. My father, now retired, spends much time growing things on my par-ents' three-and-one-half acre plot of land. He grows apple trees, exotic grapes, peach trees, English walnut trees, and'the like. He once told me, "I get a kick out of figuring out how to help things grow." I would hope that every new novice director could say something similar: "I get a kick out of figuring out how to help people grow." My final wish for the "novice" novice director is this: May you figure out (often through trial and error--plus the help of God's grace) how to help (not "make" or "'force") people grow. And, in the process of your helping, may you yourself grow in faith, hope, love, and much joy! Retreat at Glenstal Abbey I have no preacher here but only quiet trees that pray one solemn silent so-be-it frown cell, from sap, from sinewed standing stem frown bough and branch from twig and sprig all said all summed in this brief silent now. The Master called and with the stars each answered to the limit of every limned lettered lace-like latticed leaf: "Here 1 am." Cothrai Gogan, c.s.sp. Naraiga Catholic Church Box 220 Limuru Kenya, Africa The Associate Movement in Religious Life Rose Marie Jasinski, C.B.S., and Peter C. Foley Sister Rose Marie Jasinski. C.B.S. is currently director of the associate community for the Sisters of Bon Secours and president of Bon Secours St. Joseph Hospital and Nursing Care Center in Port Charlotte, Florida. Peter C. Foley is presently working as a free-lance consultant and facilitator for religious congregations, dioceses, and parishes. Correspondence should be addressed to Associate Membership Office: Sis-ters of Bon Secours: 1525 Marrionsville Road: Marriottsville, Maryland 21104. The task of the imagination, specifically the religious imagination, has been described as naming, even "composing," the real. Another way of saying this is that the religious imagination unveils where God is at work among us. Stories of God at work, and of the unfolding of a real-ity whose scope and power have not yet been imagined were told in May 1989 at the Bon Secours Spiritual Center in Marriottsville, Maryland where more than 100 Directors of Religious Associate Memberships, and associates too, gathered to share the histories of their associate move-ment. It was the first such gathering of lay people and religious designed .just to explore how spiritualities or charisms of the Church, previously identified with particular religious congregations, were being assimilated by groups of lay people who claim the identity, history, and traditions of a particular spirituality as their own. The reality that emerged is that the traditional spiritualities are alive and well, even flourishing, but in ways we had not imagined. Most congregations reported more applicants to the associate program than to the congregation, and some associate members outnumbered the sisters themselves. But even more striking than the rapid growth of associate memberships was the intensity of the 353 Review for Religious, May-June 1990 commitment brought to them. These were not casual or sentimental re-lationships- it was clear that there was great personal significance in be-longing to an evolving spiritual community. This powerful movement has been quietly erupting within the Church for the last ten to fifteen years. Among the groups gathered to-gether in May we discovered associate members of women, men, sin-gle, married, of various professions, of differing faiths and even a few clergy and religious of other congregations. Associate membership tends to look and act differently within individual religious communities. The basic ingredient, however, is a strong emphasis on forming bonds be-tween laity and religious around a specific charism and mission; attempt-ing to live out that spirit and charism in one's particular lay lifestyle be-comes a significant piece of the "bonding" together. An area of richness that was shared by the groups in May was the expressed felt need and desire to journey together toward deeper spiri-tual growth. The word "together" here is significant and seems to be gaining in popularity. While indeed there still lingers the sentiment that "sister is better at this than I am" we discovered also that the notion that "the same Spirit moves among all of us" is gaining ground as well. Of course, this growing sense and desire for "bonding" also tends to blur the distinctions between laity and religious which is a challenge for some and a gift for many. Developing a sense of community was an important and, at times, a primary reason for approaching associate membership. For some it is the lack of community experienced in the local parish setting; for others it is the desire to deepen their prayer life that initiated the attraction. This sense of community and "bonding" that begin to take shape between the lay and religious members is encouraged and strengthened through regular times of coming together to share prayer, ritual, reflections, Eucharist, and other social feastings. Along with these activities the de-sire to have a "significant" role within the religious community is also exerting its influence among laity and religious. Participating in commu-nity decision-making, committee functions, chapter meetings and the like were not an uncommon topic at our May meetings. The area of service or ministry had a broad range of response among the groups. For some it was an integral part of the associates" role; for others it almost appeared as a distraction from the original intent of spiri-tual development; and still others seem to be on a progressive path of moving through spiritual development outward to "mission.'" This brings us to the progression of "gerierations" that is becom- The Associate Movement / 355 ing evident to those people who have been around this movement ['or a period of time. A pattern appears to be evolving within the associate move-ment. The first generation seemed to be people who wanted to be "filled up" spiritually plus a few who just could not say "no" to sister in those communities where the religious extended the invitation to join. In this generation the religious were looked to for the leadership. The second generation seemed to move more deeply into spiritual development in that the laity and religious have journeyed that path together as equals. The third generation emerges as associates become active in, or are in-vited into, various ways of participating in community life itself. Spiri-tuality as well as leadership is shared. A fourth generation seems to be spiritually motivated and supported by a faith community to go out in mission to share the charism. Throughout this progression of generations has remained a growing, though sometimes ambiguous, sense of commitment--ambiguous in that it is not always clear if the commitment is to the congregation, to the lo-cal community, to the associate community, or to individual sisters. And growing in that there are those rich experiences when associate members feel they have no choice but to live the charism--they have become so imbued it is as though "the charism has me!'" It seems most desirable for each group to grow in its own understand-ing and expression of, and comfort with, the focus of its commitment. While all groups expressed uncertainty about the long-term embodi-ment of their spirituality, they were equally comfortable with a sense of journeying together, accompanying ehch other in a life of prayer, shar-ing, and service. This was the area of greatest commonality among the participants. Otherwise their differences were so great that many of our assumptions about the associate movement were exposed and dispelled. Our first assumption was that a healthy associate program needed to be closely knit to the sponsoring congregation, starting with a strong for-mation program (conducted by the sisters), ongoing liaison with or lead-ership from the sisters, and some degree of monitoring of prescribed norms of behavior. Not so. Although many of these chara~:teristics were present in most programs, there were some that were not even started by the sisters, much less "managed" by them. A "healthy" and vigorous program depended more on the quality of the relationship between indi-vidual lay person and sister (living or dead) than on the sophistication of its organization and structures. The spirit or charism of the congrega-tion was passed on most effectively, it seemed, from person to person. In one group, the "formation" program consisted primarily of one-to- Review for Religious, May-June 1990 one storytelling on the part of the retired sisters with the prospective as-sociate. Another had an adoption structure, in which the associate and sister became family with each other. Another assumption was that there were sisters, on the one hand, and associates on the other. But for some, the associate membership con-sisted of lay people and those sisters who chose to join it including, in-terestingly, sisters from other congregations. These groups, obviously, had no trouble "getting sisters involved"--one of the more common problems expressed. The sisters were free to commit themselves to this other expression of their charism, or not. Another surprise was the range of expectations or requirements for associates to "keep up their membership." Many groups had calendars of annual events that included monthly meetings, annual retreats, "home-coming weekends" with all the sisters at the motherhouse, and some even offering weekly prayer meetings. But it was clear, due to geo-graphical movement of both sisters and associates, that the real and ef-fective criterion of memberships for some groups was the intention and commitment of the individual associate. In a movement like this there is a lot of giving and receiving. Who is giving? Who is receiving'? The obvious answer is that the congrega-tion is extending itself to others, including them, giving them something that they could not have by themselves. The opposite seems to charac-terize many of the groups reporting. The more the sisters listened to what was going on in the desires, dreams, and active faith life of their friends and dedicated collaborators, the more they received. Their own appre-ciation of their congregational charism and history was renewed and en-livened. Many sisters reported "receiving their charism back" from their lay associates. And, on a more pragmatic vein, the more the con-gregation included its associates in governance and community struc-tures, the greater the commitment of time and energy of the associates to the religious group. Finally, we had assumed, of course, that we were talking about per-sons of the Christian faith when we were discussing associates. Not so. A number of congregations reported including not only non-Catholic Christians in their associate programs, but also non-Christian persons. How could this be? We did not ask. If we had had the time, we would have asked three other questions: -What human behaviors facilitate the "passing on" of a charism from person or group to another'? -This seems to be more a women's movement than one The Associate Movement / ;357 commonly or equally shared by men and women. If so, how does it relate to the larger feminist or women's move-ment? And, also, how is it related to earlier women's movements in the history of the Church? -Are congregations that have a vital and active associate membership capable of having an equally vital and ac-tive group of "lay volunteers"? We ended the May meetings with no conclusions other than it was very good to get together and share what is happening; that some groups would initiate regional networks: and that we should all meet again in two years to hear the continuing story of the associate membership move-ment. As participants and observers we rejoice and hope to see the continu-ing openness to the Spirit-filled variety of associate memberships in the Church. A variety that may lead us to a fifth generation of associate mem-bers and "religious" sharing community: living together in a variety of many different ways, providing a variety of different services, praying in a variety of different styles--all through the power of one Spirit-- one baptism. Sunrise When the earth tipped its rim this morning, letting the sun in, filling itself with color and.light, You handed it to me; putting my mouth to the other side, I drank the dawn wind, the morning sun rising, dripping with glory. Then handing the cup back to You, I wiped the drops from my mouth, touching my lips again with Your light: Satiated with splendor, so glad of Your love. Sister Columba Howard St. John of God Convent P.O. Box 14 SUBIACO 6008 Western Australia Images For The Future Of Religious Life Thomas F. McKenna, C.M. Father Thomas McKenna, C.M., is an assistant professor in the theology department at St. John's University in New York. He has also served as novice director for the Eastern Province of the Vincentians. His address is Vincentian House: 101-25 104th Street: Ozone Park, New York 11416. One of the signatures of any age is the time-dimension to which it is drawn. At a given period, a culture is fascinated by past, present, or what is to come. For a number of interwoven reasons, religious life in this pres-ent age is taken with the future. The harder times it has fallen upon in filling up its thinning ranks and the upsetting wonder about what forms will take it into the next. century raise questions which only forward-looking answers will give. Add to this the growing appreciation that the origins and, therefore, the identity of religious life lie in visions precisely about what could be, and the reasons for concern about that future be-come all the more apparent. Often enough, these worries and hopes find expression in a search for what is termed "The New Image.'" That taken-for-granted inner land-scape which grounded the operations of a congregation for generations is less and less able to hold the center. Members realize that some new image is required, a different "root metaphor"~ which once in place will again provide that clear prism through which the apostolates, govern-ance, prayer styles, and, indeed, the very self-concept of the order can be freshly perceived. In his book on the meaning of history,2 Theodore White describes the precariousness of trying to peer into the future from the only van-tage point available, the present. He invites the reader into a small boat 358 Images of Religious Life / 359 bobbing up and down on the swells of the mid-Pacific, thousands of miles from any coast. Inside, the waves lifting and lowering the boat feel much the same, but in fact they are not all alike. Some are only surface ripples blown up for a few hundred yards or even miles. Others are surges left from mid-ocean storms out still farther over the horizon. They, too, will smooth out and die. But others still are the tips of deep running transoceanic currents. They were born in the river canyons of continents two thousand miles to the east and will crest on the shores of another coast four thousand miles westward. The historian is the person who thinks himself able to read which of the waves are shallow and so eventually will fade, and which reach to the floor of the sea and so will roll on into the future. While the bases for his judgments are not the kind which can serve up airtight predictions, they are rooted eno'ugh in pres-ent conditions to get him beyond clairvoyance. His knowledge of the cur-rents and tides enables him to give some backing for claims about what will continue beyond the horizon. This article intends to feel for some of those currents. While there are any number of root images which might be the synthesizing meta-phors on which religious life will be carried into the future, there are some which because of their ancient lineage in the religious movement on the one side and their attunedness to present society on the other show promise beyond mere guesswork--though, to be honest, not perhaps be-yond wishful thinking! The metaphors to follow can stand by themselves, but are more use-ful when anchored in the first. Connecting them sequentially allows for a certain priority but also for enough interaction that each can be a cor-rective for the others. The Religious Infiltrators of the Culture The scenario here is one body of people led forward by a common vision who insert themselves into the dead spots, so to speak, of the world of another group. They attempt to work their variant view into the places in the dominant culture which are spiritually empty and hunger-ing for freedom and new meaning. The sportscaster's phrase "in the seams" catches the idea. In a zone defense, players are assigned to cover certain sectors of the field or rink. The weakest points are along the bor-ders of zones because that is where confusions and even collisions be-tween the defenders are most likely to occur. The pass or shot is aimed "in the seams" between the zones; it is put "in the crease" at the edges of the coverage where the system most often breaks down. This analogy places religious among those believers who carry the 3BO / Review for Religious, May-June 1990 cause of Mystery to those border areas in a culture. Into those margins where the prevailing world view has lost its depth or has failed in nerve, religious bring the riches, appropriately enough, of religion. They are the outriders of the culture, the hikers along the margin where moder-nity has unraveled and is dealing death rather than life. The orders are among the entrepreneurs of the Mystery in a resistive society. This last figure brings out the assertive and perhaps even aggressive side of the image. Not intimidated by the muscular idols of the culture, religious purposefully seek out opportunities for evangelization and join with other groups who struggle to inculturate kindred values. They are convinced of the profundity of what they carry and so actively search out the soft spots in a society for chances to penetrate. Opportunistically, they move into the seams. In the description of the mid-ocean sailor, we spoke of the need to justify the use of a particular image. Why does this metaphor show more promise than another'? In this case, what signs of the times recommend the infiltrator over competitors'? Both negative and positive warrants come to mind. The negatives cluster around a foreboding sense of the spiritual bank-ruptcy of certain sectors in the modern world. By modern we connote here modernity, that whole ethos born in the Enlightenment and bred in the industrialized West whose place in history is slipping off its assumed highest perch to a level of one era among others, but one, indeed, whose effects are threatening to annihilate the gains of all the rest. Interestingly, this critique is being mounted by commentators who truly admire many of the accomplishments of the modern era such as freedom, communi-cation, labor saving devices, democracy, and so forth. They counsel not so much a nativist return to some pre-technological world, but rather a move beyond technology. To that end, they make the case that within the soil of the very blessings modernity bestows are sprouting the mostly unnoticed seeds of its own destruction. The most noxious plants on the American scene are being fed by the system of total capitalism. When left unchecked, they poison the very kind of moral character needed to sustain the democratic society in which capitalism flourishes. Among the more widely known critics are Robert Bellah and his as-sociates3 who have detailed the ways in which individualism threatens to remove its communal counterbalance, republicanism, from the ethi-cal arena in American life. A flattened self, the person as a "bag of needs" disconnected from other subjects and unable to collaborate from motives beyond self-gratification is the narcissistic prospect. Barbara Hat- Images of Religious Life / 36"1 grove's depiction of the "New Class" analyzes the ways which the spe-cializing and rationalistic tendencies of the baby boomer culture can shut down its own best possibilities.'~ In a more popular vein are the addresses of Franciscan preacher, Richard Rohr, who of late has been announcing "the death of the liberal agenda."-s An inability to cooperate with any-one besides an elite few, an idolization of personal feelings, and a per-fectionistic search for the fullest experience and/or the flawless process are some of the disturbing undersides he fears now beginning to surface. A more philosophical warning is being sounded by a group known as the Post-Modernists. Taking negative expression in its Deconstruction-ist variety,6 the critique is more optimistically stated by a group who call themselves, fittingly so, the Constructionists.7 Affirming the benefits of modernity, they also desire to move beyond its pitfalls and so join the assault on individualism. Their particular contribution is not only to have analyzed further its pedigree and progeny, but to have proposed means by which it can be overcome. There is an anthropomorphism in the culture, they contend, which immoderately subordinates the whole of creation to its human part. The attitude denies any "inwardness" to what is not human, thereby remov-ing nature's intrinsic value and laying it open to the worst kinds of ex-ploitation. The social counterparts of this dominative style are the patri-archal rules in society, assumptions which prevailed in all ages but get honed to their sharpest edge by the competitive, rationalistic, and ef-ficiency myths of the present.8 Powering everything are the twin dynamos of economism and con-sumerism. The blanket moral pardon granted the so-called side effects of the free market (steered by its invisible hand of self-interest) is ex-tended to all sectors of life. Social, aesthetic, moral, and religious issues are approached as if their ultimate bearings were also supply and de-mand. The pressures to define self by possessions, to regard the public good solely as economic wealth, and to eliminate concern even for one's posterity are some of the more chilling prospects when the profit princi-ple is transmuted into the universal moral touchstone. Such a world, in a Constructionist phrase, has lost its enchantment.9 Emptied of mystery and dulled to the wisdom of the best of its myths, it can no longer re-spond to the deeper hopes and so begins to feed on itself. Modernity's prospects: a superficial and morally spinning world set on a disastrous course that of itself modernity is powerless to change. If the infiltrator metaphor stayed only with condemnations, its indict-ments could have the ring of a culture-bashing fundamentalism which 369 / Review for Religious. May-June 1990 railed against the society but did not involve itself in it. Happily, these critiques are simultaneously stirring up a kind of religious revival or at least the beginnings of one. ~0 In the so-called secular disciplines for in-stance, there is a growing movement to sacralize the world. Proponents in the natural sciences for one, awed not only by the indeterminacy of things but also by their interconnectedness, are proclaiming a newly dis-covered mystery in creation. Various schools of psychology for another are reclaiming a spiritual base. Educational circles are feeling a surpris-ing pressure for more theology and religion courses at secular universi-ties. ~ These and other indications mark a widening search for values which are rooted in something other than the economic. This quest has a prag-matic ring to it inasmuch as the conviction is spreading that religiously grounded foundations are the only ones on which lasting social change can be built. Interestingly, the revival appears to have gathered greatest momentum among Roman Catholics. A 1987 Gallup poll names them as the denomination which feels most able to provide religious leadership in American society because of both the wide backing they accord their bishops' social teachings and because of the stronger communal bonds they enjoy. ~- In sum, there is on a number of fronts a growing unease about the spiritual vacuum in the culture together with initial signs of an initiative to fill it. Motivation for the renewal is not the self-righteous and con-demning sort, but comes from culturally sympathetic people who at the same time sense the dissonance between their own religious experience and the hollowness in key sectors of modernity. This analysis was done to indicate possible points at which religion could be inserted into the culture. Such intersections hold invitations for religious to join with other subgroups in society~3 in witnessing to firmer grounds of meaning. Carrying in their traditions such wisdom as the in-terrelationship between humans and the rest of creation, the universal dis-persion of spiritual energy, the immanence of the divine feminine, and the riches which cannot be packaged as a commodity and which flow out of the acts of loving and hoping, members of orders do not come empty-handed to those vulnerable seams. Nor do they come alone. The infil-trator is meant to work alongside of other servants of Mystery who are soon discovered to be, in Thomas Merton's phrase, "the monks' natu-ral allies in the world.''~4 If this line of thought sounds familiar to the religious reader, it is likely because something of the sacred time of his or her beginnings is hnages of Religious Life / 36:3 evoked. All founding persons were in effect entrepreneurs of religion in a culture. The desert journeys of the monks as response to the dying and brutal fourth-century society, the ingenuity of the mendicants in evan-gelizing a world of new city-states, the missionary fervor of the congre-gations of the seventeenth century reaching across from the Old World to the New--all these were tides taken at the ebb to penetrate a weak-ened and changing society. The crisis of meaning in American culture today and some initial responses to it present new windows of opportu-nity for would-be refounders. What special qualities are required of these so-called otitriders of re-ligion? In an essay on the future of spirituality, ~5 Karl Rahner addressed the situation of believers living in a time of sociological diminishment. Their faith must be sustained by what he termed "a solitary, immediate experience of God." They are to be new types of mystics whose con-viction does not come from any place other than the hearts of their own existence. Infiltrators are, therefore, marked in the first place by a per-sonal experience of God. Their second trait might be called culture-friendliness. Refounding persons exhibit that certain feel for the divine possibilities in society, that willingness to mix it up with the shapers of meaning in the wider world. While they are not uncritical of the age, their more basic desire is to engage it in order to move quickly into the spiritual openings it presents. But infiltrators also have blind spots. A common one is to so con-centrate on the strategy and practicalities of insertion into a culture that they lose sight of the sources of the salvation they bring it. Two further images, each able to stand on its own, speak more pointedly to ways of listening for the Word which religious carry to the world they would serve. The Navigator A type of spiritual sensibility long associated with the religious move-ment is at the core of this metaphor. To arrive at it, we add to Theodore White's image of the boat bobbing in the mid-Pacific the lore surround-ing certain revered individuals in Polynesian culture known as Naviga-tors. Now gone, these adventurers were the last repositories in their so: ciety of the secrets of open ocean sailing. Without modern navigational instruments, they could make landfall on a tiny dot of coral thousands of miles across the seemingly trackless Pacific. Anthropologists found their basic talent to be an ability to read the movements of the waves. Through a long and spiritually intense initiation, they learned to tell the crucial difference between the surface disturbances and the ocean- 364 I Review Jbr Religious, May-June 1990 spanning bottom currents which led in definite directions, changed head-ings with the seasons, and were deflected as they ran past the archipela-goes that speckled the Southern Seas. From their minuscule platform on the raft, they could judge which of the great ocean waves to follow and which to let roll past. In terms we will use, these were the special ones who could read in the present which movements had the long-range prom-ise and which would not reach the far shore of the future. Joseph Campbell speaks of an analogous phenomenon in other primi-tive societies which today might come under the title recruitment. While undergoing the long initiation to adulthood, one of the adolescents suf-fers a kind of nervous breakdown. He seems to take things too seriously. He does not see reality the way his peers do and is not in step with their pace and general rhythms. Observing this, the elders remove him from the group--and make him their religious leader! Their intuition, says Campbell, is that the youngster is picking up the contours of another world. He is reading signals from a different depth and perceiving a pic-ture of the way the tribe could be when at its very best. In the language of the previous example, this person becomes the tribal navigator, not just in sailing but in all things, because he can discern directions com-ing 'back from the future,' directions which the rest of the clan recog-nizes as valuable and even salvific. In this metaphor, religious are among those special ones with sensi-tivity for what of God's future is just over the horizon. Intuiting the source and goal of the divine good working in the world, their faith vi-sion focuses more on the da~vning of God's presence than on its fruition in the present. To paraphrase Karl Rahner, they are among the first to catch the glimmer of the morning light on the far mountain which will eventually turn into the brilliance of day. ~6 Following him again, these are the eschatologically inciined believers whose intimations of God's grace which comes from beyond the world creates the saving tension with those disciples whose more incarnationa[ faith celebrates the pres-ence of that grace already come. ~v Two signs of the times which in an obverse way recommend the Navi-gator are the sleek idol-making machines of secularism and materialism. To those driven by them, all observable ~:eality is explainable in terms of itself, and things (including persons perceived as things) hold the high ground of ultimacy. To counteract this massive message, there is great need for the relativizer, the individual who cherishes the good of this world but who also spots its incompleteness and inability to save. These are the ones who catch the presence of the world-to-come in the midst hnages of Religious Life / 365 of the world-that-is-here and so can accept the graciousness of the pres-ent while rejecting its different pretensions to absoluteness. Groups who can "name grace''~8 because they know the difference between groundings which are ultimate and penultimate help save a world which too indiscriminately mixes the two. And indeed, has it not always been one of the liberating functions of religion to lead people into places where, in one writer's imagery, "they can transcend the mazeways they have known to glimpse new visions of what may be"?~9 If this metaphor again seems an old friend, it is because it carries strains of both a classic description of religious communities and of a strong trait in the spiritual experience of their founders. Magisterial docu-ments depict religious orders as witnesses to the world-to-come, as fore-tastes of the kingdom's fullness, and as apostles of the transcendent.2° The innovative apostolic strategies of founding women and men sprang from their ability to see the world which hemmed in their contemporar-ies against the backdrop of the better one illuminated by the light of the coming kingdom. The ancestry of religious life is heavily eschatologi-cal. Witness to that faith-dimension is needed in every age but for the reasons discussed above crucially so in this one. The community which images itself as Navigator values discern-ment. As a group it not only spots the religious possibilities and then im-plements them, but lays explicit hold of the power and source of its vi-sion. It is a mobile group, able to roam free, and has a lower than usual need for the security and predictability of set roles. Its critique of the status quo will disturb those less attuned to the future and it will line up more quickly with other visionaries in the world and Church. For all its sensitivity, such a community also has its limits. Naviga-tors can so focus on the land over the horizon that they miss some of the places they travel through in the present. Eschatological types have their eyes on the better world ahead and tend to be impatient with the slow birthing process needed to bring that world to light of day. In the lan-guage of psychology, they can be perfectionistic, enamored of the ideal, and intolerant of development toward it. In theological talk, they are tempted to angelism, imagining they can detour around the process of history instead of laboriously going through it.2~ Often enough, naviga-tors need to be brought back down to the agitated ocean surface and re-learn the wisdom of the journey itself. Enter the next image, a specialist in the art of journeying. The Lean and Light Remnant The title draws the scene for this third metaphor. It is the Israelite 366/Review for Religious, May-June 1990 people on a long and ragged trek across the desert. Their march this time is not toward the new Promised Land but toward their old one, having just been released from their captivity in Babylon and now heading back to rebuild a ruined Jerusalem. They have little to carry because recent slaves do not amass many possessions. They rely on no social standing other than the dubious kind of the refugee. Most telling, because so many of their kin fell off the trail on the way to Babylon or chose to remain behind there, their numbers are hardly the kind to pose a threat to world order. For all that, they are grateful for their station because they have learned from their experience and their prophets that dispossession and pilgrimage have a way of opening hearts to Yahweh. They are the Remnant. Not lamenting their losses nor ashamed of their smallness, they are in some measure even glad for them because these deprivations have proved to be better teachers about what counts before their God than the power they wielded generations ago. These travelers have no preten-sions of overwhelming their world with multitudes or even talent. What they have to offer is what they are constan,tly aware of receiving, the di-vine mercy and sustenance. At best, they see themselves as catalysts, tiny enzymes in a large mass, invisible and unobtrusive. They are satis-fied on the circumference of society because their ordeal has convinced them that circumferences can often enough in God's eyes be near the cen-ter. The fit between Remnant and the orders of the 1990s is the obvious demographic one of diminishment. Not just on the way, smallness is al-ready here. To begin to extol the benefits of shrinkage at such a time could be written off as a kind but unreal attempt to console the dying, a thought which most likely occurred to Babylon-bound Israelites as they heard the same sentiment from their preachers. But to at least some of them, the truth of the claim proved itself over time. That proof is being given again today in a number of testimonies to the spiritual good which can come of vulnerability and powerlessness. One especially forceful witness is given by the liberationists who in their own pragmatic way have unearthed the riches at the margins. The poor evangelize the wealthy, the no-accounts unlock the Gospel's mean-ing for people of consequence, the small, ordinary, and forgotten ones are revealed as standing at the hub of the kingdom's activity. The very meaning of insignificant is transposed. Another more quiet testimony comes from Jean Vanier and his years of living with the handicapped.22 These sociologically most invisible of Images of Religious Life / :367 people have their own ways of making very visible the presence of grace in creation. The precariousness of their existence and their survival-need for the compassion of others lays bare the essence of how it is be-tween God and all of humanity. Such little people, when cared for and allowed to progress on their own terms, turn out to be large gifts to the caretakers. Gospels such as these are advancing the claim that diaspora time is the spiritually best time. Facing the onset of their own smallness, reli-gious communities could do worse than take to heart this winter spiritual-ity. In its bleakness they might come to see another kind of beauty and in its silence a call to a more anonymous style of influencing the world around them. Is this not the climate in which most all orders and con-gregations began? In the desert where smallness reveals itself as bless-ing by keeping the group real, minority status does not allow social and numerical superiority to figure in its estimation of success. Pilgrim com-munities of the coming decades will have both grieved the loss of high visibility and learned better to rely on their own inner experience as sus-tainer and guidepost. Like the tiny band of emigres approaching the out-skirts of Jerusalem, they will recognize their smallness as the lean and light condition which best suits them for the task of building their old/ new city. Scripture experts tell us that when the exiles entered the settlement, they found others already there, both their own who had been left be-hind as well as others who over the decades had wandered in. To move to our final metaphor, we add the following piece of imagination. Because the project of reconstructing the Temple and city would re-quire more arms than these pilgrims could supply, they realized they needed the help of the resident aliens. But the Jews also noted that these foreigners possessed building skills different from their own which might add much beauty to the final product. The New Jerusalem could better be built collaboratively. The last image is at hand. The Square Dance The picture here is of a swirling group, moving to the rhythm of the same tune and the shouts of the one caller. The dancers begin as a single couple, then join larger and still larger circles, change to other partners along the way, then come back to the original two--and repeat the cycle again and again. While at the beginning the steps and switches are a bit ragged and the caller's instructions hard to understand, the promenaders do not drop out because the energy spreading across the floor has caught them. They know best the partners they came with, but they also know 368 / Review for Religious, May-June 1990 how much more dance there is when they can join hands with other cir-cles and be part of the bigger whirl in the room. They trade some of the freedom of couple-dancing for the chance to be part of something larger to which they now know they can contribute. The dance metaphor speaks of new ways for the religious communi-ties to be together, both with themselves and with others. Beginning within the circles of their own congregations, they move out to other prov-inces and communities, to laity, to their natural families, couples, friends outside their order, co-workers, to other Infiltrators, Navigators and Remnants both Christian and non. The image encourages them to listen for the rhythm which matches the cadence of their own religious experi-ence no matter where in society it is sounding. With a graciousness, they let go the hands of the community partners with whom they began so that these too are free to step off into the bigger enterprise. But they are also happy to welcome them back when the time for regrouping comes round again. Each member of the congregation sacrifices some independence, convinced that the overall cause is worth the initial unsettlement and risk. The sign of the times for Square Dance is quite simply its present existence. Many congregations have already moved the borders on their maps of inclusion. Associates, service corps, laymission extensions, in-terprovincial apostolates, joint ventures by men's and women's branches of the same order all testify to the shifting sense of what it means to be-long. If the initial enthusiasm for widening circles produced some overly fluid boundaries, it did enlarge perceptions of membership. This stretch-ing permitted groups to recognize certain natural allies outside their walls who were in effect anonymous carriers of the community charism. A more recent attempt to strike a better balance between centrifugal and cen-tripetal forces has sought to tie tighter but still flexible bonds between the members. One fine instance is the recent essay by George Wilson which tracks the sharp change in attitudes of Jesuits about inclusion.-~3 The image of a single closed circle embracing all the spiritual, profes-sional, familial, apostolic, and even recreational aspects of communal life has largely been supplanted by another of many smaller circles, some not connected to each other and most tellingly not to the Jesuit one. Be-longing no longer means fitting everything inside the one ring of total community but rather negotiating between the different circles (for ex-ample, professional societies, local living group, non-Society friends both male and female, the world Jesuit fellowship, and so forth), espe-cially between those of one's primary and secondary commitments. hnages of Religious Life / 369 Useful as it is on the intra-community level, a Square Dance model also serves the wider society, Any truly collaborative venture on behalf of issues other than the group's self-preservation is a prophetic word to a culture so tilted away from the ability to cooperate by the weight of individualism. And could it not also be that arguments within religious communities themselves against widening the circle (phrased at times as the loss of needed autonomy or dilution of our special spirit) are partially an echo of the privatist bias in the wider society? Whatever the case, the move to collaborate for reasons beyond self-interest is not only evangeli-cally countercultural, but hearkens back to that surrender to something greater which gave rise to the religious movement in the first place. People of the Square Dance have a mind for the communal. The op-posite of in-house types who require the safety of same-sex, walled-off environments, they still maintain primary loyalties to their own, Their toleration for fluidity in boundaries is high. They have opted to learn ne-gotiation between different memberships rather than to close ranks around the one. This insight that collaborative communities are in a position to infil-trate the individualistic culture completes the circle. The Square Danc-ers widen the Remnant's sphere of influence. Both look to the Naviga-tors for the source and direction of their projects. And all three join in the Infiltrator's attempt to bring the depth of the kingdom to the shallow places of the world. It is time to conclude. Conclusion Nearly twenty years ago when reflecting on the spirituality of the fu-ture, Karl Rahner predicted that whatever forms it takes, it "will remain the old spirituality of the Church's history."24 He meant that even though the relationship between the different parts of Christian existence will shift, its essential elements (for example, adoring the incomprehensible God, following the suffering and triumphant Lord, protesting the world's forms of wealth, power, and pleasure, living within the Church, and so forth) will remain. In a somewhat reverse way, the same holds true for the different images of religious life with which we have been playing. These paradigms do not submerge those components which the recent Vatican document termed "Essential Elements,''25 but they do recon-figure them. Communal living, for instance, is linked to mission in a much different way in a Square Dance framework than it had been in more tightly inclusive forms of the Augustinian one-heart-and-one-spirit tradition. It is precisely that repatterning which makes all the dif-ference. For it allows religious the suppleness not only to set new courses 370 / Review for Religious, May-June 1990 by the waves of the future moving past them, but also to take conscious advantage of the momentum those waves contain. To return to Rahner, religious life will and will not remain the same. Its refounders are those people who through freshly imaging its possibilities will keep the reli-gious movement intact and at the same time reshape it into its most us-able form for the coming age. The overall interplay between the images seems an apt point on which to conclude. The Remnant calls the Infiltrator to remember the hum-ble conditions under which the message is given; the Infiltrator in turn cautions the Remnant against enshrining smallness as a value unto itself. The Navigator supplies the direction for the Infiltrator; the Infiltrator pow-ers the boat which the Navigator might be content only to steer. All three are vitalized by community living, but now expanded into its Square Dance form. Our attempt has been to suggest culturally relevant paradigms which might anchor 'newly emerging syntheses for religious life. If these par-ticular ones do not speak to individuals or communities, they might at least trigger the power of other imaginations to discover even deeper ly-ing metaphors which can again hold the center for this ancient and ever new blessing in the Church. NOTES ~ Thomas Clark, "Religious Leadership in a Time of Cultural Change," Religious Life at the Crossroads, David Fleming, ed. (New York: Paulist Press, 1985), p. 169. 2 In Search of History (New.York: Harper and Row, 1978). 3 Habits of the Heart (New York: Harper and Row, 1985). 4 The Emerging New Class (New York: The Pilgrim Press, 1986). 5 "Religious Life Of The Future," Origins, Sept. 22, 1988 (Vol. 18, no. 15) pp. 234-239. 6 For a general sketch of this school and its leading proponent, Jaques Derrida, see Religion and Intellectual Life, Wint

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

Issue 5.1 of the Review for Religious, 1946. ; ~,$ANUARY. 15, I94~ and Catholic Ac~tion. '." ~ .: s from the, Council of Trent . Joseph V. ¯ Augustine Heart of Mary-r. o. ~ ~'ho~as A. O'Conr ~etic Power Of Christ~ : ¯ ¯ ¯ .~- ¯ ~. " Malhchi ,J. ~Donn, 0__f E q_ u ~ ¯ " .~, , ~. ¯ ¯ LOu;s J; . ious Buy ~nd Sell? . ~.m c, Ouesfions .Answered RE 'FOR RELi VOLUME V bANUARY 15, 1946 NUMBER CONTENTS-PIUS X AND CATHOLIC ACTiON o ~seph V, Sommers. S,J . SPIRITUAL READINGS FROM THECOUNCIL OF TRENT--~'IIIm Augustine Klaas. S.J.' . OUR ~ONTRIBUTORS ,o-, . '-, . "WHAT'S A DOMINICAN?" " . . . ¯ 24 THE IMMACULATE'HEART OF MARYmThomas A, O'Connor. S,J, 25 INDEX OF BACK NUMBERS .~. . . ,.- , , 32 THE MAGNETIC POWER OF CHRIST~-~-" Mal~l~i J,D0r.nelly, S2J, ,-. 33 BOOKLETNOTICES . , ; ." .". ~ " " 39 17 24 ~ .) COMMUNICATIONS . - . ., . . . . 40 THE VIRTUE OF EQUITY~L~uis J. Puhl, STJ,~ . 4~3 BOOKS°RECEIVED , . . L , -, ', .- . 49 MAY RELIGIOUS BUY AND SELL?Adam C; Ellis, S,J, " " 50 BOOK' REVIEWS-- . Journey" in the Nighf; The Servant"of God. Mar~ Theresa Led6chowska;. The Heart of Man: The Wool Merchant of Segovia: World Christianity; How the People of Africa Live . . . ¯ . ~ . 66 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS--~- l".'Active and Passive 'Vote or Voice ¯ 70 2. Spiritual Director for "Professed Novices" . . 70 3. Confession before Communiqn 4. Successor,to Deceased Mother A'ssistant . . . . 71 5. Te Deum on Feast of St. Joseph . '. . 71 6. Repair Work On Suffday . 7. Re-election of Mother 'General after Eli, yen Years . 72 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, January, 1946. Vol. V, NO. 1. 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 at the Post Ofl~c'e, Topeka, Kansas, under the act of March 3/1879. Editorial Bgard: Ad.am C. Ellis/S.~., G. Augustine Ellard, S.J., Gerald Kelly, s.J. Editorial Secretaiy: Alfred F. Schneider, S.J~, ~" Copyright, 1946, by Adam C., Ellis'. Pdrmi~sion is hereby granted for quotations of reasonable length~ provided due credit be given this, review and the author. Subseripti6n price: 2 dollars a year. Printed in U.-S. A. "~ Before writing to us, pleaseconsult notice on Inside back cover. ., Review t:or Rel~gio.us Volume V January--December, 1946 PubliShed at THE COLLEGE PRESS Topeka. Kansas Edited by TH'E JESUIT FATHERS SAINT MARY'S'COLLEGE St. Marys, Kansas PiUS X and°Catholic Joseph V£ Sommers, S.J. [INTRODUCTORY NOTE: This article° may lead to a misconception unless it is ¢lea~ly understood from the beginning that Catholic Action as here explained is lim~ ited~to the'thought of Pius_X. He was pope, from 1903 to 1914. Since that time Pius XI an~d. Pi~ul XII have further refined the,notion of Catholic Action. Their - writi'~gs and speeches so far ove'rshadow their predecessor's that.~in many articles . o and books reviewin~ the papal directives. Plus X receives, only passing ieference. His relative position might be made.clearer from this comparison. If all the di~ec, .tires on Catholic Action that have come from the Holy See since "the time of~ L, ed XIII were put into one volume, they would roughly equal a 670 page book. Of these Leo XIII would get the first ten pages:~Pius X the next sixty; 500 page~ would go to Pius XL and the remaining pages to out'present Holy Father. Yet' Pi-us X's thought is of historical importance: He gave Catholic Action its~ first great impetus. Although later popes have written more voluminously, yet~th, ey, repeat much that P~us X already sa~d. It'wdl be ~nterestmg. therefore, to inve.stigate. how the recent pap~al demands for an organized Catholic lay apostolate got started.] , .~ |oSEPH Sarto was Bishop o~ Manti~a wiaen in January~.~. ~,.~,~ 1890, l"ie heard the trumpet call for the~lay apostolate. Pope Leo XlII bad just issued his encyclical on'the .~bYef .Duffes of Christi'a~s as Citizeris. Listed amon~g;the ~obligations of every Catholic layman was an active'share in ~'.defendingand extending the Church (A, 115-8).~ Esp_e-. -,cial'ly in thes~ our-~ays, Leo wrote, the laity must openly profess ~the Catholic doctrines and teach them to the utmost 6f their' ability. They should take upon themselves, .indeed-the office of the pastor, but: the task'of communi-0. ~ating. to others what they. have received, becoming as it were living echoes of their teachers in the faith" (A, 1 16): The faithful, however, would.hot satisfy these du, ti._e~, as it is .fitting they should, were they ~to enter the fight single'-' handed. They must work" together as frained sol~tierd - deplbydd fof battle. In defence and in conquest, they inust ~" ~The present arttcle ~s a condensatton of,'a chapter tn a symposium on the life :ind i ~6rk Of Plus X which Will .be published in book form by St. 'Anthony:s Guild, ~'Tfie books and documdnts cited in the article are listed at the end. References in the text ~ill b~ merely by means of a letter °and number. The letter refers to the book; the fiumber to the,page. UO~EPH V. Sb~MERS " ~- ~ Reoiew for RetigioaF fight.' under the direction of th~ pope and ~he bishOps. Thu~ did'Leo XlII outline' the duty of the lay~aposto- "late: Almost immediately Bishop _Sart% re-e~hbed th~:. 't.~aching of his suprercie pontiff .in a speech on "Obedi~nc.e to the Pope inoCatholic Action." Izater, as-Cardinal Patri-" 7arch~of .Venice, he urged obedience to the popd- as an important motive for engJaging°ir~ this apostolate: "Cater ollc Action has.been c.ommanded by the Pope., who has sig-~ -nified hisown mind in.so many ways, and t~hat is ~nough -for us to be sure that it is the ~ill of God also" (B, 109). ~ Picking a.Name [or the Lay Apostolate Although Pius X did not co~n the title "Ca~tholic A'c-tion,;' yet be ,is certainly the fiist pope to make frequent~ ~ use of this term to dtisigfiate the laity's. ~lhare in the apostolic mission of the Church. Even before he had been elected," ti~ used. th~ eklSression. As Patriarch of Venice, fo.r exgmple, he eml~hasized that "Catholic Action is pro'per to the laity and'n6t to the clergy. " .-Catholic Action is prop- :er!y-lay in character." (B, 108. ) When pope he offi, ciall~i ~, c~ristened this apostolate with a-"distinctive, and.surely-a_ very nobld name: Catholic Action" (A, 192), All in~all,- Piu~ used the term's~veral dozen ti~es: in letters to the - Catholics of Italy, tb. the Hierarchy_of France, to .thd Arch!: ~. bishop of Quebec, and iff writing to the'whole Catholic~ World: Since his pontificate, "Catholic-Acti~ri" has~ remaihed a t~chn~cal term both in papal documents andi~ " " other W.ritings that adhere accurately to-the terminology: of~- .,the popes in this matter.Today "Catl~olic Action"~ erly Si~hifies-both the rnand[~te~d organizations"and~ the ~apostolic activit~r of those Catholic laymen who officially participate i~n the apostolic mission of the hierarchy. . Doc6ments on Catholic Action - : " ¯ Pias X did more than give the- l~y apostolate a Janua(g, 19~6 PlUS X AND CATHOLIC ACTION name. He wrote so, me fifteen thousand words clearly explaining Catholic Action and insistihg that it be accu-rately pu[ into practice. While six main, documents contain his.teaching, yet three of these deserve special men~ tion. The first is a speech.deli.vered in the 1890's (B, .107- 10) ; the second is a sizable part of his first papal encyclical. E su'premi apostolatus (of. C) ; the third, and most impor-tant, is his apostolic letter, II fermo proposi}o (The_ Firm Resolution; c~." D.) In fact, II fermo proposito, published justforty years ago, v~as for its time the 16ngest andmost dethiled 6f all papal pr0n0uncemen.ts on Catholic A~tion. It runs throUgh-tWenty-seven pages of the Acta Sanctad 8edis (The Acts-of the Holy See-) and is one of the rela- (ively few documents fotind there in tw~ languages: the original Italiafi and a Latin translation. A note prefixed to the Latin version gives the reason: although addressed to the Catholics of Italy, its very important teachin~g can be exceedingly profitable to Catholics everywhere (D, 741). The immediate effect of this letter upon the people of Italy was observed by the Roman correspondent-of The Tablet. Writing pack to London just two weeks after it ¯ was.released to thepublic he reports: "Not since the Ency.c-lical Return Novarum, published about fourteen years ago, has a Papal document excited such deep and ~eneral inter-est all through Italy as Pius X's last pronouncement on the Catholic movement" (cf. E). ° The far-reaching result 6f II fermo propos(to can be seen in Pius XI's voluminous writing on his fav6rite subject, where many of its phrases and nearly every one of its ~nain ideas are repeated (cf. F). Let us, therefore, r~view Pius X's teaching on Catholic Action b~rattempting, in some sort of logical order, a simple summary of what he said and firrote. We shall present his six main documents in 6he composite picture. In doing so we shall give.his teaching, as far as possible, in his own 5 JOSEPH V. SOMME.RS ReOieto [or Religious words. This will l~elp assure his views being seen in their own light, And for those familiar with the more recent directives of°Pius XI and Pius XIII it will be,convincing evidefice that many of their ideas have been taken from the words of their zealous predecessor. A Problem and an Answer Let us begin, then, where Plus began, with the pr0b-lem: The issue--as he saw it---concerned the salvation of souls, wh~ lived in a world that was in large part detached from the Church and heedless of the laws of God. Secu-larism was.the chief foe that fought against Plus in Man-tun, Venice, and Rome. In his first official letter as Patri: arch ofVenice, Cardinal Sart0 descril~ed the situation thus:. God is driven out of politics by this theory of the separation of Church and state. He is driven . . . from the laws by a morality which is guided by' the senses alone; from the schools.by the aboli-tion of religious instruction~; from Christian marriage; now deprived of'the grace of the sacrament . "q~re.must fight this great error of modern times, ~the enthronement of:man in the place of-God. (G,~ 46.7.) - Again in his'first encyclical he recalled the problem: "that enormous and detestable wickedness, so characteristic of. ou~ time.--the substitution, of man fbr God" (C, 8). This evil was directly opposed to his own firm resolve to restore all.things in Chris(. While still Cardinal he stated plainly th~ connection between secularism and the lay apostolate, between the problem and the solution: Catholic ACtion [he said] is properly lay in character for another reason . At one time the rights of Jesus Christ, of the Chflrch and "of the Pope entered into th.e, legis!ation of all ChriStian states . Now it is no longer so. The Church, the Pope, are no longer recog-nised as such and no longgr form part of the social organism;-they . are relegated to the sphere of.common rights; nay, they.ar~ even con~ sidered as enemies . Since these things are so; who is it that must danuar~l, 1946 PlUS X AND (~ATHOLICoACTION "~ stir himself to defend the violated rights'of . . . tl~e P6pe, lbe Church and the Bishops? In otl~er times it was the P01~es and the Bishops who intervenedin defence Of "their children. ; today it mustibe, the children wh6 will rise up in defence of their father, the laity .in ' defence of the Hierarchy: . . . (B, 108.) " ' In his first encyclical he outlined the means necessary to restore all things in christ. Urging ~:he bishops first to have as their.chief care the formation of their seminarians and priests to holiness and truth, Plus then exhorted them to instruct their people in the faith and to attract ~inful hearts "tO Christ by conspicuous charity. Finally, as -though reaching a climax; the new Pope pleadedfor the lay apostolate. He expanded this call till it filled one-eighth of his whole encyclical. He speaks to the.bishops of the world: ~. In this arduous task of the restoration of thi~ huma~ race in Christ neitl~er you nor your clergy should exclude all assistance, We know that God-recommended every:o~ne to have a care for his neighbor (Eccli. 17 : 12). For it is not priests alone, but all the faithful with-out exception, who must concern themselves with the intei'ests of God and souls not,'0f course, acco~rding to their own views; but always under the direction and orders of the bishops. ". (C, 12-3. Italics are ins~erted.) ' Here then is the world problem and a papal solutionl .In [t~ modern organized form Catholic Action has been developed as an integral part of the Church's answer to the " ~chief modern i~roblem. If God's laws arein great part dis-placed from politics, from public education, from the civil " marriage contract and the average home,, from big business and smart entertainment, then °the Church in her. efforts to restore all things in Christ will make special use of laymen. Who else ar~ better situated to re-Christianize labor and business, family life and entertainment? It is precisely the " [aity's place in the world that puts them-in a strategic posi-tibn to influence the reconstruction of these phases of life JOSEPH V. SOMMERS Reoiew 1o~ Religibus according: to the Christian pattern. Hence. the Pope's insistence ihat the laity collabor.ate in the ¯work for, God and souls. , ' - Explaining the Answer Already we have seen in broad.outline what Plus X .mteaecahnisn gb ym Coraet h loglsiecl yA.'c Wtiohnat. aIct croermdianign tso thoi mex ias mthien aei mhis ¯ of .Catholic Action? W~at are the methods it should employ?- What relation has Catholic. Action to the pope, the bishops, and priests? What are the effects to be looked fort Finally, what is the importance of Catholic Action in the eyes of Pius X? These are the main qi~estk;ns to be considered. 'Others of a secondary natu.re will be treated more briefly. ", In explaining the lay apostolat~ Plus, first and last, -~alled for ACTION. These are perhaps his str0nges.t words: - Catholic Action will not please certain timid souls, who thougl~ go~d living, are so attached to their habitual quiet ahd so afraid of every innovation that they believe that it is quite sufficient to pray, because God knows b~st how to defend the faith, humiliate His ene-mies, and make the Church triumphant. But these good people, whom I would call optimists, will' wait in vain for society to re-Christianize itself simply by tthe.prayers 6f the°good. Prayer is absolutely necessary because in the ordinary economy of salvation God does not concede graces "except to him who prays, but India and Japan would never have been converted by.tlSe prayers alone of Xa~rier: the.Apostles would never have conquered the world, if the~ .had not done the work of heroes and martyrs. It is necessary; there-gore, to join pr~iyer with hction,~' : There are others [he continues] who in order to justify .their inertia, give the worid up for lost, since~ they see in it.so many evil~!. ¯ Tl"ies~ people, whom I would call pessimists," say that it is so much wasted time to talk of Committees, of Circles, of SocietieS,~that they . will never :accomplish anything. It is sufficient' to remin~ these wearied and dispirit.ed souls that this kind of work of Catholic Action: danuarg,-1946 PIUS X AND" ~(THOLIC~ AC:'TION hag bee~ commanded by the Pope . (B, 1"09.) ¯ Up to the prese.nt, [he remarks] we have been like rabbits, too frightened" of everything and everyone to institute the Parochial Committee [local unit of Catholic Action], in order not to give offence. To whom could the Committee give offence? .To two cl;isses of people only: to the bad, and if we gave way. to them .we would. have ~0'stop all good wo.rks; and to those good people who shrink f~0m innovations. We must tell these last clearly and distinctly that these i~{novations~are both beautiful and good; that as the ba~d uhite; so also must the good: that if they are innovations they ar~ desired by the Vicar ofJesus Christ, and that he wh~o does not obey th~ Pope does not obey God.(B, 110.) Good Example a Prerequisite for LayApQstles- But as Words, and energetic hction [the Pope adds elsewhere] are' of no avail unless . . . accompan~i, ed . byexample, the necessary characteristic which should shine~ forth intall the members of e.very Catholic association is that of openly manifesting their faith by the holiness of ~their lives . . . and by ~he exact observance o'f the laws Of G0d~and 6f the Church. (H, 10.) Ifthe soul is not thus regulated [Pius observes] it will be diffi- Cult to stir others °to go6d, and, strength will fail for bearing perse-veriiagly th~ weariness Which every apost61ate brings with it: the calumnies of efiemies, the'coldness and want of he!p from men good in themselves, and sometimes the jealousy of~friends and fellow-- workers-~--excusable, doubtless, on account of the weakness 6f human nat.ure, but very harmful, and a cause of discord, offence, and quar-rels. (A,'193.) Good example, "therefore, and the solid virtue under-lying it are necessary if Catholik Action is to attain its end. With this in miffd the Holy Father remarks: .To carry it out rightly; we.mus~ have divine grace, and~the apostle receives none if he is not united to Christ. Only when we have formed Jesus Christ within.ourselves shall we more easily~ be able, to ,g!ve Him back ~o the family and to society. (A, 193.) The Aims o~ Catholic Action , ~ .~ C:~tholic A~tion is a~lay apostolate to restore allthings in Christ. In It [ermo proposito Plus adds further: 9 Reuiewfor RHigiou~ It is plainly necess.ary that every one take pa.rt i'n a work so impor-tant, not only,for the sanctification of his 'own soul,' but also i'n order ~o spread and more fully extend the Kingdom of God in individuals, in families and in society---each one working according to his own strength for his neighbor's good . (A, 189-90.) Ou~ pre.d.ecessor Leo XIII . pointed out . . . in the famous encyclical Return Novarum and in later documents the object, to which Catholic Actign should be specially devoted, namely, the prac-tical solution of the social question according to Christian principles. (A, 194-5.) Here the italics are in the text---one of the few instances in his apostolic letter on Catholic Action where Plus X thus undersdored his own words. He wished this last sentence to point like a spotlight at what he Considered the most impo.rtant work for the organ.ized lay apostolate of his day. He goes on to e~plain-his point: You see well what support is given to the Church by those chosen bands of Catholics whose aim is to unite all their forces in order to c6mbat anti-Christian civilization by every just and lawful means . : to reinstate Jesus Christ in the family, the school, and society: to re-establish the principle that human authority, represents that of God; to take intimately to heart the interests of the .people, especially those of the working and agricultural classes, not only by the inculcation of r.el!gion . but also by striving . . . to soothe theii sufferings, and by wise measures to improve their economic con-dition: to endeavour, consequently, to make public laws conf0rmhble to justice, to amend or suppress those' which are not so: finally, with a true Catholic spirit," to defend and support .the rights of God in everything, and the no less sacred rights of the Church. All'these works, of which Catholi~ laymen are the principal sup-po~. ters and promoters . . . constitute what is generally known by a distinctive, and surely a very noble name: Catholic Action . °(A, 191-2.) Re-Christianized in its civic, social, and ~conomic life, Civilization will then pr6vide a wholesome environment for those phases of individual and group life tl"iat are spe~ cifically and direcdy religious andmoral. It was the wis- 10 danuarg, 1946 PIUS X AND CATHOEIC ACTION - dom of Plus X to realize~that to Christianize individuals, a quick and sure way is to Christianize their surroundin'gs which unremittingly exert an influence for good or evil¯ For it is the environment which largely forms or deforms the individual, Christianizes or de-Christianizes him. On ~his account Pius repeatedly insiste~l that the Catholic laity help to establish and extend the Kifigdom of Christ not 8nly in individuals but also in families and in ,society. The Means to This Christian Restoration ;'The diffusion of revealed truth, the exercise of Chris-tian. virtue, and the spiritual and corporal works of mercy" (A, 190) are thegeneral means recommended to effect this restoration. 'Especially in his encyclical, Acerbo Nimis (On the Teaching of Christian Doctrine; I, 623), did Plus X insist upon the diffusion of revealed truth as a neces-sary means to restore men's minds and actions to Christ. Here too, he stressed the.need of the laity sharing in the edu-catibnal work of the hierarchy by his command that the Confraternity of Christian Doctrine be established in everv parish.in the world. Pihs likewise u.rged Christian charity. But the charity be wished to see exercised was not conniving and short-sighted tolerance. ¯ . . The first duty of charity [he says] does not lie in the toleration of erroneous convictions, however sincere they may bd~ nor in theo- - retical ok practical indifference for "the errors or vices in which we s~e our fellow-men plungdd, but in zeal for their inkellectual and moral improvement as well as for their material well-being. (d, 404.) Catholic Action as an organization is not a political party; .it has npthing to do with party politics. But its members as individual Catholics, Plus pointed, ou't, must use their civic right to vote and to hold office in order to pro-mote justice and truth. This section of I1 [ermo propgsito had particular appl.ication to the political situation in Italy JOSEPI~I V. SOMMERS ~ " ¯ "Review/:or Religious durir~g the ~first decade of this century. ~ Tile.wish of. the ~ Pope, howevei, extends to allCatholic citizens and direct~ them to use,, wherever possible, the democratic processes of government to bifild civil society according to the Christian .blueprint. . Other :means recommended by Pius, becau~e of their usefulness to bring about coope.ration and to arouse.enthu-siasm, were regional, and national congresses of 'the Cath-olic lay movements. These are his own.words: " ¯ . . In order to renew and increase in all Catholic undertakings the necessary enthusiasm, to give to.their "promoters and n~mbers an o~portunity ~o'f ~eeing and becoming atquainted with each other,.to draw ever more closely the bonds.of brotherly love, to enkindle in one another a more.~burning zeal for e~cient action, ,a.nd to provide, for the better establishmefit and,sp'.rea.d of the same works, a wonde~ful help .will be found in the meeting from time to time, according.to the Jules already; given by the Holy See, of general or local Con-gresses of. Catholics; and they ought to be a soler~n manifestati6n of Catholic faith, and a common festival of harm6ny and peace. (A, 198.) ~ : Relation of Catholic Action to the Clergg "It remains for us to treat of another point of the highest importance, namely the relation. which all the w6rks of Catholic Action should, bear to ecclesiastical authority" (A, 198). Those works immediately con-nec, ted' with '.the spiritual .and pastoral ministry of the Church,, having a religious a~m intended directly for the good of souls, should submit in every smallest particular to the authority of th~ bishops. But other works of Cath- 61ic Action de.signed .chiefly to restore and promote in iZhrist true Christian civilization have greater freedom, although the.y too are dependent on the advice and direction of ecclesiastical authority, inasmuch as they must conform to the principles of Christian faith and morality, . Although Catholic Action is proper to the laity and danuarg, 1946 PlUS X AND C/~THOLIC ACTION not tO the clergy, yet priests have the duty of guiding and encouraging its de.velopment. The Pope's ideals are rather high. He advised the French. bishops to choose from among their priests . ~. men who are active and level-headed, possessing the degrees of doct6r ¯ in philosophy and theology, and a thorough knowledge of the history of-ancient and modern civilization, and apply them to the less ele-. vated and more practical study of social science, in order that at.the "right time they may be put at the head of your Catholic Action. (d, 407). To the Italian bishops, he says: - . The co-.operation of the clergy in the works of Catholic .Act.i0n has a deeply religious end: it will never become a hindrance, but will be a help to their spiritual ministry by enlarging its sphere and mul-tii~ lying its fruits. ('A, 200). Results o[ Catholic Action; Its imp'ortance The good example given by a great army of.soldiers of Christ will be of mu~ch greater avail in attracting and per-. suading men than words and learned dissertations. In Our First Encyclical to the Bishops of the World, in which We echo all that Our glorious Predecessors had laid ~town c~ncerning the Catholic-Action df the laity, We d~clared that this action was. deserving of'the highest praise, and was indeed necess;iry in tile rpres-. ent condition of the Church and of society (H; 3). Speaking t~ the whole Catholic world in his encyclical on - St. Charles Borromeo, the Pope again praised that "Cath-olic Action which We have frequently recommended': as. most efficacious for the well-being of civil society (K, 246). Witl~ these public statements as a backdrop we can bet~ ter appraise.an incident narrated by Abb~ Chautard in The Soul of the Apostolate. Happening to be one day'amidst a group of Cardinals, the Holy Father sai'~ to them :" "What is the thing most necessary at the present, time to save society ?~' "Buikl Catholic schools," said one. 13 JOSEPH V. SOMMERS "Review,,for Religious "No." "Multiply churches," replied another. "No aga~." "~ncrease the recruiting of the clergy," said a third. ~ "No, no," replied the Pope; "what is most necessary at the pres-ent time, is to have in each parish a .qroup of fat.linen at the same time virtuous, well=instructed, determined and reallg apostolic.'" (L, 161- Not All Lay Organizations Are Catholic Action " After having gi~ren a lengthy explanation of the fu!l, meaning of C~itholic Action, Plus concludes, "such are the 'characteristics, aims, and conditions of Catholic0Action~" ¯ And he adds: This does not exclude the favoring and promotion of other works bf diverse.kinds and varied organizations, all equally aiming at this or that particular good of society and of the people, and at the revival of Christian civilization under various aspects. (A, 197~ The special and particular aim of these other organizations is what first distinguishes them from Catholic Action, the aim of Which is co~bxtensive with ~hat of th~ Church, The Pope goes on to add two further pbi~ts of differbncel' '.'The~e works arise, for the most part from the zeal of individuals; they are spread throughout separate dioceses and are "sometimes united in more extended federations" (A, 198), C~tholic Action, on the other hand, arises out of obedience to the pdp~,; in design it is world-wide. -. Were his directions being followed? In Italy, Catholic Action had developed-into four national organizations, each independent of the others. In Belgium the Catholic Association for Belgian Youth was coming into being, while in France a Similar organization was fairly well established. Even the Far East felt the influence of Plus X's apostolic i~ff0rt. In 1912 the Union of Chines~ Catholic Action had ,. been begui~. ' " 14 danuaq¢, 1946 PlUS X ANDCATHOLIC ACTION Cathoiic.Action l~s a C-bristian Tradition Pius. X's teaching on Catholic Action is but one chapter in the.long history~of the.lay apostolate. For~.Cath01ic Action is not an innovation of our day.Catholic Action is "more than an answer to a modern.problem; it is the°return to a Christian tradition. It~wa~ the practice of many of the faithful at~the time ofSt. Paul. It was re¢ommende.dby St. Augustine, St. Thomas !~quinas, and the Fathers of the Vatican Council. ¯ .In Pius X's.own words:: "It has always come to thi~ aid-of the Church; and the Chu~ch.:has always -welcomed~ and -blessed it, although it has acted, dn: various ways in accordance v,)ith the age" :(A, 19 2 ). " ":" _.~ Pius X in resgoring this . Christiai~ tradition gav~ detailed instructions on the lay apostolate that' far exceeded the known Writings of .any previous pope, In ~Snclusion:, however, it.wou!d be wall to note that .~he CatholicACt~ofi which Pius X had so carefully nu}tured was to develop even~ mbre. during the".p0ntificate of Pius XI. For itl was left to.this latter Pontiff to define~moreexactlY the-many details which now Characterize! official Catholic ~Action .(~cf. M). Yet despite these new qualifications, at.least-two-thirds of all his teaching can be found substantiall.y in the writing of Pius X. These_then are Pius X's contributions. He marked the way:-by restricting the term Catholic Action ~o the laity's share in the apostolic mission of the hierarchy; by setting the tinivershl aim for Catholic Action to establish, defend, and fully extend the Kingdom of Christ in. indi-viduals, in families, and in the whole, of society; by stressing its spedal necessity in our times; by giving it pre-eminence among the means recommended for the recon-struction of the social order according to a Christian pat-tern: by basing the obligation of Catholic Action on mem-bership in the Mystical Body, on the-law of charity, and. :~IoSEPH V. SOMMER~ -. obedience, to the pope; by outlining its subordination tO the direction of the hierarchy; and by., recalling t~) priests their obligation to gui~le and encourage this apostolic organiza-tion among the laity~ REFERENCES (A) The Pope and the People. Select letters and addresses on socia.I questions Popes Leo XIII, Pius X, Benedict XV, and Plus XI. The Catholic Truth Society~ London~ 1943¯ (B) Rest.oring All Things, by ,John Fitzsimons .and Paul McGuire. Sheed,and Ward, New york, 1938. Quotations are used here with the per.mission of the publishers. (.C) The Catholic Mind, I: "Encyclical Letter of.Our Hoiy Father Pius~X." (For the original text see Acta Sanctae Sedis, XXXVI, 129,139.) .(D) "'ll fermo proposito,'" in Acta Sanctae Sedis, XXXVII, 741-767. (See also The Pope and The People, 189-201, for an English translation of most of this apostolic letter.) .(E) The Tablet, CVI, 17~ "Correspondence: Rome." (F) A Manu.al oi Catholic Action, by Luigi Civardi. Translated by C. C. Mar-tindale, S.J. Sheed and Ward, New York, 1943. (See pages 12-45 .for a cursory-view of Pius X's in.fluence on the later development of Catholic Ac-tion.) ~(G)" Life of ~itts'X, by F. A. Forbes. Kenedy, New Y~rk, 1918. (Quotation i~ used here with the permission of the publishers.) (I'I) The Catbollc Mind, II, 3-10: "Popular Catholic Action.". (See also Acta Sanctae Sedis, XXXVII~ 339~345.) (I) "'Acecbo Nimis'" in the Acta 8anctae Sediso XXXVII. (d) .The Tablet, CXVI, 402-7: "The Pope and 'Le Sillon.' "''(See also Acta Apostolicae Sedis, II, 607.-33.)- (K) The Catholic. Mind, VIII: Encyclical.on St. Charles Borromeo. (L) "The Soul of the Apostolate., by~ J. B. Chautard. Translated by 3. A. Mo~ ran, S.M. The Mission Press, Techny, I11., 1945. (The quotation is used here with the permission of the Abbey of Gethsemani.) (M) What Does'the Pope Say About Catholic Action? Pellegri~i, Sydney,' Aus-tralia, 1937. See also Fundamental Pci~ciples of Catholic ACtion, by Fer-na~ nd Lelotte, S.2. Translated by ,J. P. Kelly. Australian National Sect. of Catholic Action, Melbourne. (This lafter book is soon to be published by The Ap0stolate Press, South Bend, Ind.)' 16 Splri :ual Readings rom :he Council Tren!:--II!* Augustine Klaas, S.J. Sacrament of Penance: Necessitg~ and Institution ~F IN ALL thos~ regenerated such gratitude were given toGod that they constantly safeguarded the justice received in baptism by His bounty,.: and grace, there would have been no need for another sacrament beiides that of baptism to be instituted for the remission of sins. But since God, rich in merc~l (117), knoweth our frame (118). He has a remedy of life even to those v~ho may after baptism have delive'red themselves up to the s~rvitude of sin and the power of the devil, namely, the sacrament of penance, by which the benefit of Christ's death is applied to those who have fallen after b.aptism. Penance was indeed, necessary.at all times for all nien who had stained themselves by mortal sin, even for those who desired to be cleansed by" the sacrament of baptism, in order to obtain grace and justice; so that their wickedness being renounced and amended, they might with a hatred of.sin and a Sincere sorrow of heart detest so great an offense against God. Wherefore the Prophet says: Be converted and do penance for all gout "iniquities, and iniquity shall not be gout ruin. (.119) The Lord also said: Except you do penance, you shall all likewise perish (120); and Peter the Prince of the Apostles, recom-mending penance to sinners about to receive baptism, said: Do pen- ¯ ance and be baptized every one of you. (121) Moreover, neither before the coming of Christ was penan.ce a sacrament nor is it such since His coming to an~rone before baptism. But the Lord then espe-cially instituted the sacrament of penafice when, after being risen from the dead, He breathed upon His disciples, and said: Receive ge the ']-Ioly Ghost, whose sins you shall forgive, they are forgiven them, and whose sins you shall retain, they are retained. (122) The con-sensu~ of all the Fathers has always acknowledged that by this,action so sublime and words so clear the power of forgiving and retaining 117) Ephesians 2:4 119) E~echiel 18:30 121) Acts2:38. 118) Psalms 102:14 120) Luke 13:5 122) John 20.:22 f *Selected from H. J. Schroe_der, O.P., Canons and Decrees of the Council of T~ent, (St. Louis, Herder, 1.94 I). 17 AUGUSTINE KLAAS sins was gi-v.en to the Apostles and their lawful successors for recon-ciling the faithful who have fallen after baptism, and the Catholic Church with goo.d reason repudiated and condemned as heretics the Novi~tians, who of old stubbornly denied that power of forgiving. (123) Penance Differs from Baptism ¯ Besides, it is clear: that this sacrament is in many respects different from baptism, For apar~ from the fact that in matter and form, which constitute the essence of a. sacrament, it differs very widely, it is beyond question that the minister of baptism need not be a judge, since the Church exercises judgment on no on~ who has not entered it through the gate of baptism. For what have I'to do, says St. Paul, to judge them that are without? (124) It is o~herwise with regard to those who are of th~ household of the faith, whom Christ the Lord has once by the laver of,baptism made members of His own body. (125). For these, if they should.afterward have defiled themselves by some crime, He wished not to have cleansed by the repetition of bap-tism, since that is in no manner lawful in" the Catholic Church, but to be placed as culprits before-this tribunal that by the sentence of the priests they may be absolved, not only once but as oft}n a~s, r~pentant of the sins'committed, they should turn themselves thereto. More-over, the.fruit of baptism is one thing, that c~fpenance another~ For By baptism we put on Christ ~126) and are made in Him an entirely new creatu're, receiving a full and complete remission of all sins; to which newness and integrity, however, we aie by no means able to arrive by the sacrament of penance without many tears~and labors on our part, divine justice demanding this, so that penance has rightly .been called by the Holy Fathers a laborious kind of baptism. This sacr~iment of penance is for those who have fallen after baptism neces-sary for salvation, as baptism is for those who have not yet been regenerated. Forms and Fruits of the" Sacrament The holy council teaches further,more, that the form of the sacra-ment of penance, in which its efficacy chiefl.y consists, are those words of'the minister: I absolve thee, etc., to which are indeed laudably added certain prayers according to the custom of holy Church, which, 123) Eusebius, Hist. Eccl., VI, c. 43 124)"See I Corinthians 5:12 125) I Corinthians i2:13 126) Galatians 3:27 JanuaGI, 1946 READINGS FROMTRENT however, do not ~)y any means belong to the essence of the form nor are they necessary for the administration of the sacrament.But th~ acts of the penitent himself, namely, contrition, confession and satis-faction, constitute the matter of this sacrament, which acts, inasmuch as. they are by God's institution required in the pe.nitent for the integrity o'f the sacrament and-for the full and complete remission of sins, are for this reason called the parts of penance.~ B~ut that Which is signified and produced by this sacrament is, so far as its force and efficacy are concerned, reconciliation with God, which sometimes,.in persons who are pious andwho receive this ~acrament with devotion, is wont to be followed by peace and serenity of conscience with an exceedingly great consolation of spirit. ' Contrition Contrition, which holds the first place ~mong the aforesaid' acts of the penitent, is a sorrow of mind and a detestation for sin com-mitted with the purpose of not sinning in the future. This feeling of contrition was at all times necessary for obtaining the forgiveness of sins and thus indeed it prepares one who has failen after baptism'for the remission of sins, if it is united .with" confidence in the divine mercy and with the desire to perform the other things that are reqtiired to receive this sacrament in the proper manner. The holy council declares therefore, that-this contrition implies not only an abstention from sin and the res61ution and beginning of a new life, but also a hatred of the old, ac~:ording to the statement: Cast away from yo.u all your transgressions by which you have transgressed, and make to yourselves a new heart and a new spirit. (127) And certainly l~e who has pondered those lamentatiohs of the saints: To ~thee only have I sinned, and have done evil before thee (128) ; I have labored.in my groanfngs,'everg night I will washmg bed (129); I will recount to thee all rny years in the bitterness of my soul (I 30), and others of this kind, will easily understand that they issued from an overwhelming hatred of their past life and from a profound detestation of sins., The council teaches furthermore, that though it happens sometimes that this contrition is perfect through charity and reconciles man to God before this sacrament is actually, received, this recon.ciliation, nevertheless, is not to be ascribed to the contrition 127) Ezechiel 18:31 128) Psalms 50:6. 13:0) lsaias 38:15 129) Psalms 6:7 19 AUGUSTINE KLAA8 Revie~v [or Religious itself, without a desire of the sacrament, which desire is included in it. As to imperfect contrition, which is called attrition, since it com-monly arises either from the consideration of the heinousness of sin or from tile fear of, hell and of punishment, the council declares that if it renounces the desire tO sinand hopes for pardon, i~ not only does not make one a hypocrite and a greater sinner, but is even a gift of God and an impulse of the Holy Ghost, not indeed as already , dwelling ~n the p.enitent, but only moving him, with which assistance the_peditent prepares a way for himself unto justice. And though with.out the sacrament of penance it cannot per se lead the sinner to justification, it does, howev.er, dispose ~im to obtain the grace of God in the sacrament of penance. For, struck salutarily by .this fear, the Nini¢ites, moved by the dreadful preaching of Jonas,-did penance and o" obtained mercy fro~m the Lord. (131) F~lsely therefore do some accuse Catholic writers,, as if they maintain that the sacrament .of penance confers grace without any pious exertion on the part of those receiving it, something that the Church of God has never taught br ever accepted. Falsely also do their assert that contrition is extorted and forced, and notfree and voluntary. Confession From the institution of the sacrament of penance as already explained, the universal Church has always understood that the complete, confession of sins was also instituted by the Lord and is divine law 'necessary for all who have, fallen after baptism (132): because our Lord Jesus Christ, when about to ascend from earth to heaven, left behind Him'priests, His own vicars (133), as rulers and judges, to whom all the mortal sins into which the faithful of Christ may have fallen should be brought in order that ~hey may, in virtue "of the power of the keys, pronounce the sentence of remission or retention of sins. For it is evident that priests could not have cised this judgment without.a knowledge of the matter, nor could they have observed justice in imposing, penalties, had the faithful declared their sins in general only and not specifically and one .by one. From whi.ch it is clear that all mortal sins of which they have kno.wl-e. dge after a diligent self-examinatiom must be enumerated by .the penitents in confession, even though they are most secret and have 131) Jonas 3:5; Mat-thew 12":41 : Luke l 1:32 132) Luke 5:14; 17:14; Idohnl:9 133) Matthew 16:19: John 20:23 Januar~l, 1946 READINGS FROM TRENT been cohamitted 0nly.against the last two precepts of the Deca-logue (i34); which sins sometimes injur~ the soul more grievously arid are more dangerous than those.that are committed openly. Venial sins, on the other band, by which we are not excluded from the grace of God and into which we fall more frequently, though the~ may be rightly and profitably and without any presumption declared in con-fission, as the practice of pious people evinces, may, nevertheless, be omitted without guilt and can be. expiated by many other remedies. But since all mortal sins, even those of thought, mak~ men children ot: wrath ('135) and enemies of God, it is necessary t6 seek pardon of all of them from God by an open and humble confession. While. therefore the faithful of Christ strive to confess all sins that come to their memory, they no doubt lay all of them before the divine mercy for forgiveness; while those'v~ho do otherwise and knowingly con-ceal certain ones, lay nothing before the divine goodness to be for-given through the priest; for if one sick be ashamed to make known his wound to the physician, the .latter does not remedy what he does not know. It is evident furthermore, that.thbse circumstances that change the species of the sin 5re also to be explained in-confession, for without }hem the sins themselves are neither integrally set forth by the p~nitent nor are they known to the judges, and it would be imtSossible for tfiem to estimate rightly the grievousness o~'the crimes. and to impose the "punishment due to the penitents on account of them. Hence it is unreasonable to teach that these circumstances have been devised by idle men, or that one circumstance only is to be con-fessed, namely, to have sinned against another. It is also malicious to say that ,confession, commanded to be made in this manner, is impos-sible, or to call it a torture of consciences: for it is known that in the Church nothing else is required of penitents than that each one, after he has diligently examined himself' and searched all the folds and corners of his conscience, confess those sins by which he remem-bers to have mo~tally offended his Lord and God; while,the other sins of which he has after diligent thought no recbllection, are unde~- stood to bein a general way included in the same confession; for which sins we confidently say with the Prophet: From rag secret sins cleanse me, 0 Lord. (136) But the difficulty of such a confession and the shame of disclosing the sins might indeed appear a burden-some matter, if it were not lightened by so many and so great advan- 134) Deuter_onomy 5:21 135) Ephesians 2:3 136) Psalms 18:13 AUGUSTINE KEAAS Review for Religious rages and consolations, 'which are most certainly bestowed by abso-lution upon all who approach this sacrament worthily. Moreover, as regards the manner of confessing secretly to a priest alone, although Christ has not forbidden that one may in expiation for his crimes and for his own humiliation, for an example to others as well ~ts for the edification of the Church thus scandalized, confess his offenses pub-licly, yet this is not commanded by divine.precept; nor would it be very prudent to enjoin by human law that offenses, especially ~ecret ones, should be divulged by a public confession. Wherefore, sifice secret sacramental confession, which holy Church has used from the beginning and still uses, has always been recommended by the.most holy and ancient Fathers with great and unanimous agreement, the empty calumny of those who do not fear to teach that it is foreign to the divine command, is of "human origin and owes its existence to the Fathers assembled in the Lateran Council, is convincingly disproved. For the Church did not through the~Lateran: Council decree that the faithful "of Christ should confess a thing that she recognized as of divine law and necessary, but that the precept of confession should be complied with by each and all at least once a year when they have attained the age of discretion. Hence the salutary custom of con- .re[sing during that sacred and most acceptable period of Lent is now observed in the whole Church to the great benefit of the souls of the faithful, which custom this holy council completely indorses and sanctions as pious and worthy of retention. Satisfaction Finally, in regard to satisfaction, which of all the parts of pen-ance, just as it is that which has at all times been recommended to the Christian people by our Fathers, so" it is the one which chiefly in our age is under the high-sounding pretext of piety assailed by those who ~ave an appearance, of piety, but have denied the power thereof (137), ~he holy council ~leclares that is absolutely false and contrary to the'word of God, that the guilt is never remitted by the Lord' without the entire punishment being remitteff also. For clear and outstanding ex.amples.are found in the "sacred writings (138), by which, besides divine tradition, this error is refuted in the plainest manner. Indeed the nature of divine justice seems to demand that 137) See II Timothy 138) Genesis 3:16 f; 20:11 f; II Kings 3:5 Numbers 12:14 f; 12:13 f 22 January, 1946 READINGS FROM TREN~T those who throhgh ignorance have sinned before baptism 1~ received into grace in one manner, and in another those who, after having been liberated from the servitude of sin. and of the devil, and after having received the gift of theHoly Ghost, have not feared knowingly to violate °the ¯temple of God" (139) and to grieve the Holy Spirit. (140) And it is :in keeping with divine clemency that sins be not. thus pardoned us without any satisfaction, lest seizing the occasion and considering sins as trivial and offering insult and affront to the. Holy Spirit (141) we should fall into graver ones. treaguring up to ourseloes wrath against the day of wrath.-(142) For without doubt, these satisfactions greatly restrain from sin, check as it were with a b.it, and make penitents more cautious and vigilant in the future; they also remove remnants of sin, and by acts of the opposite " - ' virtues destroy habits acquired by evil living. Neither was there ever in the Church of God any way held more certain to ward off °impending chastisement by the Lord than that men perform with true sorrow of mind these works of penance. (43) Add to this, that" while We by making satisfaction suffer for "our sins, we are made con-formable to Christ Jesus who satisfied for our sins (144). from whom is all our sufficiency (145), having thence also a most certain ~ledge, that if we suffer .with fiiro, we shall also be gloriI~ed with him. (1.46) Neither is this satisfaction which we discharge for our sins so our own as not to be through Christ Jesus: for we who can do nothing of ourselves as of ourselves, can do all things with the . cooperation of Him who strengthens us. (147) Thus man has not wherein to glory, but all our glorying is in Christ (148), in wl~om we live (149), in whom we merit, in whom. we make satisfaction, bringing forth fruits worthy of penance (150), which have their efficacy from Him, by Him are offered to the Eather, and through Him are a~ccepted by the Father. .The priests of the Lord must therefore, so far as reason and prudence suggest, impose s~lutary and suitable satisfactions, in keeping with the nature of the crimes and tBe ability of the penitent; o_therwise, if they should connive at sins and deal too leniently with penitents, imposing certain very light 139) See I Corinthians 3:17 140) Ephesians 4:30 141) Hebrews 10:29 142) Romans 2:5: James 5:3 143) Matthew 3:2. ~: 4:17; 11:21 144) Romans 5:10 ¯ 145) See II Corinthians 3:5 146) Romans 8:17 147) See II Corinthians 3:5 ; Philippians 4."13 148) See I Corinthians 1:31 ; II Corin-thians 10:17: Galatians 6 : 14 149) Acts 17:28 150) Matthew 3:8: Luke 3:8 AUGUSTINE KLAAS works for very grave offenses, they might° become partakers in the sins of others. But let them bear in mind that the satisfaction they impose be not only for the protection, of a new life and a remedy against infirmity, but also for the atonement and punishment of past sins; for the early Fathers al~o believed and taug.ht that the keys of the priests were bestowed not to loose only but also to bind. (151) . It.was riot°their understanding, moreover, that the sacrament, of pen-ance is a tribunal of wrath or of punishments, as no Catholic ever understood that through our satisfactions the efficacy of the merit and satisfaction of our.Lord Jesus Christ is either obscured 0r in any way diminished; but since the innovators wish to understand it sd, they teach, in ~rder to destroythe efficacy and use of satisfaction, that a new life is the best penance. It (the council) teaches furthermore that the liberality of .the divine munificence is so great that we are .able through Jesus Christ to make satisfaction to God the Father not only by punishments .vo!untarily undertaken by ourselves to atone for-sins, or by those imposed by t~e¯ judgment of the priest according to the measure of our offense, but also, and this is the greatest proof of love, by the temporal afflictions imposed by God and borne patiently by us. 151) Matthew 16:19; John 20:23 OUR CONTRIBUTORS LOUIS J. PUHL is professor of" ascetical theolbgy at the Pontifical College ,Josephinum, Worthington, Ohio. AUGUSTINE KLAAS is professor of sacramental theology; THOMAS A. O'CONNOR, of sacred oratory; MALACHI ,J. DONNELLY~, of dogmatic theology;¯and ADAM C. ELLIS, of canon law at St. Mary's College; St. Marys,~Kansas. ,JOSEPH V.SOMMERS is completing his course of theology at St. Mary's College. "WHAT'S A DOMINICAN?" ¯ Original, attractive, well-illustrated, this vocation booklet should have a wide. appeal among boys in the uppper grades and in the first years of ~high school. It will surely help many to "better know and love [the] sons of St. Dominic . [and] aspire to join their ranks." For co1~ies address Brother Bede's~ Mailbox, Dominican House of Studies, River Forest, Illinois. Irnrnaculat:e I-lead: o[ h~ary Thomas A. O'Connorl S.J. ItTHERE ~ill be peace if: . ." " - | " Th~ Queen of Peace, the M6ther of God, is speaking. The scene is a rocky, barren cove out-side a small town, sixty miles north of Lisbon in Portugal. It is ~July 13, 1917. Three shepherd children, aged ten, nine, and seven, wide-eyed in wonderrrient, are listening to a beautiful Lady who has appeared to them. She is con-fiding a great secret to them: the secret of the world's peace. It is the message of Fatima. Marg's Message God wishes to establish in the wbrld devotion-to my Immacu-- late Heart. "If people do whatI have told you, many souls will be saved and will find peace. The war [World War I] is going to end, but if people do not cease to offend God. not much time Will el~ps~, and precisely during the next Pontificate. another and more te,rrible war [Wo, rld War II] will commence. When a night illhmined by an unknown light is seen, know that it is the signal which God gives you that the chastisement of the world for its many transgressions is at hand through war, famine. and persecution, of the Church and Of the Holy Father. "To avoid this, I ask for the consecration ot:" the world to mg Immaculate Heart, and Communion in reparation on the tirst Satur-dag of each month. If my requests are h~ard, Russia will be converted and there will be peace. Otherwise, great errors will be spread throughout the world, giving rise to wars and persecutions against the Church. The gobd will suffer much. Different nations will be destroyed; but in the end, my Immaculate Heart will triumph. The Holy Father will consecrate Russia to me; Russia will be converted, and an era of peace will be granted to humanity. Thus spoke Our Blessed Mother. It was ari answer to ¯, 25 THOMAS A. O'CONNOR Review for Religious the Catholic w~;rld's petition for peace. After all human efforts to secure peace had failed, Pope Benedict XV instructed the bishops of the world to communicate to all his ardent desire "that recourse be made to the, Heart of Jesus, Throne of grace, and to this Throne recourse be made .through Mary . To Mary, then,, who is the M6ther of Mercy and omnipotent by grace, let loving, and devout appeal go up from every corner of the earth." ~n her honor he had ~dded to the Litany of Loretto the title "Queen of Peace." Eight days after the Holy Father had made this request, Mary appeared to the children at Fatima. There will be peace if. there is established through-. out the world devotion to the Immaculate Heart of Mary. No matter what happens, in the end the Immaculate Heart of Mary will triumpfi. B~t the establishment and propagation of the devotion to the 'Immaculate Heart of Mary now can spare the world future.wars, suffering, and persecution. Tile Holy Father Fulfills Her Wishes On th~ 31st of October, 1942, Pope Pius XII conse-crated the world and Russia to the Immaculate Heart of Mary. These are his words: To thee, to thy Immaculate Heart in this, humanity's tragic'hour, we consign and consecrate ou'rselves in tinion not onl~r with the Mys-tical Body of ~thy Son, Holy Mother Church, now in such suffeiing and agony in so many places and sorely tried in so many ways, but also witti the entire world, torn by fierce strife, consumed in a fire of hate, victim of its own wickedness . "Give peace to the peoples separated by error or by discord, and espdcia!ly to those who profess such singular devotion to thee and in whose homes an honored place was ever accorded thy venerated icon (today perhaps often kept hidden to await better days): biing them° back to the one fold of Christ under the one true shepherd. The Holy Fatl~er has spokeh. He has consecrated the 26 January, 1946 ~ . IMMACULATE HEART OF MARY world and Russia to the Immaculate Heart of Mary. ' Now ¯ nations and cities, dioceses and parishes, families and indi-viduals have but to follow the lead of the Supreme Pontiff and to consecrate themselves to Mary's ImmacUlate Heart. "All the evil in the "world flows from the ignoring of God's, infinite Majesty and the complete neglect of His ¯ divine commands," Pope Pius XII once stated. The way back to God is through sinlessness and purity of life. Mary, the Immaculate One, is the way. She "our life, our ~weet-ness and our hope" is the. way to peace. The Hearts of Jesus and Mary Of all ,hearts, the most intimately united to and most closely identified with the,Sacred Heart .of Christ is the . Most Pure Heart of Mary, His Mother. It is not strange, then, that the devotion tO the Immaculate Heart of M~iry is very similar to devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus. ¯ - As the physical Heart of Christ, the symbol of His love, is the object of the devotion to the Sacred Heart, so in a Simila~ manner the object to which this devotion is directed is the physical Heart of'Mary considered as the symbol of her love for God and for man. In honoring Christ's heart, we honor His divine person; and in honoring Mary's Heart, we 'honor her whole person, sifice her Heart .but symbolizes the love which motivated her whole being in every action of her life. Finally, like devotion to the Sa~red Heart, devo. ¯ tion to the Immaculate Heart of Mary expresses itself, first . in the specific practices of acts of consecration and rep~ra.-" tion, and secondly in the more generic practices 6f prayer and love and imitation of her virtues. ¯ Consecrqtton In 1899 Pope L.eo XIII, performing what .he termed ' ¯ "theogreatest act" of hi~ pontifica~e,~consecrated the whole world to the Sacred Heart. - 27 TH~31~AS A. O'CONNOR ~ . . Reoieto/or Religious' Just as when the.n.ew.ly born Church lay.helpless under the yoke of .the Ca~'sars, there ~ppeated in~ the heavens a cross, at once the sign and cause of the marvellous victory that was soon to 'follow, so today before o.ur very eyes there appears another most happy and holy sign, "the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus, crowned by a brilliant cross set amid raging flames. In this Sacred" Heart. we shall place all our hopes; .from it, too, we ask and await salvatio~i. (Annum Sacrum.) The:purpose of that consecration was.to acknowledge God's supreme dominion over the whole "v(.orld and over the hearts of men. ~ndividuals consecrating themselves to the Sacred Heart voluntarily~professed this sovereignty over :¯themselves. In r~evealing this devotion to St. Marga~)et Mary, the Sacred Heart insisted more on "the immense love which He has borne to us than on His:fights over us" (Pius XI; Miserentissimus). Father Putz, S.J., says, As His dominion is one 6f lo~e and He wants submission out of love, the consecration is made to the Sacred Heart, the symbol of His love., 'Being consecrated to Him, we belong to Him in a special manner, we are placed under His special protection, we are sure of His special help 'and care. The s~me may be said; in as far as it is @plicable, of consecrating Ourselves to the Immaculate Heart Of Mary. LiKewise we may say that there has now appeareda new sign in the he~ivens. It is the radiantly beautiful, spotlessly pure, Immaculate Heart of~ Mary-~-the way to individual and world peace. The confident hope is that the whole world and each individual will consecrate himself to her Immaculate Heart and thus accomplish the purpose of theworld's consecra-tion tothe Sacred Heart, namely, that the "whole ~orld¯ will submit joyfully and willingly to th~ easy. yoke Of ':~hrist the King," and that the "fruits of,,the consecration will be to °bind With Chriatian love in the communion of pe, ace all peoples to the heart of the Ki~g, of Kings and danuar~, 1946 " " IMM~CULA'I:EHEART OF MARY SOvereign iof Sovereigns':~ (Miserentissimus). " : ' That this i~the purpose of the consecration of the world tO the Immacul~ate Heart'0f Maryis best expressedby Pope Pius XII: , As the Church andthe entire human r~ce oweie-cohse~fated to th~ Sacred Heart of Jesus.so that in ~eposing all hope in Him, H~might become for them the sign and pledge of victory and salvation; so we in like manner¯ consecrate burselves forever ~Iso to thee and. to. thy Immaculate Heart, Our Mother and Queen, that thy love and patron-age may hasten the triumph of the Kingdom of God and that all nations, at.peace With one another and with God, m~iy proclaim thee blessed an'd with thee may raise their voices to resound from pole t6 pole in the chant of the everlasting Magnificat of glory, l~sve and gratitude to the Heart of Jesus, .where alone they can find truth, and peace. -Pope Plus XII first consecrated-the world to the Immaculate Heart of Mar'y on October" 31, 1942. That same year, on the Feast of the Immaculate Con.c.eptioni he pubiicly repeated the Act of Consecration in.St. Peter's l~asilica. The official English translation of.the" Act of Consecration was 15ublished in the REVIEW FOR RELICdOU$ in 1943, p. 71. For the private consecration Of individuals ¯ any suitable form of words sufficest Reparation Reparation is an integ~al part of the devotion, to the. Sacre'd Heart. If in the act of consecration the intention t~ exchange, as it were, for the love of tl~ Creator the love of us creatures stands out most prominently, ther~ follgws almost naturally from this another fact. namely, that if this same Uncreated I~ove has either been passed ove~ through forgetfulness .or saddened by reason of our sins, then~ we ~should repair such outrages.-. We call this duty reparation. . Therefore we must add to the act of consecration. , . an act of expia-tion, b~" means of which all our faults are blotted out (Miserentissi- When Out'Lord a~peared to St, Margaret Mary, He 29 THOM/~S A. O'CONNOR Reolew for "Religious .asked that ~he Feasf of the Sacred Heart be established in .reparation for the sin~ of men, and t~ practice Of the nine -First Fridays .followed from the twelfth of His promises. Similarly in the devotion to the .Immaculate Heart Of Mary, reparation is an integral part. When Our Blessed Mother appeared ~.to the shepherd children, she s~iid: "I ask'f0r.the consecration of the world to my immaculate Heart, and Communion in reparation ono the first, Saturday of each month." Sister Lucy of.Jesus, one of the shepherd children to. whom Our Lady api~eared, gives the words Our Blessed Mother used: ~ - My. child, behold my Heart all pierced with thorns which the blasphemies and ingratitude of men drive deeper ~t every moment. Do thou, at least try to console me, and make known to men that I promise to assist at the hour of death with the gracqs necessary for salvation all those who,. on the first Saturday of. five.consecutive months, .go to confession, receive Holy Communion, say the Rosary, and spend a quarter of an hour with me in meditating .on the fifteen mysteries of tl~e Rosary, with the object of making reparation to me. On the 13th of May, 1939, the Bishop.of Fatima caused the following to be pfiblished: "It is Our Blessed Lady Her-self Who in our tim~ has deigned to teach us this devotion to the Five First Saturdays, the object of which is to make reparation to the Immaculate Heart of Mary for all offences and outrages committed against. her by ungrateful men." Pra~ter and Penance ~In his encyclical, Caritate Christi Computsi, Pope Pius,XI urged upon all the Spirit of prayer and-penitential reparationas the ex.tra.ordin~ry ~emedy for the e:~tr.aordi-nary needs Of the times. Our Lady in her appearanceh to the. shepherd children recommended 'prayer and pemince. "Pray, pray very much,"' she said on August 19, "and make sacrifices for sinners~. for. many souls, go to bell because there ~0 danuar~l, 1"946 , IMMACULATE HEART OF MARk' is no one to make sacrifices for them." H(r message'in October .was similar. "She said that she was Our Lady of the Rosary," the children testified, "and their we must repent of our sins, "change our lives, and no longer offend Our Lord, who-is so much offende!!" The prayer she recomme.fided most was the Rosary. Pope Plus XII, in his radio address to Portugal, dwelt on the same needs. After recalling that it is proper to have confidence in Mary, he added: But, lest this confidence,be presumpt~uous, it is necessary . . . for us to listen to the maternal advice she g;~ve at the wedding of Cana and do everything that, Jesus tells us to do. And He tells us all to do penance . to amend our lives, and to flee from sin, which is the principal cause of the terrible punishments with which Eternal Jus-tice is afflicting the world . [He bids us] to be the salt that~pre2 serves and,the light that iilumines, to cultivate purity and to show forth in our manner of life the austerity of the Gospel . More still, [He tells us] . to diffuse around us, near and far, the perfume of Christ, and by constant prayer --- especially the daily Rosary--as well as by such sacrifices as zeal inspires, to win for sinful souls the life of grace and eternal happiness . Sorrowful in her foresight of th'~s great misfortune with which the Justice of God is punishing the world, Mary has pointed out that the way to save the world is by prayer and penance . Martj Omnipotent by Grace¯ We should be most eager and fervent in our devotio~ to the Immaculate Heart of Mary because, as the Mother of God and our Mother, all graces, gifts, and favors come to us from G~d through Mary¯ She is the Mediatrix of all graces. She is omnipotent by grace. Hence it was that Benedict XV wrote on May 5, 1917: Because all graces which the Author of every good deigns to distributg ¯ . . are., dispersed by the hands of the most holy V~irgin, we ~;ish the petitions of her most afflicted children to be directed with lively confidence., to the great Mother'of God . . . To Mary, then, who .31 THOMAS A. O'CONNOR is the Mother of Mercy and omnipotent .by~ grace, let loving and devout appeal go up from every corner of the earth." Pope .Pius ~XI, concluded his encyclical Miserer~tissirnus with an act of confidence "in her intercession with ~lesus . . . who wished to associate His own Mother with Himself as the advocate of sinner~, as the dispenser and mediatrix of grace." This same note of confidence in Mary was expressed by Pope Plus XII in his radio address to the people of Portugal, in which he consecrated the wo~rld to the Immaculate Heart of Mary: .Toda~-, . . there remains to us only confidence in God and, as in intermediary before "the divine throne, in her whom one of our prede.cess0rs during the first world war invoked as the Queen of Pefidd. " Letus invdke her again, for she alone can help us! . . . " Queen 0f'the Most Holy Rosary, Hell0 o~ Christians, .Refuge of the~Human Race, Victress in all God's battles, we humbly prostrate Oursdves before thy thron~, confident,that we shall obtain mercy, and- ~eceive grace and bountiful 'assista'fice 'and protection in the present chlamity, not fhrough ou, r own inadequate merits, but solely' through ith.e, great go0dfiess of thy Maternal heart . Queen of Peace, pray for us. and give to the world at war the peace for which all people are longing, peace in thetruth, justice, and charity of Christ. Give peace to the warring; nations and'to the souls of men, that in the tranquillity of order the Kingdom of God may prevail. Immaculate Heart of Mary, pray for us! INDEX OF BAC~K NUMBERS REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is indexe~l in the CATHOLIC PERIODICAL "INDEX. Con-tent~ of previous issues can be found by consulting the Readers' Gu.ide in your library. 32 The Magnetic Power 0t: Chris!: Malachi ~l.Donnelly, S.J, AS CHILDREN we .all played with an iron magne.t, and later, when we studied physics in high school, we perfdrmed experiments with the magnet. It was ", put under a piece of paper and upon the surface of this paper were scattered particles of iron dust. As we tapped the paper gently, we saw the tiny bits of iron arrange them selves in a definite pattern around the poles of the magne.t. We learned that between all the particlesthere was an inter~ play and exchange of magnetic power. Hence, they were not isolated units, bu.t closely interrelated and continually receiving and exercising magnetic influence. Further, all the power they had of influencing the.surrounding iron - particles all this came from the central magnet, their only. power-source. Finally, the-power of each tiny.iron filing depended on (1) its nearness to the.magnet, as source_of power; and'(2) its freedom from base alloys, which might render the iron particle less susceptible to the magnetic influence of the central source. With this illustration ~well in mind, let us consider briefly the religious life and especially ,the influence which every religious should exert on the world about him. Above all, the religious should realize the source of his power and what he must do that this power be his in the highest degree possible. This realization is of the greatest importance today, when everyone is talking, about post-war reconstruction and when even secular leaders are beginning to recognize the l~act that a material rebuilding will be of MALACHI J. DONNELLY " Reoiew [or Religigus little avail v~ithout a renewal of spiritual forces. Religious. .must,. and can,-play a major part in this post-war spiritual recopstruction, as we hope that the following, paragraphs " 'will illustrate. The life of _religious is not a fleeing from life. Nor, again, is it a mere repression of powerful life-tendencies. And, finally, it is not an utter abandonment of the world of human beings 6utkide the cloistered wall. Rathdr, the religious life is truly a fleeing towards, life, towards 'that source of all life, 3esud Christ, who has said of Himself, :"I am. the Life." Far from. repressing vital instincts, " the~teligious'life assures, thoiigh in a higher Spherel their full development. The religious life must mean a love-seeking, a love-search, but for God and men in God. This means that all true life-tendencies, tlhouglhts, will-acts (.yes, ~motions, too)--the whole human being must be 'vitally ~oncerned with this loving quest of God. ., From the psychological pc~int of view, such a life should never resultS in "crabbiness," neuroses of various kinds, or crippling inhibitions. The religious do~s not live a vacuum L life. He me~ely takes one ointment (indeed, good in itself) . frorfi the e:~rthly ~¢essel that it may be replaced by a" more precious perfume. True, if it does not attain its posit.ive p~rfection, such a life might well rest~lt in mere inhibitions and a consequent unwholesome, if not downright neurotic, frame:of mind. With regard to women in particular, this is well expressed in an excellent modern study: If we religio~s women fail to cultivate love on the high level of the supernatural, if we permit our love to center in self, we shall deteriorate in our spiritual .life and become objects o~f disedification within and without our convent wails. In the married state, as Wife and m~ther,a woman unfolds love, tenderness and co~apassion. In. " religious life, the sources of natural de, velopment are closed to her.She is" expected to-unfold love ori a supernatural level love for her , Divine Spouse and for the members of His Mystical Body. danuary~ 1946 MAGNETId POWER OF CHRIST If sh~ fai|S to cultivate this love; she be¢0m~s devoid of-all love, excepting self-love, which expresses itself in seeking morbid .h.um~an affections. She sinks into a condition that is not proper to her nature. The-finer qualities of he~ being dry up for want of fost.ering care. She becomes uhnatural in hard and exclusive selfishness.I But,.if lived as a positive, full-s6uled (-and ffill-hea~ted)i seard~i.ng f~r God, t~e hidden" l~i~e of the religious can never be.other thana fuller perfe~ti0n anti more complete dev~l~ opmentof human nature, of soul and of body, of the entire man. With attention now drav)n to the positive side of the religious life,.let us see what'eff~ct a relig!ous life WellAived can have on the world about us. Perhaps tile answer may be found in a consideration Of the religious and the Mystical Body of Christ. As we all know, the Mystical Body is truly liying and organic: Bodily life. is the power-of perfective, self-movement in an organism. It depends on nourishment 'from outside the living body, on food which through assimilation becomes part of the body and .supplies .the power by. which the living organism" directs itself in organic movement towards a definite end. Again, an o~ganism is made up of.heterogeneous parts. different in shape, and function, each of .which finds own perfection in working t~wards the good of the Whole .bqdy. And througho_ut the individual organs there flows the common life of the complete body. The life of the Mystical. Body is sanctifying grace, that divine life shared by men and poured forth into our souls by the Holy S~irit who is given to us. From the Holy Spirit, who is breathed forth into our souls by Father and " Son, ~omes our created Share of that same diC, ine life which 1Two Sisters of Notre Dame, Soul Clinic (New York and Chicago: Pustet. 1943). pp. 10-11. For a review of this excellent book. confer REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, II. p, 130. 35 MALACHI'J. DONNELLY " Reoieto /or Religious the three.divine Persons possess as identified, with theirown Persons. " - The life-movement of the Mystical Body is nourished by the in-take and assimilation of thi~ Christ-life, divine grace. Gra~e perfects the individual member and then, like the color of health,radiates out through the entire Mystical .Body and brings with it a health-restoring, or, as the case may be, a life-perfecting power. The movement of the members, or organs, of the Body will be an organic, hence corpo.rate movement towards God, the final end, the highest .good of the entire Body. As !.iving members of the Mystical, Body, we religious are, like ir0n-filings With respect to the central ma.gnet, grouped around Christ, our source of spiritual power. All the sup.ernatural efficiency we ba.v.e comes from Him, the uhique source. As members of Christ's Body, we receive and give off power, spiritual power received fro~ Christ the Head of the Body. Our sup,e.rnatural power .and efficiency depend on two things; (1) our nearness to Christ the sourcd of this power, and (2) the absence of base alloy in o~r sduls, that is, self-love and pridemin a word, the absence of worldliness, which implies a most subtle blending o.f pride and sensuality. ~ The communication of this divine lif~ to men is not a blind, necessary process. Christ does not force His life upon men. If men are to receive the life that ~lesus Christ came into the world .to give, they must freely respond to the, life-call. And here it is that we must look for the part played by the religious in post~war reconstruction. ~lust as iron-filings .far removed from the central .mag-net get magnetic'power only t~rough the intervening par- , ticles of iron which are closer to the magnet, so, too, in the ordinary,ways of God with men, the divine life, sanctifying grace, is given to men through the aid of other human January, 1946 MAGNETIC .POWER OF' CHRIST beings. ¯ This does not~mean that'men actually, give grace to others. But it doesmean that, ordinarily, the interior soul;life', divine grace, is given largely in'dependence upon external graces-offered directly through a fellow human being. How does this take place? In exa~t proportion as you keep close to 3esus Christ, your Source, will you get power~ and~ life. You know that worldliness is the, only real obstacle that can keep the divine life f~m flooding the inmo'st parts of. your soul. You know that,,by destroying self-love, by loving Chris~, by being, ambitious df the last place .in your Community to be in the first place i~ear~st Christ--you know that 'it is thus that y.ou Open the flood-gates for the rush of the divine life that is surging agalnst your soul. Add a real spirit of praye~ and what results? ~ Simply this: life floods.your souL. t~ut not to remain damm.ed up there.- No, like a riv~er in springtime," this life will overflow and flood all around you. Fill~d with ~this diyine life, you will benign to renew the face 'of the earth. You will bring one~essary external graces to a world hun-gering for divine life. Certainiy~, as even the unbeliever, George Bernhrd Shaw, maintained, the most powerful force in the world is personal example. And when this personal .example is the .overflo.w from intense love "of God, what must not its force be! Your own transformed life will bring to others, however faintly, the Very beauty of'Christ's own life, And there is-noth!ng that so wins.even the heart of the most hardened sinner as seeing Christ reflected .in a fellow human being of flesh and blood. The religious does not lead an in~sulated life, like a moth in a cocoon. If one rfiay Use a homely expbession, the ~reli-gious does not ride to heaven in an enclosed compartment. NO, he ride~ the coaches; and they aie crowded with fellow travelers hungeriiag for the life which you can give them. MALACHI J. E)ONiqEI~L~! ReoieW fo~ Reli0iou,~ TO "each person with whom you comeAn contact an infl'u.- - ence'goes forth from'y0u. And the real wortlawhileness o'f tha~.:infltience~, its spiritual value, is p~oportined to "your nearness to Christ." " 7~g.ain, it is well to remember that our workois the york of~Christ operating through us., We are really instruments in His hands. And, we all know that ~he effect produced by an instrument depends not .only 'on the dignit~y of the one ,using the instrument. " In order-to write well. the pen mus,t baste a good point, the ink mu~st notbe muddy. : Otherwise scratching and blottingappear. :'In similar mannevChrist ~ will not work ~ffectively th.rough the religious, if he as a f011o.wer of Christ does not condition and prepare himself to bi~ a good instrument in the hands of Christl Many there are, perhal3s. Who, in the eternM designs ~f God' will" ~r~directly owe their salvation' to you i*nd to you alon~. If you'rende.r yourselffit ?orpassing on the divine .life' in your own soul to others, then yo.u w~ll really save-souls. " : Surely, then, it is true that the-religious close to Christ will do much ~in the post-war reconstruction. Fbr brick ahd ste.el, bombs arid ta'nks are not what this world needs ~to insure a lasting peace.- What the world needs is a spiritual catharsis, a'complete soul-purging. And only the gra~e ~f " God can do this. That is the one and only all-out essential for mankind. And the one who can best.secure and apply this specific, this healer of the wounds of the world, is the fervent religious. Through the Christ,loving r~ligi6us. through the religious in close contact with Our Lo'rd, the" Christ-lif~ goes out to men. " In the classroom, the pupils will ,see in thkir instructor not just a human teacher, but rather one who,reflects Christ. And not only will the power of the religious teacher be increased, but the students will be impelled to seek after the- 38" January, 1946 MAGNETIC POWER OF CHRIST source bf the beautiful power that shines forth from their instructor. ' ° ~ In the hospital, the patients,~ Staff"members, arid ififei~nS, ~he o.r~lerlies,, the kitch~en help, and the janitors all will See in the religious, ' not .just a nurse, but a mirror ofChrist Who healed bodies ithat men might¯ v~ith this renewed healthalso get new life for their souls. Everywhere, then, in orphanages, in homes¯ for the a~ged7 eveffin the hidden life of¯the kitchen,-~his Christ-life must be.found pulsatirig in the soul of the religious. And from the religious this life must go forth to the world.For this Christ-life alone can renew the face of the. world, alone can effect a lasting reconstruction and a lasting peace among men. BOOKLET.NOTICES FIELD AFAR PRESS, 121 East 39th Street, New York, N. Y. Mar~.tknoll Mission Letters. Volume II, 1945. 50 cents. This ~dition of .the .Mission Letters¯ includes the-Mgryknoli Superior General's_ report on his recent visitation of the missions in China, a letter describing the . life and work of Father Rauschenbach. and the eulogy preached at the funeral Mass for Father Cummings---originator of "There are no atheists in fox-holes." Besides there are the usual interesting and informative letters from Maryknollers in China, the Philippines, and Ceniral and South America. THE NEWMAN BOOKSHOP, Westminster, Maryland. The Catholic Doctor and Catholics on the Police Force. both by Francis J. Con-nell, C.S.S.R. (Brief ~xplanations of the-moral obligations of doctors and policemen respectively). 15 cents each. GRAYMOOR PRESS, Peekskill, New York, Tale o: a Troubador. by Samuel Cummings, S.A. (A brief life of St. Francis of Assisi'). I0 cents. MONASTERY OF THE PRECIOUS BLOOD, 54thStreet and Fort Hamilton Parkway, Brooklyn 19, New York. Fighting Our Spiritual Enemies, 10 cents; O~w Warfare on the Spiritual Front, 5 cents. Both by a Sister of the Pre.cious, Blood. (The first of these booklets is intended for religious only; the second for lay people). " , THE CAMPION PRESS. 1184 Phillips Place, Montreal, Canada. Rosaries [or Russia: Little Meditations on the Rosary, by Magnus Seng. I 0 cents. "'PROSVITA-ENLIGHTENMENT'.' 61 I- Sinclair Street. McKeesport, Penna., and "AMER. RUSSKY VIESTNIK" Greek Catholic Union Bldg., Munhall, Penna. The Major Holy-Days (Greek Rite.). by the Reverend 3ulifis Gi-igaisy, D.D., and the Reverend Stephen Loya. N6price given. ¯ ommun ¢a!: ons - [NOTE: With regard'to communications published, the only" r~sponsibility ¯assumed by the editors, is to see that the letters contain nothing contrary to the approved teaching of the Church in matters of faith and morals. The opinions expressed in the communications should be judged on their own merits.] Reverend Fathers: You said you would welcome communications describing obstacles encountered in working for interracial justice. I want to outline a situation that constitutes such an obstacle. There is a Catholic high scho~l for. girls (one only) iffa.certain city: .t.he city's population is one-fifth Negro and one-half or more ~Catholic. ¯ The Sisters of this school are eager to do all they can to~ bring the blessings of higher Catholic education to the colored as well as the white ~girls of high school age. They long for converts among the colored, among whom the Church is little known. What can they do? Prejudice runs high ¯ in this town. But the nuns are not afraid of prejudice. They tell themselves, at least, that thdy would rather be lynched, with the col-ored than lynch with the white. They say, "We would,ripen our - halls to colore~l girls this afternoon, and remove .the lie which our doctrine of the Mystical Body of Christ, taught but not practiced. m~kes us live. But we have not the auth6rity of the clergy behind us." These Sisters talk racial justice in season and out Of season. They "teach a unit on it to every religion student. They write articles, give and have students give speeches, hold interracial panels, and urge girls, to take part in interracial retreats. And then they realize, in a cold sweat, that they are teacbihg their students that, as a matter of fact. o the local clergy are not bei.ng true to their pastorates. For it is known that the priests consider these .Sisters imprudent, not to say misled. And when the schedule o'f sermons calls for a sermon on brdtherly love. every pastor in the city talks about hating Japanese, of whom there are none in the city. or Germans, whom. they do not hate: but no pastor so much as mentions the Negroes-living just three or four blocki away in a shantied Africa that is largely the direct[ result of white oppr.ession, mistrust, and. in many cases, white hatred. Who would say that these Sisters are not, though with the best of intentions, forced either to deny the doctrine of the Mystical Body in practice by refusing Catholic secondary education to a portion of 40 'COMMUNICATIONS the Catholic population because of color; or, on the dther hand~ to prepare the way for the rending of tl~at same Mystical Body by teaching doctrines their students do not see upheld by.the ecclesiastical ~uthorities? Now everybody knows that many a Catholic diocese is not up a~ainst such.a prgblem as this. In many places the ecclesiastical supe-riors are backing fully and with Christ-like zeal the work of zealous lovers of racial jus~tice. But it is not done everywhere; and the tragic urievenness of the thing hu~ts. I suggest that your readers pray earnestly that the spiritual authorities will back us urffforrnl~t ,and ev, eryu)here so that the souls of our Negro brethren may not go on-languishing because loyalty to ecclesiastical authority keeps us from acting fully and with all our resources in their favor. " Sister Reverend Fathers: Father Coogan is right (REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, ,November 15, 1945): "Hopes for a racially,~better day lie largely with religious, especially teachers." To. begin liquidating these l~opes many religious can within obedience use their.ingenuity about fostering the Christian attitude, They find opportunities, many or f~wer according to local circumstances, of influencifi'g their students. They can always give good example. They can a.t.the fight, moment encourage and direct classroom discussions: they can at time~s inspire their students through direct instruction and exhortation. ~ " The students are ge.nerally far ahead of their eiders, both parents and teachers, on matters interracial. "School strikes just don't hap-pen, unless the youngsters themselves are certain of being supported by parents, and even by teachers and pastors. ,.lanie and 2ohnny stand in no "picket lines once they hear an unmistakable order from home to '.'Get back into that school building!" The kids will squeal t~ the crooning of a generous, well-intentioned Sinatra; but a,snappy. rebuke from Dad packs more authority than an old-fashioned truant o~_cer. . ~ We were carrying on a discussion in my sophgmore class about the advisability of admitting Negroes to theschool, a private, academy for boys in a large Mid-Western city. Two or threeloud voices were" adamant, but the group all in all was very' favorable. -The discus, sion, however, was brought to a premature end by this p-olitely . 41 COMMUNICATIONS intoned comment: "If we're real Catholics, Father, we have to !~ C61ored boys into the school, The fellowss~em to agree on that. So it's.up'to the school authorities to talk'about it and do something." Since then two Negroes have been admitted and are-doing well. So is the school. Many authorities are in a position, to do mort by way of effective planning f6r Negro students. Those institutions which do havea "token attendance"i could'in many cases go a ~tep further by positively encouraging well qualified Colored youth--inviting them to scholar-ship competitions, personally canvassing their 'families, contacting Catholic pastors in Negro neighborhoods, etc. Elizabeth Adams has a poignant observation "in h~r autobio-graphical Darh Sgmphong: "Think of the number of Religious wh~) pray dail)~ to suffer--to share humiliations like those endured by. the Christ ;~ yet, if accepting a Colored child in a school or boarding home would mean financial loss to their institution, they would deny that child admittance." Truth is, Catholic schools have suffered not the siightest l~ermanent loss by accepting Negroes. Richa.r.d A. Schuchekt, S.J. West Baden, Indiana. CONCERNING COMMUNICATIONS We always welcome letters from our readers and are: eager to publish such as may prove helpful to others. However, to facilitate our work and to avoid confusion, we request that correspondents observe the following suggestions: 1. If you want your letter published, address .the envelope to: Communications Department Review for Rel;g|oui St. btary's College St. Maws, Kansas 2. If at all possible, type the letter, double-spaced. . 3. Make the letter as brief as you°reasonably can, without however sacrificing ideas for the sake of brevity,t 4.~ Sign ~rour name and ad~lres~, at the end of the letter~. If, however, you do not wiih your name and address published, add a postscript to that effect, In the past we have published some letters that were not signed, and we may do so again in the future. -However, we cannot guarantee that unsigned letters will receive the same consideration as those that are signed.--THE EDITORS. 42 The Virtue of IEquit y LouisJ. Puhl, S.J. 4~AUL, having passed through the upper country, came to Ephesus and found certain disciples; to whom be said, 'Did ye receive the Holy Spirit when ye believed?' But they answered, 'Nay, we have n0.t even heard whether there be a Holy Spirit.' " (Acts 19' 1-2.) If an examination were conducted on the virtue of equ!ty, it is safe to say that .many answers would much resemble that Of the Ephesian disciples of St. Paul. Yet St. Thomas,°in his treatment of justice in the Summa (II- _ti, q. 120, a. 1), not.only defends itsplace among the vir:. ~ues but calls it a :'superior rule of human action,'; the noblest species of justice. Equity, according, to St. Thomas, rises above the dead .letter of the law,. that killeth, and-seeks to be guided by the spirit of tl~e law. by the intention of the lawgiver. It is impossib!~ for the limited human mind so to word a law or command that it will cover every set of circumstances that may arise. The lawgiver, as St. Thomas points, out, has in mind that which happens in the majority of cases and cannot foresee the almost infinite variety of circum: stances that may at times make it impossib, le to observe the 1citer of the law. (Summa, II-II,q. 120, a. 1.) An illus'tration from obedience wil! make the-matter clear. No one could be considered obedient who by. observing the letter of the law thereby, defeats the very put.- pose and intention of the superior. St. Thomas gives a few s!mp!e and striking examples of the application of equity to the natural law. If a madman Should demand the return of a:sword he bad deposited with us, we would be bound to 43 Louis J. PUHL Reoietu for R~ligious refuse to return it. in order to protect, .the lives of others. Sho~Id~someonedemand the return of a sum of mon.ey he had ~intrusted to us, the common good would oblige us to refuse if he intended to use it to fight against his country.~ Moralists and canonists are familiar with this matter. underanother name. They commonly retain the.Gfei~k word of Aristotle, epicheia. However, they are so busy with the exceedingly complicated and ever-recurring cases. of commutative justice and taw that they do ngt.look upon. it from.the point ~of view of the virtue, as St. Thomas does~ but rather from the angle of legitimate interpretation Or exception to the law. ¯. This question has a far greater bearing on the daily lives of religious .than may at first be appa_refit. Superiors often have the duty to judge of the application of certain. laws of the. Church to tl'ieir, subjects. They should, kn~w the recognized "excusing causes" from these obligations so i:hat neither they nor'their subjects will have to bear bur-dens theywere never intended to.carry. Also they should know the legitimate exceptions to their constitutions and;. according to circumstances, should "temper these and the-- prescriptions of rule and the Orders .of:higher. superiors." - If they have no concept of duty other than the literal observance of the law, actual injustice may be done in indi-vidual circumstances and the whole purpose of the law may be defeated. They must understand that conditions ~an arise in which it is eviderit to any prudent person ~hat the lawgiver never intended the lav~ to bind. In such. gases, both the cbmmon good and justice to the individual demand that they consider the spirit Of the law and the intention of the lawgiver. Canon Sheehan wrote a beatitiful novel, "The Blindness Of Dr. Gray. Throughout the story, "It is the law," w~s the final decision of the deluded doctor, on all points. 44 danuar~l, 194~ TH, E VIRTUE OF EQUITY C_harity ~nd justice had to yield to this inexorable maxim. The blindness that affected Dr. Gray is not sd uncommon. A misguided zeal for the rule and the constitutions may _ lea~d to flagrant ifijustice against individuals. The comm6n : gobd, too, which is the ultimate, purpose of the law, may then be wholly disregarded. Even individuals may be called upon to exercise the virtue of equity. We cannot always consult, and circum-stances arise that demand immediate action. To follow the letter of the law without regard to circumstances'might do grave damage--might in fact, ac.tually reverse the intention of superiors. In such cases we should observe th~ spirit of the law and make exception to. the letter. St. Thomas quotes an old legal maxim which~states: o. "There is no doubt that he sins against the law .who embraces the letter of the law, and acts. against the willcof .the prince." (Summa, II-II, q. 120, a. 1, ad. 1.) A still greater violation of law arises at times when there is question of what are rather loosely ~alled"customs.': "It is our custom" is the maxim for se~ttling all cases, even to the extent of secretly setting aside the law of the Church and the higher laws of. natural justice and charit.y. The Code itself make~ it clear that, except for cases allowed by. the Church, nb custom can be established against the gen; eral law. The Code speaks of customs in the ;trict sense; what it saysholds with even greater force regarding those things which are customs only in the wide sense.° And the Code does not have to prescribe that.customs cannot be enforced contrary to the divi'ne laws of justice and charity. This expression, "It is our custom," is occasionally used by . both supe.riors and subjects in ways that show a misguided, " if well-meant, Zeal. Superiors sometimes use it to hinder the accomplishment of a greater good; and inferiors use it to criticize certain exceptions made by Christlike superiors. 45 LOUIS J.,,PUHL ~ Review [or Religious I~ is evident that what, is apparently the highest justice may be the gravest injustice: Summum [us, summa iniuria. Our Lord's severe.condemnation of formalism and Phari,~ saism should be earnestly pondered by all who ire' too quick to quote: "It is the law," or, "Iris our custom." In this connection the whole twenty-third chapter of the Gos-. pel accord.ing to St. Matthev~ may be meditated upon with great, profit. Fortunately, we may tak~ it for granted that there are no willfully hypocritical persons such as Our :Lord was dealing with there, but misju.dgments under the' appearanc.e o.f~good may do very great harin to others. In literal truth, those who seriously violate equity "bind. together heavy and oi~pressive burdefls and place them upon. ¯ theshoulders of others, but not with one finger of their own do they choose to move them" (Matthew 23:4.) They neglect "the .weightier ,things of the Law-~. justice and mercy and faith" (Matthew '23:23). They clean ,the out- ~ ,~ide of the cup by apparent legality and zeal for Order and yet serve injustice within the cup. "This is. really straining 9ut the.gnat but swallowing the camel. (cf. Matthew 23:24). It is no wonder that St. Thomas had the highest praise f6r equity. Without it there can be no true justice. It is a virtue c!osely akin to charity, the life and soul of all the vir-tues. It is full of Christian wisdom and prudence, full Of the spirit of Him who was meek and humble of heart, who did not break the bruised reed or quench the smokiflg flax. It looks beyond the dead letter"of the law and the lifeless :formalism of legality. It respects the dignity of man and the~purpose of the law, the good of man, which'ultimately finds its origin in the Infinite Good itself. Often both superi61s and inferiors should recall that riot all are of equal calibre, physically, intellectua.lly, ,spiritually; that they must' apply and interpret laws.and. ,lanuaryo 1946 " THE VIRTUE OF EQUITY ctistoms in the light of ;circumstances in order to practice justice; in fine, that the Virtue of equity, has an important place in our lives. Not all have the bodily strength to endure the same amount of labor or to do th.e same kind of work. Those in authority would be unjust to demand it, and our com-panions are bound not to expect it. Not all can be treated in exactly the same way under the plea of conformity to law and custom. The delicate health of one.demands more attention than others. The material needs of one in clothing and food are not .the sameas those of another.~ We must love poverty and conformity to common life, but neither of these suffers when individual .needs require more for o'neperson than for another. To follow custom or rule blindly when supplying material wants in clothing and conveniences can. result in this anomaly: .that some have far more than they need (and thereby poverty is not observed), while'others are deprived of what is necessary or convenient (and thus the obligation l~he superior assumes when the subject vows poverty into his hands is being neglected). God has not made us all alike. Superior and subjects alike must accept the will of providence and make allovc'ance for all as God has made them; or they ~in against equity. Intellectually not all are fitted for every position. God has not;given equal talent to all. To ask one to undertake a task beyond his ability under the pretext of treating all alike, is to.oppress the weak and do damage to the common~ good. Not all can have the same opportunities for intel-lectual impro~cement.~ Some are not fitted by nature and it would be vain to try to force them or for them to exigec.t it. Circumstances prevent other~ from obtaining the privi-lege. Equity demands that both those who rule and those who are ruled face ~cts, not with a rigid law and 'custom but with intelligence and the kindness of Christ. It would 47 I~0UIS J. PUHL - Review for Religious be futile to appeal to a custorri of seniority a.s giving the. right to be head of,a department, if thereby either the com-mon good or the individual be made to suffer: Equity 'is a~ virtue far above our rank in the community or the laws of sdniori~:y. - ¯ "' Spiritually not all have the:;same gifts .and advance-ment; hence, here again, subjects.and Superiors must make allowance for conditigns in applying law and customs. It would be foolish to ex~ pect the solidity of virtue in a novice that one might readily expect in a mature religious. Neither can we expect ~ev~ry novice to manifest the s~lme spiritual stature nor under the plea of uniform training indiscrimi; nately apply tests in the s~ime manner and with the same severity to all. God has not given the same grac.es t6 all, ,nor have all cooperated equally well in the past? All have not the same character and.the same difficultie's to overcome. There are times, too, when souls may find a tiial very diffi-cult, which-under normal circumstances they could bear very well; and equity talls for a wiseunderstanding of such critical' situationS. We know what happens in education when 'children are given matter beyond their years and are expected to ~pass tests not suited.to their age. The same can happen iri. the spiritual life. There are works, too, which are fraught with spiritual dangers for one but not for, another. It would be unjust to expose one tO danger under the plea of treating all alike. ~Subjects.and officials are bound to recognize these circumstances which demand interpret~ition.of law and custom if'equity is tO l~e observed. ~ Epicheia, the time-honored term for ~quity, that h;is come down to :us from the wisdom of Greece, expresses well the spirit of this virtue; and its full meaning has been taken over in Christian .practice. It. signifies something that is over and above What is strictly in accordance with law, ~6methifig su~eradded:, to mere legal justice. It signifies J~nuary, 1946 ,THE VIRTUE OF: EQUITY clemency, mer~y, reasonableness. A1Lthese meanings show how necessary this virtue is for one claiming to walk in the spirit of Christ. If we have put on Christ, we must l~ave the kindness and mercy of Christ. We must "put off the works of darkness,-, and put on the armor of light'.~ (Romans 13:12). In truth when our justice is guided by equity, we have put on the armor of light, illumined, by faith and vivified by charity. Books Received (From October 20 to December THE NEWMAN BOOK SHOP, Westminster, Maryland. Sermon Outlines for the Sundays and Holy Days of the Year. By William R. O'Connor. $2.25. Holiness for All. By .His ExcellenCy Norbert Roblchaud. 75 cents (Paper). THE BRUCE PUBLISHING COMPANY, Milwaukee. World Christianitg. By John J. Considine, M.M. ~ $1.00. The Divine Pur- ~uit. By RaChel Maria. $1.75. The Priest of the Fathers. By Edward L. Heston, C.S.C. $2.50. Going His Way: Little Talks to Little Folks. By Rev. Gerald T. Brennan. $1.75. The Man Who Built the Secret Door. Sister Mary Charitas, S.S.N.D. $1.50. B. HERDER BOOK COMPANY, St. Louis. Pascal and His Sister dacquellne. By M. V. Woodgate. $~.00. The State in Catholic Thought. By HeinriCh A. Rommen. $6.00. SHEED ~ WARD, New York. The Flowering'Tree. -By Caryll Houselander. $2.00. dobn Henry Newman. By John Moody. $3.75¯ The Catholic Centre¯ By Edward Ingrain Wat-kin. $3.00. The Splendor of the Rosary.~ By Maisie Ward¯ $2.50. FREDERICK PUSTET COMPANY, New York and Cincinnati. A Tryst with the Holy Trinity. By the Very Rev. Frederick T. Hoeger, C.S,Sp. .$2.50. CREATIVE AGE'pRESS, New York. Chungking Listening Post. By Mark Tennien. $2.50. LA LIBRAIRIE EUCHARISTIQUE, Montreal. La Piete Eucharistique. By J. F. Berube. (No price given.) CATHOLIC UNIVERSITY OF AMERICA PRESS, Washington. The Doctrine of S'r. Augustine on Sanctity. By Edward J. Carney, O~S.F.S. (No price given). - THE MARYKNOLL BOOKSHELF, l~Iaryknoll, New York. How the People of Africa Live. By Sister Miriam Claire. $1.00. LO~IC~IAN8, GREEN ~ COMPANY, New York and Toronto. Sptrttual Problems of Our Times. By Luigi Sturzo. $2.00. ¯ 49 May Religious Buy and Sell? Adam C[ Ellis, S.d. .~S A BO,Y,. Christ Our Lord learned the carpenter's~ trade from St. ,loseph; arid after the latter's d~ath, He supported Himself and Our Blessed Lady by His' l~ibo'rs at the carpenter's bench.We can infer this from the testimony of His fellow townsmen. On one of His rare visits to Nazareth, Christ went to tl~e synagogue on the Sabbath and began to'teach. '!And many.hearing Him .were in admiration of his doctrine saying: 'How came this man by all these things? and what wisdom is thisthat is given to him, and such mighty works are wrought by his hands? Is r~ot this the carpenter, the son ot: Mary?" (Mark 6:2, 3). The great Apostle of the Gentiles, St. Paul, imi-tated his Master and supported himself by manual labo_.r. He tells us: "We are homeless and we toil, workirig v)ith our own hands" (I Corinthians, 4: 12)~. And St. Luke informs us that "These two [Aquila and Priscilla] Paul visited and because he was of the same trade he abode with -them, and thus they worked; for by trade they were tent-makers" "(Acts 18:3). Inlthe early centuries'of the Chui:ch clerics and religious supported themselves by manual labor, applying themselves to trades of various kinds. The Church, therefore, has always held manual labor in high honor and has never considered it ber;eath the dign!ty of the~clericai or the religious s.tate, but rather recommended it as a worthy means of support for both clerics and tell: gious_. . From the very beginning, however, some of the clergy -found an easier way of supporting t.hemselves--by engag-ing in gainful trading. In itself, there is nothing wrong with gainful trading provided the price asked for the c0m- 50 MAY RELIGIOUS BUY AND SELL? modity traded or sold is not exorbitant. But the' exercise of gainful trading was beset with'm~iny dangerous practices and easily led to distractions from and neglect of the duties connected with the clerical and religious state. Hence are not surprised to find St. Paul warning Timothy: "No man being a soldier to God entangleth himself in secular business" (II Timothy 2:4). This warning 6f St. Paul became the watchword of the Church in .its legislation for-bidding clerics and r~ligious to engage in gainful trading. -For experience has proved that such occupation not only distracts and leads to a neglect of duty, but exposes clerics and religious to the dangerous spirit of cupidity and avarice with their consequent vices--fraud, perjury, injustke, and so forth. Besides from the practice of gainful trading there arises the danger of involving clerics and religious in civil lawsuits. All these possible dangers may r.esult in a serious diminution of the esteem of the faithful for the clerical and ~religious state and for the sacred.ministry. Hence the, need of a ~lear.understanding of the Church's law with regard to gainful trading as it applies, to religious.' PART I: THE LAW AND ITS MEANING In this matter there are~no special prescriptions that apply exclusively to religious, but canon 592 tells us that "all religious are bound to the common obligations of clerics listed in canons 124-142." The last of these canons, No~ 142, forbids clerics to engage in gainful trading. It reads as follows: "Clerics are forbidden to engage in lucrative industrial (negofiafio) or commercial (merccl~ura) trading, either personally or through others, either for their own advantage or for fhaf of others." Just what is fbrbidden by this cano_n? When are reli-gious and clerics said to be engaged in lucrative trading con- ~ trary to the law of the Church? No act of buying or selling comes unde~ the prohibition ADAM C. ELLIS Repiea~ for Religious against gainful 'trading, unless it contains ~four etem~nts simultaneousl~t.: (1) the object must be bought, (2) with tl'ie intention of reselling it, (3)unchanged or.changed, by hired help~ (4) at a higher price than Was paid for it. Let uk examine each of these four elements in detail. I. "'The object must be bought" .- It is not the property of the religious or cleric to begin with, hence he must acquire it in exchange for money or for some other commodity. Religious do. not violate -the law therefore when they sell the pro'dutts of their fields-- grain, fruits, vegetables. .They may likewise sell., wool~ hides, eggs, but~er, and milk produced by their herds and flocks, as well as calves, lambs, chickens, pigs, and other animals provided these are the natural produci of things ¯ already possessed. LikewiSe articles° received as gifts may ~ be sold, even at a great profit, since they were not purchased by the religious. 2. "'With the intention of reselling it'" ~ The reiigious who bu.ys an object or rawmaterials must intend, u2hen he bd~js them, to resell them later on. If this intention is not present at the time of purchase, then-his transaction does not come under the-prohibition of our_ canon. The religious who purchases a supply ofcommodi-" ~ ties for the use of his community does not intend to sell them. It may happen, however, that in the course of time some of the supplies are in danger of spoiling; or he may find that he has. purchased more than the community-needs. In either ca~e he may sell these supplies, even at a higher price than that he paid for them, because when he bought them he did not do so with the intention of r_eselling them. For the same reaso~ one may sell objects which have lost their usefulness fdr the com.rnunity,"such as furniture, raw materials, books, and other t.hings; and one may take a 52 MAY RELIGIOUS BUY AND SE~'.L~ _profit on them. It is. also allowed to invest the com- "munity funds in real estate, to buy ahouse or a-farm, and then to rent or lease it, thus assuring the community a source of regular .income. To rent or lease property which the commu.nity owns is ~not the same as selling it. This_ is merely an act of prudent administration required by canon 1523., 3 a. "'Unchanged" When an object is bought with the intention of s~lling it unchanged at a higher price, we have the most specific case of that strictly commercial trading which is positively forbidden to clerics and religious. This is never alloWed,. even tl~ough the objects bought are of a religious nature, such as rosaries, crucifixes, and prayer books. Nor may re!ig!ou~s buy real estate with the.intention of~selling it uhimproved as soon as an opportunity arises to sell it at'a higher price. Under this heading one is also forbidden to rent or teas~ property from the owner for the purpose of. immediat.ely subletting it to another party ata h.igher rental, for such a transaction is the equivalent of buying something with the intention of selling it unchanged at a higher price. ~ 3 b. "'Or changed b~t hired help'" We saw above that the Church has always held manual labor in high esteem; and spiritual leaders have ever encour-aged religiousto" employ themselves with such labor ih order to provide for their temporal needs, to avoid idleness.¯ and to make it possible for them to assist the poor and the needy. Furthermore, the Church has always allowed reli-gious to purchase materials in order to change them by their own labor and then to sell such objects at. a profit. Thus the monks of-the,desert supported themselves by wea~ing baskets, making fish nets, and the like. In the Middle Ages 53 AD!kM C~ ELI~IS / o ~ Ret~ieto /or Religious monasteries of both men.ahd ~vomen.frequently supported themselves by manual labor; the monks by cultivating their fields and caring for their herds, and then selling the prod-ucts of field and herd; or .by transforming these products into cheese, butter, wine, bread, or even by distilling.liqueurs such as the famous Chartreuse and benedictine. The nuns were famous for their fancy needle work and for their artistic production of illuminated manuscripts and books, This buying of materials and changing them by the labor of one's own hands may take many forms: grapes" may be bought, and made into Wine; silks and fine materials may be purchased and turned into precious vestments, or ¯ trousseaux. As long ~s the change is brought about by the " labor of the religious themselves, there is no ¥iolatioh of the law forbidding gaiffful trading. But the case is different when materials Which hav~ been rpeulrigchioausse dth.aerme sweolvrekse.d W orh ecnh apnagiedd l abyb ofrii irse tdts feide ltpo, cnfoiat ~b,yg teh"e. materials wfiicfi l~aoe beer~ bo~t~Tbt with a view to their sale at a profit in thei'r changed state, we have an operation which is equivalent to strictly comme~:cial trading since the religious are buying both the materials and the labor involved in making the change. This has b~en the Constant opinion of canonists; an opinion which has been upheld by many decisio.ns of the Holy See. Here are some practical examples of what is forbidden under this head: religious ma.y not buy grapes and hire 6ut-side help to mak~ them into wine; nor may they buy wool, cloth, leather, or other mate.rials, and engag.e hired help to make them into clothing, shoes, and the like with the intention of selling such products at a profit. They may not buy cattle to be pastured on rented land by fiired hell~, to be sold later at~the market price; nor may they rent land to be cultivated by fiired labor and then sell the crops at a JanuarF; 1946 MAY RI~LIGIOUS BUY AND SELLi~ profit. It is not forbidden, however, to. rent land needed to graze a herd which is owned by the religious; nor to buy cattle which will consume the surplus pasturage of land owfied by the religious. In both cases the cattle may be sold later at a just.~price. 4. "'At a higher price than was paid for it" " Here we have the final element which is required to con-stitute gainful trading forbidden to clerics and religious. This elemeni constitutes the very essence of gainful trading --the sale for pro~t. This, however, must be understood rightly. One does not necessarily make a. profit even though he sells an article at a higher price than that which. he paid for it. The ,expefises involved in the transporta-tion, storage, and.conservation of goods, the wages paid to hired, help, and any other ,ex15enses incurred are to be con~ sidered as part of the cost. An increase in the sale price because of such expenses does not constitute a real gain and consequently is not forbidden. This. clause in the, law merely forbids the sale of an article at a higher price than its complete cost, and this is true whether the article is sold unchanged or is sold after having been c.hanged by hired hands. Obvidusly then religious may sell articles and ~oods which they have purchased, provided they do so at the cost price (estimated as above explained). If-no profit is made in the transaction, it does not come under the pro-hibition of the law. This seems to be so evident that nothing more need be said about it. Thus far we have considered the four elements which constitute gainful trading forbidden to clerics and religiqus by canon 142. All"four elements must be present simul-taneoust~ t in order that the act of buying and selling come unde~r the prohibition of the law. If ang single one of them ¯ is lacking, the transaction is not forbidden. Let us now consider the remaining clauses of the canon. 55 AD~I C: ELLIS Re'uieW~for, ReHgio,,s "'Either personall~j or thr6~gh others'" Up to the time of Pope°Benedict XIV there were certain canonists and moralists who held that acleric'or.religibus, though forbidden to engage personally_in gainful trading, might do so through, others by entrustifig his money to a" layman to invest in his.obusifiess or trade. Their argument ran that in such a case the religious or cleric would not be burdened with the cares and worries of such trading.~ In practice, however,, such religious and clerics did not cease to worry about the success or failure of the business or trade in which they had invested their money; and,not infrequently" they were tempted to help the good work.along by taking an active, though perhaps a minor, part in it. H~nce they were distracted and hampered in the exercise of their clerical and religious functions. After pointingout that this had really been prohibited by his predecessors, Benedict XIV solemnly forbade clerics and religious to engage .in gainful trading even t/~rough others. Since his time, therefore, it has been prghibited to clerics and religious to be even part owners of any strictly indust.rial or commercial enterprise, though the busihess or industry was conducted entirely by laymen. "For their own advantage or for that of other~'" ¯ This clause was put into the law by Urban VIII and, emphasized .by Clement IX in,the seventeenth century w.hen missionaries began to engage in gainful trading not for their own benefit but for the support of their missions. In individual cas~s of great rieed the Holy-See gave permis-sion for Such trading in favor of mission work; but at the same time the fact was always emphasized that the law for-bade such trading even for the sake of charity towards others. Hence it should be kept in mind that gainful trading may not be carried on.by clerics or religious, no matter how 56- January/, 1946 MAY RELIGIOUS BUY.AND SELL~? worthy the cause may be. to-which the. profits of such trading are devoted. ¯ In concluding this first part it may be well to call atten-tion to the fact that this legislation binds both religious communities as a~ whole and individual religious with~ respect to their personal property. PART II: SOME MODERN PROBLEMS, IN BUYING AND SELLING Hav!ng anaiyzed the notion of what precisely is for-bidden by the law of the Church with. regard to gainful t.rading on the part. of clerics and religious, let us proceed to apply the law to some probl~erns which a~e peculiar~ to our modern e~onomy. Bookstor,es Most bo~irding schoolg and many day schools conducted by religious have a book store in which textbooks, station-ery, and sundries of various kinds are sold to the students. Originally, and in many cases even today, the primary pur-pose of such a store was not to make money, but rather, to serve the needs and the convenience of the st'udents. Fre-quently enough the Catholic textbooks used in schools can-not be purchased elsewhere. Agai'n, for purposes of dis-cipline and training, it is desirable that uniform stationery be used for class exercises, tests, homework, book reports, and the like. If each pupil purchased his stationery atria different store, such uniformity would be impossible. Hence "the need, or at least the convenience, of.~he school bookstore. What is the actual practice .with regard to such. stores? ,Usually books, stationery, and sundries are bought at. wholesale and sold at retail. ~ When this is done, .we have a perfect example of gainful trading forbidden to religious. The.articles arebought with. the intention of selling them unchanged at~.a higher~ price. As we have said above, the 57 ADAM C, .ELL[S ': ~:-~.: "i~:° 7 ;; ~ RevieW=.[o~ Religid£~s primary purpose" of th~ st,ore.is, not t.o.make profit but to meet the needs and" the convenience of the student body. Still, . the , law is violated unless:the elemeiit.of.profit is :eliminated. "Thismay be.done ifi. 5ne.of two ways : :either sell atcost price,., or. give the profits back to the students. Let us consider each method. " " " " ¯ To sell at.cost price has its .drawbacks. In certain cases the firms publishing school, books :~nsist tha~ a minimum rf.tail pr.ice,be charged. Then too, it is difficult at times to determine. [he exa~t cost of .a Sing!e. article. One must take 'into consideration attendant e.xP.enses--!ight, .heat, kental .ofspace occupied by the bo0kstore;.transportati0n chargds, a juit recompense;f0~dlerki, whether:'theybe extefns whb. work for a salary or students who receive fr~e textbooks and stationery for their services.Then there is the item of ,itoss due to deffi:ioration of goods which' become shoi3worn and must ibe sold.at a bargain, as well 'as books" left over which cannot be returnedto the publishe~,or which, if 'traded in, bring'a lower price than that originally paid: All these itemsshould be taken into consideratioh when "the c'o~t price"is put upon books and stationery. , . ¯ ~A far simpler arid more satisfactory solution of the problem may be found by returning the profits to the stu-dents- giving them something to which they are not entitled by reason of their tuition fees. Thus the profits may be used to supply the library with extra books and magazines which normally v~ould not be purchased; to provide extra lectures and performances of both a literary and entertaining character; to give the Students extra recrea- ~.tional facilities:' for example, additional recreation Or lounge rooms, or needed athletic equipment.: In this way the profits are, returned to .th~ students, whose purchases have created them. Thereligious do not ieceive any of thd profits; hence the law of the Chuieh is observed. 58 danuarg, 1946 MAY RELIGIOUS BUY AND SELL? A thirdsolution would be to turn the bookstore.over to the students: cooperative, if there be one in the school., Lunchrooms or Cafeterias ,Here again the motive for conducting these enterprises in a school is not primarily to make money but to promote discipline and to meet theconvenience of the student body. These activities differ from running a book store inasmuch as materials are purchased and changed before being sold at a higher price. If this change is effected by the religious themselves, they may retain any resulting profits. Usually, however, ~such changes as cooking .food, preparation of lunches, making sandwiches, and so forth are effected by hired help, wl~ether by outsiders or by part-time student help, and then the operation comes within the prohibition ~of the Code. Here again the solution of the problem lies~ . either in selling meals and lunches at cost price, which'is difficult to estimate, or in returning the profits to the stu~ dents as suggested above in regard to bookstores. The same . is .to be s~id with regard to profits derived from the sale of. candy,., ice-cream, and other edibles which are sold ¯ unchanged in lunchrooms and cafeterias. Gift Shops in Hospitals and Sanitaria Within recent years gift~ shops have made t.heir appear-ance in hospitals and sanitaria. One purpose of such shops~ is to supply visitors with a convenient opportunity to ~pur-chase a forgotten gift for the patient they are about to visit. No doubt they are also patronized by nurses and patients. .They have all the appea'rances of sale for profit that any other store has; and the pro.fits may not be kept by the reli-gious who conduct the hospitals. The best solution of the prOblem perhaps would be to rent out the concession to a lhy person who would take both the risks and th~ profits in return for a reas.onable.rental charge. If no ~uch person o 59 ADAM C. ELLIS ~ , Reoiew for ReligioUs. "can be found, the profits should be turned back to the pur-chasers ~in ~ome Shape' or form. Since these are, casual visi-" 'tors for the most part, this may be difficult. A certain amount might be used to make the visitors' "waiting rooms .m.ore comfortable; the rest might be devoted to increased :and ~improxied recreational facilities forconvalescent pa-tients. Sale of Religious Articles " Under normal circumstances there is no reason for reli-gious to engage in the sale of rel~gio.us articles. On special. occasions, however, such as parish missions and school 9r alumni retreats, it may be desirable too have .such good.s available for purchase. Usually,, they are obtained from a general supply house at wholesale prices with the p~ivilege of returning what has not been disposed of. Each indi- ¯ vidual article is marked with the retail p, rice. Here again we have a clear case.of buying and selling forbidden by the Church to clerics and religious. The only proper, way to ~onduct such sales is to turn over the entire transaction a ~church or school society, and allow it to keep the ~rofits. Neither clerics nor religious may share in them. Sisters who ~upply the needs of a. First Communion class (veils, wreaths, prayer books, rosaries, and similar objects) should 'sell. them to the c~ildren at cost price. "In country parishes pious Catholics who wish to obtain religious articles frequently ask the priest or the Sisters to procure them. In this case there is no buying at wholesale and selling ~it ret,ail, since there.is question usually of a single article a rosary, a crucifix, a prayer-book. T-he Sisters may purchase such an article from a Catholic supply hbuse and charge the retail price. The small, discount give.n single article may be considered as ~ gift to the religious: as a matter" of fact, it will .scarcely compensate them for carriage charges and'stamps" expended. 60 J~_r~uarg, 1946 ]~tAY RELIGIOUS BUY AND SELL.7 ¯ i . Articles Made in Trade and Industrial SChools " The modern religigus apostolate includes trade schools f6r poor boys and industrialschools for poor girls. In these schools boys are taught a trade, girls are instructed in'needle~ wc;rk and domestic science. Their first efforts will hardly ~.find purchasers; bu~ they learn rapidly, and articles, and goodsmade by them are sold by the institutio~i. Here we seem. tohave a form of industrg--materials are bought and ¯ changed by outside help. IS' it forbidden to sell such goods at a profit? No, it is not. First of all, the principal pur-pose of such schools is to instruct the pupils, to teach them an art Ora trade; and this cannot be done without practical work. It is not the primary intention, therefore, to sell the materials purchased ~nd changed by hired help at a higher price.,. Secondly, the proceeds do not go directly anti,exclu-sively .to the religious in charge,of the school, but are used to provide board and lodging for the pupils and fre-quently to pay the salaries of experienced lay persons-~ who act as instructors. ~rh~tever surplus may be left over should, be shared With the pupils who are entitled to some recompense for their labors. A final consideration which keeps the transaction from coming under the ban of.ga.inful trading is the fact that, at Ieast in a boarding institution, these pup!Is are not, strictly speakihg, hired help; they,may be considered as part of the religious family. . Printing and Publishing Books A religious or cleric is always allowed to print (or have p~inted) and sell at a profit whatever he has, written himself (Holy Office, June.10, 1846). Here he is not buying anything,, but he himself supplies the object which is changed and sold--his own literary composition. B.ut,. a religious is not allow.ed tO buy.books written and published by others and Sell them at a profit. This latter practice is clearly forbidden by the law. 61 ADAM C[ ELLIS '. ' '.: - ,~" ? ' ~. Ret~ieto for Religio~s M~g religious own and operate a prin, ting.pres~?. ( 1 ) If the religious run the press themselves and do all. the work, they may printand still not only books and writings of the m~mbers of their institute, but .also books written bY others who are not members. (2) If the religious merely. own-and direct the press and the' work is done by hired help, they" mayprint all :works w~itten.l~y members of their institute but nothing else unless they.have a special indult from the H61y See: nor may 'they engage in ordinary com-mercial printing. -In this second case,, they. may print reli-gious reviews, magazines, .journals,other. forms of xeligious literature destined for the spread, of the faith, and school ¯ books which cannot be obtained elsewhere--provided that ¯ no profit is made. Of coursea reasonable amount of income may be taken gradually to pay for .installation, "amortiza-tion of debt, .superintendence, and so forth. Rental.6f Space ~or Vending Machines Many institutiong, hospitals' especially, find it very conv

Issue 1.3 of the Review for Religious, 1942. ; Review for Religious MAY 15, 1942 The General Chapter of Elections . Adam C. Ellis Retreat Resolutions . Clarence McAuliffe Reparation to the Sacred Heart . Malachi J. Donnelly The, Pivotal Point of Good Will . G. Augustln~ Ellard Scruples Versus the Human Way . ~ Gerald Kelly Hints for Sacristans . Gerald Ellard The Presumed Permission . ¯ . James E. Risk Book Reviews )uestions Answered E)ecisions of the Holy See VOLUME NUMBER 3 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS VOLUME I MAY 15. 1942 NUMBER CONTENTS. THE GENERAL CHAPTER OF ELECTIONS IN A RELIGIOUS CONGREGATION Adam C. Ellis, S.3 . 146 FOR CHURCH MUSICIANS . " . 156 RETREAT RESOLUTIONS---Clarence McAuliffe, S.J . 157 BOOKS RECEIVED . , . 166" ¯ SOME PAMPHLETS . 166 REPARATION IN THE DEVOTION TO THE SACRED HEART Malachi J. Donnelly, S.J. . ." . . . 167 THE PIVOTAL POINT OF EFFECTIVE GOOD WILL G. Augustine Ellard, S.J . 170 SCRUPLES VERSUS THE HUMAN WAY---Gerald Kelly. S.J. 187 HINTS FOR SACRISTANS~erald Ellard, S.J . 194 THE PRESUMED PERMISSION--Jame$.,E~. Risk. S.J . 196 BOOK REVIEWS PRINCIPLES OF CHRISTIAN AND RELIGIOUS PERFECTION . 206 BLESSED ARE THEY THAT HUNGER By the Reverend Richard Graef, C.S.Sp. 206 THE MASS OF BROTHER MICHEL. By Michael Kent . 207 FAST BY THE ROAD. By John Moody . ; 208 THE CATHOLIC REVIVAL IN ENGLAND. By John ,J. O'Connor 209 MEDIEVAL HUMANISM. By the Reverend Gerald G. Walsh, S.J. 209 DECISIONS OF THE HOLY SEE OF INTEREST TO RELIGIOUS 210 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS Extension of Temporary Vows; Use df Parish School Funds; Is Reli-gious Habit a Sacramental; Days of Abstinence during Lent; Languages during Canonical Year; Inspection of Letters: Administration of Anes-thetics: Aspirant of East Syrian Rite: Converts from Greek Orthodox Church; Indulgence for Kissing Habit: Extending Period of Probation: Chanting of Little Office; Working during Evening Recreation 211 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, May, 1942. Vol. I, No. 3. Published bi-monthly: January, March, May, July, September, and November, at The College Press, 606 Harrison Street; Topeka, Kansas, by St. Mary's College, St. 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: Adam C. Ellis, S.J., G. Augustine Ellard, S.J., Gerald Kelly, S.d. Copyright, 1942, by Adam C. Ellis. Permission is hereby granted for quotations of reasonable length, provided due credit be given this review and the author. Subscription price: 2 dollars a year. PHnted in U. S. A. The General Chap!:er ot: I::lect:ions in a Religious Congregat:ion Adam C. Ellis, S.3. BY CHAPTER in a reli.gious institute is meant the lawful assembly of those members to whom the con-stitutions give the right to vote when matters of im-portance are to be discussed and decided. Chapters may be general, provincial, or local, according as they represent an entire institute (order or congregation), or a province, or a local community. Provincial and local chapters meet, as a rule, only for the election of delegates to the general or provincial chapter respectively. In this article we are concerned only with the g.eneral chapter, though many of its provisions will apply equally well to a provincial or local chapter. An ordinarg general chapter is convoked at the times prescribed by the constitu-tions-~ every three or six years, or at other regular inter.- vals. An extraordinar~ general chapter is ofie convoked outside the time of the ordinary chapter~ Constitutions approved by the Holy See usually prescribe that an ex-traordinary chapter may not be convoked without the per-missioh of the Holy See, except in the case of the death or resignation of the superior general. The purpose of the general chapter is two-fold: to elect superiors, and to transact other important business. The first kind of chapter is usually called the chapter of elections; the second, the business chapter, or the chapter of affairs. We are dealing here with the chapter of elections only, which is governed by the regulations of the Code of Canon Law as well as by the provisions of the constitu-tions which are not contrary to the Code (cf. canon 507. §1). 146 CHAPTER OF ELECTIONS Time, Place, and Cor~oocation of Chapter. The common law of the Church does not prescribe any particular place for the meeting of the general chapter of elections. The constitutions usually allow the superior general to determi.ne the date and place of the chapter, with the deliberative vote of his council. Sometimes, however, they prescribe that the chapter be held in the motherhouse, and set the day for it as well. In the absence of any definite regulations of the constitutions, the superior general with his council is free to determine the day on which the chap-ter is to be held, as well as its meeting-place. This is true even in the case of a diocesan congregation of religious women which has houses in more than one diocese, as was declared by the S. Congregation of Religious on June 17, 1921, when it explicitly stated that the choice of the meet-ing- place of the chapter rested with the superior general, and not with the local Ordinary in whose diocese the moth-erhouse is located. At the same time the S. Congregation declared that the right to preside over the election in the case mentioned belonged to the local Ordinary in whose diocese the election took place, hence not to the Ordinary of the motherhouse, unless the election is held in his dio-cese. Pope Benedict XV confirmed these decisions and ordered them to be published. The day and place of the general chapter having been determined upon, the superior general will then convoke the chapter, usually by means of a circular letter to be sent to all those who have a right to assist at the chapter. The constitutions usually pr.escribe that such letters are to be sent at least three, if not six, months before the day on which the chapter is to meet. An error in convoking the chapter does not make the election invalid unless one third of those who have a right to attend have not been sum-moned and, by reason of this irregularity, have not taken 147 ADAM C. ELLIS part in the voting (cf. canon 162, § 3). Electors or Members of the Chapter The constitutions will determine who have a right to take part in a chapter of elections. The following are com-monly members of such a chapter: 1. The superior general; 2. The members of his council; 3. All ex-superiors general; 4. The secretary general; 5. The treasurer general; 6. Provincials and two or more delegates from each province, if there are provinces; 7. Local superiors, and delegates of the various houses chosen according to the constitutions. The common law of tl~e Church prescribes that reli-gious with temporary vows have neither active nor pas-sive voice1 unless the constitutions explicitly grant it to them. The constitutions sometimes grant active voice to religious with temporary vows, seldom if ever passive voice. The number of years required by the constitutions for the enjoyment~ of active and passive voice is tO be counted from the" first profession of temporary vows, un-less the constitutions provide otherwise (cf. canon 578, 30). It is customary to elect substitutes for all delegates who are elected to take part in a chapter of elections. These substitutes take the place of such delegates as are impeded or who do not wish to attend the chapter. Unless the con-stitutions declare otherwise, the religious who have been elected delegates may give up their right to attend the chap-ter. XActive voice is the tight to vote: passive voice is the right to be voted for or to be elected to an ot~ce, 148 CHAPTER OF ELECTIONS Prelirainar~.t Session of Chapter In a preliminary session of the .chapter it is customary to examine the credentials of all the delegates to the chap-ter. This having been done, the assembly proceeds by se-cret vote to the election of at least two "scrutineers".0r tellers (cf. canon 171, § 1), unless these are already desig-nated by the constitutions. They must be elected from among the members of the chapter. After being elected they take an oath to fulfill their of Iice faithfully, and to observe secrecy regarding everything done in the chapter of elections. A secretary is usually elected in a similar man-ner, unless one of the tellers acts in this capacity. General Regulations Regarding Voting On!y those religious who are actually present in the chapter have a right to vote. Votes sent in by mail or cast by proxy are forbidden and invalid, unless the constitu-tions or a special privilege granted by the Holy See author-ize the employment of those methods (cf. canon 163). An exception., however, is made in favor of members of the chapter who are in the house but unable to attend the meetings because of illness. Such a person's vote given in writing shall be collected by the tellers and placed with the other votes, unless particular laws or a legitimate custom determine otherwise (cf. canon 168). All must abstain from seeking votes either directly or indirectly for themselves or for others, and no one may validly vote for himself (cf. canons 507, § 2, 170). This does not forbid the members-of the chapter from seeking information from one another regarding the qualities of this or that religious. The constitutions frequently pro-vide for such an opportunity before the day of the election. All votes must be freely given. A vote directly or indirectly extorted by grave fear or fraud in favor of a 149 ADAM C. ELLIS determined person, or of one of a group of persons, is an invalid vote (cf. canon 169, §.1). In order to be valid, a vote freely cast for an eligible candidate must have four qualities: it must be secret, cer-tain, absolute, and determined (cf. canon 169, § 2). Each one of these qualities demands a brief explanation. A secret vote. This means that no member of the chapter may make known to another, the pers6n for whom he voted. A vote which is made public is by that very fact invalid. However, for special reasons, a member of the chapter may declare before the president and the tellers which person he wishes to vote for. The vote is secret, since all the persons to whom it is made. known are bound under oath. not to reveal it. Though not strictly speaking required by law, a written ballot is the most common and most convenient form of carrying on the election and safe-guards the secrecy req.uired. It would seem to be the only form contemplated by the Code. A certain vote. In order to be certain the vote must glare the full name of the person v6ted for so as to distin-guish him from all other persons having a similar name. A vote cast for "the person who will receive the majority of the votes," is an uncertain vote. A vote which cannot be read, or understood, is likewise uncertain; as is also a blank vote. An absolute vote. Each vote must be free from all con-ditions. A vote cast for Peter "provided he is fifty years old," would be an invalid vote. If the condition, however, merely expresses a requirement of the law for the valid election of the person voted for, the. vote would not be invalid: But such conditions should not be put in the vote when given since they are presupposed. A determined vote. An alternative vote is invalid. 150 CHAPTER OF ELECTIONS Such would be, for example, a vote cast for "either Peter or Paul." In conclusion it may be well to note that an invalid vote does not make the balldt in which it is cast invalid. Such an invalid vote is simply not.counted. By accident it may keep the person for whom it was given from getting the required majority of votes. The Election of the Superior General -Before the voting begins for the election of higher superiors in institutes of religious men, all and each of the members of the chapter shall promise under oath to elect those whom they deem before God should be elected (cf. canon 506, § 1). This oath is not required of reli-gious women. In institutes of religious men the superior general pre-sides over the election unless the constitutions provide otherwise. In congregations of religious women the elec-tion of the mother general is presided over by the Ordinary of the place in which the election is held. He may preside personally or through a delegate (cf. canon 506, § 4). For the election of superiors the common law requires an absolute2 majority of votes on either the first or second ballot, while a relative majority suffices on the third ballot, If, on the third ballot, the highest number of votes is given equally to two or more persons, the presiding officer may determine the election by casting his vote, but never in his own favor. Should he decline to do so, then the senior by reason of ordination, or of first profession, or of age, shall be regarded as elected (cf. canon 101, § 1, 1°). Theconsti- 2An absolute majority is constituted by any number exceeding half the number of valid votes cast, for instance, 9 out of 16, 10 out of' 19, and so forth. The person receiving the greatest number of votes cast is said. to have a plurality or relative majority of the votes cast when that number does not constitute an absolute majority of all the'votes cast. Thus, in a chapter in which 25 votes are cast,-,John may receive 11, Peter 8, and Paul 6. ,John has a relative majority. 151 ADAM C. ELLIS tutions may require a greater number of votes, for instance, a two-thirds majority for the election of the superior gen-eral. Constitutions approved by the Holy See usually require that :a fourth ballot be taken in case the third ballot does not result in an absolute majority. ¯ In this fourth bal-lot only the two religious who have received the greater number of votes on the third ballot are eligible for election, though they themselves are excluded from voting on the fourth ballot. In case this fourth ballot results in a tie, the election is determined by priority of ordination, or of first profession, or of age, respectively as mentioned above. The Voting Process When all are prepared the voting begins. It is the duty of the tellers to see to it that the votes be cast by each elector secretly, diligently, separately, and according to the order of precedence (cf. canon 171, § 2). No particular form of collecting the votes is prescribed by the common law, though the constitutions usually determine some detailed method, for instance, the tellers carry a locked box into which each member casts his sealed vote, or the members proceed slowly, one by one, to-the table or desk of the presiding officer, and there deposit their votes in an urn or box, under the watchful eyes of the tellers. When all the votes have been thus.collected, the tellers shall examine in the presence of the presiding officer, according to the manner prescribed by the particular con-stitutions or legitimate customs, whether the number of votes corresponds to the number of electors. Should the number of votes exceed the number of electors, the ballot is invalid (cf. canon 171, §§ 2 and 3), the ballots are destroyed, and a new vote taken. If the number of ballots does not exceed that of the number of electors, they are opened one by one so as to be seen by both tellers, and by 152 " CHAPTER OF ELECTIONS the presiding officer, and noted down by the secretary. After the votes have been counted the presiding officer or one of the tellers announces to the chapter how many votes each candidate has received. This may be done in either of two ways. After each vote is opened and inspected by the tellers and the presiding officer, the name of the person voted for is read aloud.-Or after the votes have been counted, the final results may be read to the chapter by the presiding officer or by one of the tellers. The constitutions or custom will determine the method to be followed. The votes are to be burned immediately after each bal-lot, or at the end of the session if several ballots were taken during it (cf. canon 171., § 4). When the election of the superior general has been com-pleted according to the prescribed formalities, the presiding officer will declare it lawful, proclaim it, and receive the oath of the newly elected superior general. Thereupon the religious both of the chapter and of the community will make their obedience according to custom. All the acts of the election shall be diligently written down by the secretary and, after being signed at least by him, by the presiding officer, and by the tellers, they shall be carefully preserved in the archives of the congregation (cf. canon 171, § 5). Acceptance and Confirmation of the Election The announcement of the result of the election made to the chapter is sufficient notification if the person elected is present; if he is not present the result should be officially communicated to him, and he is to be summoned to the chapter, all further business of which is suspended until his arrival. Unless the constitutions state the contrary, the reli-gious elected is not obliged to accept the office. Should he 153 ADAM C. ELLIS renounce it; he loses all the rights connected with the same, and a new election is held. In the case of diocesan congregations of religious women, the election of the mother general must be con-firmed by the Ordinary who presides over it. For grave reasons, according to his conscience, he may refuse to con-firm the election (cf. canon 506, § 4). In that case, how-ever, he may not appoint the superior general, but a new election must be held. Postutaiion It may fiappen that the members of a chapter wish to have for their superior a religious who is able and worthy to fill that office, but who is excluded from it by some impediment of church law from which the-competent ecclesiastical ~uperior can and is accustomed to dispense. Such a person cannot be validly] elected, but the members of the chapter may postulate him, provided that he receives two-thirds of. the votes of the chapter (cf. canons 179, § 1; 180, § 1)which means that they ask the Holy See to grant the necessary dispensation. Postulation, however, may be admitted only in an extraordinary case and provided the constitutions do not forbid it. (cf. canon 507, § 3). In a letter addressed to the local Ordinaries of the world on March 9, 1920, the S. Congregation of Religious instructed them to be very strict in allowing postulation in the case of the superior general of a congregation of religious women who has just com-pleted two terms of office. In such a case the simple desire of the members of the chapter to re-eleCt the same superior, or the mere ability of the person to fill the office, is not a sufficient reason for postulation. If, however, other grave reasons seem to require the choice of the same person beyond the time allowed by the constitutions, the Ordinary must 154 CHAPTER OF ELECTIONS send a petion to the S. Congregation, in which it is clearly stated what the reasons are, how many ballots were taken, and how many votes were in favor of the person postu-lated. Finally the OMinary must state his own opinion in the matter. The S. Congregation will then give a decision. The fact that the constitutions expressly allow postulation does not excuse from the requirements of this instruction. In case of postulation the members of the chapter who wish to vote for an ineligible person, must write on their ballot: "I postulate N. N." Election of Other Officers The newly elected superior general presides over the election of the other officers to be chosen by the general chapter, unless the constitutions allow the Ordinary the right of presiding likewise at the election of the members of the general council. These elections are usually held in a separate session Of the chapter. The manner of voting is the same as that employed in the election of the superior general. An absolute majority of votes is required on the first and second ballot. If no one has received such a major2 ity, a third ballot is taken in which a relative majority is sufficient. ,If on this third ballot two or more candidates receive an equal number of votes, the presiding officer may cast a deciding vote, though he is not .obliged to do so. If he declines to use his right, the person who is senior by ordi-nation, or by first profession, or by age, is considered elected. The constitutions may provide for a fourth bal-lot in case the third re.sults in a tie. If the person elected is not a member of the chapter, he must be summoned at once, but the chapter does not await his arrival in order to continue its business. After the elections are over, the former superior gen-eral, the members of his council, the secretary general and 155 ADAM G. ELLIS the treasurer general, usually continue to sit in chapter with active voice as long as it r~mains in'session, even though they may have been replaced in their offces by other reli-gious. Should the superior general die during his term of offce, or resignbefore its completion, the assistant superior gen-eral will take his place in the government of the community and will ~onvoke an extraordinary chapter in which dec-tions will be held not only for a new superior general, but also for all the other offices which are usually filled by election in general chapter. The reason for this is that all ¯ the officers elected in a general chapter hold office from chapter to chapter, rather than for a "definite number of years. FOR CHURCH MUSICIANS Of unusual yalue to religious and seminarians working in the field c~f church music is 'the new Catholic Choirmasters' Correspon-derice Course. Four semesters of ~olle'giate° work, accredited by St. Albertus College Department of Music, are done under personal tutorship and will be coricluded with summer schools in 1943 and 1944. The lessons have been prepared by a~ faculty international in personnel and repute, including Dom Desrocquettes0 Dr. Becket Gibbs, Dom Ermin Vitry, Father Gerald Ellard, and others. Zest and .authority characterize their teaching, and phonograph recordings assist amply in problems that need the living voice. General' editor is Clifford Bennett, Gregorian Institute, 1515 Berger Building, Pittsburgh, Pa. Those interested may obtain an attractive pros-pectus by writing to the General Editor. 156 Retreat Resolutions Clarence McAuliffe, S.3. AS ~WEGO ON in the religious life, certain practices, n6t binding under pain of sir/, but nevertheless, of paramount importance in their bearing on the whole spiritual structure, become increasingly .difficult. Among these are the particular examination of conscience, certain rules governing religious discipline, such as the rule of silence, and the formulation of apt resolutions during re-treat. That the delicate web of religious virtues clings for partial support upon the particular examen is admitted by all ascetical writers. The same holds true for the rule of silence, since its utter neglect means the undermining of the spirit of prayer and recollection. But the resolutions we take in our annual retreat are even of greater moment since the continued practice of the particular examen and the preservation of a prayerful disposition depend in no small measure upon them. If we reflect on our happy novitiate days, we shall remember that we experienced no difficulty in making resolutions and recording them. We jotted them down carefully as tokens of our affection for our Divine Savior Who alone besides ourselves knew what they were. We may still have them. We may smile now at some of their characteristics. No doubt we took too many resolutions; we aimed too often at purely external practices; we may even have aspired to fanciful performances. But we can-not deny that they did us good. They kept us fervent: they kept our ideals high; they were concrete proof of our good will in God's service; they bolstered our flagging spir-itual forces. As long as we exercised care in formulating and inditing resolutions during our retreat, we were also 157 CLARENCE MCAULIFI~E faithful to our particular examen and observant of a cred-itable practice of silence. If we ever relaxed our diligence in making resolutions during retreat, our particular exa-men becamea half-hearted or neglected undertaking and our love for silence grew notably remiss. No Excuse t:or Neglect W.hy should the task, for task it is, of taking retreat resolutions ever be neglected by. us? What truly solid rea-son can we give for not writing them down and keeping them close at hand? Every man or woman engaged in a profession or business or in any other activity of moment pauses now and then to determine hn altered course of ac-tion. Small defects ard bound to seep in unnoticed, but they impede success and must b~ removed. Positive prog-ress also must be made; knowledge must be extended; greater zest must be engendered or the business will grow languid and die. Merchants do not hesitate to pay ample fees to public accountants and efficiency experts. These men detect pecuniary losses and open up new fields of ac-tivity for the merchant, and he makes definite plans accord-ing to their advice. Are we religious not engaged in a pro-fession, and a profession transcending all others? Can we deny that peccadilloes of one kind or another are, almost unobserved, weakening the fabric of our spiritual gar-ments? .that we are yet far distant from the glorious hori-zon of perfec~tion to which God beckons each one of us? Should we hesitate during our annual retreat to be our own public accountants and efficiency experts because of the unreasonable murmurings of our natural selves? A Faoorable Time for Resolutions Certainly no time is better suited for determining new spiritual policies than the annual retreat. During it we are segregated from our active duties; we engage in several days RETREAT RESOLUTIONS of silent communing with God; we see again what we al-ways know, but never reduce to perfect practice, that we are made only to serve Him; our spiritual ideals, dimmed by a whole year's mis~, are refurbished; God himself speaks to us and we hear His whisperings periodically, during each day of retreat pleading with us: "Why not give up this sin-less, but inordinate attachment for my sake? Why not de-vote more attention to developing this virtue?" Further-more, our subjective condition is fit for taking sage resolu-tions. We are calm, tranquil; excessive nervous tension, emotional ebullitions, the agitation engendered by custom-ary daily contact with other human personalities m all these vanish in the solitude of retreat. Those New Year resolutions so widely publicized by the newspapers can scarcely ever be successful if brought to bear upon spiritual matters, because the hectic round of daily duties and dis-tractions impedes clear vision and sound judgment. But the retreat is the New Year for religious and it is certainly to our shame if we pass up this one propitious occasion for taking efficacious resolves. Retreat resolutions are apt to be successful for another reason. Our profession is spiritual and its successful prac-tice does not depend on mere human endeavors. God called us to the religious life; He keeps us in it'; .He enables us every day to live it. Any resolution we take is doomed to failure if we count upon our own natural energies to fulfill it. Even the simplest, such as thedetermination to prepare Our meditation more carefully, to make an additional visit to the Blessed Sacrament, to relinquish some convenient, but unnecessary article, cannot be accomplished without the grace of God. Consider what vast stores of grace we must obtain in time of retreat. Not only do we perform our ordinary spiritual exercises, but the whole time is one continual prayer. A veritable mountain of sanctifying. 159~ CLARENCE MCAULIFFE grace is accumulated and with it the right to actual graces to be given us in the future as we need them. We shall need them particularly in order to be faithful to our reso- ¯Iutions, the fruit of our retreat, and they will be supplied generously and persistently by God, success depending solely upon our wholehearted cooperation. Negative Resolutions Why, then, we may ask have our resolutions so often been failures?' Why is it that we can hardly recall them after a few weeks perhaps? Have we been grossly negli-gent in corresponding with the grace of God? Not neces-sarily so. Perhaps our resolutions were not prudently made. God constructed the human being according to very definite laws. If we take resolutions contrary to these laws, especially our psychological laws, we can scarcely expect God to work a miracle to enable us to keep them. For in-stance, most' of us are probably too negative in drawing.up our resolutions. We will not do this; we will not do that; we will quit doing this, and so on. In other words, we pay entirely too much attention to our faults. If we are com-mitting deliberate sins, we must, of course, make them the first object of our determinations. But 'such is not usually the case. We fret over our imperfections or merely semi-deliberate faults, forgetting a sound teaching of theology which declares that it is impossible for any person without a special privilege, rarely granted, to keep from these even for a single day. The chances are that such defects spring from temperament, nervous disposition, unstable health or some other natural cause, partially, at least, beyond our control. Now it is a psychological law that negatives de-press the human soul. If our retreat resolutions comprise merely a lengthy list of "Don'ts" over inconsequential matters, we are .quite surely going to let them lapse. The 160 RETREAT RESOLUTIONS human soul is too lofty in its aspirations to be fettered' by a chorus of petty "I will not's"; it soars to the highest heavens in search of God Himself; unending vistai of per-fection lie stretched out before it and microscopic imper-fections are no obstacle to exalted sanctity even if they stay with us to our dying day. How much wiser it would be to 'resolve: "I will pay an additional visit to the Blessed Sac-rament each day this coming year for a few minutes out of love for my Savior," than to promise: "I will never sit down during meditation in the chapel", when, as a matter of fact, constant kneeling may so distract us that we cannot pray at all from bodily uneasiness. Besides, protracted kneeling may even do us positive corporal harm unless our backs and nerves are of rugged texture. How Man~/ Resolutions? Another mistake to which we may easily succumb is that of taking too many resolutions. It is true that a hun-dred resolutions would be none too many when we see in retreat the intricate labyrinth of perfection. Even so, it would certainly be unwise to take more than four. or, at most, five. Here again asimple law of. human psychology enters into play. We are so constructed that a multiplicity of resolves overbalances US~ dissipates our energies and re-sults in no accomplishment whatever. We cannot expect our Savior to rescind that law in our case by a miracle. It is well for us to recall that old axiom of spiritual au-thors that to advance in one virtue is to advance in them all. Progress, for instance, in the spirit and practice of obedi-ence necessarily reflects progress in the love of God. But love is the pith and core of all sanctity; loreis the all-em-bracing virtue; it means a closer alliance with God, more intimate union with Him; if it makes the tree of obedience more verdant, it must necessarily transmit its vigor to the 161 CLARENCE MCAULIFFE entire forest of virtues. Bearing this in mind, we should in retreat pay heed, firit of all to our vows. An outpost to one of them may have been weakened during the previous year. Then we should look to the virtues animating the vows and make a few positive resolutions that will stimu-late their growth. We must never forget that a religious observant of the vows is a good religious. Focusing our attention upon them, we keep our resolutions down to a minimum. Yet we will make more rapid spiritual s~rides .than we would if we squandered our resources by making decisions on the whole gamut of faults and virtues. The Search After Causes Our resolutions may result in failure for another rea-son also. They may be too vague, too imprecise, too gen-eral. For example, how often have we resolved in retreat to be more fervent in our spiritual exercises! No one could condemn a determination to better these exercises of piety. It is they especiall.y that keep our spiritual lives vigorous and bolster our flagging virtue. But what happened to that resolution to make them more devotedly? For a day or two, for a week or two perhaps, we were more attentive .to them and then, behold, we soon found ourselves in the same old rut of routine and mechanical performance. Why? Simply because our resolution violated a metaphysical law which states that to attain a purpose it is necessary to .~elect means, causes, that will conduce to its realization. If we resolve only upon the end to be achieved, we shall accomplish nothing. Every day we dream ofthings we should like to do, but we neglect the specific means to the end and our resolves are thus mere fancies relegated to the vast mound of inefficacious desires. If we really wish to improve our meditation, examinations of conscience and other spiritual exercises, let us investigate the reason 162 RETREAT RESOLUTIONS why they are performed so perfunctorily. Ii it because we indulge in considerable unnecessary talking? This will certainly dissipate the mind and react upon our spiritual exercises. If we make a determination to practise silence, we shall find that contact with God will become much eas.ier and our meditations will improve. Is it due to un-regu. lated affections of the heart? Then a resolution must be taken to watch carefully over such ungoverned move-ments by removing their occasions as far as possible. Is it due to stark physical fatigue? Then we can do nothing directly, but perhaps we can adopt some regime that will improve our health. Is it due to some other cause? Then let us examine for that cause and decide to overcome it if possible. Definite resolutions of these kinds will inject new life into our meditation whereas a mere hazy resolve to perform it better will soon vanish. This point is of the utmost consequence. Take another example. Most of us are guilty of positive faults against charity and all of us could practise this virtue much more perfectly. Shall we then determine during retreat: "I shall be more charitable"? Such a resolution is praiseworthy,, as a sign of our good will in God's service, but it is bound to lapse just as is the vague determination to do better in our spiritual exercises. If we wish to be more charitable, we must pry into the reasons why we are not more charitable. If we wish to obtain an effect, we must find a proportion-ate cause to produce it. Do we fail in charity because we associate only with those whose temperaments .are con-genial? because we areof a squeamish disposition and allow tiny impolitenesses to jar our nerves? because we indulge in idle ,gossip and small talk? because we have a biting or ridiculing tongue? Could we add blossoms to our charity by interesting ourselves in the activities of others? by de-veloping the spirit of a good listener? by watching for 163 CLARENCE MCAULIFFE opportunities to say a kindly word or express Our sym-pathy? Ways and means to add lustre to this virtue are truly endless. If one defect, in particular, makes us un-charitable, let us in retreat decide to banish it; if some precise means of burnishing our charity occurs to us, let us determine to adopt it. Then we shall find that Christ's own spirit of charity will take root and flourish in our souls. The Bizarre Resolution Fantastic and complex resolutions should also be avoided. Though we never relax our aim at the highest possible perfection, we always keep our feet anchored to earth by the bonds of prudence and common sense. The human mind can only think of one thing at a time; the will can be directed toward only one conscious goal at a time. Both faculties are bound to be smothered by kaleido-scopic resolutions. Suppose a religious were to emerge from retreat armed with this single resolve: From eight o'clock in the morning when her active day began until ten at night when she retired, exactly fourteen hours inter-vened, the same number of hours as there are stations of the cross. During the coming year she would divide the day according to the stations. From eight to nine in the morning she would live in the spirit of the first station, the condemnation of the Savior. From nine to ten her thoughts would Be engrossed with the second station, and so on throughout the day. It is not likely that this well-inten-tioned religious would keep that resolution. It is too bizarre and too involved .and would require constant at-tention from morning to night every single day. Human nature could not stand such a strain without well-nigh miraculous support. 164 RETREAT RESOLUTIONS Keeping the Resolution Once our resolutions are taken and written down, how can we perpetuate them for three hundred and sixty-five days? By adopting them as subjects for Our particular ex-amination of conscience. How often we puzzle over a suitable subject for this examen! The problem vanishes if we have our retreat resolutions on hand. Even though these be only three or four,, they will provide ample matter for the examen. Each resolution can be the subject for a few weeks or a month. Thereafter each resolution can be repeated again and, if this becomes wearisome, variety may be introduced without changing the subject matter. FOr instanc.e, if one of our retreat resolutions is to eliminate unnecessary talking, we can practise this for some days under the patronage of the Blessed Virgin and in imitation .of her silence in the home at Nazareth. Later on, we might exercise it in union with Christ in the desert and in His infancy and in His secluded hours of prayer upon the mountain. At another time we may practise it by repeated ejaculatory prayers to some favorite saint whose help we implore. In this way the subject will not grow tedious and it will never lose its value Since it is one of our rdreat resolutions. These may also be kept alive and vibrant by referring to them duriag the monthly recollection. Why devote this period to any other consideration when God has shown us in our previous retreat what actions of ours will most please Him? Despite our best efforts, however, we shall make un-successful resolutions. In framing them we may continue to violate the laws of human psychology. We may not observe them even for a week though we honestly wanted to do so. We should not be discouraged. God values our good will; and our retreat resolutions, if written down, are 165 CLARENCE MCAULIFFE palpable proof of this" good will. The resolutions of our novitiate days were often ill-formed and impossible of achievement, but they secured God's blessing for us. We kept the vows though we did not as yet have them; rarely did we commit even a deliberate venial sin; we strove by our clumsy retreat resolutions to improve our religious lives. These resolutions won from Christ the gift of fer-vor. He Will reanimate and increase that fervor if we per-severe in taking and recording resolutions during our re-treat. BOOKS RECEIVED (7"0 be reviewed later.) I PRAY THE MASS~. By Hugo H. Hoever, S. O: Cist. Catholic Book Publishing Company. New York. MARCH INTO TOMORROW. By, 3ohn ,J. Considine, M.M. Field Afar,Pres~. New York. ~, . WATCH AND PRAY. By ,John Moffatt, S.~J. The Bruce Publishing' Company. Milwaukee. IN THE SHADOW OF OUR LADY OF THE CiENACLE. By Helen M. Lynch; R.C. The Paulist Press. New York. SOME PAMPHLETS Cheer Up!; Be of Good Heart!; Have ConfidenCe!; Take Courage! These four pamphlets are by Father Bruno Hagspiel, S.V.D. They consist of a varied collection of Scripture texts, anecdotes, poems, and so forth, all designed to cheer the downhearted.~ Price, 10 cents a copy. May be obtained from The Mission Press, Techny, I11. Also, four pamphlets listed under the general title, GOSPEL MOVIES, that treat of Grace; Faith; Sin; Wed in Christ. They contain brief stories based on the Gospels and illustrating these various topics. All are written by Father Placldus Kempf, O.S.B. Price, 10 cents a copy. May be obtained from THE GRAIL, St. Meinrad~, Indiana. 166 Reparation in t:he Devotion t:o !:he Sacred I-leart: Malachi 3. Donnelly, S.J. THE "great apparition" of our Lo~d to St. Margaret Mary took place duiing the Octave of Corpus Christi, most probably in 1675. Showing her His Heart, our Lo~d said: "Behold this Heart which has so loved men, which has spared nothing, even to being exhausted and consumed, in order to testify to them its love. And the greater number of them make me no other return than ingratitude, by their coldness and their forgetfulness of me in this Sacrament of love. But what is still more painful to me is, that it is hearts who are consecrated to me who use me thus." And our Lord continued: "It is because of this that I ask you to have the first Friday after the Octave of Corpus Christi kept as a special feast in honor of my Heart. by receiving Communion on that day and making it a reparation of honor for all the insults offered to my Heart during the time that it has been exposed on the altars." The end of the devotion to the Sacred Heart, as revealed to St. Margaret Mary and as approved by the Church, is reparation to this same Heart for the coldness and indif-ference, for the sins and insults suffered by the Sacred Heart, especially in the Sacrament of His love. Reparation, in general, means the making up for an injury or offense committed against one to whom honor and love are due. In the case of reparation to the Sacred Heart, this presup-poses a real personal wound in that Heart caused by the sins of men, and a real ability on the part of those devoted to the Sacred Heart to repair this wound. This confronts us with two difficulties: 1) how can the Heart of Jesus now suffer? 2) how can we repair His sufferings? 167 MALACHI ,J. DONNI~LLY The soul of Jesus Christ.in heaven experiences no sor-row, nor does His glorified body know aught of pain. His perfect happiness can be dimmed by absolutely nothing: nay! not even by the most heinous sins of ungrateful men, How, then, could He complain of the coldness and indif-ference of m~n, and that in words which, seemingly indicate that each sin of the present day is a direct and piercing wound in His Sacred Heart? In a word, the solution lies in an Understanding of the knowledge that Christ, as Man, enjoyed during His, life on earth. Our Blessed Lord was both God and Man. As Man He enjoyed the beatific Vision throughout His whole life. Now, through this vision He received the complete perfection of His intellect. He knew all things that per-tained to His office, His dominion, His mission on earth, all that pertained to the plan of redemption. The knowledge that Christ had, as Man~ was like unto the eternal knowledge of God. During His whole lithe, .especially during the Passion, Christ',' as Man, had knowl-edge of future things; the good and bad 'actions of all men were directly1 present to His mind. Just as a giant search-light in one blazing stream of light covers at once a half-mile area and every inch of space therein, or just as the human eye gazing on a distant landscape sees the whole and each detail at the same time, so, too, did Christ see through the whole of time to come and all the actions of men con-tained therein. He saw all future events as actually present before His eyes and each event was the direct object of His vision. In order to understand better the relationship between the knowledge of Christ and reparation in the devo-tion to the Sacred Heart, let us go in imagination with Jesus to the garden of Gethsemani. As Jesus kneels in 168 REPARATION TO THE SACRED HEART meditation, He begins to grow sad. Why? This sadness can only be caused by the vision in His human mind. As He kneels there, the sins of all men Unfold before His eyes; all the ingratitude of men--especially, of those from whom He might well have expected better things--is directly present to His clear vision. Not a.single sin --- even an ever so secret sin of desire-~elu~les His all-seeing gaze. Also (and this is the consoling aspect of Gethsemani), every single act of reparation of those especially devoted to His Sacred Heart was present to Him. And, as Jesus looked upon these acts of reparation, His loving Heart felt real and deep consolation. When, therefore, at the present time we perform acts of reparation, it is perfectly true to say that there is direct contact between our act of reparation and the Heart of Christ in Gethsemani. Time and space are wiped out. His knowledge bridges nineteen hundred years as readily as we look across a river. We are present before His eyes: our acts of reparation console Him, our sins cause Him sorrow-ful agony. What should be the effect of this truth that all our actions were actuatl~t present to the suffering Christ in His Passion? A deep realization of this can only ground more firmly our love for the Sacred Heart and spur us to more ardent acts of loving reparation to the Sacred Heart. Just as the spokes of a wheel lead to the hub, with which they are in direct contact, so likewise do all the reparatory actions of men the world over lead back to Christ in the Garden; establish immediate contact with His Suffering heart. And the deep realization of this solidly established truth should arouse the deepest aspirations of our hearts and wills to do our utmost to console the great and loving Heart of Jesus. 169 The Pivol:al Point: ot: l=fl:ec!:ive ,ood Will G. Augustine.Ellard, S.J. ['Because of the importance of Father Ellard's theme, and because of the length of the article, we thought that the followihg summary might be appreciated by those who wish some handy way of visualiz!ng and recalling the points devdopedin the article. The Roman numerals refer to the same divisions of the text.--ED.] Summary I. The problem of bringing about moral good will is illustrated by three cases: a)" Good~ but weak, will in oneself; b) Generous, but inconstant, will in oneself; c) Irresponsive or bad will in others. II. What is meant by the expression: "the pivotal point of good will"? III. Things which do not constitute it. IV. It does consist in the realistic appreciation of values. These terms defined. V. Reasons for the assertion: a) Common sense; e) Philosophy; b) ExperienCe; f) Sacred Scripture; c) Observation; g) Theology. d) Experimental psychology: gI. The characteristics of the knowledge that is d~]namic, i.e. apt to move or strengthen the will: a) Presentation of the right aspect; e) Actuality: b) Sufficient" quantity ; f) Novelty ; c) Personal reference: g) Affinity and sympathy. d) Immediacy and imagery; VII. Practical conclusions-- 1. To move or strengthen the will for the present: Realize the values of motives: a) Learning what the pertinent values are; Means: b) Serious reflection and prayer, especially mental: c) Organization of the motives. 2. To steady the will in the future: Have the realization in the focus of consciousness at critical moments. a) Recollection; c) Habituation: Means: b) Association; d) Experience. 170 PIVOTAL POINT OF GOOD WILL SISTER Mary Frail is making her annual retreat. More clearly than she has been wont, she sees the magnifi-cence and beauty of the divine plan for herself, she is delighted with it, and she feels that it would the grand-est thing possible to carry it out in all its fulness. Also she notices that to do so would mean giving up certain rather dear little habitual imperfections. She is torn between two conflicting attracti6ns. Though she is free, and by all means would be pleased to embrace .the whole of the divine plan for her, especially since it is all for her own happiness, still she finds that her will does not respond as she would like. Making his retreat also is Father Inconstant. He finds no great difficulty in resolving upon the noblest courses, but in looking back over many retreats, many excellent resolutions, and many performances not so excellent, be feels rather distressed at the sight of his inconstancy. This time, if possible, he is going to make the new beginning that will stick. Just how--well, that is not too clear to him. Brother Zealous faces a different kind of difficulty. He is a teacher, and he is glad to do everything he can to make good Christians out of his charges. But often enough he finds that his pupils are irresponsive or wilful. Is there anything we can do for Sister Mary Frail, Father Inconstant, and Brother Zealous? Their problems concern wills, their own and those of their charges. Pos-sibly, some consideration of that upon which moral good will turns in a peculiar way, may be of service to them. II. By "the pivotal point of good will" let us under-stand a certain something that precedes good will itself and that, more than anything else, is a condition of its coming into being. Of course it does not determine the will; for man, being free, makes his own determinations, But even the free will is dependent upon previous conditions, and it 171 -G. A. ELLARD is the principal of these that we propose to consider. Ill. This pivotal point of good will cannot be simply knowledge. Hardly anyone would maintain nowadays the old doctrine attributed to Socrates that knowledge makes virtue. It is not freedom of the will; everybody knows by sad experience that he cannot make himself good by a mere fiat of his will, nor even by many of them. Imposition of good habits from without, though continued over a period ,of years, in the discipline, for example, of a boarding school,, may ultimately produce, not what is sought, but a reaction in the contrary direction. Good habits developed freely and from within cannot be the point we are inquir-ing after, primarily because they presuppose much good volition and action, .and the pivotal point is antecedent to these. Nor, to pass to the supernatural order, is grace as such the pivot. Grace could not help to explain natural good will:. Even in supernatural activity, it is not sanctify-ing grace, which of itself is not operative, but a habit in the order of b.elng, not of action. Nor can it be the infused virtues or the gifts-of the Holy Spirit; neither are these of themselves operative; to go into action, they need stimula-tion. In what sense actual grace may fulfill the function we are investigating, will be taken up later on. Prayer, that is, asking God for good will, cannot bethe pivotal point. If the request be granted, the question would remain by what means the good will is brought about. Realistic Appreciation of Values IV. The pivotal point does seem to be found in a realistic, sense or appreciation of values. Let us consider. Everything that is good has value, and therefore value here is understood to be any good. Good is, according to the classical division: the.pleasant, the useful, the proper. Val-ues may be high or low, and positive, like pleasure, or nega- 172 PIVOTAL POINT OF (~00D ~'ILL tive, like pain. Appreciation is the subjective or'personal response to the objective goods that we call values. To appi~eciate is, according to the dictionary, "to set a just value on; to esteem to the full worth of; to be fully sensi-ble of; to exercise a niceperception of worth." Good busi-ness people, like SisterMary Buyer, who has been chosen out.of many to make the purchases for the convent or hos-pital, presumably know how to discern values and prices, In art or literature a man is said to have appreciation if he recognizes or prizes what is beautiful. In general, a person has appreciation if he knows a good thing when he sees it. The wise man has been defined as he who knows true val-ues. Religious who properly evaluate the excellence of God and of His plan have appreciation. Realistic apprecia-tion equals .the reality, or at least approximates the reality, of the value. Appreciation, or evaluation, knowing good things as good, seems to be the vital link between the two spiritual facultieS. It involves knowledge of a certain kind, and thus it is intellectual; since complacency or some other indelib-erate movement of.will must follow the perception of. good or evil, it brings in the will also. In practise, the cultivation of appreciation of true or major values ri~quires the har-monious cooperation of both faculties. V. Among the reasons for placing the pivotal point of good will in a realistic sense or appraisal of values, we may notice the following. Common sense would seem to indicate that it is mo-tives that move the will. But what are motives, directly or indirectly, except values? If athing be of no value to one, why should one bother about it? Our own experience seems to teach the, same. If we consider carefully the best moments and the worst mo-ments in our past lives, and allow for all influences; internal- 173 G, A. ELLARD and external, can we give a better reason for our own inte-rior strength or weakness at such times than that just then our sense of values, our perception of what was really good, ~was most adequate and realistic or least so? A little observation of men shows how eagerly they react to what they value highly; to money, for example, or pleasure, or power, or honor. Salesmen and advertisers achieve their, purpose by inducing people to conceive, the highest possible idea of the worth of their merchandise. Everybody notices how much clerks will put up with from prospective buyers. Would the same persons be so com-plaisant if there were no immediate .gain in view? If it be necessary to, hold his job a man may rather easily bear with the caprices of his employer, ~though at home; with his wife and children, he acts like an 01d bear. Wars, in spite of all their evils, are fought for great economic or. political values. Suppose that, in the iight of experience and observa: tion of men, we. consider this hypothetical case. Let A be anybody who has great sums of money at his disposal. Let B be anybddy else. Let A ask B to do anything that is within the limits of reason. If A0 offer greater and greater amounts of money to B indefinitely, is it likely that B w~ill resist the attraction? Is it not to be expected thathe will yield~ and moreover like it? But money .is only the measure of .material values. That volition is a function Of appreciation or evalua-tion is also a finding of experimental psychology. This is the main practical contention in the works on the w.ill of the distinguished German ~lesuit psychologist, Lindwor-sky1. He specialized in0 the psychology~of~this faculty, and it is to him that I am mostly in~tebted for the ideas in this 1See especially The Training of the ~rill, translated by Steiner and Fitzpatrick (Brute. Mil~.'aukee) ; and The Ps~Icholog~t of Asceticism, translated by Heiring (Edwards: Eondotl). ~ " 174 PIVOTAL POINT OF GOOD WILL paper. According to Lindworsky, experiments show that volition depends chiefly upon insight into values, without of course being determined by them. The will can embrace whatever appears to it to be of value, and it can become very strong if one feels sufficiently that the value is great enough. To move the will, values must be subjectively. experienced. Keeping a resolution is dependent, not so much upon the energy with which it was made, nor upon an inner general strength of will developed by particular exercises, as upon sufficient initial evaluation and especially upon the presence of it in the focus of consciousness at critical moments. "That the secret of influencing the will lies principally in this, to present the ~right motives at the right time, is no new discovery; . it was always the doctrine of the tradi-tional Scholastic psy, chology": so writes Hertling2, a con-temporary authority in ascetical theology. From modern American psychologists: "Forcing oneself to an early rising, and compelling oneself to run six times around the barn before breakfast, or to do some other useless and diffi-cult thing daily, will not bring the result sought for . Will training implies bringing sufficient motivation into play.''8 Philosophy teaches that the object of the will is good that is known. There are two elements expressed in the object and a third is implied. The first is goodness, real or apparent. Hence no one can expect to influence the will except by proposing some good to it. To do anything else would be like trying to make one see what has no color or to hear something that is not sounding. Knowledge is the second requisite, and it is just as necessary. If one had an opportunity to pick up a million dollars, but did not ~Hertling: Lehrbuch der Aszetlschen Theologie (Rauch, Innsbruck), p. 177. 8Goult and Howard: Outline of General Ps~lcholog~l, pp. 338-339. 175 G. A. ELLARD notice it, nothing would come of it. Thirdly, the good whichis presented and known, must be apprehended not merely as true or in any other way, but as good. Where there is no good or no perception of it, there can be no voli-tion. If the good be sufficiently great and seen with suf-ficient clarity, there can be no resistance to its-attraction, as happens with the Infinite Goodness and Beauty in the beatific vision. Hence, in general, the greater the good and .the clearer one's knowledge of it, the more likely the will's acceptance of it, and the more energetic and constant that acceptance will be: Sacred Scripture seeks to move men mostly by prom-ising good things and threatening evil things. But these are values, positive or negative. Christ Himself appears to have indicated what the will follows in such texts as these: "For where thy treasure is, there shall thy heart be also" (Matthew 6: 21). "For what shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world, and lose his soul? Or what shall a man give asaprice for his soul?" (Matthew 16: 26). "The kingdom of the heavens is like unto a treasure hid in the field, which a man findeth and covereth; and in his j6y he goeth and selleth.all that he hath and buyeth that field. Again, the .kingdom of the hea~'ens is like unto a merchant in search of. goodly pearls; and when he .hath found one pearl of great price, he goeth and selleth all that he hath and buyeth it" (Matthew 13: 44-46). A theological consideration: interior actual grace helps us to do good or avoid evil by enlightening the mind and inspiring the will. Psychologically Speaking, one would say that grace moves the will by enlightening the mind. The indeliberate inclination excited in the will corresponds to the ideas aroused in the intelligence. Light relative to a practical step can conceivably bear upon any or all of these three points: what is to be done, why it is to be done, and 176 PIVOTAL POINT OF GOOD '~rILL bow it is to be done. The firstalone would be quite insuf-ficient, and might well be deterrent, as when an unpleasant duty is indicated. To show why a thing is to be done: what is this but to manifest its motives or values, to reveal that it is becoming, profitable, necessary, and so on? In this way, by giving one a subjective appreciation, actual grace enters into the pivotal point of supernatural good will. It tends to correct that perversity which the prophet Isaias denounces: "Woe to you that call evil good, and good evil; that put darkness for light, and light for dark-ness; that put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter" (Isaias 5: 20). It gives one something of that gift of the Messias: "that he may know to refuse the evil, and to choose the good" (Isaias 7:. 15). In modern terms, it enables one to share in Christ's sense of value. The Church has incorporated into the Breviary4 a famous passage of St. Augustine in which he comments on the text: "No one can come to me, except the Father . draw him" (John 6: 44), and uses a quotation from Ver-gil: "If the poet could say, 'Each one's pleasure draws him,'5 not necessity but pleasure, not obligation, but delight, how much more strongly ought we to say that the man is drawn to Christ who is delighted with truth, delighted With beatitude, delighted with justice, delighted with everlasting life, all of which Christ is? . You show a green branch to a sheep and you draw it. Sweets are shown to a child, and he is drawn. Because he runs, he is drawn; he is drawn byloving; without injury to body he is drawn; with bonds of the heart he is drawn. If. earthly delights and pleasures revealed to lovers draw them; does not Christ, revealed by the Father, draw us? For what does the soul desire more strongly than the truth?''° 4Ember Wednesday after Pentecost; Lessons 7-9. 5Eclogues, II, 65. OTractatus 26 in doannem. 177 G. A. ELLARD It may be objected that we know enough or too much already. What we need is not more knowledge, but more willing. Sometimes that is true. But at other times, it may be asked; have we the right kind of knowledge, and enough of that kind? In ~any case, if a man cannot directly make a decision that he would like to make, what do you advise him to try? Have you anything better than that he should reconsider his motivation? Dynamic Knowledge VI. Now let us see if we can discern what kind of knowledge of ~;alues it is that, as it were, magnetizes the will. It is a certain, dynamic knowledge, found to be char-acterized more or less by the following attributes. First, it will present things under the right aspect, that is, it will propose things, not as true--the usual function of knowledge--but as good or evil, lovely or odious, beau-tiful or hideous, and so on. Such are the phases of things that it will bring out into relief. A quotation from the psychologist James will illus-trate what is meant by the right aspect. Consider "the case of an habitual drunkard under temptation. He has made a resolve to reform, but he is now solicited again by the bottle. His moral triumph orfailure lil~erally consists in his finding the right name for the case. If he says that it is a case of not wasting good liquor already poured out, or a case of not being churlish and unsociable when in the midst of friends, or a case of learning something at last about a brand of whiskey he never met before, or a case of celebrating a public holiday, or a case .of stimulating him-self to a more energetic resolve in favor of abstinence than any he has ever yet made, then he is lost. His choice of the wrong name seals his doom. But if, in spite of all the plausible good names with which his thirsty fancy so copi- 178 PIVOTAL POINT OF GOOD WILL ously furnishes him, he unwaveringly clings to the truer bad name and apperceives the case as that of 'being a drunk-ard, being a drunkard, being a drunkard,' his feet are planted on the road to salvation. He saves himself by thinking rightly.''7 The right aspect is not enough. There must also be a certain quantitg in the knowledge. It must be sufficiently clear, evident, rich, and full. In fact, the closer it approaches equality to the reality, the better. This is a particularly important dement in the realism of dynamic appreciation. Hence, obscure, vague, or hazy conceptions of the most tremendous realities may remain inert and sterile. Moreover, personal rfference is vitally necessary. To see that a thing matters to another may leave me unaffected. I must see the vital importance of it for my own dear self. In the last analysis evaluations must be based on one's past experiences of pleasure, pain, or love. Through these gen-uine experiences present knowledge must be vitalized. A man, for example, who does not remember vividly how it feels to have his finger burned, is in no position to begin to imagine how it would feel to be consumed with raging fires in the infernal regions. If one should never have experi-enced the thrill of unselfish love, one could hardly under-stand God's absolute loveliness and make an act of divine charity. Nor could a man who ha~ never been aroused by created beauty react to the Uncreated Beauty. Personal reference is necessary in another sense also. Great things have many values or suggest many motives, some of them apt to appeal to one and others t6 another. Each one must discover those that evoke interest and response in himself and exploit them. One soul may love God as a father, another as a friend, and a third as a spouse. 7James: Talks to Teachers, pp. 187-188. 179 (3. A. ELLARD Two more marks of dynamic recognition of worth are iramediac~t and iraaqer~. Direct perception of an object is much more apt to stir one than knowledge that is only mediate, discursive, or abstract, because it is closer to the object and more like it. Hence .the weakness, from an affective and effective point of vie.w, of reasoning and argu-ments. Love at sight, even to infatuation, is said to occur at times; but nothing like it is possible when men and women know each other only through description or cor-respondence. A dreadful catastrophe may horrify one who sees it but leave.a reader little affected. To make up for lack of immediate knowledge when it cannot be had, the imagination must be used. The more vivid and realtand rich the imagery, the better. The human mind is depend-ent on the senses and the imagination. Hence, to get at the emotions and, through them, the will, fill the imagination. "Empathy," the ability "to feel-oneself into situations," for example, into the Gospel scenes, or into the conse-quences of one's choices, into the pleasures or pains that may follow them, can compensate to some extent for the deficiencies of indirect knowledge. Happily most of the moral and spiritual values may be contemplated in the concrete in persons who have real-ized them. The scale would range from Christ, the Blessed Virgin, and the Saints down to the humblest person who has Something to be admired and imitated. Actuatit~I of knowledge gives it power. It is of deci-sive importance that the motives be actually before con-sciousness at the critical moments when they are moit needed and least likely to be there. It is not enough that they be stored away in the recesses of the memory. Actual consciousness, for instance, of the ~ttractions of unchaste pleasure may win the battle against merely habitual aware-ness of the reasons for keeping chaste. The force of occa- 180 PIVOTAL POINT OF GOOD 'q~rlLL sions of sin illustrates well the characteristics of dynamic knowledge that we have been reviewing; the impression they produce is thoroughly realistic. Nooeln.I is also an aid, as it makes a greater appeal to the sensibilities. Hence, ~o keep a good idea from losing its motive power, consider it from new angles and find new beauties in it. Since choice is always comparative, a preference of one thing to another, superiority! of knowledge of one alterna-tive gives it an added chance of being taken. A slight value well known may be preferred to a much greater one less well known. In general, .other things being equal, that alternative will be chosen the values of which are better known or predominant in the focus of consciousness at the time. FinaliSt, a factor of knowledge that induces prefer-ential appreciation is found in the subject himself, namely. a certain s~tmpath~t, based on a natural or supernatural affinity: the "connaturality" discussed by St. Thomas in the Summas. The classical example, from Aristotle on, is the chaste man's knowledge of chastity as opposed to the theoretical ethician's. With respect to the Supreme or Absolute Value, that is, to God, this affinity is founded principally upon the essential relations of the creature to the Creator and of sonship to the Divine Father. Such seems to be the kind of knowledge that leads to willing and to action. It does not make one learned, and may be greater in the ignorant peasant than in a scholar or theologian. But if its object be divine values, it will help to make one wise and holy. If we could make our knowledge and estimation of eternal values equal to our appraisal of temporal things, our probation would be over. We cannot, to cite an 88umraa Tbeologic~, 2a, 2ae, q. 45, a. 2. 181 G. A. ELLARD instance, have an experimental knowledge of God in this life, though the mystics do lay claim to just that or some-thing like it, and in the light of it they conceive for God a love like that fierce, overwhelming, personal love which arises between man and woman. On the other hand, and to our misfortune, the false or minor values of material things do solicit us through precisely that form of knowl-edge which is thoroughly realistic and dynamic. There-fore it is all the more imperative for us to be mindfully aware of the advantages that sensible attractions have over spiritual, values, and in oposition to do whatever we can to compensate for the difference. Practical Corollaries VII. Suppose we consider separately the cases in which ¯ one wishes to influence a will at the moment and in the future, or what is about the same thing, making a resolu-tion now and endeavoring to secure its observance in the future. 1. To move the will now, and to charge it with power, get l~y all available means the maximum possible appreciation of the values or motives that are pertinent, and diminish as much as possible any antagonistic evalua-tion. ¯ First, it is important rightly to discern just what ought to be done, that is, in our case, what the law of God is or what He prefers. Missing this point, through impru-dence or scrupulosity or laxity, is not conducive to good will. But then focus attention, feeling, and effort on the advantages, gains, and reasons for so acting. Not u~bat ought to be done is to be stressed, but the u;h~/'s. Imitate the clever salesman who sells his wares by persuading the potential buyer that it is really to his own interest and profit to buy. Exhortation had better take this form than a tedious repetition of "Let us'es" or "Let us not's." Put 182 PIVOTAL" POINT OF GOOD WILL the accent, not on the rights of authority, but on the advantages to the subject in obeying; these include the values of obedience itself. Even if you urge that it is God's will, try to explain whg He wills it, what values He has in mind. With most persons, begin with a stron.g appeal to self-interest; then proceed to the nobler interests, such as God's; Christ's, souls'. Very especially in case something difficult or distressing be involved, for example, self-- abnegation, or love of the Cross, the greater the disagree-able feature, the greater must be the emphasis on the good aspects and results. This is a simple psychological neces-sity. Some who exhort to abnegation would seem to think the greater the evil, the more it will be welcomed. Mere negatives--"Dont's"--are never inspiring, and therefore negative resolutions should somehow be given a positive character and value, for instance,-by substitution or sub-limation. To acquire a dynamic sense of moral values two chief means are available; first, to learn what those means are; and secondly, by serioi~s reflection and prayer, to take their measure or realize their magnitude. What the values are is to be learned by study and reading or listening to sermons and conferences. We could not attempt to outline them here. But it may be sug-gested that the perfect man Would strive to know and will .the same values that. God Himself wills and to have a simi-lar appreciation of them. They are the Infinite Goodness Itself and the excellences of the divine cosmic plan, cul-minating in divine beatitude for an,gels and men, with immunity from all evil, for eternity. Included in that plan would be the sublime grandeurs of the Incarnation and of its effects in time and eternity. Next in order is to work up an adequate appreciation of these motives, justly to appraise them, to recognize their 183 G. A. ELLARD ' full worth, to feel their force and significance. This is ~o be done principally by serious reflection and prayer, or better, by both together, that is, by mental prayer. This is the great means and hence the supreme importance and efficacy of it in the spiritual life. St. Thomas has a whole article in the Summa to demonstrate that "contemplation or meditation is the cause of devotion.''9 In it he quotes these words from St. Augustine: "the act of the will arises from understanding." Without mental prayer, or something approaching it, one cannot expect much grasp of moral values: such is human nature. The senses and the world overwhelm one with their values, which are in possession. as it were, from the beginning. A counterbalancing per-ception of the worth of things divine does not come with faith nor without effort. The germ of it.is there, but it must be developed. The human spirit is immersed in mat-ter, and if it is to raise itself above material attractions and maintain itself upon that superior level, it-must exert its forces with an energy comparable to that of the powerful motors of the big clippers or flying-fortresses. This means in the beginning hard thinking and much of it, with ener-getic and sustained will-activity corresponding to the light won. In mental prayer.a vitalized and dynamic insight is gained into divine truths and values, the will reacts and responds at once, the appropriate affections are elicited, the consequences of possible courses of action are carefully weighed and felt in anticipation, the correct moral atti-tudes are assumed, practical resolutions are made and their execution rehearsed, many fervent petitions are made, and grace, coming in ever increasing measure, deepens and enhances the whole process. In a word, one is filled with that light, good will, and strength which are needed to ful-fil one's part in God's magnificent plan. 9Summa Theologica, 2a, 2ae, q. 83, a. 3. 184 PIVOTAL POINT OF GOOD WILL If one cultivati~ m~ntal prayer well and sufficiently, he will also use all the other means to spiritual advancement and thus he will become perfect. If one be faithful in the lower degrees of mental prayer, he may be led on even to mystical contemplation, wherethe labor will be less, and the infused light, appreciation, and love may be incom-parably greater. Mostly in the intimate commerce of con-templation do the spouses of God come to their peculiar experience and all-absorbing love of Him. The funda-mental difference between a mere believer, a person of medi~ ocre virtue, and a saint, seems to be that, whereas they all assent to the same truths, the believer hardly does more, the mediocre person feels to some extent what they mean, and the saint truly realizes their significance. All the motives, general and particular, having been considered, they are to be assembled and associated together, so that one may recall the others, and then they are to be thrown into the scales against their false contraries, and proposed for acceptance to the will, with an inexorable "either. or!" 2. To aid in securing future execution of a resolution, four means in particular are effective: recollection, associa-tion, habituation, and experience. Recollection will tend tO prevent the light and warmth of one's vivid appreciation from vanishing into the dark-n~ ss. God and divine things are in themselves interesting, and if one's insight into them has been sufficient, interest in them will spontaneously spring up. Then without too much difficulty interest will direct attention; attention to divine values will keep them in the field of consciousness; and naturally the affections and will should follow. One should foresee as far as possible the occasions in which one's constancy will be put to the test, and deter-mine in advance by .what precise means one is going to 185 G. A. ELLARD react. "The modern psychology of will teaches that mere volition accomplishes nothing, unless a definite "way of behaving has been planned and practised.''1° Then the occa-sion, the resolution with its means, ~nd the motives, already organized among themselves, are to be associated together in thought as firmly as possible, so that when the occasion comes, it may recall into the focus of consciousness the reso-lution with its means, and this in turn the whole constella-tion of motives. Thus their cumulative force will be available, and successful action may be expected. To illustrate by'an example from Lindworsky: John notices that whenever he meets Charles on the way to work, he falls into uncharitable conversation. He adds to his gen-eral resolve not tofail against charity this means, that when he meets Charles again, he will promptly open a discussion of such or such a topic. Thus he links together all four: -the occasion, the r.esolution, the precise means, and the ¯ motives. 1~ All the procedures indicated in the preceding pages can be cultivated more and more until they become solid l~abits of virtue. Thus greater sureness, facility, and perfection in good are acquired. With every success in accomplishing what one desires, one actually feels and experiences to a certain extent the fruition of one's ideals and values, and thus one's appreciation of them becomes ever more realistic, and more like the divine or Christiike sense of what is of value. If with sufficient realism you. see that your treasure is ~n the Infinite Goodness of the Blessed Trinity and in the advantages of the divine plan, you will find your will there also. lOLindworsky: The P~cbolog~/ of Asceticism, p. 38. ~lbid.o p. 37. 186 Scruples Versus !:he Human Gerald Kelly~ S.3. THIS sketch concerns two characters, both of whom .are "| purely fictitious. Any resemblance to any person in real life.is a mere coincidence. One character is called Humanus, because he represents the ordinary conscientious human being, one who is.cheerfully content to be .~'like the rest of men," The other character is Scrupulosus, so-called because he typifies the victims of that gnawing and unfounded fear of sin known as scruples. ' For Scrupulosus, a supreme difficulty is to appreciate what may be called "the human way of acting." It is hard to.define this human way. It expresses itself in a quiet resignation to the fact that human problems cannot be solved with the exactness of mathematical problems. ~.It is an essential requisite for peace among men and for interior peace with God and oneself. Humanus takes this human way in full, easy stride. A reliable man tells him something; he believes it without struggle. True, the .man might be wrong, might be lying, using a mental reservation, or even deceiving himself. But Humanus does not tr6uble himself about these things, unless there is some reM evidence.to make him suspect them. When a man gives him money, Humanus does not bite it or ring it on a counter. He knows the possibility of counter-feit money; but he knows .too that social life demands that we practise a certain amount of trust in the good will of others. (Incidentally, the author once lived in a place where there must have been a great deal of. counterfeiting. Every time one paid for something in coins, a cautious clerk rang the coin on~the counter. It was most distressing.) . ¯ . Humanus follows the.same human way in his dealings with Go&and himself.God made him huma'n; God.ought GERALD KELLY to be content if he simply acts humanly. And he has enough troubles in life without suspecting himself unduly. Scrupulosus can follow the human way in his dealings with other men; but in those things which concern God and himself he is decidedly inhuman. He seems to thinl~ that, in dealing with God, he must have God's own unerring and penetrating vision of the human heart; that in dealing with himself none of the canons of human peace are applicable. Perhaps a few examples will make this clear. The Sacrament of Penance, truly a Sacrament of peace according .to our Lord's designs, affords no real peace to Scrupulosus. Definitely, it is a torture; a torture to go. a torture to stay away. And the reason for the torment, to put it simply, is that the reception of this Sacrament involves four elements---examination of conscience, con-fession, contrition, satisfaction--each of which can be fulfilled only :in a human way. Suppose we follow Humanus and Scrupulosus through an examination of conscience. Humanus says a few pre-liminary prayers, then looks into-his soul. This is riot a very strenuous process for him;in fact, it verges on sheer routine. Humanus is conscious of the fact that he could improve his method, but he also knows that he fulfills all the essentials. Mortal sins first; and it does not take him long to find :them. Heis no laxist. He knows a mortal sin when he sees one; but he. knows too that they are big enough to be seen with the naked eye. On some Com-mandments he does not even examine himself. Idolatry, murder, robbing banks--all such things are off his list. He would waste his time searching his soul for them. If he does find that he has sinned seriously, he notes the number of times; and if he cannot recall the number, he is content to add the saving word "about." If he is doubtful about the serious sinfulness of~anything--well--he is doubtful: 188 SCRUPLES VERSUS THE HUMAN '~AY There is no use wrestling with the doubt now; if he could not solve it before, he is less likely to solve it now. Venial sins? Humanus knows there were many little things, but it is often hard to cat~ilogue them. He selects two or three, and phrases them as best he can. Sometimes he numbers venial sins, sometimes he doesn't; and he" knows tha~ the number need not be confessed. Finally, Humanus makesan act Of contrition. In this, too, there is a trace of dry routine. Humanus has often resolved to "polish it up" a bit. Contrition never causes him worry; though it has at times puzzled him. However, he has solved the puzzle in the following manner. When a friend offends him and afterwards comes to him, holds out his hand and says he is sorry, Humanus takes the hand and forgives. He never looks to see if there are tears in the man's eyes. He does not stop before forgiving to ask: "Now, John, are you sure you're sorry? Can you swear you're sorry? Do you t:eel sorry? Maybe you're deceiving me, or yourself?" No, Humanus does none of these things; so he solved his puzzle about contrition by deciding that God doesn, t act that way, either. God is content with our just being human. Scrupulostis also examines his conscience! After lengthy preparatory prayers, he finally musters the courage to plunge into the .abysmal depths of his black soul. He goes after mortal sins with searchlight and microscope; and at the end of the search he is amazed that he hasn't found any. That cannot be right. There must be some; at least, there might be some some grim deed that his lax conscience is covering up. Further examination still fails to reveal a clear-cut mortal sin, but by this time he has managed to work up a doubt. Now, is he doubtful? He'd better con-. less it as certain, because if he only thinks he is doubtful and really is not doubtful he will be deceiving the priest. 189 GERALD KELLY As for venial sins, he must have scores of them. Missed morning prayers--distractions in the prayers he did say! He has been told that missing morning prayers is really no .sin, that there is no law of either God or man that says: You must pray in the morning. But be ought to pray in the morning. As for distractions, he has also been told that when involuntary they are not sins, and that even when voluntary they are merely small irreverences. But be ought not to get distracted; it is base ingratitude for him to neglect God in that manner. He'd better give the number of the distractions: 15--no, perhaps it was only 14. He cannot make up his mind, so he decides to say 15; in fact, he finally decides to give the whole background of the ghastly affair. And so on. It is time for him to go to confession. He is not ready, but he will try. Humanus makes his confession, returns to his pew and says his penance and a few prayers of devotion. The time passes very quietly. He leaves the church, full of peace and ready, as he has often.expressed it, "to be hit by a truck." In a general way, he knows that his .confession is not mechanically perfect. Sometimes be does not say things just as he had planned them; he becomes confused, dis-tracted, or even a bit embarrassed. Also--and he has this on the authority of adevout priest--he knows that the confessor may get distracted, or even nod a bit. But this percentage of error does not greatly concern Humanus. God Himself arranged that this Sacrament should be received and administered by human beings. The essentials are quite easy to fulfill; the accidentals allow both the priest and the penitent the opportunity to strive for greater perfectio.~l and increase in humility. It should: be evident from the story of his preparation that no great peace floods the soul of Scrupulosus as he emerges from the confessional. Nevertheless, he grits his 190 SCRUPI~S VERSUS THE HUMAN ~rAY teeth and kneels dowh to say his penance. Three .Hail Marys! He literally "tackles" the first one. But in the middle something goes wrong; he must have missed a word. He starts again, and then again; but he cannot satisfy himself that that Hail Mary is properly said. As he pauses'in desperation, the whole blurred story of the confession begins to unfold before his mind. Nothing was said right. The priest must have misunderstood him com-pletely. The fact that he got only three Hail Marys con-firms him in this fear; if the priest had understood him cor-rectly, he would have given him at least a Rosary. At this moment, a new source of interior torment opens up. Even if the confession had been good, the absolution could not be valid because he did not make a real: act of con-trition. He just went through some words. God must know that he was not really sorry. And his confessions have been that way for a long time; he'simply must make a gen-eral confession. He has made general confessions before without any subs.equent peace of soul, but this one will be different. We might take Holy Communion as another example of the difference between Humanus and Scrupulosus. It should be one of the supreme consolations of the Cath-olic's life. The essentials for its reception are very small: the state of grace, acquired by Sacramental absolution, if need be; and the keeping of.the fast from midnight. Humanus finds the fulfillment of these conditions simple enough. He is satisfied with normal, .human assur-ance that he is in the state of grace. If he doubts about a serious sin, he generally prefers to go to confession, but he knows he has no strict obligation to do so, and he is con-- tent on occasions merely to make an act of contrition and go to Communion. The fast presents him with no prob-lem at all. The law is a safeguard to the reverence due the 191 GERALD KELLY Blessed Sacrament. It forbids eating and drinking after midnight. Humanus knows what ordinary people look upon as eating and drinking, and he does not have to con-sult a chemist~ to find out just what is food. or a physiologist to discover precisely what is meant by eating. All these things are so many thorns for S~'rupulosus. How does he know he is in the state of grace? He can't prove it. He is not sure he can make an act of contrition, so he must always go to confession when in doubt. It may be that his confessor has assured him again and again that, in his present trial, he mayalways~go to Communion, no matter what his doubts, no matter how many sins he thinks he has committed. Even after this and though he knows that the Providence ofGod guides souls through superiors and confess.ors, yet his case is different, and the confessor does not really understand it. As for the fast, here is but one of Scrupulosus'.many hard experiences with it. He is on his way to Mass. His lips tickle. .He rubs his coat-sleeve over his mouth. A moment later he feels something strange in his mouth-- some lint from his coat, he thinks! He gathers all his salivary forces to remove it, but he is too late. He swallows. Well, that's the end. He has broken his fast, he may not go to Communion. This is his first conviction, but in church a gleam of saving common sense is still able to pierce the fog of fear and he does go to Holy Communion. Later the fear returns with a vengeance. He made a sacrilegious Communion. After that, one thing leads to another. He begins to notice a strange taste in his mouth every morning--the lint from the bedclothes! He tries again and again to remove it; but the consciousness of the lint remains, and with it the conviction that he may not receive Communion. There are two ways of solving this lint problem. One 192 SCRUPLES VERSUS THE HUMAN WAY way is to consult a trained theologic/n, wh~ might show Scrupulo~us by keen argumentation that lint is not food, or who might indicate that, even if. it were food, it was not taken "in the manner of food." This is a perfectly legiti-mate method of solving the problem, but hardly a satis-factory one for Scrupul0sus. It allows for too much quibbling, and, even when it does convince, its appeal is only to the intellect. Scrupulosug needs something that will impress his imagination and thus remove the emo-tional pressure of his fears. The second method is therefore a much better one for -Scrupulosus. It is a method suggested by an old and experienced diagnostician of his problem. It is very simple. "You take awoolly blanket, the woollier the bet-ter. Seize firmly in both hands, raise to the mouth with-out flinching, and bite hard. When you have a good bite, then you chew thoroughly and trot to swallow.'" This is a guaranteed cure. After one such experiment Scrupulosus needs no metaphysical discussion to be °con: vinced that human beings do not eat coats or blankets. In this matter, at least, he will be content with ?he human toad. No one-should gather from this brief sketch of Huma-nus and Scrupulosus that the latter does not wish to act as others do. His difficulty .is more subtle. Briefly put, it amounts to thi~: he cannot relax. 'He is like a sick man who fights an anesthetic; or, perhaps more accurately, he is like a man who will take the anesthetic, even if it kills him. So it is with Scrupulosus; at times he fights his fears, at other times he clenches his fists and says he will be human. Neither method will help him. He must relax under the pressure of his fear. This is not easy to do; yet it can be done if only one retains the power of laughing at oneself. For Scrupulosus, a sense of humor is more precious than the gift of tears. 193 Nint:s t:or Sacris!:ans Gerald Ellard, S.J. SACRISTANS for whom its cost or other considerations make Self-Lite Charcoal undesirable may readily secure the advantage of a large glowing surface with ordinary charcoal in the following way. After the unlighted charcoal ~has been placed in the censer, a little wood-alcohol is allowed to, drip on it and soak into it. It is then ignited, and, when the alcohol has burned away, the charcoal will be alight through and through and thus able, when fed with incense, to send up what is actually something like a pillar of smoke, a symbol of prayer visible to the entire congre-gation. The matter of securing the most suitable incense within the means of all is no small concern, and prompts one to mention a variety now being used with eminent satisfac-tion. Its cost is very low' but it is not on sale, as far as we know, in the church-goods houses. Trees of Syria exude a balm that is known in trade as. olibanum. This fragrant and gummy substance is widely used in varnish-making. It is graded in trade circles by the size of the lumps: egg (large) and tears (small). Tears of olibanum make an ideal incense.:~ Stocks available in this country may not.~ last much longer, but up to the present time wholesale drug dealers have had no difficulty in supplying it. The tears should not be powdered, as much of the fragrance would be lost, but burned as they come. In sacristies serving a large number of priests the prob-lem of quickly providing each priest with an alb of just the right length often proves formidable. A Chicago church 194 HINTS TO SACRISTANS where many Masses are the daily rule has at the edge of its alb-cabinet, at shoulder height, an unobtrusive measure indicating the number of inches from the floor. A priest has just to hold up an alb to the measure to see if it is the proper length for his use. It may no longer be news .to sacristans that candle~ burners in pyrex glass are now available in all candle sizes. In style they follow-not the older lamp-chimney shape, which "black out" tOO much of the candle flame and cause difficulties in lighting the candles, but the snug, dose-fitting sleeve pattern. The pyrex burners have all the advantages of the better type of metal burners, with the big additional one of beirig practically invisible. Sacristans shudder to see priests, in adjusting the man-iple, disregard the little tab provided for pinning, .and run the pin.into the precious fabric of the maniple itself. This is riot perverseness, but a measure of necess!ty (or rather, convenience), inasmuch as many of these little .tabs are too narrow to aliow one to run a pin crossways. Many new vestments now provide a shield-shape, or even semicircular, tab which affords ample room for pinning without being conspicuous. In repairing vestments sacristans might well provide such "pin-space." A strict law of the Church prescribes that the priest mix a "very small quantity;', of water with the wine to be consecrated at Mass. Most priests wish to take only a few drops of ,water; and sacristans can help them in this regard by filling the .water cruet almost to the top. When the cruet is pract.ica!ly full, it is easy to shake out a few drops. This is not so easy to do when the neck of the cruet is empty. 195 The Presumed Permission James E. Risk, S.J. THE philosophers tells us that what happens by chance happens rarely and cannot be foreseen. The Church, in her legislation, makes provision for many unusual situations that have arisen in the course of her past history, and may arise again. Hence she grants to all priests emer-gency faculties such as to absolve from censures, to assist at marriages and to perform other priestly functions. Fac-ulties of this kind are not granted to all priests save in cases of spirituhl emergency. Now, the most conscientious reli-gious, too, will find himself at times in an unforeseen situ-ation where permissions required by his vow of poverty or obedience are needed; where the delay necessarily in-volved in obtaining such permissions cannot be admitted. Unusual circumstances arisirig from the uncertainties of travel or health may, for example, produce a situation calling for the legitimate application of the principles gov-erning the presumed permission. Since actions based on presumed permissions should be the exceptioh in the normal life ofa religious, the older theologians took great care to limit their number to the minimum, lest a too liberal application of the-norms of presumption tend to obviate the necessity of asl~ing for many of the ordina~ry permissions. Sincere reflection and a normal exercise of foresight will lead a religious to limit the number of presumed permissions, while a ready ad-mission by superiors that unforeseen situations are, from time to time, inevitable, will prompt them to make allow-ances for the reasonable presumptions of their subjects. Though the question of presumed permissions is by no means limited to the field of religious poverty, it is chiefly from this angle that we shall endeavor to examine it. 196 THE ~RESUMED ~ERMISSION Various Kif~ds or: Permissions Progress in the exercise of religious poverty demands an accurate knowledge of the various kinds of permis-sions granted by superiors. By obtaining permission to acquire, dispose of, and use material things possessing some economic value such as books, money- and the like, the religious is faithful to the obligations freely accepted when he vowed poverty. He does not act in his own name nor as an independent proprietor, but as a poor man who has nothing that he can .truly call his own. Acting w~th-out permission in these matters, he violates his vow by committing what many moralists choose to call a "sin of proprietorship." They say that such a religious acts like a man who is bound by no vow of poverty and is independ-ent of any superior in the acquisition, use, or disposal of property. The commentators on the religious life usually speak of superiors as granting permissions; though in most communities there is generally appointed an assistant su-perior who is empowered to grant many of the ordinary permissions demanded by the obligations of the vow of poverty. Our purpose in examining the nature of the pre-sumed permission leads us to comment briefly on the other forms of permission employed by a religious in the observ-ance of his vow. This will serve to clear the ground for a more accurate understanding of the presumed permission. We spea~k of an express permission as one given by word of mouth or in writing, indicating unmistakably the mind of the superior. A tacit permission, as the very name implies, is p[udently considered as granted from the silence of the superior, who is aware of certain actions that are governed by poverty or obedience. The axiom "silence gives consent" may be reasonably applied when circum-stances are such that, if the superior objected, he would voice his disapproval. An implied permission is one that 197 JAMES E. R~sK is contained in another permission. The permission of a superior, for example, authorizing a /eligious to make a trip, implies the permission to use the funds necessary for traveling. A general permission may embrace many acts of the same or different species. In some religious commu-nities there prevails the practice of renewing each month general permissions in virtue of which a religious may ac-quire or dispose of objects of a very small economic value, such as articles of devotion and the like. The extent of such permission depends on-the constitutions, rules and customs Of the institute. A particular permission .is granted for an individual case. Such a permission, how-ever, if the superior so desired, might be extended not only to a singie occasion but to several occasions calling for the same permission. Thus, permission granted to an ailing religious to consult a specialist might be limited to a single visit or extended to several, according to the nature of the indisposition requiring attention. The Presumed Permission Authors who have treated of the obligations of the religious life agree that a religious is justified in presuming permission when, owing to some inconvenience in obtain-ing permission without delay, he prudently decides that if the superior in the present circumstances, were .asked for the same permission, he would readily grant it. Now be-fore proceeding further, let it be noted that there is one very substantial difference between the presumed permis-sion and. every other kind. All permissions save the pre-sumed permission have this note in common, namely, that they are expressions of the will of the superior who knows the wish of the subject and freely grants it. In doing so, he says, equivalently at least, "I grant you permission for this or that object." Yet when we examine the presumed per- 198 THE I~RESUMED PERMISSION mission, we find that the superior cannot say this for the simple reason that he is unaware of the subject's wish. This leads us to conclude that the presumed permission is, not a permission in the strict sense of the word, but it is a legitimate substitution; and the act resulting from a sin-cere presumption, whether it lies in the sphere of poverty or obedience, is quite in accord with the obligations arising from the religious vows. The religious is acting, not in his own name, but with a clear dependence on the will of the superior. To come more properly to an examination of the pre-sumed permission, the following points of division are suggested by the definition of the presumed permission given above. We must consider: I) On the part of thereligious who presumed: a) the inabitit~/ tO obtain permission in one its ordinarg forms, b) the motioes sufficient to justifg a presump-tion; c) a prudent conclusion. Z) On the part of the superior: the different~mental attitudes towards a presumed permission. Our first condition requisite for the legitimate pre-suming of a permission is the inability to obtain permis-sion in one of its ordinary forms because of the absence of the superior. The most circumspect religious may encoun-ter such a situation when both superior and assistant are .abse, nt or indisposed or so occupied as to permit no inter-ruption. If the proposed action of the religious is so urgent as to exclude a delay until such time as the superior may be contacted, permission may be presumed, supposing the .other conditions are fulfilled. In the second place sufficient motives, reducible to ne- 199 JAMES E. RISK cessity or utility, are required to make a presumpt.ion law-ful. Let us suppose that, while traveling, two sisters are caught in a heavy rainstorm that gives little hope of imme-diate abatement. An umbrella would be a very welcome addition to their equipment in the present predicament. To purchase an umbrella without delay may be instru-mental in protecting their health as. well as their clothing. In such straits it would be quite unnecessary to look for a telephone so as to obtain express permission to make this necessary purchase. The same religious now proceed to browse through a book store while waiting for a train. To their pleasant surprise a rare and very valuable book, much sought after by their superior, meets their eye. It is available at an extremely reduced rate. A real service would be rendered the convent by the immediate purchase of such a book. A situation such as this might even justify the conclusion that the permission to buy the book ought to be presumed. The prudent in.terpretation of the superior's mind, the third requisite for a valid presumption, must never be wanting. On this point, the commentators supply us with expressions that furnish a key to the solution of many a problem that in practice may arise when we wish to justify a presumed permission. They say: "_ . it is prudently judged that permission would be given if asked"; "Per-mission reasonably presumed is sometimes sufficient"; "To presume permission is to act conformably to the will of the $a p er" t "o't ; and so forth. "Prudent"l y" , reasonabl"y, and "conformably to the will of the superior" indicate that a well-founded judgment enters into the very character of the presumed permission. Resting on the basis of whim or hallucination, instead of prudence and reflection, the act of the presuming religious is not to be dignified by the title of a permission; it is rather a gratuitous-presumption or 200 THE PRESUMED PERMISSION the sin of proprietorship. The reasons tha~ justify the prudent judgment will at least approximate those which in ordinary circumstances influence the conscientious superior in consenting to the requests of his subjects. Such reasons will be reduced ulti-mately to necessity or utility in harmony with the norms of the particular religious institute of which both superior and subject are members. For each religious order or con-gregation professes a more or less definite standard in these matters, admitting, for example,, in the matter of poverty, the use of some things as necessary or useful, while exclud-ing others as superfluous or even detrimental to the. spirit-ual interests 6f the religious. With this in mind, the reli-gious about to presume a permission knows that the habit-ual attitude of the superior is to abide by these norms in granting permissions, that the object desired in the present emergency has been granted on other occasions by the same superior, that there is no reason that leads him to suspect that in the present situatioi~ the superior would act differ-ently. Thus, a religi6us says to himself, equivalently at least, "If, here and now; I should ask the superior to grant me this request, I am reasonably certain that he would readily grant it." He comes to this conclusion after hav-ing deliberated on his particular rule of life and the habit-ual inclination of ~i conscientious superior. The "if" clause just expressed is always at least implied in the legitim~te presumption. This explains why the presumed permission is sometimes called the conditioned permission. The per-mission that would involve the acceptance of gifts of an incon.sequential value can be much more readily presumed than the more costly kind. Needless to say, in practise the reasoning process re-quired for a presumed permission is far more quickly con-cluded than described. While walking through town, a 201 religious priest meets a crippled beggar, whom he knows to be sincere. He gives the poor man a few small coins on the presumption that his superior would not object. His own particular institute encourages devotion .to the poor and he has seen his superior, a conscientious religious, act in the same generous fashion. His presumption is reason-able; he has "conformed" his action to the .reasonably in-terpreted mind of the superior. I.s. a religious who has legitimately presumed a permis-sion, say in a matter governed by his vow of poverty, later obliged to notify the superior of his act?. The rule may call for such a manifestation in every case of a presumed permission. Supposing such a prescription does not exist, one would not be obliged to notify the superior of articles now consumed which'had been received b~r way of a legiti-mately presumed permission. Objects Of a more enduring nature, received in virtue of a presumed permission, should be made knov~n to the superior. A kind friend, for exam-ple, meets a' religious and invites him to take dinner with him. The religious accepts his friend's gracious invitation. Before parting, the same kind friend presents the religious with a very excellent volume. To what is the religious obliged in the case? We suppose, first of all, that his pre-sumptions in both cases are justified. If the rule of this religious obliges him to manifest all presumed permissions to the superior, his duty is clear. Without such a provision made by his rule, he would not be obliged to acquaint his superior with the fact that he had prudently presumed to take dinner with his friend. If he wishes to keep the vol-ume which he had lawfully presumed to accept, he would be obliged to approach the superior for permission. For while it was inconvenient to make contact with the supe-rior at the moment when he received the book, there should be no special inconvenience involved in asking for permis- 202 THE PRESUMED PERMISSION' sion on his beturn home. In other words, he can lawfully ¯ presume only as long as conditions justify it. Attitudes of Superior Having examined the conditions that warrant a pre-s. umed permission, let us now look briefly at the different attitudes with which a superior may view such presump-tions on the part ~of the subject. We may reduce them to three classes. 1) The first type of superior may be so disposed that he is ready enough, if asked, to grant the ordinary permis-sions, and does not object to the reasonable presuming of the same permissions. It is possible that he has. expressed himself on this point.To ex.emplify: a religious of the community of this superior knows that permission to sub-scribe to useful periodicals is readily granted. He knows too from his close acquaintance with the superior that there is no objection to presumed permissions in ordinary mat-ters. Such a religious, provided there be no insincerity on 'the point, .may presume to subscribe under the ordinary conditions. For he knows, in the language of the theo-logians, that his superior is opposed neither to. the sub-stance of the act (the~ subscription) nor to the mode or manner (by way of a presumed permission). 2) Another superior, perhaps .with a view of check-ing abuse in the matter of poverty, may be decidedly op-posed to his subjects' presuming permissions. So strong may be his attitude that, outside of cases of real emergency, he is prepared to veto the presumed permissions of his sub-jects. A presumed permission then, outside of extraordi-nary circumstances, would be tantamount to a violation of poverty or obedience as the case might be. To resume the example of subscription for periodicals. The superior in question is not opposed to the subscriptions to useful :peri- 203 JAMES E. RISK odicals. So strongly, however, is he opposed to presumed permissions, that he refuses to allow a subject to subscribe without first obtaining express permission. In this case he would object to the substance of the act (the act of subscribing') not because he failed to appreciate the cul-tural value of useful periodicals, but because he would be opposed to the toad/ir~ which such a subscription were made (i.e. by way of the presumed permission). 3) S~ill a third attitude might be evidenced towards the matter of presuming. Admitting the use of presumed permissions as sometimes justifiable, a superior may reveal his general attitude towards presumed permissions as one of reluctance and displeasure. Such a disposition, however, would not necessarily in'dicate his refusal to ratify a pre-sumption once made. The subject of this superior sub-scribes to a periodical and on the arrival of the first issue is reminded that the superior would gladly have granted the permission if asked. Has this religious violated poverty? He may have sinned venially because of the toay in which he obtained the subscription, that is, by presu~ming instead of asking. The substance of the act, namely, the mere sub-scribing, would not necessarily be'sinful, because the supe-rior would have gladly permitted it. Obedience too could be violated, if the religious deliberately acted against the expliCit order of the superior. To complete our consideration of the various attitudes which mayinfluence a superior in .these matters, this ques-tion may be proposed. Suppose that after a sincere and prudent presumption is made, it is totally repudiated by the superior? If, for example, a book were purchased in such circumstances, what could be done? Strictly. speak-ing, the superior might order the return of the book and reimbursement on the part of the proprietor of the book-store, if this were feasible. That would be for the superior 204 THE ~RESUMED PERMISSION to decide. The religious, who in good' faith erroneously estimated his superior's attitude, would in no wise be guilty of a violation of poverty. For in the case he sincerely inter-preted the mind of his superior and concluded that the con-ditions justified his transaction. Conclusion In conclusion, let .us remember that the presumed or interpretative permission, as some authors call it, has a defi-nite place in the life of an observant religious, but that p!ace is reserved for occasions when the ordinary methods to obtain permission cannot be observed. The conscien-tious religious, as we have already stated, will rarely fail to obtain whatever permis.sions are ordinarily necessary by the more express method of asking the superior. A habitual use of presumption can easily lead to laxity in the observ-ance of poverty so essential to a life in religion that is to be led with any degree of sincerity. What must never be. for-gotten is that cooperation is always necessary in the observ-ance of the vow of poverty: the superior should show him-self ready to grant any request in keeping with the particu-lar grade of poverty professed in hisinstitute, since it is not unknown for subjects to violate poverty rather than ap-proach a superio/Who has shown himself less gracious in the question of permissions. Subjects have been known to deliberately violate poverty, I say, not to mention the gratuitous or unnecessary presumption which is another name for the sin of proprietorship. The religious should be habitually disposed to express that dependence on supe-riors for the use of temporal things, not out of a spirit of servitude but out of a desire to imitate Him Who was hungry and Who had nowhere to lay His head. 205 ook Reviews PRINCIPLES OF CHRISTIAN AND RELIGIOUS FERFECTION for the use of the Merlst Brothers of the Schools. Trensleted from the slx~h French edition; revised end enlercjed. Pp. 567. To be procured from the Marlst Brothers, St. Ann's Hermltege, Poughkeepsie, N.Y. $1.~0. Though this book was written for the Marist Brothers, it could be of great service to other religious as well. In fact, it would make an excellent manual of introduction or a good brief guidebook to the spiritual iife in general and particularly to the religious life. It might be used as a sort of text-book for young religious; it was designed to serve that purpose for the Marist novices. It ~s small, but rich in content; its form is that of. question a~ad answer; in presentation of its material, it is systematic, clear, and definite. From it one could get a well ordered and fairly comprehensive knowledge of the practice of the spiritual and religious life. The Introduction supplies general notions on the end of man, holiness, the religious state, and religious institutes. Part I is entitled "General Means of Christian Perfection," and deals with the desire for perfection, prayei, mental prayer, exercises of piety, conscience, Confession, Communion, direction, spiritual reading, the exercise of the presence of God, and various devotions. In Part II, "General Means of Perfection in the Religious Life," are treated religious vocal tion, the noviceship and religious profession, the vows, and the corre-sponding virtues. It closes with a chapter on "Regularity." Part III is concerned with the obstacles to Christian and religious perfection, and the fourth part is devoted to the virtues. To many of the answers "to the questions are added brief further explanations in smaller type. On many points of major importance select quota-tions from the Fathers and Doctors of the Church are givefi; in these the' influence of St. Francis de Sales and St. Alphonsus Liguori is noticeable. The m~iterial make-up, paper, print, and binding, are neat and attractive. A full table of contents, an analytical tab!e, and a good index make it easy to find what the book contains on any particular point.--G. A. ELLARD, S.,J. BLESSED ARETHEY THAT HUNGER. By the Reverend Richard Graef, C;.S.Sp. Trensleted by Sister Mary Hildegerd Windecker, M. A., Sister of the Blessed Sacrament for Indians end Colored People. 206 BOOK REVIEWS Pp. ~vli + 175. Frederick Pustet, Inc., New York, 1942. $2.00. Father Graef attempts in various ways to encourage the good Catholic in the practic.e of a strong and living faith. His main lines of argumentation are the following: A dynamic faith is necessary for personal sanctity; because sanctity demands self-renunciation, and this renunciation will not be made unless one sees clearly and power-fully the value of making it. Such evaluation is had only in the light of faith. Moreover, supernatural efficiency demands the work both of Christ and of the soul. The principal part of the soul's cooperation consists in genuine, earnest desire; and the source of such desire is faith. Finally, the apostolic influence that each soul is called upon to exert in the world, and thus the ultimate mastery of the world by apostolic souls, can be appreciated only when the world is viewed with the eyes of faith. The" author has made frequent and apt use of the Sacred Scrip-tures. Each of the main sections of the book is divided into numer-ous brief topics. The meditative reading of one or two of these topics might prove, helpful to those wlJo are accustomed to make their men-tal prayer in that way.--G. KELLY, S.,I. THE MASS OF BROTHER MICHEL. By Michael Ken÷. Pp. 307. The Bruce Publishing Company, Milwaukee, 1942. $2.S0. Here is a new Catholic novel with an entirely different theme. The setting of the story is sixteenth-century France, a turbulent his-torical period for that country, owing to the threatening Surge of heresy. The spreading falsehoods of Calvin and Luther provide' a dramatic background for the lives of the de Guillemont family, about which the story is told. The interest centers in Michel de Guillemont, the elder son and heir. It is his story from his sincere, impetuous love of Louise to his final unyielding love of God and his Faith in the self-oblation of martyrdom. We share in the tragedy before his contemplated mar-riage that was partly due to the jealousy of his brother Paul and that led to his becoming a saintly religious. We are carried along from the injustice and cruelty of his father to ~he providential meeting with the und.erstanding Father Andr4. We sympathize with him in his deep suffering when the priesthood is denied him. Brother Michel's courageous acceptance of God's will and his intense love of the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass keep the interest keen up to the power- 207 BOOK REVIEWS ful climax of his death. The subordinate characters of the least-resisting Paul, the unscru-pulous Anne; the bitter Louise, the heretic Armand, the lovable Father Andre, and others are well portrayed. The story is told with excel-lent description and good use of suspense. The tragic atmosphere is relieved by romance and clever humor. The one striking weakness is the characteristic trait of the modern novel: it leaves untold the retribution due to some charaCters. The Mass of Brother Michel shows the triumph of grace over .personal pain and loss, sin, and human frailty. The passages that deal with the spiritual consolation of the Mass, the reason for pain and suffering in this life, God's love for the sinner, and the courage coming to the soul through prayer are worth reading again and again. Priests, in particular, will find here many inspiring thoughts for practical use and may grow in their appreciation of the privilege of offering the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass.---A. J. DEEMAN, S.J. FAST BY THE ROAD. By John Moody. Pp. xiv + 308. The MacM~llan C~rnpany, New Yorl~, 1941. $2.50. The Wall Street expert on investments and kindred subjects who occasioned not a little surprise a decade ago by embracing the Catholic Faith and reporting the event in the popular The Long Road Home has a new treat for his expanding reading public. The present vol-ume, to quote from the author's foreword, is "an attempt to explain in simple language or by illustration, certain teachings and view. points to be found within the Church which are often misunder-stood by non-Catholics. All this is merely incidental to the general purpose, which is primarily to tell of some of the experiences of one convert .during his first decade as a Catholic." Mr. Moody writes simply, entertainingly, and with precision on a wide variety of subjects connected with his Faith. In his chapters the hard-headed, efficient business man, with the help of God's grace, approaches the Truth. He turns back his cuffs and proceeds to defend it and, campaign for it with gusto. The chapters are topical for the most part, ranging with consider-able agility back and forth over some focal point of Catholicity by means of observation, analysis, chance discussion, and illustrative anecdote. Their cumulative effect is to deepen one's gratitu.de for the gift of Faith and to jolt one anew with the realization that most of 208 BOOK REVIEWS one's non-Catholic friends and neighbors are totally ignorant of or gr6ssly misunderstand the Catholic concept of supernatural life, and are usually indifferent to it. And Mr. Moody, so thoroughly at home in the Church after his ten years as a Catholic, writes with more than ordinary authority and perception of .the money-mad, speed-benumbed, materialistic American mentality. The book is recommended especially to those in search of reading matter never heavy or tiring yet providing food for serious thought --and prayer. The chapters m~y be read in any order, and any or all of them would be suitable for refectory reading.--C. DEMUTH, THE CATHOLIC REVIVAL IN ENGLAND. Pp. ix -I- 102. The MacMillan Company, MEDIEVAL HUMANISM. By the Reverend Pp. ix -!- 103. The MacMillan Company, By John J. O'Connor. New York, 1942. $1.00. Gerald G. Walsh, S.J. New York, 1942. $1.00. These books are respectively the third and fourth volumes in The Christendom Series. According to the announcement of the publishers, "this is a series of popular books on important topics in the history of Christendom, prepared under the auspices of the Con-fraternity of Christian Doctrine . The books are intended to provide informative reading for both Catholic and non-Catholic readers; for study clubs in the parochial units of~the Confraternity of Christian Doctrine: for study groups in the Newman Clubs: as collateral texts in colleges, normal schools, and senior high ~and preparatory schools.'~ Both books appear to measure up very well to the purpose of the series. Professor O'Connor's book gives a fine sweeping picture of that very important period in English life known as "The Catholic Revival," the story of the gradual breaking away from the tyranny of th~ penal laws to the winning of freedom and influence for Cath-olics. Father Walsh's book puts within the reach of the ordinarily intelligent reader with good educational background an illuminating study of the meaning of "Humanism" and of the development of Christian Humanism through the middle ages till it reached its high point in Dante. Bibliographical notes are appended to each book. Father Walsh has also included an abstract for study and review which should prove very helpful.~. KELLY, S.d. 209 Decisions o[ !:he Holy MEANS OF COMMUNICATING WITH THE HOLY SEE A communication from the Most Reverend Apostolic Delegate to the Most Reverend Ordinaries reads as follows:. "In order to remedy, the difficulties of correspondence with the Holy See, His Eminence the Cardinal Secretary of State has'directed me to inform the Diocesan and Religious Ordinaries and Superiors of this country'that in the present circumstances they may recur to the Holy See through this Apostolic Delegation, and so avail themselves of the facilities at our disposal. This office makes frequent use of radiograms, and also of the air-mails to Lisbon wblch, however, are not as regular as formerly. "Upon the receipt of the petitions of Religious for faculties and dispens,ations, this Delegation will communicate with the .Holy See by radiogram or by other channdls, according to the possibilities and the circumstances. When a response has been received from the Holy See, the relative rescript will be issued by this Delegation, in accord-ance with instructions already given or to be given in particular cases. "When requests are made for the renewal of a faculty, the orig-inal rescript should be presented with the petition for renewal. "The Holy. See hopes in this way to continue to correspond with the Religious !n this country and to furnish every assistance to them." 1942, March 21. At the request of many members of the Hier-archy, heads Of universities, and authorities in the world of science, among them members of the Pontifical Academy of Sciences, His Holiness Pope Pius XII proclaimed Saint Albert the Great to be the heavenly patron of natural sciences. The Most Reverend Martin Gillet, Master General of the Order of Preachers, read the Brief at a solemn meeting held in the Pontifical International Institute Ahgeli- CUmo 1941, November 18. The Sacred Congregation of Rites held a preparatory session in the cause of the Servant of God, Catherine Tekakwitha, Indian virgin, to discuss the heroicity of the virtues practised by her. 210 .uesffons and Answers !1. According +o our constitutions. +he members of our congregation pronoun~:e temporary vows for three years, +hen take. perpetual vows unless, for a very serious reason, a sister is obl;gecl by superior~ to renew her temporary vows for another period of three years. At the end of +ha+ time she must either pronounce perpetual vows or seek~ an inchlt from the S. Congregation of Religious for a fur+her ex+en-sion of temporary vows if she is not 1o return to the world. Recently this latter c~se occurred, but the rescript was delayed, "and the sister d~d not renew her temporary vows until twelve days after they had' expired. In this case, did +he sister cease +o be a member of +he congregation on the day on which her vows expired, and were her subsequent vows invalid? The sister would not cease to be a member of the congregation. by the mere fact that an interval of time elapsed between the expira-tion of the temporary vows and their renewal, unless the superior had positively ordered her to leave and to return to the world. As the case is presented, it is not clear whether or not the constitutions allow this appeal to the S. Congregation of Religious.

Issue 65.2 of the Review for Religious, 2006. ; Franciscan Legacy Vocation Religious Implications The Spirit QUARTERLY 65.2 2006 evtew Religtous sters.dia e,.wztl~,, Go dialogue~ with ourselves; anddialogue accordingto cba~s:~of CatboUc reli~o~'l~(~ As Pope Paul I satd~ our way of bet!g church Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published quarterly at Saint Louis University, by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Telephone: 314-633-4610 ¯ Fax: 314-633-4611 E-Mail: review@slu.edu ¯ \~el) site: www.reviewforreligious.org Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393 Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP ° Pontifical College Josephinum 7625 North High Street ¯ Columbus, Ohio 43235 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ° Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©2006 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library, clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must hear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for comlnercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only he considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. 0 religious Editor Associate Editor Canonical Counsel Scripture Scope Editorial Staff. Webmaster Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Phili'o C. Fischer SJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Eugene Hensell OSB Mar~ Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Judy Sharp Ciare Boehmer ASC Stephen Erspamer OSB Kathleen Hughes RSCJ Louis and Angela Menard Bishop Terry Steib SVD Miriam D. Ukeritis CSJ QUARTERLY 65.2 2006 contents prisms 116 Prisms 118 138 franciscan legacy Custodians of Franciscan Households Michael Blastic OFM enters us into the meaning of Franciscan fraternity through developing three elements: 1) a life lived in brotherhood, 2) experienced in a household, and 3) qualified with patience~ Questions for Reflection / Group Discussion Francis's Charism, Tree-Huggers, and the Eucharist Regis J. Armstrong OFMCap centers his reflections on the .spirituality of Francis of Assisi by focusing on five passages of Francis's writings that d, eal with Eucharist. vocation 153 159 Imitation of Mary and the Religious Vocation Julius D. Leloczky OCist invites those following the special call to religious life into a prayerful meditation on the role of Mary as model and mentor. Prayer Just Because I Said So Mary Joseph Schultz SCC considers the importance of commitment and what it means "to give one's word." Personal Reflection / Group Conversation l~eview for Retigious 166 177 r O ji us imp ic io s Are Religious Superiors Called to Be "Politically Correct"? Vimal Tirimanna CSSR reflects on his experience as major superior and as president of the Conference of Major Religious Superiors of Sri Lanka to share his concern for the proper use of afithority. Identifying Identity among Nonclerical Religious Brendan Kneale FSC clarifies identity for men and women as embracing two dimensions, personal and social, which are mutually supportive. 186 spiri Led by the Spirit: Julian of Norwich Andrew Ryder SCJ notes the central role of the Spirit in the writings of Julian of Norwich. The Holy Spirit is the dynamic, active agent who brings us into communion with the life of Christ and the Persons of the Holy Trinity. epar rn n s 202 Scripture Scope: The Miracles of Jesus 206 Cdnonical Counsel: The Importance of Procedural Law 211 Book Reviews 65.2 2006 prisms do we think of when we hear the word service? We quickly rush to the n0tion of activity--what we do, how we act, how we spend our days and perhaps even our nights. But in our Catholic tradition service and to serve God have a far richer meaning than just activity. We find the first and foundational stage of service in a traditional saying, "They also serve who only stand and wait." By way of contemporary example, we notice that the esteemed waiter at table is the one who watches and is attentive to what is needed by the people dining. Such a waiter spends a lot :of his or' her time just "watching and waiting." In a similar way, the Christian who wants to serve God should spend a lot of time "watching and waiting." A good part of the watching and waiting is identifiable as praying. It is the prayer of one who listens to God--a God who is speaking in his revealing word, a God who speaks through his human messengers, a God who speaks through nature and through events. A person who listens is one who is obedient, for the roots of the word obedience lie in listening. The young Samuel in scripture describes his listening in the phrase, "Here I am, Lord." In the sacramental oi'dination of ministers, such listening is caught by the expression "ready and willing." It is the attitude of Jesus before the God he calls Abba. The second stage of service is made evident in the stance of surrender. It is the giving over of ourselves to. another in love. As Catholics we are being invited to enter Christ's eternal stance of surrender that is celebrated in every Eucharist. Jesus sacramentalized his total gift of self to God and to us in the giving of his body and his blood at the Last Supper. Historically, that gift was made especially in his passion and death. But the risen Jesus continues to invite us to enter into his eternal stance of surrender in every Eucharist we celebrate. For us, our surrender is measured by all the discrete moments of our life. We might say that, nourished by Jesus' body and blood, we are living "into" our surrender. Finally we come to thai stage of service whose mean-ing we think we have exhausted when we describe activ-ities. It is true that there are many ways of serving as a Christian, and these services are an essential element of living our faith. A faith that is not lived out in action is no faith at all. It is noteworthy that Protestants have often described their Sunday worship as services. Although we Catholics have ordinarily not used this designation, the Mass truly can be identified as a se~'vice, and it contains all the stages of service that we have described. The Liturgy of the Word certainly demands all of tls to be obedient, to be listeners, to be people ready and willing to be formed and directed by God's word. In the Liturgy of the Sacrament we are invited to enter into Jesus' eternal stance of surrender, and we come forward at communion time to ratify that gift and so experience our increasing identity with Christ by letting him be our daily bread. And every Eucharist sends us forth with the mission to share our faith and ~o serve God and his people. At the Last Supper Jesus asked all of us to claim our identity with him by following his example--he signified this by a particular activity as he washed the apostles' feet. Whatever our activities, following the risen Christ, we are identified as "ones who serve." . David L. Fleming SJ ,117 65.2 2006 franciscan MICHAEL BLASTIC Custodians of Franciscan Households legacy In a Newsweek web article posted on MSNBC, Melinda Henneberger wrote that "Katrina has reminded us that Christian morality should be about responding to the wretched and loving the unlovable--not about other people's sex lives" (14 September 2005). While the United States describes itself as a Christian nation, in the aftermath of Katrina we have seen that this label is deceptive. Citing Bill McKibben, "The Christian Paradox" (Harper's, August 2005), who pointed this out, she wrote that American practice really rewards dependency, and so it is better to hold on to your cash. McKibben himself reported on a poll concerning religious practice in the United States. He noted that only four in ten Americans can list more than four of the Ten Commandments, and only five in ten can name the four Gospels. He said that these Michael Blastic OFM presented this paper on Franciscan brotherhood at a province meeting in November 2005. His address is The Franciscan Institute; St. Bonaventure University; St. Bonaventure, New York 14778. Revie~ for Religious statistics really do not matter, but what does matter is that three out of four think the Bible teaches that "God helps those who help themselves" (actually a proverb of Ben Franklin's). Approximately 85 percent of Americans identify themselves as Christian, with about 75 percent claiming they pray to God daily and 33 percent going to church weekly. McKibben points out a number of paradoxes. We are second to last among developed countries in government foreign aid; nearly 18 percent of American children live in poverty--here we come in last among the rich nations-- and 26 percent of households lack sufficient food. We are the most violent rich nation on earth, with a murder rate of four or five times that of Europe. We have prison populations five or six times Europe's rate. We are the only Western democracy that executes its citizens; our marriage breakup rate is more than half, and higher than Europe's. tf one measures Christian identity by Jesus' teaching of helping the less fortunate, we come off poorly indeed. ~ Given these statistics, McKibben argues that Americans have replaced the Christianity of the Bible with another creed which ignores Jesus' radical and demanding focus on the other--"Love your neighbor as yourself." Jesus made it clear who the neighbor is--the poor person, the sick person, the naked person, the hungry person. "On and on and on--a call for nothing less than a radical, voluntary, and effective reordering of power relationships, based on the principle of love," to quote McKibben. I know I am not reporting something you do not already know. But I believe that this social context of North America as described by McKibben, visible in the unjust social reality revealed in Katrina's aftermath, is important for reflecting on our Franciscan life. In fact, 1119, 6~. 2 200~ Blastic ¯ Custodians of Frandscan Households such a social context was the occasion for Francis of Assisi's conversion. Here I want to be very clear. Francis of Assisi's conversion was not explicitly, and primarily religious. It was a movement from a social order base& on the creed "God helps them who help themselves" to a social order based on sharing and sacrifice and "Love your neighbor as yourself"--in other words the creed of Jesus. In his conversion Francis first and foremost experienced what it means to be human, and what it implies for social life. The Franciscan movement results from Francis and the brothers learning what is required for human beings to flourish as God intends. From the opposite perspective, it is the medium of fraternity that is the message. A Franciscan fraternity evangelizes to the extent that it embodies human flourishing on the personal, social, and ecclesial levels. First I will describe briefly the early Franciscan experience and vision of fraternal life, and then I will suggest how this may help all of us live our lives as brothers. :120 A Place for Human Flourishing I would describe Franciscan fraternity in this way. I~ is (1) a life lived in brotherhood, (2) experienced in a household, and (3) qualified with patience. I deduce these elements from the Rule of 1223, the Rule that we profess as our form of life. (1) It was the Italian scholar Raoul Manselli who identified Francis's encounter with lepers as the turning point in his conversion. As Francis records in his Testament, that encounter radically rearranged his values and led him to leave the commune of Assisi in order to live with those lepers. He was drawn out of himself so that he could see, perhaps for the first time in his life; the reality of human beings who according to the definitions Review for Religious of life in the commune of Assisi simply did not exist. There was no place in Assisi for the unclean, the unworthy, the unholy, the unbearable, the unlucky, the untouchable, and the unloved. Encountering these suffering human beings, the lepers, Francis showed them a merciful heart. He looked at ., , them and touched them, he stayed with them and shared life with them, he comforted them and served their needs. And Francis tells us he did not do this for himself. He did not go to the~lepers to make himself better. He did not use . them as objects in an ascetical exercise to overcome himself (though this is how hagiographers will understand it). Francis gives the credit for this experiential truth to God: "The Lord led me among them, and I showed them a merciful heart" (Test 2).1 With God's nudge, Francis recognized the lepers as brothers and sisters, as creatures of the same God, as having equal dignity in the eyes of God the Creator. While Assisi's values and practice denied this truth, Francis was led into it by God's grace (what was bitter became sweet), and 'he left Assisi to live among these newly discovered brothers and sisters. Leaving the world of Assisi, Francis ~hus stepped into God's world--creation--where everything was estab-lished by the Creator in relationship. This is the truth that he would later celebrate in the Canticle of the Creatures. Creation sings, creation flourishes, simply by being what it was created to be, by being in relationship with all that exists. In his Testament Francis says, "The Lord gave me some brothers" (Test 14). Experienced as the reality of relationship as established by the Creator, brotherhood is Francis did not go to the lepers to make himself better. 121 65.2 2006 Blastic ¯ Custodians of Franciscan Households embodied in the rule in terms of obedience. According to chapter 2 of the Earlier Rule, after those who come have given everything to the poor as they were able, and after the year of probation has ended for them, "they may be received into obedience" (LR II:l 1). Once received into obedience they may not wander "outside obedience" (ER II: 10). The rule speaks of obedience as a place, the space into which the brothers are received. While monks are received into a monastery after their novitiate probation, Francis's brothers are received into obedience. Obedience becomes a synonym for the space in which the brothers live. What characterizes obedience then is that it is the space of relationship, One could substitute the term relationship for the term obedience throughout the early Franciscan writings and not change the meaning of the texts. The relationships of brotherhood define the space in which the brothers live. This is especially significant given that the rule understands the brothers to be itinerant, even though by 1223 this was beginning to change somewhat. Brothers began living in convents in cities. Brotherhood, then, or better our relationships as brothers, is what defines the space in which to live our life according to the Rule. And, as Francis makes clear, brotherhood is only possible if one. turns toward the other, only if one gets out of oneself and willingly places oneself in relationship to the other. This turning toward others is the basis for contemplation in the tradition; it does not imply separation or solitude, but rather engagement and an ecstatic way of being in the world. A second defining element of Franciscan fraternity is Franciscan mission. After lepers, probably the most recognized symbol of Franciscan life is San Damiano and the speaking crucifix. While this story~appears rather late in the hagiographical tradition (1246), it expresses a fundamental purpose of Franciscan life. Francis received a Review for Religious mission to repair God's house, which was being destroyed: "Francis, don't you see that my house is being destroyed? Go, then, and rebuild it for me" (L3C 13). While in the past we translated those words from the Legend of the Three Companions too simplistically as "Rebuild my church," the hagiographical tradition consistently uses the term house in accounts of this event. And, while Francis initially understood that invitation from the cross to mean the broken-down building of San Damiano, he would come to understand that the mission was rather one of repairing a space in which Frariciscan ' holiness was experienced domestically, the. lives of men and women who have been~.broken and destroyed as human beings can be rebuilt and flourish. House and family are central to the brothers' experience of the Christian life. Their relationship to God is expressed in terms of the household. For instance, in the Second Version of the Letter to the Faithful, we read: And the Spirit of the Lord will rest upon all those men and women who have done and persevered in these things, and it will make a home and dwelling place in them. And they will be the children of the heavenly Father, whose works they do. And they are spouses, brothers, and mothers of our Lord Jesus Christ. We are spouses when the faithful soul is united by the Holy Spirit to our Lord Jesus Christ. We are brothers, moreover, when we do the will of his Father who is in heaven; mothers when we carry him in our heart and body through love and a pure and sincere conscience; and give him birth through a holy activity, which must shine before others by example. (2LtF 48-53) Here we can see that for the early Franciscans holiness was experienced domestically. This suggests two things: 65.2 2006 Blastic ¯ Custodians of Franciscan Households 124 (1) we are family with the Trinitarian God we believe in, and (2) our relationship with this God is accessible and lived in the ordinary, everyday experience of domestic life. This is an important characteristic of Franciscan .practice, and suggests family life and not church life as the means for working out our way to God. How does Francis envision rebuilding God's house? Bonaventure's insight in his Major Legend of St. Francis is right on the mark here. He comments that, after receiving this mission in San Damiano, he eventually moved to St. MaiT~ of the Angels; he "lived there in order to repair it" (LMj II:8). The repair of God's house is not so much the action of preaching or teaching. The repair is accomplished by life in brotherhood itself, by living among and with brothers and sisters. The term conversatio is used to describe this "living among" in two places in the Early Rule. Francis encourages the brothers to rejoice when they "live among (quando conversantur inter viles . . .) people considered of little value and looked down upon" (ER IX:2); and "they can live spiritually (possunt duobus modis spiritualiter inter eos conversant) among the Saracens" (ER XVI:5). Using the Latin word conversatio, the root of the term conversation, the Rule envisages life as a conversation, and depends on the monastic sense of conversatio as manner of life. The brothers' manner of life is thus to be conversational--sharing life with brothers and ~isters in this conversational manner rebuilds the house of God. In another text of the Later Rule, this conversation is described more concretely: I counsel, admonish, and exhort my brothers in the Lord Jesus Christ not to quarrel or argue or judge others when they go about in the world; but let them be meek, peaceful, modest, gentle, and humble, speaking courteously to everyone, as is becoming . Review for Religious Into whatever house they enter, let them first say: "Peace to this house!" According to the holy gospel let them eat whatever food is set before them. (LR III:10- 12, 14) Here we see how for the brothers the mann(r of being with others is the primary means for accomplishing the mission, and is itself the message. The gospel is about life, a way of life, a way of being with and relating to others with the peace that is God's gift freely given in Jesus. The brothers simply speak the gospel honestly with everyone, beginning with one another. But, before the brothers can speak the word of the gospel, they must live the word of the gospel. Here recall the emphasis Celano gives to this fact in his Life of St. Francis, "[Francis] was no deaf hearer of the gospel" (1C 22). Coherence of life and message is the norm. The brothers' honest conversation and engagement with the world and people invites recognition of the presence of the kingdom already in their midst. Conversation, though, is a skill that must be learned, and many of the prescriptions of the rule that describe behavior in a negative way can be read as impediments to the quality of conversa'tion that the brothers engage in as part of their mission. This understanding of household and conversation can be seen in chapter 6 of the Later Rule. There poverty is described as "not making anything one's own" and living as "pilgrims and strangers in this world" and "never seeking anything else under heaven." After describing the brothers' poverty this way as modeled on Jesus Christ, "who made himself poor for us in this world" (LR VI:3), the Rule spells out the implication of this poverty for the life of brotherhood: Wherever the brothers may be and meet one another, let them show that they are members of.the same family. Let each one confidently m~ke known his need 125 65.2 2006 Blasac ¯ Custodians of Frandscan Households to the other, for if a mother loves and cares for her son according to the flesh, how much more diligently must someone love and care for his brother according to the Spirit! (LR VI:7-8) Literally the Rule suggests here that the brothers should demonstrate that they come from the same "household," the same family (ostendunt se domesticos invicem inter se). Thus, having nothing, living itinerantly, and desiring only this, the brothers can be at home in their relationships. The brothers should feel at home in the love and. care they have and express for one another. Poverty is the condition for brotherhood. This is an important consideration because poverty can dehumanize. Rebuilding God's house implies offering an alternative to the dehumanizing effects, of poverty. Today we can include everything from forms of work, to abuse, to social structures. The life of brotherhood should provide for humanizing relationships, expressed in turning toward others in their real needs, and their responding with real and mature care. This house is built by God's Spirit as a place where human beings can flourish. Our fraternal life is meant to help human beings prosper, grow, and thrive as "human persons fully alive" and thus to fulfill our mission to repair God's house. A third dimension of fraternal life has to do with what it means to be human. For me, this knowledge comes with the.stigmata of Francis. The stigmata involves unanswered questions. Thomas of Celano in his Life of St. Francis supplied the time, place, and context for the event of the stigmata, but while doing that he was much more interested in unraveling its meaning. Celano recounts that, while at La Verna two years before his death, Francis "saw in the vision of God a man having six wings like a seraph, standing above him, arms extended and feet joined, fixed to a cross" (2C 94). Celano's words suggest that Francis's vision was of a human person taken up into God, burning with desire (like a seraph), and crucified. They suggest the divinization of the human person. Celano is not describing history here. He is interpreting an event whose full meaning was beyond history. He understands the stigmata as demonstrating the fullest potential of being human embraced by God in the incarnation. In Jesus, God embraced the human condition with all of its limitation, fragility, weakness, and vulnerability and, in this embrace of the human condition, revealed God's own divine nature. I.n other words, the crucified flesh of Christ revealed the nature of God. The event of the stigmata reveals both the meaning of God and the meaning of Jesus Christ's human nature. The humanity embraced by Jesus is the same as Francis lived, to the point of knowing it in his own wounds. Marked with the wounds of Jesus, Francis becomes the leper, an icon of the crucified Jesus. Celano says: "While he was unable to perceive anything clearly understandable from the vision, its newness very much pressed upon his heart. Signs of the nails began to appear on his hands and feet, just as he had seen them a little while earlier on the crucified man hovering above him" (2C 94). Francis becomes what he sees, that is, what he has been seeing from the moment God turned him to the lepers to contemplate humanity there as a living icon of Jesus Christ, crucified and fixed to a cross. What does it mean to be human, then, for the early Franciscans? It means to embrace th~ full reality of the human condition as frail, weak, fragile, and vulnerable, and even scarred and wounded. The human person is an image of the Lamb who was slain, who carries even now in glory the scars of the passion. Being scarred and wounded like Jesus is not about imitating Jesus' suffering and pain on the cross. Rather, it is the consequence of t)27 6~.2 2006 Blastic ¯ Custodians of Franciscan Households self-sacrificing love, of being totally for others, without holding anything back: To be truly human means to bear patiently the human condition of weakness, fragility, and vulnerability. In the stigmata Francis demonstrates that it is possible for a human being to be Godlike, to love as God loved, to be totally and completely for the other, and in addition he demonstrates that human persons are capable of compassion, human persons are capable of bearing the pain of.the other. This, it seems to me, is what the Rule describes as the action of the Spirit of the Lord in one's life: I admonish and exhort the brothers in themLord Jesus Christ to beware of all pride, vainglory, envy and greed, of care and solicitude for the things of this world, of detraction and murmuring. Let those who are illiterate not be anxious to learn, but let them pay attention to what they must desire above all else: to have the Spirit of the Lord and its holy activity, to pray always to him with a pure heart, to have humility and patience in persecution and infirmity, and to love those who persecute, rebuke, and find fault with us. (LRX:7- 0) The eight vices that are listed at the beginning of this text are social vices; they have to do with how one relates to others and to the things of this-world. These vices describe one who is living "from the outside in," that is, one whose meaning and behavior are determined by things, by social position, by prestige, power, and clout, all of which lie outside a person. The Rule admonishes the brothers to a life of poverty, having nothing of one's own and desiring nothing more than the action of God's Spirit. They are not to live from the outside in, but from the inside out, by expressing the Spirit of the Lord in outward behavior. The Spirit transforms us flesh and blood into an image of Jesus, the suffering servant of God. Review for Religious Another way of expressing the action of the Spirit here is in our bearing with everyone and everything in patience and humility. The Saying on True and Pe,fect ffoy, recorded as a conversation between Francis and Leo, says that, as they arrive back at the Portiuncola one night, they are refused entrance because of the time of day and because they are stupid and not needed. They are told to go to the Crosiers for lodging. Francis says that, "if I had patience and did not become upset, true joy as well as true virtue and the salvation of my soul would consist in. this" (TPJ 15). The experience of the 'presence of God so transforms human existence that even persecution and sickness become ways to follow Christ. The experience of the Spirit of the Lord thus expresses itself in patience. The Latin term patiens indicates a willingness to endure or undergo something, to be capable of bearing hardship; it implies that one is vulnerable, able to be wounded. For Francis, patience is an attribute of God. In the--Praises of God, written shortly /. after he experienced-ffie sugrnata on Mount La Verna, he says to God: "You are love, charity; you are wisdom, you are humility, you are patience, you are beauty, you are meekness, you are security, you are rest" (PrG 4). Francis sees Jesus as the face of God, who made himself vulnerable in this world, who exercised patience through life and death. But it is the incarnation even more than the passion and death that Francis looks to, because in the incarnation Jesus put himself into the position of weakness, frailty, vulnerability, and limitation Francis sees Jesus as.the fa~e of God, who made himself vulnerable in this world, who exercised patience through life and death. 6~.2 2006 Blastic * Custodians of Franciscan HouseboMs and. in this revealed the full potential of being human, showing that the acceptance.of human vulnerability is salvific. Here the Rule gets to the heart of Franciscan fraternity because it challenges the brothers to be simply human, to live from the inside out, to be patient in suffering and sickness, to be vulnerable and open to the other, in short, to follow the footsteps of Jesus Christ. Authentic human life can flourish in Franciscan households that are built by brothers who turn toward each other, who engage in honest conversation as a way of life, and who patiently embrace their humanness in weakness, fragility, and vulnerability. Guarding the Franciscan Household The term "guardian" does not appear in the text of the Rule of 1223. It will appear inAater writings such as the Letter to the Entire Order and the Testament. No job description can be found in the early Franciscan writings, but it is understood that as guardian a brother exercises a ministry among brothers on the local level. What the Rule says about the ministry of "those brothers who are the ministers and servants of the others." (LR X:I) certainly applies to guardians. They are to "receive [the brothers] charitably and kindly and have sufficient familiarity with them that these same brothers may speak and deal with them as masters with the servants, for so it must be that the ministers are servants of all the brothers" (LR X:5-6). The ministers must deal with the brothers as family. While this quality of service must characterize the ministers, those who are subjects must also live the sacrificial nature of obedience in their relationships with the ministers and others. This sacrificial quality of obedience. Francis learned from Jesus, especially in his agony in the garden as described in the Second Version of the Letter to the Faithf!~k Rt.view for Religious Then he prayed to his father saying, Father, if it can be done, let this cup pass from me. And his sweat became as drops of blood falling on the ground. Nevertheless, he placed his will in the will of his father saying: Father, let your will be done; not as I will, but as you will. His father's will was such that his blessed and glorious son, whom he gave to us and who was born for us, should offer himself through his own blood as a sacrifice and oblation on the altar of the cross: not for himself, through whom all things were made, but for our sins, leaving us an example that we might follow his footprints. (2LtF 8-13) Jesus' obedience to his father was a struggle to say yes to his father's will, and this is really the only thing Francis says about the passion. Francis never speaks of the pain or suffering of the crucified Jesus, as if the entire passion took place in Jesus' struggle to accept his Father's will. And the Father's will, as Francis describes here, is that Jesus be completely for, others, that Jesus be for us. The passion is about struggling to be for others, and thi~ brings us back to the very nature of what it means to be brother. The brother is one who turns toward others, who is totally for others without holding anything back for himself. This js true obedience, because it is the fulfillment of what it means to be in relationship with others. Given this general sense of service, caring for the Franciscan household might be practiced in the following ways, I. I began with the common American Christian belief and practice that "God helps those who help themselves," a creed that can affect us in various ways. This creed is not authentically Christian, and it is eminently un- Franciscan. It supports behavior and practice that become destructive of God's house. All the brothers are responsible for calling each other to lives of genuine other-centeredness, to lives of authentic obedience 131 65.2 2006 Blastic ¯ Custodians of Franciscan Households experienced as fraternal relationship, and to the poverty of having nothing as one's own. Interdepehdence rather than radical independence, mutuality rather than self-centeredness, arid healthy need rather than the fullness of isolation are true qualities of fraternal life. This kind of fraternity is not a given, nor achieved easily or quickly, but remains the goal toward which we live. The guardian's task of caring for fraternal life implies attention to the absence or presence of creeds that conflict with real fraternal life. II. One hard-to-retrieve aspect of fraternal life today, given our institutional structures, is itinerancy. Francis and his brothers lived as pilgrims and strangers in this An important itinerancy !sAhab., while moving abbut; W~ are .s.t.ill at home with each o her: ° world. They were itinerant brothers, literally. They were "houses" on the road--perhaps medieval versions of mobile homes! Itinerancy was a clear aspect of Franciscan identity in contrast to monks--monastic institutions were terrified of wandering monks, called gyrovagues in Benedict's Rule. The. monastic ideal was stability, and part of the difficulty of fitting mendicants into the structure of the church had to do with their itinerancy. The friars were often perceived mistakenly (?) as monks gone bad. How do we recover that dimension of our life? Perhaps by recovering the meaning of itinerancy as metaphor--by not remaining fixed in one place, by taking different perspectives on the same reality, by always being on the way without ever believing that we have arrived, by not claiming the center for ourselves, and so forth. It is easy to get bogged down in our ministry or work, and to Review for Religious disconnect ourselves from the fraternity for reasons of ministry or work, though there can be valid reasons for this. An important aspect of itinerancy is that while moving about we are still at home with each other; our friaries are parts of a much larger provincial fraternity. For fraternity to be healthy and life-giving, it has to be on the move, never settled into stubborn custom or settled convenience or old fears of anything new o'r different. The fraternity must be on the move in a metaphorical sense in order to stay healthy and focused on its purpose. The fraternity has to be kept on its toes, and the guardians' care for households is an appropriate way of keeping the brothers on the move. III. As we have seen, Francis's mission to repair God's house had to do with the quality of human life. It had to do with a style of life or conversation that was inclusive, respectful, honest, and engaging. Conversation does have guidelines. In his book Plurality and Ambiguity, David TracT says: "In conversation we find ourselves by losing ourselves in the questions provoked by the text. We find ourselves by allowing claims upon our attention, by exploring possibilities suggested by others" (p. 19). He suggests some guidelines for honest conversation: ' Conversation is a game with some hard rules: say only what you mean; say it as accurately as you can; listen to and respect what the other says, however different or other; be willing to correct or defend your opinions if challenged by the conversation partner; be willing to argue if necessary, tQ confront if demanded, to endure necessary conflict, to change your mind if the evidence suggests it." (pp. 18-19) To paraphrase Tracy in Franciscan language, we might say that, to have an honest conversation, one must act according to the real d~mands of being brothers in relationship, one must be for the other in honesty, in 65.2 2006 Blastic ¯ Custodians of Frandscan Households integrity of life, in respectful listening. But Tracy's words, too, have already described the dynamic of a healthy fraternity. Real fraternal life is possible only if the brothers can have honest conversations. This is a real challenge because I can be so convinced of my truth that I cannot hear anyone else's truth. Conversation brings into play the truth about being human that Francis witnessed to in the stigmata--being vulnerable, being able to be touched by another, It takes much effort and practice to engage in honest conversation of this kind. Well worth the effort, the honest and earnest conversation in my fraternity will affect the quality of my presence and ministry outside the fraternity. Honest conversation iwfraternal life will also improve another central aspect of our life together, our prayer. To move beyond communal vocal prayer to faith sharing or shared prayer, honest conversation is important. If I cannot engage my brothers in honest conversation, how will I share my faith deeply with others. Perhaps there is a correlation between the friary chapters that demand honest conversation about life and ministry and the friaries that have much, or at least some, quality faith sharing. While the guardians cannot force this to happen, they can'challenge the brothers to develop friary chapters as an exercise in honest conversation. Moving from honest conversation into shared prayer is a logical and easy step. IV. Perhaps the best description of the guardians, given this description of Franciscan life, is that they are mentors. They support, challenge, inspire, and foster discernment of what is true, worthy, and life-giving among the brothers. You can find. a fine description of the mentor in Big Questions, Worthy Dreams by Sharon Daloz Parks (Jossey-Bass, 2000). She describes a mentoring Review for Religious environment as one that "can and necessarily must assist in creating norms of discourse and inclusion that invite genuine dialogue, strengthen critical thought, encourage connective-holistic awareness, and develop the contemplative mind" (p. 142). Sounds like a tall order, but we have all experienced a mentoring environment. Franciscan fraternity is similar to what she describes: "Mentoring environments are communities of imagination and practice. Humanizing practices, as we use the term here, are ways of life, things that people do with and for each other to make and keep life human" (p. 154). Parks describes three practices of a mentoring community: (1) the practice of the hearth, that is, places that invite reflection and conversation and times for doing this (hopefully the chapter provides this); (2) the practice of the table, not something that Franciscans have problems with generally, but is table time really a priority, or do we do what most Americans and families do today, simply eat on the run and alone in order to get on to something else? (3) the practice of the commons, a place where people meet and share their interdependent lives, a practice of learning how to stand with each other over time. That is a description of the recreation room, "a place within which to confirm a common, connected life. ¯ . that conveys meanings and orients purpose and commitment" (p. 157). Practices .like these facilitate fraternal life and build up the Franciscan household. For me, the religious genius of Francis and the early brothers lies in their ability to appreciate and value the human as the religious. The brothers understood the Gospels as showing us what it means to be really and simply human as brothers and sisters in contrast to social structures that are often antihuman. To be a healthy human brother or sister is to be a holy human person. Our way of being human is the message Francis was 6~.2 2006 Blastic * Custodians of Franciscan Households called to share. God's house is repaired and renewed in brotherhood and sisterhood, where human .life in its weakness, fragility, and vulnerability is embraced and celebrated and endured and supported in patience and healthy relationships, and where honest conversation is practiced and promoted. This is the vision of fraternal life that the early Franciscan writings set out. By our common profession we are all responsible for seeking this goal. The challenge is, I believe, to live that common profession, not in an ideal place, but in the "space" of th~ brotherhood that God has given us. With his brothers, the guardian has to be an expert in being human in order to be an effective servant. The guardian is charged only with calling us to be faithful to what we say we are. The guardian thus invites and challenges us to be fully human and to flourish in fraternal life. The guardian cannot do this or be responsible for this by himself. It takes all of us just as we are in the: glory of our frail, weak, limited, and vulnerable humanity. Our life is not about rapid perfection. Our life is about truth, the truth of the gospel which we embody together as brothers following the example of Francis and his brothers, who simply tried to follow the footprints of Jesus. We are called to be brothers to our brothers, to turn toward each other, to engage each other in honest conversation, to embrace our own and our brothers' weakness, limitation, frailty, and vulnerability. Desiring nothing else but this, we are heirs of the .kingdom of heaven, the place God has created that we may flourish as human beings! (see LR VO. May God give us peace! Review for Religious Note 1 All citations of the early Franciscan writings and of the Franciscan hagiographical texts in this paper are taken from Francis of Assisi: Early Documents, Vol. 1, The Saint, and Vol. 2, The Founder, edited by Regis Armstrong, J.A. Wayne Hellmann, and William Short (New York: New City Press, 1999 and 2000). Questions for Reflections / Group Discussion 1. Michael Blastic OFM was addressing guardianship in a particular Franciscan Province. What elements from his presentation do I find applicable to my own life? 2. What do I need to do to make practical in my way of living some of his reflectiOns on livihg together? 3. Have I ever been mentored by someone? If so, what are the effects of my being mentored? Have I ever considered my owr~ role of being a mentor? What would I need to do ? gently her fingers his head against her lap wherein he rested once before held now between her bloody l~ands her head bentover her task carefully removing the thorfis the skin pulling, resistant, bleeding a little even now gently her fingers so as if not to hurt him she winces as the thorns come out Sean Kinsella 65.2 2006 REGIS J. ARMSTRONG Francis's Charism, Tree-Huggers, and the Eucharist I~ was Pope Paul VI who first used the word harisms" officially in the context of consecrated life.1 He did so in his apostolic exhortation of 29 June 1971, Evangelica~ testificatio, ~11, where, in writing about "the charisn{s of founders," he echoed the teachings of chapter 5 of Lumen gentium and those of Perfectae caritatis and, in doing so, challenged consecrated women and men to focus on their unique gifts to the church. Even the most casual observer of the history of consecrated life notices that, since the Second Vatican Council, the vocabulary of consecrated religious is far more conscious and respectful of particular charisms and, among these, the followers of Francis of Assisi are noteworthy. Part of the reason for the Franciscan preoccupation with their unique charism or charisms is a curious difficulty in arriving at objective knowledge of the ever Regis J. Armstrong OFMCap, editor, translator, and author, first presented these reflections on 31 January 2005 to the faculty, staff, and students of the Theological College of The Catholic University of America, where he is a professor: 220 Curley Hall; Washington, D.C. 20064. Review for Religious popular Francis of Assisi. Until the late 1970s much of our knowledge of Francis's spirituality was mediated through the hagiographic literature that surrounds him. Significantly, the 14th-century Little Flowers of Saint Francis was-~-and perhaps remains--the most widely read source for popular knowledge of the 13th-century saint. Strangely, firsthand acquaintance with the saint was limited to three, possiblyfour,'of his writings and, was only broadened when in 1976 a critical edition of his thirty-eight known writings was published and quickly translated.2 "Deceptively simple" is one way of describing those texts. While some might dismiss them because of their transparency, or view them as irrelevant because of their historical context, Francis's gospel insights continue to challenge those who study them, and their timelessness seems to draw an increasing number of reader~. The task before me is to reflect on what the spirituality, let. us say the "charism," of Francis and his followers might offer to priests and others. At this time of Eucharistic emphasis, it seems appropriate to focus on five passages of Francis's writings. The first of these, a short, fundamentally liturgical prayer, appears in the last of the saint's writings, the Testament. In it he recalls the earliest days of the Franciscan fraternity. The second is taken from a set of documents that Francis wrote upon his return from the Islamic world in 1220. The third comes from a collection of writings' that elude dating but reflect a more mature Francis who has come to grips with what gospel spirituality consists of. The remaining .two seem to have been written during the last year of his life. Three prominent gifts emerge in these writings: the gift of faith, the gift of the Spirit, and the gift of the priesthood, three gifts that form a prism through which to gaze upon the Eucharist. I offer you this prism convinced that Francis's writings envision a Eucharist-centered life and, for a 65.2 2006 Armstrong ¯ Francis's Charism, Tree-Huggers, and the Eucharist priest, one that is defined by v~hat he does each day: celebrate what is at the very heart of his life. The Gift of Faith Francis's Testament, written in stages toward the end of,~his life, opens with a set of reminiscences that many see as defining his vision¯ After speaking of his embrace of a leper, the beginning ofhis life of penance, he describes ., o his life of faith. ,!'And the Lord gave me such faith in churches that I would simply pray and speak in this way: "We adore you, O Lord Jesus Christ, here and in all your churches throughout the world, and we bless you, because by your holy cross you have redeemed the world.'" The early biographers Thomas of Celano and St. Bonaventure maintain that he later taught this prayer to his very first followers. The prayer is ecclesial and soteriological in nature, expressing as it does an understanding of the role of the church in the accomplishment of redemption. Those familiar with the liturgical texts will recognize it as appearing in the Liber Responsalis of Gregory the Great, where it is an antiphon for matins on the feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross.3 In his Documenta Vitae Religiosae, the monk Arnulphe encouraged its recitation upon entering a church and approaching the (ross.4 What is distinctive, however, is Francis's addition: ". ¯ here and in all the churches throughout the world." His version of the antiphon brings us from the abstract church to a particular, here-and-now church and to those scattered throughout the world. True, Eucharist is not We are made aware,of Francis's understanding the church pla e of encounter or adoratiom Review for Religious present or even implied in the prayer. We are nonetheless made aware of Francis's understanding of the church as the place of encounter or adoration, that is, the sacred space in which the pray-er is reminded of the central place of the cross in our redemption. Curiously, Francis sees this practical, tangible gift of faith as something flowing immediately from the embrace of a life of penance. Should we follow his train of thought in this document, Francis suggests that his discoqery of God's presence began with his encounter with a leper and continued with his entrance into a church, where he discovered what was being asked of him. These Were indeed the first dramatic steps of his spiritual journey, from a chance meeting with the leper to ,his "stumble" into the church of San Damiano, where he discerned his ca|l, His biographers rightly suggest that the two are united, in the Franciscan approach to God, two essential elements on faith's journey,s ,~ Note the focused pragmatism of this passage. The Lord's gift of faith demands expression in the ordina~ day:to-day ebb and flow of life. Francis's faith expresses itself in reverence and respect for the sacred place, the sacred place of encounter. His companions later described him with a broom in his hand gathering the priests of an area and encouraging them to keep clean ,their churches, altars, and everything connected with ~the celebration of the divine mysteries.6 Afew years~ later, the Fourth Lateran Council (canon 20) and Pope Honorius III were to address this matterZ This theme of showing reverence for the place and the accoutrements of worship is easily seen in an exhortation he wrote to all the clergy.8 For years the only existing copy of this was one found in a 13th-century missal in the Benedictine monastery of Subiaco, which boasts of a visit Francis made there during a trip to Rome. This manuscript shows the influence of 65.2 2006 Armstrong ¯ Francis's Charism, Tree-Huggers, and the Eucharist the decrees of Pope Honorius encouraging implemen-tation of the Fourth Lateran decree. Recently, however, an earlier manuscript of the letter was discovered, one that may have been written before or immediately after the council and confirms Francis's insistence on reverence and respect fog churches and sacred vessels.9 In both exhortations a prominent theme emerges, the central place of the Eucharist. Although Francis never uses the word Eucharist, he does write of "the Body and Blood of the Lord," thereby suggesting the concrete way in which he regards the Eucharistic presence of Christ. "In this world," he writes, "we have and see nothing corporaliter [corporally] of the Most High except [his] Body and Blood, and the words through which we have been made and redeemed from death to life." In that light, it is difficult to ignore his repeated encouragement of respect and care for what we might consider the insignificant things of worship: reservation, cleanliness, decorum, even liturgical books.° Once again Francis's addition to that liturgical antiphon--"here and in all your churches throughout the world"--emerges, so'that we see a faith that is not cerebral or otherworldly, but practical and down-to-earth. Corporaliter! If the Most High chooses to come to us corporaliter, then we. must carefully respect the matters of our worship corporaliter, in simple specific ways. Francis repeatedly and simply calls his followers to be attentive to the details of worship. These are instruments with which God enables us to proceed, in Hugh of St. Victor's words, "from the visible to the invisible." The Gift of the Spirit This leads us to an undated set of Francis's writings: his Admonitions, a title that does not express well in English the nature of these twenty-eight teachings. Each "admonition" simply presents a few biblical passages or l~evie~ for Religious images and then some practical application to daily life. This form is a common catechetical tool used by medieval instructors in the faith.~° The first admonition begins with a series of biblical passages that initially seem unrelated unless they0are viewed as examples of "seeing and believing." Francis's starting point in this first admonition is the struggles of faith of the apostles Thomas~and Philip, given that God "dwells in unapproachable light,' and "no one has ever seen God." He proceeds to the role of the Holy Spirit, who enables them and us to see things differendy, to see with what Tl~omas F. Torrance calls the Spirit's "epistemological relevance." l~ In this .way Francis leads us into the very heart of trinitarian life--the Father looks upon the Son in the Spirit, and the Son looks upon the Father in the Spirit. Francis challenges us to understand what spirituality is, namely, a Spirit-filled life: All those who saw the Lord Jesus according to the humanity and did not see and believe according to the Spirit and the Divinity that he is the true Son of God were condemned. Now, inthe same way, all those who see in the form of bread and wine the sacrament that is consecrated [literally, sanctified] at' thd altar by the Lord's words through the agency of the priest, and who do not see and believe according to the Spirit and the Divinity that it is truly the Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, are condemned. To be sure, the challenge of seeing and believing is prominent, but it is cast in the context of the Spirit and the Divinity. Many commentators on Francis's writings suggest that his vision of the spiritual life is besv defined by a simple statement found in his Rule: "Let [the brothers] pay attention to what they must desire above all else: the Spirit of the Lord and its holy activity." ~2 This being the case, the Spirit's activity in making Christ the center of our lives is primary and, in this instance, 143 65.2 2006 Armstrong ¯ Francis's Charism, Tree-Huggers, and the Eucharist 14'4 becomes the medium through which we gaze. upon Christ. The Spirit brings us to gaze upon Christ with "the eyes" of the Father and, by our conformity with Christ, to gaze upon the Father with "the eyes" of the Son. We are confronted with what Catherine Mowry LaCugna calls "the practical Trinity" and with Karl Rahner's words: "The economic Trinity is the immanent Trinity.''t3 Far mor~ simply, Francis understands the Spirit as calling us to look upon both the incarnation and the Eucharist in a trinitarian way, seeing the incarnate Lord Jesus and the Eucharistic Lord Jesus as the Father does, with.the eyes of the Holy Spirit. As Francis describes it in the first of his ~ldmonitiones, the Spirit's presence in our lives challenges us on three levels with each celebration of the Eucharist. It reminds us of the incarnation, with the Son's daily embrace of humility, self-emptying, and vulnerability: "Behold, he humbles himself each d~ay (Ph 2:8) as when he came from the royal throne into the Virgin's womb (Ws 18:15); each day he himself comes to us, appearing humbly; each day he comes down from the bosom of the Father (Jn 1,: 18) upon the altar in the hands of a priest." The Spirit's presence also prompts alertness to the revelation that comes from the Eucharist as well as from the incarnation itself: "As [the Son] revealed himself to the holy aposdes in true flesh, so he reveals himself to us in the same way in sacred bread." Finally, in light of this, the Spirit's presence fosters contemplation of the Eucharist with what Francis calls, in words reminiscent of Bernard of Clairvaux, ".spiritual eyes" 14: "And as they saw only his fleshwith their physical sight, yet believed that he was God as they conteInplated him with their spiritual eyes, let us, as we see bread and wine with our bodily eyes, see and firmly believe that they are his most holy Body and Blood living and true." , Revie~v for Religious These three sentences from Francis's Admonitiones provide insight into his understanding of a Spirit-filled life. We could concentrate on these thoughts about Jesus' humility, self-emptying, and vulnerability, or we could focus on his encouragement of "adoration," that primary Spirit-inspired activity which many commentators consider the heart of his theology of prayer. There is another, more noteworthy contribution, however, that Francis makes to Christian spirituality, one that gets overlooked: his concern that our lives be conformed to the Eucharist, that they somehow imitate the life of the Eucharistic Christ. Curiously, very little has been written about this, possibly because of that troublesome word imitation, a word Francis never uses and one that enters strongly into the vocabulary of Christian spirituality only in the 14th, not the 13th, century.15 The more common word for this was conformity. Bernard of Clairvaux says wonderfully that Christ is the form to which deformed man must conform in order to be reformed. One is called to bring one's form into line with the form that is Christ. In the spiritual literature of the time, this is brought about by the work of the Holy Spirit. Contemplation of Christ in the Eucharist, contemplation with "spiritual eyes," is primarily the Spirit's doing.16 In Francis's understanding of the call, the Eucharist demands the daily embrace of the virtues of humility, self-emptying, and vulnerability that the Incarnate Word lives and reveals each day. The Eucharist demands the daily embrace of the virtues of humility, self-emptying, and vulnerability that the Incarnate Word lives and reveals each day. 65.2 2006 Armstrong * Francis's Charism, Tree-Huggers, and the Eucharist 1461 The Gift of Priesthood This brings us to selections from Francis's last two writings, the first of which is actually a return to Francis's very last, his Testament, with which these reflections began. After reflecting upon the gift of faith, Francis continues: Afterwards the Lord gave me--and gives me still-- such faith in priests who live according to the rite of the holy Roman church because of their orders that, were they to persecute me, I would still have recourse to them. And if I had as much wisdom as Solomon and found .impoverished priests of this world, I would not preach in their parishes against their will. And I desire to respect, love, and honor them and all others as my lords. And I do not want to consider any sin in them because I discern the Son of God in them and they are my lords. And I act thus because in this world I see nothing corporally of the Most High Son of God except his most holy Body and Blood which they receive and they alone administer to others. It is a rather curious statement coming from a man facing death, one that contains bits and pieces that tantalize biographers of Francis and historians of the Franciscan movement. There are sufficient anecdotes in the early lives of Francis to suggest that he was indeed ridiculed, abused, and demeaned. More significant are the number of papal decrees insisting that Francis and his brothers be given permission to preach, suggesting that doors were indeed being slammed in their faces. The dying Francis transcends all this and leaves as his legacy an example of "respect, love, and honor" for priests as those who are his superiors, his "lords." Once again that refrain surfaces: "I see nothing corporaliter of the Most High Son of God." Here it does so in reference to priests, who "receive. and administer to others" the most holy Body and Blood of the Lord. All Review for Religious that he may have endured--persecution, being taken advantage of, imposed on--is put into context. Francis refuses even to take notice of a priest's sin--that judgment, he maintains, belongs only to God--because of the priest's sacerdotal intimacy with the Eucharist, with the Body and Blood of the Lord. Naive? Simplistic? Challenging? In our day especially, these attitudes seem unrealistic and, in light of recent scandals, disingenuous. To understand them, we must turn to passages from the last and perhaps most beautiful of Francis's writings, one that almost certainly was written at the same time as his Testament, that is, at the end of his life. Only a man comfortable with himself could have written The Letter to the Entire Order. While clearly written by the "inspirational" figure of the brotherhood, by Francis himself, the letter does not hesitate to admit to negligence or weakness, to being "ignorant or unlettered" and "useless and unworthy." Many of its themes resonate with Francis's earlier writings, especially those on the Liturgy of the Hours and the Liturgy of the Eucharist. The maturity of Francis's Eucharistic spirituality, however, appears clearly in this passage: Kissing your feet, and with all the love of which I am capable, I implore all of you brothers to show all possible reverence and honor to the most holy Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, in whom that which is in heaven and on earth is brought to peace and reconciled to theall-powerful God. This comes from the Francis who a year or so earlier had the mystical experience of Greccio, where the Christ Child appeared in his arms. This comes from the Francis who shortly afterwards had that other mystical experience of Christ Crucified, which left him with the stigmata. This comes from the Francis who then composed one of the most mystical of all writings, The Canticle of Brother i147 65.2 2006 Armstrong * Francis's Charism, Tree-Huggers, and the Eucharist 148 Sun, where his vision of the peace and reconciliation brought by Christ to all creation is expressed in remarkable poetry. In light of this, what follows is one of his most penetrating challenges: In the Lord I also beg all my brothers who are, or who will be, or who desire to be priests of the Most High that, whenever they want to celebrate Mass, pure themselves, they offer the true sacrifice of the most holy Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ with purity and reverence, with a holy and unblemished intention, not for any worldly reason or out of fear or love of someone, intending to please human beings. But, desiring by the sacrifice to please only the most high God himself, let every will be directed to God as far as grace makes possible because there he himself acts alone as he pleases. Here we see the call of the priest to live corporaliter in light of the life corporaliter of Christ now revealed in the Eucharist. The call to purity and to celebrate with purity, the call to be single-minded, and the call to have my every desire directed by God comes from an ongoing call to conversion. The example of the reverence of Mary, the Mother of God, and of the Baptist help bring that call to us. Francis's challenge is simple yet profound: "See your dignity, my brothers [who are] priests, and be holy because He is holy. As the Lord God has .honored you above all others by this ministry, for your part love, revere, and honor him above all others. It is a great misery and a miserable weakness when you have him present in this way and are concerned with anything else in the whole world!" Tree-Huggersmbut Much Much More What does Francis of Assisi, a medieval, Umbrian- Italian mystic offer to American priests in this vital endeavor? My good friend Luke Patrick O'Connell once Review for Religious teased me by characterizing Franciscans as "tree-huggers." Luke, however, was introducing a rather profound discussion on the theological concept of charism. He was attempting to draw me out on what the followers of Francis contribute today to the life and growth of the church. It is a good question, one with which I continue to struggle on many different levels. Pope John Paul once observed that what makes Francis of Assisi so appealing to people of all ages and cultures is his dominant image of God: the One who is all good. "It is what makes you optimists," he suggested, "and, therefore, prophets of hope." Francis's biographers Thomas of Celano and Saint Bonaventure wrote that "he savored in each and every creature, as in so many rivulets, the Fountain of Divine Goodness." In Francis's own writings, however, it is clear that he found God's goodness, the gifts of faith and of the Spirit, more and more overwhelming in the mystery of the Eucharist. In the light of that gift, the daily revelation of God's incredible goodness in his Son, the priesthood became for Francis a reflection of what Eucharist is all about: God's daily humility, self-emptying, and vulnerability. In a word, the Christ of the Eucharist defines the priest! One's sacerdotal character must be molded by the Eucharistic Jesus, who each day places himself in the hands of this priest. Clare of Assisi frequently comes to mind in pondering the mystery of a vocation. Clare begins her own Testament Francis found God's goodness, the gifts of faith and of the Spirit, more and more overwhelming in the mystery of the Eucharist. 1149 6Y. 2 2006 Ar~nstrong ¯ Francis~s Cbaris~n, Tree-Huggers, and the Eucharist reflecting on the role Francis played in that call. She writes: "Among the other gifts we have received and do receive each day, and for which we must express the deepest thanks to our glorious God, there is our vocation, which the more perfect and greater it is, the more are we indebted to him. Therefore the Apostle [writes]: 'Recognize your vocation.'" In her theology, the vocation is given anew each day and demands each day our most profound thanks. For a priest, Francis would add, each day that gift and that gratitude for the priesthood grow in intensity as the daily celebration of the Mystery of Faith ever so gently teaches the priest its meaning. Thus he writes: Let everyone be struck with fear, the whole world tremble, and the heavens exult when Christ, the Son of the living God, is present on the altar in the hands of a priest! O wonderful loftiness and stupendous condescension! O sublime humility! O humble sublimity! The Lord of the universe, God and the Son of God, so humbles himself that he hides himself under a little piece of bread! See the humility of God, brothers, and pour out your hearts before him! Humble yourselves that you may be exalted by him! Hold back nothing of yourselves for yourselves, that he who gives himself totally to you may receive you totally! Notes ~ Information on charisms may be found in Elizabeth McDonough, "Charisms and Religious Life," Review for Religious 52 (1993): 646- 659. Review for Religious 2 Die Opuscula des H1. Franziskus yon Assisi: Neue Textkritische Edition, ed. Kajetan Esser (Grottaferrata, Rome: Collegio S. Bonaventura di Quaracchi, 1976). This text was the basis for Francis" and Clare: The Complete Works, trans, and intro, by Regis J. Armstrong and Ignatius C. Brady (New York: Paulist Press, 1982). All translations from the writings of Francis and Clare are taken from this volume, though sometimes modified. 3 Gregory the Great, LiberResponsalis (PL 78,804). 4 Arnulphe de Boeriis, Documenta Vitae Religiosae (PL 184, 1177): "Deinde, veniens ad ecclesiam, pone manum super ostium, et dic: Exspectate hic, cogitationes malae, intentiones et affectus cordis, et appetitus carnis. Tu autem, anima mea, intra in gaudium Domini Dei tui, ut videas voluntatem Domini, et visites templum ejus. Sicque veniens ante crucem dic: 'Adoramus te, Christe, et benedicimus tibi.'" (Coming to a church, put your hand on the door and say: Wait here, evil thoughts, intentions, and inclinations of my heart and desires of my flesh. You, though, my soul, enter into the joy of the Lord your God, so that you may see the Lord's will and enter his temple. And so, coming before the cross, say: "We adore you, O Christ, and we bless you.") s See Franqois de Beer, La Conversion de Saint Francois (Paris: ]~ditions Franciscaines, 1963). 6 "Assisi Compilation" 60, in The Founder, Vol. 2 of Francis of Assisi: Early Documents, ed. Regis J. Armstrong, J.A. Wayne Hellmann, and William J. Short (Hyde Park, New York: New City Press, 2000), pp. 162-163. 7 For the texts of both Canon 20 of the Fourth Lateran Council and Sane cure olim or Expectavimus bactenus of Innocent III, see The Saint, Vol. 1 of Francis of Assisi: Early Documents (Hyde Park: New City Press, 1999), pp. 53c. 55a. Hereafter The Saint. 8 See The Saint, pp. 54-55. 9 See The Saint, pp. 52-53. ~0 See Regis J. Armstrong, "The Prophetic Implications of the Admonitions," in Francescanesimo e Profezia (Roma: Laurentianum, 1986): pp. 386-464. ~ Thomas F. Torrance, "The Epistemological Relevance of the Holy Spirit," in God and Rationality (London: Oxford University Press, 1971), pp. 165-192. t2 For a full exposition of the theme, see Optatus van Asseldonk, "The Spirit of the Lord and Its Holy Activity," Greyfriars Review 5 (1991): 103-158. ,3 Karl Rahner, The Trinity, trans. Joseph Donceel (New York: Herder and Herder, 1970); "Remarks on the Dogmatic Treatise 'De 151 65.2 2006 Armstrong ¯ Frands's Charism, Tree-Huggers, and the Eucharist Trinitate,'" Theological Investigations, Vol. 4 (New York: Seabury Press, 1974), pp. 77-102. 14 Karl Rahner, "The Doctrine of the 'Spiritual Senses' in the Middle Ages," Experience of the Spirit: Source of Theology, Vol. 16 of Theological Investigations (New York: Crossroad, 1983), pp. 104-134. ~s Edouard Cothenet et al., Imitating Christ, vol. 5 of Religious Experience series (St. Meinrad, Indiana: Abbey Press, 1974); Andr4 Rayez, "The Golden Age of Medieval Devotion: The Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries," in Jesus in Christian Devotion and Contemplation, vol. 1 of Religious Experience series (St. Meinrad: Abbey Press, 1974), pp. 44-85. ~6 This sentiment finds an echo in John Paul II's Dominicae Coenae: "Eucharistic worship., is precisely the expression of that love which is the authentic and deepest characteristic of the Christian vocation . A living fruit of this worship is the perfecting of the image of God that we bear within us, an image that corresponds to the one that Christ has revealed to us." Quoted in L'Osservatore Romano, English edition, 26 January 2005, p. 12. Palm Sunday Dear Lord, ride into my heart today on the stubborn mule of my own self-rule. These garments strewn along your way are the little things to which my will clings. 0 Christt. let your triumph be complete: let nothing remain proud, stubborn, or vain. I lie surrendered at your feet. Now, let my voice raise Hosannas of praiser. Agnes Cunningham SSCM Review for Religious ¯ JULIUS D. LELOCZKY Imitation of Mary and the Religious Vocation The great Carmelite martyr St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross, better known as Edith Stein, wrote somewhere: "The imitation of Mary includes the imitation of Christ because Mary is the first Christian to follow Christ. Indeed, that is why the imitation of Mary is relevant not only to women but to all Christians." Let us meditate briefly on how religious life can be an "imita-tion of Mary." From all eternity Mary was chosen by God to be the mother of the Redeemer, and she was called at the annunciation. We, too, have been chosen and called: "God chose us in Jesus Christ before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before him" (Ep 1:4). By this call and her response, Mary became a daughter of God in a special way; she became the new, obedient Eve. Just as Mary must have Julius D. Leloczky OCist joined the Cistercians in Hungary in 1953, later studied in Rome, and in 1964 was sent to the abbey where he continues to live: Cistercian Abbey; 3550 Cistercian Road; Irving, Texas 75039. 6Y.2 2006 Leloczky ¯ Imitation of Mary and the Religious Vocation wondered why was she chosen, we, too, can ask our-selves: "Why me? Out of the millions of people, why me?" The answer is that it is a mystery, the mystery of love. What happens to us is what happened to the rich young man: "Jesus looked at him, and he loved him" (Mk 10:21). The call of each of us is a call for a unique, spe-cial task, one that no one else can accomplish. Our response should mirror the love of the One who called us, but we are called not just to do a job; we are called to give a loving response. The call has, like a coin, two sides: we are called away from something and we are called to do something, called for something. From the moment the angel appeared to Mary, her whole life was changed. She was no longer her own person, she belonged to Someone else. We have been called away from the average or "normal" way of life, from starting a family, from having a civilian job, from having our own home, car, property. We have been called to a loving unconditional surrender, offering ourselves as Mary did: "I am the maidservant of the Lord. Let it be done to me according to your word." We have been called for a life-long adventure of love, and we do not know where this love will take us. As religious, we have been called to conceive the Word of God in our heart and soul. This conception is "virginal" because it takes place entirely between God and ourselves, without the intervention of anybody else. We have been called to give the Word of God, the Son of God, to others. We can do it only if first we ourselves have conceived Him, carried him in the womb of our soul, nurtured him, let him grow inside us, from our-selves-- if not from our flesh and blood, certainly from our personality. Just as Jesus must have had much like-ness to his Mother, the Word growing within us will take on our likeness. This Word, however, is not just an intel- Review for Religious lectual idea. It does not reside only in our intellect; it must penetrate our entire being, our whole existence. Disciples are not tape recorders to replay the words exactly as we heard them. Sifted through our personali-ties, God's words have to take on the special shade or tint of what we are as persons, just as the gospel of Jesus Christ is different from the pen of Mark and John. Mary's virginity was fruitful; the unmarried state of a religious also must be fruitful. Members of religious orders, when answering God's call to an unmar-ried way of life, do not choose to live in lifeless sterility. They do not give up either love, pas-sion, or motherhood or fatherhood. They just practice them in a dif-ferent way, living, by God's grace, their ability to love on a higher level. Their fruitfulness realizes itself in two ways. Like Mary, they become mothers of the Word of God, and mothers or fathers of many spiritual children. The birth of a child is preceded by birth pangs. No one expressed more dramatically the pain of giving birth to God's word than Jeremiah: "O Lord, you have deceived me, and I let myself be :deceived. You are stronger than I, and you have prevailed. I have become a laughingstock all the day. Everyone mocks me . If I say, 'I will not mention him or speak any more in his name,' there is in my heart as it were a burning fire shut up in my bones, and I am weary with holding it in, and I cannot bear it" (Jr 20:7,9). To give birth to God's Word is a painful but irresistible duty. It is painful to commu- Members of religious orders, when answering God's call to an unmarried way of life, do not choose to live in lifeless sterility. 65.2 2006 Leloczky ¯ Imitation of Mary and the Religious Vocation 1,56 nicate the Word to others; it is difficult to put Christ's message into human words, to pass on to others Jesus himself and not just our own ego. It can be painful to give Jesus to others, because some people will not accept him, will show a hostile attitude toward him and us, will resist and reject him and us. Yet we have to go on, to continue undeterred, remembering God's word to Jeremiah: "And I, behold, I make you this day a forti-fied city, an iron pillar, and bronze walls, against the whole land" (Jr 1 : 18). If we proclaim God's word, we become parents, and those who listen to us will become our children. This is so even in the case of contemplative religious. It is not by accident that St. Th~r~se of Lisieux has been chosen the patron saint of the missions. If we think back to our young years, we can recall some special persons in our lives whom we can consider our spiritual mothers or fathers. As we advance in age, the roles become reversed, and we should be spiritual parents for others. But it is a frightening realization that we proclaim the Word more by our deeds than by our words; our words and deeds should communicate the gospel message in perfect har-mony. St. Paul dared to set himself as a model for the early Christians. "Imitate me," he wrote. We may shy away from saying the same, but we know that our words will be credible only if they are lived and made a reality in our daily lives. Just as Mary was with Jesus at the wedding at Cana, so she is with us in our apostolic prayer and activity. When we are in any special need, she will tell her Son: "They have no wine." Just as in Cana, with the refined sense of a woman, a housewife, a mother, she perceives if something is missing, if there is a problem, and she will intervene. And, even if Jesus showed some reluc-tance first, Mary knows that her Son will help, and she Review for Religious will tell us to "do whatever he tells you." The interven-tion of the saints is powerful, but the efficiency of Mary's intercessory prayer is unparalleled. Just recall the words of the famous Memorare prayer of the great Cistercian saint Bernard of Clairvaux: "Never was it known that anyone who fled to your protection was left unaided." A mother's life is an unstoppable process of gradual separation from her child. Only during pregnancy can she have the feeling that the child is completely hers. After the baby has been born, as the child is growing, it will spend more and more time away from home, away from its mother. During adolescence the child will claim an ever greater independence. After he or she finishes school and starts a family, the separation will be com-plete. Mary, too, had this painful experience. The twelve-year- old Jesus remained in the temple: "I must be in my Father's house." During his public ministry Jesus called his disciples mother and brothers and sisters, thus in a way pushing away from himself his biological family. On the cross, Jesus gave a mere disciple to his mother in place of himself. Look at Michelangelo's Pietb, this Magnificat prayer carved into marble, and see Mary's generous surrender. Even after all her trials and suffer-ings, she was still the humble handmaid of the Lord. There are two ways of experiencing this separation: (a) to live without the experience of Jesus' presence or close-ness and (b) to allow our spiritual children to grow up and go off and live their lives. Mary, by her suffering and agony, added something to the redeeming sufferings of her Son. Similarly, by car-rying our daily crosses (their heaviness may change from time to time), we complement "what is lacking in the sufferings of Christ for the sake of his body, the church" (Col 1:24). Our sufferings can be physical or spiritual or emotional. They may take the form of sickness, exhaus- 6Y.2 2006 Leloczky ¯ Imitation of Mary and the Religious Vocation tion, frustration, or burnout, They may be caused by the very people for whose sake we are spending our days and burning our energies, as when the crowd shouted at Jesus, "Crucify him!" We may be attacked or accused without reason, we may be slandered, or we may feel abandoned as Jesus did when he cried out, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" But we should not forget that the sadness lasted only three days. Imagine Mary's joy at Jesus' resurrection, at her encounter with her risen Son. The same joy is waiting for us. We just have to persevere, to continue imitating Christ by imi-tating Mary faithfully, day after day. 158 Prayer Slowly and meditatively pray the Memorare prayer. Remember, 0 most gracious Virgin Mary, that never was it known that anyone who fled to your protection, implored your help, or sought your intercesson was left unaided. Inspired by this confidence, I fly unto you, 0 Virgin of virgins, my Mother; to you do I come, before you I stand, sinful and sorrowful. 0 Mother of the Word Incarnate, despise not my petitions, but in your mercy hear and answer me. Amen Review for Religious MARY JOSEPH SCHULTZ Just Because I Said So Sohifting numbers, median ages, and the geography f religious life over the past several decades and today as well do not cause me to pause and reflect on whether we have a future, as many religious have recently been wondering. I believe that religious life most defi-nitely does have a future. For each individual commu-nity, where that future goes must be carefully discerned in the Spirit. But there are other questions with less clear answers. What impels us to go on? What can we offer new members to quench their thirsty hearts once they join us? I would like to reflect on one word as the answer to both these questions--commitment. It is not a popular word today in a mobile and disposable society such as ours. The word commitment is at one and the same time a sign of contradiction to some and a challenge and cause for hope to many others. In some circles a lifelong com-mitment to religious life has fallen under examination in recent years. For my part, I cannot buy into the notion Mary Joseph Schultz SCC, president of Assumption College for Sisters, wrote for us in 2003. Her address is 350 Bernardsville Road; Mendham, New Jersey 07945. 65.2 2006 Schultz ¯ ~tst Because I Said So of a limited commitment to religious life just as I can-not buy into the idea of a temporary marriage commit-ment. As religious we vow ourselves to a God unseen but not unknown. We embrace centuries-old charisms of peo-ple whose lives and lifestyles were shaped by grace amid definite historical settings and cultural needs. We set aside wealth, sexual activity, and the disposition of our own will in freely choosing poverty, chastity, and obedi-ence for life. It is imperative that we study our own com-mitments in gratitude--and that we find ways to convey its challenge, meaning, and joy to Generations X and Y-- if we truly have hope in our communities' future. Our brothers and sisters in community who celebrate fifty, sixty, and even seventy-five years of religious life overflow with peace and joy in their long, faithful, and fruitful commitments, just as their married counterparts do who celebrate their golden anniversaries. What is their secret? Why and how have they survived and thrived in a world of instant gratification, noise, infi-delity, moral weakness, and faltering leadership and through forty years of post-Vatican II experimentation, discussion, renewal, and change in their communities? They would probably answer the question very simply: "I am still here because I said I would be." Sefin Sammon, in his wise and prophetic book Religious Life in America, speaks of the impact of public commitment to the evangelical counsels: "In carrying out our ministry in a spirit of selfless service, we witness further to countercultural values. How? By avoiding the all too familiar and tragic betrayal of consecrated life that occurs when we give our heart away generously at the time of first commitment, and then take it back, bit by bit, with each passing year" (p. 92). Commitment is not widely modeled for today's youth, either in families or in society at large. Hedonism and Review for Religious materialism erode the very notion of a committed life. The rapidity and challenge of change surround every aspect of our culture today. Opting out of anything dis-agreeable or tiresome is only a mouse-click away. Young people are constantly in and out of hobbies, activities, and relationships without so much as a glance back-ward. Often parents try to be supportive by signing them up for lessons, buy-ing instruments and sports either in families or equipment and providing taxi service to and from in society at large. appointments and games. For the young, broad arrays of opportunity and experience soon become bor-ing- or become irritatingly impossible when parental money or patience runs short. Entering my community as an aspirant in my teens in the late 1960s, I truly aspired to living religious life. It was hard for me and for those my age to understand all the post-Vatican II talk about "returning to your foundress's charism." Certainly we should already be who we say we are! Why wouldn't we be, and how could we not be? Naive teenage questions. But, from the moment I left home to enter as a sophomore, my heart was com-mitted to my dream, and I was just a little puzzled by what I saw and heard going on around me. Wasn't every sister as committed as I thought she was or should be? Through the difficult weeks of homesickness, a cer-tain degree of stubbornness and a huge amount of grace sustained me. I knew my choice was right. From my early years my family realized that I was serious about being a sister. It was all I talked about and I only had to wait (impatiently) until I was old enough to be accepted. My Commitment is not widely modeled for today's youth, 65.2 2006 Scbultz ¯ s~ust Because I Said So ,° 1 21 older siblings at times "tested" me and offered their opin-ions about my leaving home at fourteen. But my parents were supportive in their quiet and undemonstrative way. They were proud of me, I knew, loved the sisters, and backed me up at each step. One day shortly before I was set to leave, my mother said, "You know, you really can change your mind. You don't have to go just because you said so." I believe she wanted to give me a last chance to back out with minimal embarrassment. My reply was simple: "I know, Morn, but I want to be a sister." From that day on no more was said. My father died a year later, and my mother was proud of my life choice. She later became a lay associate in my community. Mom's words often ring in my ears: "Just because you said so." Certainly I am not the same person I was at fourteen, but there are traces of that determined girl still inside. I am not the same person I was at final profession twenty-five years ago. But there is one thing I pray never changes, that I am a woman of my word. To me this is a very positive quality. While "just because I said so" can deteriorate into an authoritarian dictate held over the head of a student (and I confess to having resorted to it more than once in a classroom of questioning teens), these same words are to me a sign of fidelity and com-mitment. I gave my word and I intend to keep it, not grudgingly but joyfully. Whether from genetics or my serious temperament or both, when I tell someone I am going to do some-thing, I make it my business to follow through. This can lead to scrupulosity or unhealthy guilt if I am not care-ful. I can place unrealistic expectations on myself (or on others through transference) as I strive to pray for all the prayer requests, write all those notes, make those phone calls, or do those favors that I promised I would. As I have noticed, other temperaments seem to have no Review for Relig4ous problem breaking those promises, skipping those phone calls, or never getting back to me, but they also have fewer sleepless nights. I believe that giving my word to others is about the best I can give them. In this I share God's own view-- giving God's Word was the best of gifts. Giving my word to God on my profession day symbolized all of me with nothing held back. This perpetual commitment, lived out one day, one moment, at a time, is a beautiful gift that I hope to never take back or take for granted. Not knowing the trials, temptations, or dryness that lay ahead could not lessen the fullness of the gift. In fact it only served to increase the value. God took me at my word, and the journey of religious life has been remarkable. Unlike in a marriage vow, I am guaranteed the fidelity of my Partner, and if there is any cooling in the relationship it can only be on one side! "Just because I said so" is in itself hardly a solid enough motivation for perseverance. These words can easily reflect mere stubbornness or the desire to prove something to myself or others. I have seen some sisters leave the community, even after final profession, because this motivation to please self or a parent was the sole force behind their entering religious life. If love, humility, and grace do not underlie my words, then I am foolish and my life is a sham and an exercise in self-righteousness. Giving my word verbally and on the vow formula signed on the altar came after long years of trial and preparation. My commitment was not made as a naive religious wearing rose-colored glasses. I had seen many "heroes" leave the community, had watched the divi-siveness of Vatican II experimentation, and had been asked to step forward and take my place as a responsible member of the community. Publicly pronouncing the words "I vow to almighty God perpetual chastity, 6~ .2 2006 Schultz ¯ ~st Because I Said So poverty, and obedience" was the best I could do, then and now. I would do it all over again today, even know-ing what would lie ahead. I would once again give my word. At the time of my entrance, I believe I had it much easier because, while there were hundreds of communi-ties, my familiarity with them was very limited. Many girls entered a community whose members had taught them or with whom there was already a relative or a close association. This is not the case today, especially with so few religious left in the classrooms. A young person discerning religious life today has a greater challenge than I did forty years ago, partly because of the wide array, of choices open to her. Even after deciding to become a religious, someone could literally spend years of her life visiting monasteries and convents for "Come and see" weekends. With the easy availability of appeal-ing vocation literature and online access, a serious and thorough examination of multiple communities might even turn her into a delayed vocation! What is it that makes a young woman decide on a particular community? What makes a heart resonate and feel at home with one group rather than another? I feel that, when all is said and done, communities must sim-ply be who they say they are. Authenticity is the key that will unlock commitment. After forty years of communal soul-searching, it is time for communities simply to move on. It is time to claim who we are, corporately commit to the charism, and put all our energies into authentic liv-ing of our foundress's spirit here and now in the 21st century. There can be no going back. Now is the time for simply joining hands, holding tight, and boldly moving ahead according to the promptings of the Holy Spirit. This is the gift we have to offer new members, a gift that will enliven our future. Review for Religious Young people, seeking authentic community, will go where they find the real deal. And how can such a com-munity survive today except through common prayer, deep spirituality, shared vision and lifestyle, corporate witness, and joyful life in the Spirit of Jesus. This is what they seek, hoping against hope that such groups exist and will provide them with the challenge they desire so ardently. We have a responsibility to live up to our word. We are here because we said we would be. I am here because I said so. And is this not a Godlike quality--giving one's word? God's Word and our own are why we are all here in the first place. Personal Reflection / Group Conversation 1. What has been my experience of "growing into a com-mitment"? 2. What led me to joining this religious congregation of which I am a member? 65.2 2006 religious VIMAL TIRIMANNA Are Religious Superiors Called to Be "Politically Correct"? implications In January 2002, I was in a bus on my way from Colombo to Kandy, Sri Lanka. Next to me in the same seat was a Buddhist monk. He was very friendly and kept me engaged in a lively con-versation on various matters about our two reli-gions till we reached Kandy, a journey of some three hours. At one stage he wanted to know why the cardinal archbishop of Boston had to resign (an issue widely reported in our local newspapers). I said that it was due to allegations (especially by the media) of his not having made responsible decisions regarding several errant priests of his archdiocese who were involved in sexual abuse. The Buddhist monk was visibly surprised, for till then he was of the opinion that the archbishop had to resign because he him-self was involved in sexual abuse. This Buddhist monk may be excused for his inaccurate impres-sion, but one wonders how many of our own Vimal Tirimanna wrote for us in May-June 2001. His address until October 2006 is Redemptorists; Frangipani; No. 80 Ampitiya Road; Kandy, Sri Lanka. Review for Religious Catholics, including religious and priests, are unaware of why Cardinal Law had to resign. If the factors and reasons that led him to resign from the prestigious Archdiocese of Boston had been applied to various other bishops and religious superiors around the world today, one wonders how many would have had to follow Cardinal Law and resign their posts. It is no exaggeration to say that, in cases of sexual abuse and also in other crucial areas of priestly and religious life, a good number of church leaders are badly wanting in their pas-toral responsibility and accountability towards their sub-jects and institutes. This arises from not making responsible timely decisions, decisions that ought to have been made for the common good of the diocese or reli-gious congregation and for the good of the church. Note that in this article we are not dealing with an occasional failure to make a responsible decision, which is some-thing normal since bishops and superiors are human; we are dealing with habitual negligence to make decisions on the part of bishops and religious superiors. Consistent, habitual evasion of making decisions has contributed immensely to the contemporary difficulties in priestly and religious life and in church life in general. This is the main point of this article. I write this article from my fifteen years of experi-ence as a retreat preacher to the clergy (both diocesan and religious) in Sri Lanka and elsewhere, and also from the experience I gained from my close association with major superiors as president of the Conference of the Major Religious Superiors of Sri Lanka (for two terms, four years) and from being the major superior of the Redemptorists in Sri Lanka (for three terms, nine years). I limit myself here to consecrated life and then to show-ing how the irresponsibility and unaccountability of a good number of religious superiors have contributed to 6Y.2 2006 Tirimanna ¯ Are Religious Superiors Called to Be "Politically Correct"? 168, the present disturbed state of consecrated life. I will ana-lyze briefly what authority means in the Christian tradi-tion, and then I will try to show how secular democratic political trends have affected the role of superiors, how their craving for popularity among their subjects has often inhibited them from making many a vital consci-entious decision. I will show that in these situations it is impossible for prophetic and diplomatic roles to func-tion simultaneously. I will conclude by highlighting the need today for religious superiors to make conscientious, pastoral, and courageous decisions for the sake of the common good of their institutes, and thus give prophetic leadership to today's world. Authority in the Christian Tradition Jesus clearly condemns oppressive and despotic power wielded by the rulers of nations (Mk 10:42). He tells his disciples who were arguing about which of them was the greatest that he who wants to be great must make him-self the least of all and serve others (Mk 9:33-35). For him, true authority is for service in truth, as he so tellingly demonstrated throughout his earthly life, which reached a climax at the last supper when he washed the feet of his own apostles (Jn 13:115). Emulating Jesus' teaching, the Christian tradition has always held that authority is for service. Accordingly, all leaders, civil as well as ecclesiastical, are expected to be servants of the common good of the group that is entrusted to them. A New Testament image dear to the early Christian community was Jesus the good shepherd. This is shown especially in the frescoes in the early catacombs. A shep-herd carrying a sheep on his.shoulders is a common fig-ure in those early places of worship. In fact, the concept of shepherd or "p, astor" and the adjective "pastoral" are woven into our inherited tradition regarding authority. ¯ Review for Religious To be a pastor or shepherd is to take flocks to where there is food and water, looking out for their safety and well-being. In our Christian tradition, leadership, whether in consecrated life or in a diocese, requires the care, compassion, and concern of a shepherd towards his sheep. The well-being of the flock and of each individ-ual sheep ought to be the - - - shepherd or pastor's top priority. If shepherds or pastors are more concerned about themselves, they cease to be shepherds and become hirelings concerned first of all with fattening themselves (see Ezk 34, Jn - - 10:7-18). Superiors, then, are supposed to be shepherds, serving the flock entrusted to them, not seeking their own good, not even their own survival. It is, of course, true that consecrated life has changed drastically in our day and so has the style of community leadership. It is sufficient to compare and contrast the era before Vatican Council II and afterwards. No one would argue today for the type of leadership that was prevalent in consecrated life before the council. It is also true that the way "authority" and "leadership" are under-stood varies from culture to culture. Regardless of the differences in worldviews and the ways of exercising authority, one essential and undeniable element of authority is that superiors' decision making must be for the common good. In the church in general and in con-secrated life in particular, such decision making is vital. After the initial stages of involving as many members as possible in the decision-making process, religious supe-riors must not abdicate their own decision making under any pretext. If they do so, they cease to serve the good of The Christian tradition has' always held that authority is for service. 6L2 2006 Tirimanna ¯ Are Religious Superiors Called to Be "Politically Correa'? 170 the community. This was expressed well in the instru-mentum laboris of the ordinary assembly of the Synod of Bishops held in 1994, on "The Consecrated Life and Its Role in the Church and in the World": The role of authority is that of a sure and authorita-tive guide, of inspiration and encouragement, so that an environment of fraternal communion can be cre-ated, one which can facilitate personal spiritual growth and the fulfillment of the apostolic mission, without, however, declining the responsibility to decide when-ever necessary. (§59) The postsynodal apostolic exhortation Vita consecrata (1996) of Pope John Paul II said: While authority must be above all fraternal and spir-itual, and while those entrusted with it must know how to involve their brothers and sisters in the deci-sion- making process, it should still be remembered that the final word belongs to authority and, consequendy, that authority has the right to see that decisions made are respected. (§43, emphasis in the original text) Superiors Seeking Popularity in Their Communities The latter decades of the 20th century are noted for the spread of democracy in different parts of the globe. Democracy has become a universally accepted human value. Even countries that are not yet democratic are striving, indeed yearning, for it. This is surely a wel-come change for the whole of humanity. Normally democracy not only guarantees human rights on the basis of individuals' inherent dignity, but also for the com-mon good assures the participation of every citizen in the political decision making. Since democracy assures citizens' right to change those in authority after an agreed term of office, those officials normally spend a lot of their energy and resources to be popular, for it is their popularity that ensures their success at elections. Rarely do they offend citizens in public or make unpop- Review for Religious ular decisions even when such decisions are necessary for the common good. If they do, their very survival is at stake. With the mass media often playing the role of watchdog, political leaders today are pressured to say and do the "politically correct" thing. The phrase is fast becoming common parlance. The more "politically cor-rect" you are, the more popular you become. Political leaders who dare to make unpopular decisions, even though such decisions are dictated by their consciences and demanded by the common good, are being thrown out of office. Parallel to happenings in the secular world are some of the ways that religious congregations do things. Thanks to Vatican II, gone are the rigid (and sometimes absurd) practices that marked consecrated life in the years before the council. Although religious congrega-tions cannot be considered democracies in a literal sense, wider participation in congregational and community decision making has brought a lot of relevance and good sense to consecrated life. Today sensible persons heave a sigh of relief and thank God that most of the irrational and dictatorial ways of being a religious superior are over. Today religious superiors are really meant to serve the common good of the flock entrusted to them. The secular concept of democracy surely has had a positive influence on these changes in religious life. Our own experience during the past couple of decades, however, shows that the same concept of democ-racy also seems to have had a negative effect on many religious superiors. Just as secular political leaders earnestly seek popularity, and survive and eventually move up the political ladder because of their popularity, today's religious superiors often seem to seek such pop-ularity within their own congregations for their mere survival and sometimes for their upward mobility either !171 65.2 2006 Tirimanna ¯ Are Religious Superiors Called to Be "Politically Correa'? 172 in the congregation or in the hierarchy. Many of our contemporary religious superiors are doubly careful not to make "politically incorrect" decisions that would make them unpopular among the members of their congrega-tions and thus bring about their own downfall. The wider consultations (and, in many congregations, elections) that since Vatican II are rightly carried out in electing or appointing religious superiors seem to put the supe-riors in a dilemma. On the one hand, to be elected or reelected, they have to be popular or well accepted. On the other hand, to be popular or well accepted, they have to play to the gallery by not making decisions that would upset the majority of the members. Note that by "pop-ularity" I do not mean the mere acceptability of superi-ors to the other members of the community, which is a must in consecrated life. I mean the kind of "popular-ity" that is gained by not offending numbers of influen-tial people. People accrue such "popularity" by not making decisions that are badly needed for the common good--even when their conscience prompts them to do so. They avoid certain good decisions simply because they would offend the majority of the members. It is a "popularity" that is gained and sustained by pandering to a lumpenproletariat. The more superiors do not make deci-sions that would make them unpopular with the major-ity, the more acceptable they become all around. The more they evade their bounden duty to make decisions that could make them unpopular, the greater their chances of getting reelected or reappointed. This is why today, in quite a number of congregations, we hear mem-bers saying: "We made sure to have so-and-so elected because we are sure he (or she) will not rock the boat." To illustrate the point here, let us look at the now popular sabbaticals. Is it always those who really deserve a real break after a tedious involvement in the congre- Review for Religious gational apostolate who get a sabbatical today? Are all those who go for sabbaticals the "burnt-out" persons? What about the way some superiors treat members who complain that they lack self-fulfillment? Are they not fre-quently permitted to find their "self-fulfillment" by get-ting into any and every personal apostolate or pet project, even when these cut them off from their communities? Today it is not uncommon to send abroad for higher stud-ies persons who are erratic or wanting in their basic reli-gious commitment. The persons concerned may not even have the capacity for studies, but to some superiors this seems a diplomatic way of handling the problem, at least temporarily. They do not realize or do not wish to real-ize that such evasions leave the problem for their suc-cessors in office. Such ways of acting are neither just nor charitable even from the point of view of the persons thus treated. Instead of addressing the real problem of the person with genuine charity and justice, they tem-porarily circumvent the issue, not out of sympathy, but instead out of concern for their own survival. Regrettably, avoiding good hard decisions has become an accepted way of being "politically correct" in consecrated life today. So has making decisions that are only temporarily satis-factory, and may be disastrous in the long run. In both these cases, the problematic root is "political correct" words and deeds or superiors' spui'ious "popularity." Prophecy and Diplomacy Do Not Sit Well Together But is conscious evading or circumventing of deci-sions morally correct? Is it the way to be prophetic? Time and again one hears it said: "Well, this is the way things have turned out in consecrated life today, and so what can we do?" "This is the way even most of the bish-ops act, and so what is wrong if our own religious supe-riors do the same?" Unfortunately, this way of looking at 65.2 2006 Tirimanna ¯ Are Religious Superiors Called to Be "Politically Correct"? 174 1 things seems to ignore the very nature and purpose of consecrated life. From its very origins, one of the char-acteristics of consecrated life has been its prophetic nature. Pope John Paul II in his ~ta consecrata enunciated this point well: There is a prophetic dimension which belongs to the consecrated life as such, resulting from the radical nature of the following of Christ and of the subse-quent dedication to the mission characteristic of the consecrated life. The sign value, which the Second Vatican Council acknowledges in the consecrated life, is expressed in prophetic witness to the primacy which God and the truths of the gospel have in Christian life. (§84) A careful scrutiny of history would show us how, at different moments of decadence in church life, it was consecrated life that raised the church out of decadence through its witnessing, thus giving the church prophetic leadership: In effect, the consecrated life is at the very heart of the church as a decisive element for her mission, since it "manifests the inner nature of the Christian calling" and the striving of the whole church as Bride toward the union with her one Spouse. At the Synod it was stated on several occasions that the consecrated life has not only proved a help and support for the church in the past, but is also a necessary gift for the present and future of the people of God, since it is an inti-mate part of her life, her holiness, and her mission. (~ta consecrata, §3; emphasis in the original) So, to argue that the superiors are only emulating the way things are done by the hierarchical church lead-ership is not correct, for consecrated life has to give the lead to the rest of the church, even regarding pastoral leadership. As the late moral theologian Father Bernard Hiiring often told his students, prophecy and diplomacy (in today's parlance, "politically correctness") do not and Review for Religious cannot sit together comfortably. One has to give way to the other. A good number of contemporary religious superiors fail to make proper decisions because they wish to be "politically correct." Thus they not only betray their own vocation to be prophetic, but they gravely damage the common good of the communities entrusted to them. Besides, if a religious superior is supposed to be a pastor, then he has the bounden duty towards the well being of the members. This duty includes fraternal cor-rection. If members go astray and deviate from the group's charism, it is the duty of the shepherd (the reli-gious superior) to begin fraternal correction in charity, even if it hurts. The supe-rior owes such correction to the individuals and the group. Their integral well-being as consecrated peo-ple is one of the superior's top priorities. If superiors shirk this difficult role of fraternal correction in order to be "politically cor-rect," they have no right to Consecrated life has to give the lead to the rest of the church, even regarding pastoral leadership. remain in office, because they have failed in their pri-mary duty of working towards the well-being of the con-gregation and the church. Superiors who do not have as their goal the common good of the congregation and the church contribute to their decadence. Instead of swimming against the popular secular currents, they clearly betray the consecrated prophetic life so well explained by Pope John Paul II: In our world, where it often seems that the signs of God's presence have been lost from sight, a convinc-ing prophetic witness on the part of consecrated per- 65.2 2006 Tirimanna ¯ Are Religious Superiors Called to Be "Politically Correct"? sons is increasingly necessary. Consecrated per-sons are being asked to bear wimess everywhere with the boldness of a prophet who is unafraid of risking even his life. (VC §85) Prophetic Leadership Will the majority of superiors in consecrated life con-tinue to allow the secular democratic political trends to be their model in the coming years? Or will they give prophetic leadership to their own communities by acting according to the moral norms of what is right and wrong? Will they act for their own "good" or for the common good of their institutes? The writer is con-vinced that it is high time that religious superiors become more responsible and accountable in their decision mak-ing as animators, and thus allow their consciences, their specific religious charisms, and the common good to be the norms in their decision making. The norm of being "politically correct" should be the last in their list of pri-orities, for they are certainly not to be "politicians" who eagerly seek popularity, as in the secular world. In this way, they not only will arrest the decline in the quality of contemporary consecrated life, but will also be giving prophetic leadership to the church and the world. 176 Review for Religious BRENDAN KNEALE Identifying Identity among Nonclerical Religious Before Vatican Council II most Catholic priests, eligious, and laypeople had no "identity crisis." We knew who we were, our place seemed well defined, and we had no impending threat of change. Our per-sonal identity and our .social identity were clear and unthreatened, It may, however, be a good thing that after the council we had to take a close look at our identity. Perhaps we ought to question the quality of our earlier identity. Did it show signs of the identity claims that Pharisees made in Christ's time? They and the scribes were quite self-assured groups. Some of us were, too, maybe to the point of blind confidence in our identity. Among religious there was a saying:?'Keep the Rule and the Rule will keep you." It was, we can see now, a dan-gerous motto, even though it assured our identity. St. Paul, who had been a strict Pharisee, came to realize the danger. Brendan Kneale FSC taught for many years at Saint Mary's College of California. Now retired, he lives at De La Salle Institute; 4405 Redwood Road; Napa, California 94558. 65.2 2006 Kneale ¯ Identifying Identity among, Nonclerical Religious What should have happened after Vatican II was a strengthening and sharpening of our identity. Unfortunately, that was not the popular perception of the changes that had been made. Even though changes initiated by the council were intended as clarifications and improvements, we tended to feel, instead, that things were no longer well defined. Shortly after the council, we heard of religious teachers here or there whose dress, teaching, and behavior led students to express surprise that they were religious or even Catholics. After Vatican II, people asked, "Is this the same church?" Some religious and priests asked, "Is mine the same apostolate?" "Is my school or hospital still Catholic?" "Is there any longer a place for the conse-crated life?" After Vatican II many teachers wondered, "Does the syllabus for my catechetical instruction in the classroom truly represent what I believe?" Or "Are all the liturgical innovations good?" And religious asked, "Have laypeople taken over our role?" "Who am I now?" A Definition of Identity It would be refreshing if all who talk about "iden-tity" were really sure what they are talking about. Few people have a clear definition of the term. In various contexts we confuse identity with "self-image" or "per-sonhood" or "character," or perhaps with "individual-ity," "uniqueness," or an adopted "persona." Fortunately, there are careful thinkers available to address the prob-lem of identifying identity. We are told that Erik Erikson, the psychologist who coined the term "identity crisis" (right after Vatican II, significantly), believed that an identity crisis is "the most important conflict human beings encounter." His defi-nition of psychological identity ran as follows: "a sub-jective sense as well as an observable quality of personal Review for Religious sameness and continuity, paired with some belief in the sameness and continuity of some shared world image." Such a definition has the virtue of pointing squarely at both personal and social identity, that is, both private and public. Lexicographers agree that there are two chief emphases in the notion of identity. Etymologically "iden-tity" (from the Latin idem, the same) is, first of all, an enduring and distinctive individuality and, second, a social or relational "belonging." That is, peo-ple are identifiable by their unique and continu-ing sameness (generally indicated by a permanent - name and fixed array of recognizable psychological traits), and they are identifiable by what membership they have within a recognized group. Thus, in answer to "Who are you?" we will give our name to help the questioner to recall our uniqueness, or we will describe (if our uniform does not indicate it) what recognizable place we occupy in a clear social category. Thus we have a private identity and a public identity. Note that the two identities support each other. In fact, an African proverb has it that "I am because we are." A way to gain insight into identity is to contrast it with related ideas. We should try to keep the terminol-ogy clear about what identity is not. It is not "charac-ter," which is "a constellation of enduring motivational and other traits that are manifested in the typical ways that we react to various challenges." Character, then, may be taken as the moral side of one's identity. Nor is identity simply "self." "Self is a unified being which is the source of an idiosyncratic consciousness, the agent We have a.private identity and a public identity. 65.2 2006 Kneale ¯ Identifying Identity among Nonclerical Religious responsible for the thoughts and actions of an individual to which they are ascribed." Hence self is an abstract or generic term for "personal identity"; it is not the same as the important and complementary "social identity." None of the following words is a synonym for iden, tity. "Individual" is mostly a quantitative term; it is related to the words undivided and indivisible. "Person"~ is, according to Thomas Aquinas, "the individual substance of a rational soul" and does not disappear if one's identity is vague or shifting. "Personality" is something different; it includes the social as well as the more strictly personal. Dictionaries say that personality is the complex of char-acteristics that distinguishes an individual or a group or nation--but especially the totality of an individual's behavioral and emotional characteristics. Identity is at the core of this "complex of characteristics" (which makes the loss of identity a serious matter). "Persona" and "role" derive from drama, from play-acting, and are of co,urse the weakest versions of what we mean by identity. In an extended article in Consecrated Life 24, no. 2 (February 2003), Father Amadeo Cencini has developed the notion of social identity by emphasizing the id.entity which comes from "belonging." He uses that word because, in identifying ourselyes, we often specify the career, occupation, group, race, persuasion, and so forth to which we "belong." Those of us belonging to conse-crated life may identify ourselves as members of a named religious institute and belonging here or there within it. This answer makes our personal identity derivable, to some extent, from that of the larger group. Sometimes our identity is seen as tied to "our roots" within a social group. Suppose, however, that the group to which one iden-tifies oneself.as belonging (say, a religious institute) has itself no clear identity. If that group has an identity that Review for Religious is fuzzy or vague, then one of the two main sources of identity (namely, "belonging") is comproinised. A reli-gious institute could have evolved (perhaps calling the change "refounding the order") into something different from .what it was. Moreover, even the larger church, to which the institute belongs, could itself also change enough to confuse people about its own identity. For example, the church could seem to speak without a clear voice about itself, and an institute of consecrated life could becom~ canonically unsure about whether laypeo-pie are "members." Or it might interpret certain changes (like emphasis on adult education or on political involve-ment) as challenges to its identity as teachers of youth or caretakers of the sick. It could wonder if other forms of social service rather than classroom or hospital work should be what the church asks for. Official Ecclesial Positions Readers will know that since Vatican II the church has taken up the problem of identity officially and for-mally. The Vatican (following special synods of bishops) has published three clarifying documents, one each for the benefit of priests, laypeople, and religious. The doc-ument about religious is called ~ta consecrata (1996) and addresses the nature and identity of consecrated life. In particular, and depending heavily on the work of a pre-vious world synod of bishops, Vita konsecrata devoted its section 57 to the role of sisters and section 60 to broth-ers. These paragraphs include the following excerpts: By virtue of their dedication lived in fullness and in joy, consecrated women are called in a very special way to be signs of God's tender love toward the human race and to be special witnesses to the mystery of the church, virgin, bride, and mother . Certainly the validity of many assertions relating to the position of 181 65.2 2006 Kneale * Identifying Identity among Nonclerical Relig4ous .women in different sectors of society and of the church cannot be denied . Women's new self-awareness helps men to reconsider their way of looking at things, the way they understand themselves, where thE)) place themselves in history and how they interpret it, and the way they organize social, political, economic, reli-gious, and ecclesial life . The consecrated woman . . . can help eliminate certain one-sided perspectives which do not fully rec-ognize her dignity and her specific contribution to the church's life and pastoral and missionary activity. Consecrated women therefore rightly aspire to have their identity, ability, mission, and responsibility more clearly recognized, both in the awareness of the church and in everyday life. The consecrated life by its nature "is neither lay nor clerical" . The "lay consecration" of both men and women constitutes a state which in its profession of the evangelical counsels is complete in itself. for the individual and for the church . . . apart from the sacred ministry. The synod expressed great esteem for the kind. of consecrated life in which r.eligious brothers provide valuable services of various kinds, inside or outside the community, participating in this way in the mission of proclaiming the gospel and bearing witness to it with charity in everyday life. Although [lay institutes] perform many works in common with the lay faithful, [members] do so inso-far as. they are consecrated and thereby express the spirit of total self-giving to Christ and the church, in accordance with ~heir specific charism. The term "brother" suggests a rich spirituality. ¯ Brothers are an effective reminder to religious priests themselves of the fundamental dimension of brother-hood in Christ, to be lived among themselves and with every man and woman, and they proclaim to all the Lord's words: "And you are all brothers" (M(23:8). We might add that, when Father Amadeo Cencini wrote about the problem of identity, he called attention Review for Religious to the important role of an institute's charism--a point also emphasized in Vita consecrata. An obvious way to increase a sense of our belonging (and our identity) is by attachment to the institute's charism (provided that the corporate identity is itself clear). Cencini notes that some individual reli-gious are weakly con-nected to the charism of their institute, or hold divided loyalties, or, on the other hand, immerse themselves within it in a psycho-logically unhealthy way. We can recall in Some individual religious are weak!y connect, ed to the charism of their institute or hold divided loyalties. this connection the recommendations of the classic work The Future of Religious Orders in the U.S.: Transformation and Commitment by Father David Nygren and Sister Miriam Ukeritis. The proper connection to the charism and the best sense of belonging are to be found, says Cencini, by a deepening of one's attachment to the charism in three ways: by way of prayer and spiritual-connection, by ascetically conforming to the lifestyle of the institute's norms, and by real engagement in the common aposto-late. (Perhaps he could have added: study and grasp of the relevant literature.) This last point about "real engagement" raises an acute problem for some conse-crated religious: What identifies us as distinct from our secular associates and coworkers? If one uses a simply functional definition of our state, then the problem is indeed acute. Many of our secular associates, such as Gospel Catholics, practice in accordance with their voca-tions a chastity, obedience, and poverty that are often more difficult than ours. They sometimes show more 65.2 2006 Kneale ¯ Identifying Identity among Nonclerical Religious 184 talent, dedication, and leadership than their religious colleagues. If, however, we consider who we are and do not just look at our function, then we see a.radical dif-ference between us and them. If we are aware what we are in relation to the evangelical counsels and in rela-tion to auxiliary vows, what we are in terms of commu-nity life, what we are in relation to mobility, to the radicality, quality, and scope of our availability and ser-vice, then we should not have a problem. In addition tb ~vhat Cencini writes about an insti-tute's common and received charism, wecould emphasize the desirability of our contributing to the charism in some innovative way. If we could do that, it seems to me, we would increase our sense of belonging, and even of "ownership." Each of us should bring to the charism, by conscious effort, an enrichment that stems from our personal talents, from our studies, and from our auxiliary memberships in professional and religious associations (in relation to which we can see our own identity more clearly). Charism is not static. Individuals enrich the charisms of their communities. The differing charisms of various consecrated reli-gious groups illustrate a principle that helps clarify cor-porate identity, namely, the principle of an institutional subsidarity and "division of labor" within the church. Each institute has its own apostolic charism and thus its own responsibility. It is true that numerous apostolic needs are great and pressing, and occasionally they are overriding, but normally we keep our corporate identity by doing our own apostolic labor, not th

Issue 54.4 of the Review for Religious, July/August 1995. ; Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Mis'souri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Telephone: 314-977-7363 ¯ Fax: 314-977-7362 Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ° 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP ¯ P.O. Box 29260 ° Washington, DC 20017. POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ° Duluth, MN 55806. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©1995Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library, clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for com~nercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. for religious Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Regina Siegfried ASC Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Jean Read Joann Wolski Conn PhD Iris Ann Ledden SSND Joel Rippinger OSB Edmundo Rodriguez SJ David Werthmann CSSR Patricia Wittberg SC Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living JULY-AUGUST 1995 ¯ VOLUME54 ¯ NVUMBER4 contents 486 499 5O8 mission Twenty Inner-City Years Joanna Bramble, CSJ explores feelings, questions, and insights from her effort to revitalize an inner-city neighborhood and empower its people. Corporate Sponsorship: The 1990s and the Fruits of Our Labor Margaret MaW Knittel RSM raises some questions which suggest a fluidity of vision and a loosening of ties in regard to corporate sponsorship and the fruits of our labor. Retirement's Wisdom Years Catherine M. Harmer MMS proposes that retirement for religious may be a time of deepening wisdom and individuation and a time for a greater spirituality to emerge. 519 531 guidance The Enneagram Tad Dunne examines understandings of the enneagram and suggests ways of moving to a larger world of meaning and values. Imaging Spiritual Direction Mary Vginifred CHS discusses guidelines for spiritual direction and presents three images illustrative of the relationship between director and directee. 535 56O heritage The Brazier That Is My God: Teresa on True Prayer's Dispositions, Gifts, and Signs Mary C. Sullivan RSM highlights the prayer of personal conversion wi{h its many gifts as captured by Teresa of Avila in her rich metaphor of "dwelling places." Playing with Edged Tools Donald Macdonald SMNI allows the thought of John Henry Newman to enter us into a richer appreciation of vowed public profession as a part of radical gospel living. 482 Review for Religious spirituality 566 How Am I Doing? Signs of a Healthy Spirituality Melannie Svoboda SND suggests some indicators for checking on how healthy our spirituality is. 573 Appreciating God through Creation Roderick Payne OFM illuminates the heritage of St. Francis to draw attention to some aspects of prayer through creation. 585 589 594 6OO religious life Individualism and Rel!gious Life John Gallagher CSB reflects on three options dealing with the compatibility of contemporary individualism in relation to religious life. Psychological Screening for Religious Life Kevin E. McKenna reviews the help given by the Code of Canon Law for religious congregations attempting to form a consistent policy regarding psychological reports at the time of admission and the maintenance of personnel records. Reformulating the Religious Vows William Reiser SJ reviews the meaning of vows in religious life and suggests that an option for the poor might be a promise for our times. Let's Talk Again about Poverty Richard J. DeMaria CFC probes the meaning of poverty for religious-life practice today. ¯departments 484 Prisms 615 Canonical Counsel: Cloister for Nuns: From the Early Centuries to the 1917 Code 622 Book Reviews ~tuly-August 1995 483 prisms Pope John Paul's two recent docu-ments offer vision and direction: the apostolic letter Orientale lumen (The Light of the East) and the encyclical Ut unum sint (On Commitment to Ecumenism). More than helps to enter into the third millennium, they issue a call to conversion. In Orientale lumen the pope emphasizes that our Eastern Catholic and our Orthodox brothers and sisters are earnest bearers of a venerable and ancient tradition integral to the church's heritage. He calls for all members of the church's Latin tradition to become fully acquainted with this treasure. He desires us all to be fired by a pas-sionate longing that the church's catholicity become man-ifest to church members themselves and to the world, a catholicity comprising the several traditions together rather than in opposition to one another. John Paul uses monasticism as a special vantage point from which we can identify values important today for expressing the contribution of the Christian East to the journey of Christ's church towards the kingdom. In the East, monasticism, which did not experience the differ-ent kinds of apostolic life as in the West, is seen not merely as a separate category of Christians, but rather as a refer-ence point for all the baptized, according to the gifts offered to each by the Lord. John Paul singles out the common traits uniting the monastic experience of the East and the West and forming a bridge of fellowship, "where unity as it is lived shines even more brightly than may appear in the dialogue between the churches." lie empha-sizes the splendid witness of nuns in the Christian East: "This witness has offered an example of giving full value in the church to what is specifically feminine, even break- 484 Review for Religious ing through the mentality of the time. During recent persecu-tions, especially in Eastern European countries, when many male monasteries were forcibly closed, female monasticism kept the torch of the monastic life burning. The nun's charism, with its own specific characteristics, is a visible sign of that motherhood of God to which Sacred Scripture often refers" (9). Among the values reflected in monasticism for the life of the church, the pope highlights 1) a balance in Christian life lived as a personal response to an individual call and as an ecclesial and community event; 2) a liturgy revealing the proper harmony of the baptized-in-Christ and the eucharistic meaning of all creation; 3) a maturing journey in terms of knowing self and being free and able to love as Jesus loves; 4) a tradition of spiritual guidance from brothers and sisters to whom the Spirit has granted this gift; 5) a community showing us a life of communion and service beginning in the family and extending to the wider community; 6) a unity of theology and spirituality deriving from the triune God--the principle and foundation of the Christian understand-ing that the human person is meant for and made for relation-ship; and 7) an all-pervading mystery, enveloped in awe, with which the face of our God presents us. In still wider ways the encyclical Ut unum sint continues the call to deepen the unity we seek with one another and with God. Insisting that the unity of all Christians is God's will and is at the heart of the mission Christ entrusted to his followers, John Paul begs forgiveness for times when Catholics and the papacy itself have contributed to the divisions among Christians and calls for discussion about ways in which the pope can exercise power and authority in a reunited church. He notes that a heritage of saints belonging to all communities provides hope for the dialogue of conversion. "When we speak of a common heritage, we must acknowledge as part of it not only the institutions, rites, means of salvation and the traditions which all the communities have pre-served and by which they have been shaped, but first and foremost this reality of holiness" (84). The urgency of building for the future out of the strengths of Christian heritages marks both of these papal writings. We, like the pope, need to set our sights on this unifying and evangelizing mission of all Christians, thereby living up to religious life's own spiritual heritages. David L. Fleming sJ a~uly-August 1995 485 rnissJon JOANNA BRAMBLE Twenty Inner-City Years After almost twenty years of working towards the revital-ization of West Oakland, a depressed inner-city neigh-borhood, I took a year's sabbatical of travel and spiritual enrichment. In the middle of that year, I decided not to return as director of Jubilee West, the Community Development Corporation I had helped to create. I real-ized that I had unresolved feelings about my years in West Oakland, feelings and questions that I needed to work through before I could move on to the next steps in my work for justice. The reflections below document my liv-ing with those questions. What are my usual feelings about Jubilee West? I feel proud of what it has accomplished, but often I feel deep sadness for the people whose lives have changed very lit-tle, especially the ones I knew well and tried the hardest to help. I feel deep sadness at the unemployment, the drugs, the depressed people, and the piles of garbage that are evident with only a brief drive through the neighbor-hood. I often have an overwhelming sense of failure and powerlessness: so much of my life, love, work, anxiety, joy, hope . . . and so many people still with such con-stricted lives! I feel sadness and grief that the neighbor-hood where I worked for so long was worse after twenty Joanna Bramble CSJ is a consultant to nonprofit organizations in management and program analysis and a member of the provincial council of the Los Angeles province of the Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondelet. Her address is 529 Jean Street; Oakland, California 94610. 486 Review for Religious years than it was before. It is not that our work did not change anything or made it worse; it just could never do enough. But the main cause of continuing disintegration in that neigh-borhood is not my and others' lack of effort or creative ideas. It is high unemployment and the increasing sale and use of drugs, along with other systemic oppression. How do I keep aware of the interrelatedness of many situations and people and things and somehow see my place as both important and unimportant? What was the situation I came to in 1973? And what did I want to achieve? The 1970 census and the Oakland 701 Study gave the following statistics about the West of Cypress area: ¯ 80 percent black and 18 percent Mexican American ¯ median family income: $3,941 ¯ unemployment rate 26.3 percent for men, 35.7 percent for women ¯ 50 percent of families on welfare; mean welfare income $2,110 ¯ 90 percent of the houses had been expected to be unusable by 1969 (most of these houses are still standing in 1995) ¯ median number of school years completed: 8.4 ¯ 24 percent of people over twenty-five years of age were high school graduates Residents listed their major problems as limited incomes and a high rate of unemployment, extremely poor housing, and poor-quality education. All of these problems still exist and are complex and interrelated. I chose to come to this depressed environment from eleven years of teaching English in white, suburban Catholic high schools. I had interest, concern, compassion, energy, enthusiasm, high hopes . . . and two months of training in community orga-nizing. I remember walking through the neighborhood and mentally singing the words to "Anatevka" from Fiddler on the Roof, newly popular then. The song speaks of the nothingness of the town: "people who pass through Anatevka do not even know they have been here., someone should have set a match to this place years ago." That is what West Oakland looked like to me. But the song goes on to describe Anatevka as home: "where else could Sabbath be so sweet., where I know everyone I meet." That too was West Oakland. It did not take me long to get to know friendly people, many of whom had lived there for years. I walked the streets and .~ly-August 199~ 487 Bramble ¯ Twenty Inner-City Years sat in people's kitchens to discuss neighborhood problems. Soon some longtime residents and I started the West Oakland Improvement Association. What did I want to achieve? Mainly, I did not want a repeat of Anatevka; I did not want people displaced to make room for gentrification or other forms of development. In 1974 I wrote that my major goal was to help increase the peo-ple's awareness of their power to direct their own lives. Over the next twenty years, I became more deeply aware of the immense problems in people's lives and in the physical neigh-borhood. What I wanted to do both stayed the same and evolved, as did the strategies we used. Always there was the goal of empow-erment. As a community organizer I wanted us to win on issues that people had chosen as urgent concerns. More importantly, I wanted to build an organization that could continue to empower people and revitalize the neighborhood. We won on many issues. Our victories brought pride and increased self-confidence to a number of neighborhood people. But building an organization never really happened. People seemed too concerned with per-sonal survival to stay involved very long. It became more and more difficult to talk with people about community problems when they were concerned with getting enough food for their kids, paying the rent, and dealing with drug problems. These survival issues prompted me and my good friend Sister Pat Sears to start St. Patrick's Center at the Campbell Village Housing Project, where we saw to basic necessities, providing food, clothes, counseling, and a youth program. But decent afford-able housing remained the most urgent problem. Concern about people who were being displaced or were living in substandard housing, inspiration from Jubilee Housing in Washington, D.C., lots of participation from neighborhood people and suburban friends, and awillingness to step into the unknown with faith and hope led me and Pat to start Jubilee West as a nonprofit Community Development Corporation in 1980. We immediately began to buy and fix houses for poverty-level people even though we knew nothing about real estate or construction and had almost no money. Jubilee West also continued and expanded the com-munity services and youth programs begun at St. Patrick's Center. What successes can Jubilee West celebrate over the last fifteen years? Eighty units of scattered-site housing, most of it perma-nently affordable to poverty-level families: five million dollars in property assets removed from speculation and able to be con- 488 Review for Religious trolled by the community far into the future; hundreds of children helped with tutoring and enrichment; many others helped with mentoring and private scholarships to attend college; hundreds of adults placed in jobs, coming to literacy and ESL classes, or receiv- .ing emergency food, clothing, and needed counseling; and an his-toric building rehabilitated to accommodate various community events and to house the offices for other services. When I left, Jubilee West had a committed board of directors, a staff of varying degrees of competence, and a good funding base, although financial crises were and continue to be frequent. So why do I frequently feel like a failure? Mainly because I very much wanted to do something "for the people in the houses" more than just fixing houses and lowering rents and because I feel that most people's lives are not changed very much from what they were before. As I grew to know West Oakland people, I came to be most concerned about what I experienced as the "typical" resident. She is a woman about thirty years old, never mar-ried, with three or four children from different fathers. She has about a tenth-grade education, has never held a paying job, has very poor nutrition, and probably has an alcohol or drug problem. If she is not in JW housing or other subsidized housing, she may pay as much as 60 or 70 percent of her AFDC income in rent, leaving her less than $200 per month for all other expenses. She has no car, and so her experiences and those of her children are mostly limited to the West Oakland neighborhood. She appears depressed and apathetic or else quite hostile. So what did I wantJW to do for this woman? I wanted us to empower her to enrich her own life. What did I mean by this? How would I hope to be able to describe her after a .few years? I have thought a lot about my hopes for her, and I recently became aware that they are similar to my unrealistic goals for myself: As I grew to know West Oakland people, I came to be most concerned about what I experienced as the "typical" resident. She is a woman about thirty years old, never married, with three or four children from different fathers. .~uly-/lugust 199~ 489 Bramble ¯ Twenty Inner-City Years I want her to have succeeded in or be in the process of get-ting off drugs, getting more education, finding a job and then a better job, stabilizing her family, getting enough income to move out of subsidized housing, deepening her spiritual values, becoming more psychologically whole, building community with her neighbors, keeping her house clean, taking care of her kids, and working for change in the neighborhood through participating in JW and other organizations. I want her to stay in the neighborhood or come back after she succeeds in order to help the commu-nity work for justice. As I write this, it seems so unrealistic that I want to add face-tiously that she should also be thin and beautiful, but not care too much about her looks. Obviously, one reason I feel like a fail-ure is that I had very unrealizable expectations. Only a few peo-ple could achieve the hbove, and only with superhuman effort or lots of good luck. I wanted my "typical" person to be aware of her power to change and control her own life. That sounds like a good goal. But perhaps my biggest mistake was that I did not give enough conscious acknowledgment to the reality of systemic oppression. When she tries to change in other than very small ways, she runs up against huge obstacles that make it exceedingly difficult if not impossible for her to "control her own life." Only a few really "win" in her situation; but, because those few do win, she feels that she too should be able to win. She blames herself and society also blames her, telling her in many ways that it is her fault. In some ways I contribute to this when I talk about "self-help" without at the same time talking about systemic oppres-sion. Her self-blame does not give her more energy to "fight the system" and to make small and then larger changes in her life; instead it leads to depression, apathy, or hostility. Similarly my self-blame, my feeling myself a failure for not being able to empower her, does not give me more energy to fight the system; in me also it leads to depression, apathy, and sometimes hostility. Issues of injustice in economics, politics, and education are profoundly interrelated. A minimum wage that inserts working people into the poverty level without enough money to pay the rent, a business economy dependent on a certain percent of unem-ployment, thousands of job layoffs so that even many people with good educations are unlikely to keep their jobs that pay a living wage, unjust distribution of wealth including "hidden" subsidies 490 Review for Religious for the rich (whereby more money is "spent" on tax write-offs for interest on home-ownership loans than on all the housing programs for the poor), drug traffic that brings huge profits to a few wealthy people, a welfare system that discourages work, the worst schools usually in the poorest areas, housing thought of as an investment for profit rather than a home to live in, pervasive discrimination against minorities, especially African-American males--these are only a few examples of the interconnected sys-tems that cause my "typical" person's situation. I have known all this for a long time. Did I fail to keep it in my awareness because I felt I could do little about it and I like solvable problems? In any case, I concentrated on self-help pro-grams-- how soon I found that often they do not succeed either! Each person in any self-help program must "choose life" for her-self, of course, and begin to act on her own behalf while at the same time society, "the system," must stop oppressing her. Both are interrelated. But as I reflected on my Jubilee West experience, I still heard the same familiar inner voices of my own self-blame. If only I had been smarter, worked harder, tried something more creative, then I could have made a bigger dent in solving these problems. At this point I was fortunate to come across the book Surplus Powerlessness by Michael Lerner. Lerner first talks about real pow-erlessness, the reality of an unequal distribution of power in this society: If a small number of us try to change things, we will run up against a brick wall. In fact, even if millions of people were to engage in activity to change things, in the short run we would find our society very difficult to change. The brick wall is not just a subjective illusion. The basic fact is this: American society is a class-dom-inated society. A small number of people have vast eco-nomic power while the overwhelming.majority has almost no power in the economic realm. Economic power gives that small group a huge amount of political power. While the rest of us have some political power, it takes vast expen-ditures of energy and time to win small victories. But to say that the elites of wealth and power have over-whelming power is not to say that they have absolute power. Things could be quite different if many people were to engage in the struggle for change. It would be a real strug-gle- and there would be many difficult defeats.~ After talking about realpowerlessness, Lerner describes surplus ~uly-Augus~ 199Y 4.91 Bramble ¯ Twenty Inner-City Years powerlessness as "the set of feelings and beliefs that make people think of themselves as even more powerless than the actual power sit-uation requires, and then leads them to act in ways that actually con-firm them in their powerlessness." He is describing me when he shows how many activists continually manage to redefine the con-ditions of success in such a way that they always feel "one down" for not having accomplished enough; they redefine their victo-ries as failures and do not credit their own real accomplishments. I certainly do that often. Lerner reminds us that when society claims it is set up in a fundamentally fair way, in which people can make it if they really try, powerlessness is seen as a product of the individual's personal failures. Thus self-blame becomes the central element in surplus powerlessness. It grows stronger every time we blame ourselves for having failed in some important way and have no compassion for ourselves in view of all the ways that reality pushes us to be less than we want to be. Taking responsibility for one's own life works only for the part of the population and for the societal issues where objective conditions allow for real change. People need help to distinguish between factors out of their control about which they could be legitimately angry and factors that would change if they changed how they thought about themselves and how they lived their own lives. Surplus powerlessness, self-blame, deflects attention from the real problems and hence from any real solutions. The anger that might be reasonably directed against a social order which gener-ates personal unhappiness is instead directed inwards and becomes depression or a dangerous buildup of repressed violence. But Lerner's next point is also part of my" experience. Once people are no longer disempowered by self-blaming, they are in a better position to change their environment. Surplus power-lessness can be lessened by supportive group interaction and by developing compassion, showing people that the problems they face do not come from personal inadequacies, but are faced by others as well, and that people need one another's help in facing these problems. My reflection on Lerner's concept of surplus powerlessness shows me that I have been blaming the victims, both my typical West Oakland person and myself. I have definitely internalized the American way that tells me that, if I have a problem, I should take care of it, work to change it, and not blame someone else. 492 Review for Religious But, to avoid the extreme of blaming others for my problems, I frequently go to the extreme of not giving much acknowledg-ment to the real powerlessness in my life, to the real systems that are oppressing me as well as my typical West Oakland person. At this point in my reflection, I read Joanna Macy's books Despair and Personal Power and World as Lover, World as Self about the need to feel pain, experience it, work through it: my pain and the pain of others. I see that as a big clue for me. I went back to my sabbatical journal written in Washington, D.C., in 1992. One of the questions in Mary Cosby's class on "call" was "What is your deepest pain?" I wrote, "I'm not aware of very much personal pain. Actually my greatest pain seems to be feel-ing the pain of others: so many homeless people on the street, so many hurting children, so much violence in the world., and feel-ing powerless to do very much about any of this." A few days later at a creative-movement session I felt overcome by sorrow and tears. I kept feeling, saying, crying to myself: "I didn't know how to make it better for people. I am so sad about that ¯ ¯ . sad because people were not helped, not so much that I couldn't help but that they weren't helped., thinking of Sylvia, Spring, Connie, Deedee, Charetta, Pat, A1, Brenda . . . tears because I couldn't do it, but more because life did not change for them . " I remember feeling that I must be avoiding some deeper personal pain if the major pain I was aware of was pain for the world, for other people. Now I see that a major need for me is to feel my pain, which greatly includes pain for the world. Joanna Macy says in Despair and Personal Power: "We have trouble cred-iting the notion that concerns for the general welfare might be acute enough to cause distress., but pain for our world touches each of us, and this pain is rooted in caring., our apparent pub-lic apathy is but a fear of experiencing and expressing this pain, and once it is acknowledged and shared it opens the way to our power." 2 I have definitely internalized the American way that tells me that, if I have a problem, I should take care of it, work to change it, and not blame someone else. July-August 199Y 493 Bramble ¯ Twenty Inner-City Years During that semester in 1992, I picked up an old journal from 1988, specifically looking for how I dealt at that time with my pain over the distressing situations I experienced daily at Jubilee West. A pattern seemed to be: I would run into a small or large problem that was usually a symptom of a larger systemic problem; feel frustrated and ptwerless; think I should be able to solve it; blame myself because I could not; go to bed depressed, wake up with somehow more energy ready to try again, to think up some new way to address the problem . . . but rarely allow myself to really feel my own pain and sadness. Although many people were involved in Jubilee West, I always felt myself ultimately respon-sible. I also frequently neglected my deep need to gift myself with beauty and nourishment for my soul. I have always felt a great desire for silence, solitude, beauty, prayer--for finding ways to experience the sacred in all of life. But I often let compulsive efforts to solve problems rob me of the centeredness necessary for living and acting from a contemplative way of being. As a step in the process of"living the questions" and of writ-ing this article, I walked around the West Oakland neighborhood visiting some of my longtime friends. I had not been able to do this since leaving Jubilee West three years ago; when we moved away last fall, I just disappeared without telling many people that I was going. So this walk was a pilgrimage for remembering and finding cause to grieve and cause to rejoice. What do I learn for myself from all of this reading and reflec-tion and from my recent pilgrimage of walking in West Oakland? What does my inner wisdom tell me? What follows are some exploratory answers as I live the questions: 1. Feel your pain, take time for it. your personal pain and that of the West Oakland people that you care about, and the world that 'faces the possibility of total destruction. Allowing myself to feel pain is hard to do; I am more used to giving thirty seconds to pain and then moving on to possible solu-tions. But, on my walk through West Oakland, I was more able to be with the pain of what I experienced: my own fear when I went into Campbell Village by myself because of what I know of the violence, drugs, and crime that are always there; the usual mounds of garbage everywhere, especially in front of my friend Sally's apartment; Sally's son in jail for using and selling drugs--I remem-ber him as a cute, loving eight-year-old; the fifteen or twenty men on the corner of 14th and Peralta as they always are--drink- 494 Review for Reh~ious ing and buying drugs; Trisha's house boarded up because she was evicted for drug activity, when she had been one of Jubilee West's most promising tenants. 2. Feelyourjoy also and others' joy as well: celebrate small suc-cesses, continue the lifelong task of dealing with your inner judge that says, "but it isn't enough." My walk through West Oakland gave me many opportunities for experiencing joy. It felt good to remember all the times I have been in people's houses having coffee and conversation. My friend Joanne greeted me with a big hug, and we laughed over old times together. Two of her children are doing very well, she is enjoying her job taking care of hand-icapped people, she still feels empow-ered by the victories we achieved together many years ago, and her sense of humor is still spectacular. Annie also greeted me with open arms; she is an elderly woman who owns her own home and several oth-ers in the neighborhood, though all of them are in various stages of disrepair. As I sat in her tiny kitchen, she asked me who she could get to help her change her will, and I remembered how hard it was, many years ago, to convince her to make a will at all. My last stop was Charles Garcia, who because of our orga-nizing efforts scraped up $1,700 twenty years ago to buy the falling-apart house he was living in--a small amount, even in 1974, but monumental to him. Although he was not home, his pride of ownership was evident everywhere: lots of beautiful roses in the front yard, a stained-glass window over the door; his daugh-ter spoke of wanting to. move her own growing family back to that neighborhood. I was pleased to see that there was only one burned-out house on Chester Street, when there had been many a few years ago, and I felt pride as always at Jubilee West's twenty-two new-con-struction apartments on Goss Street, definitely the ~best-looking housing anywhere in the neighborhood. My experience of joy on my walk through the West of Cypress neighborhood brought home to me the truth of Joanna Macy's Celebrate small successes, continue the life-long task of dealing with your inner judge that says, "but it isn't enough." jUuly-August 199Y 495 Bramble ¯ Twenty Inner-City Years words: "When we open our awareness to the web of life, we con-nect not only with the sufferings of others, but to the same mea-sure, with their gifts and powers . . . if we can grieve with the griefs of others, so, by the same token, by the same openness, can we find strength in their strengths, bolstering our own individual supplies of courage, commitment, and endurance."3 3. Acknowledge real powerlessness and systemic oppression. Deepen awareness of this as a reality check, as the main reason for not continuing self-blame, as a step to determining at which point to try to intervene. Catch yourself when you are blaming the vic-tim, whether that victim is yourself or someone else. 4. Acknowledge surplus powerlessness in yourself and in others, and try to find ways to deal with it, mainly by group sharing and by compassion for yourself and others. 5. Give up the myth that there is one key to changing the world. I have had the fantasy hope that there is one key to changing oppres-sive systems and that, if I could just find it, I would know what to do. Now I am more aware that transformation is happening on many levels at once and that it is not necessarily more important to work on one rather than another; I have lots of options for where I can best use my gifts to work for change. 6. Give up the myth that I am totally responsible (even when and if it is my job to be in charge), that I necessarily have the power to create the changes I want. Sometimes I have that power, often I do not. Any transformation will take many people working in many ways. A friend told me recently that she has become passionately committed to nudging the world toward justice and ecological san-ity. The idea of nudging shows a good grasp of reality and the pos-sible, and many people are doing this all over the world. 7. Give as much time as possible to the beauty, silence, and soli-tude that I so long for and know is essential to the life of my soul. My greatest desire is to act from a deeply contemplative stance. I do not always live that way, but I become more and more con-vinced that it is the only way to be who I am, to be at peace with myself and the world. Many questions remain as I come to the end of these reflec-tions, but hopefully every deepened insight leads to new possi-bilities and changes in my way of being, feeling, and acting. My questions will take more than my lifetime to answer. I am reminded of a vivid memory from a few years ago. I was in the midst of a crisis at Jubilee West, and I went to walk around the 496 Review for Religious lake to try to think of what to do. As I walked, I would come up with an idea about a next step, bu~ a voice in me kept asking, "What if you can't solve the problem?" I would be with that ques-tion for a few minutes and then start again to plan strategies. But the voice was persistent: "What if you can't solve the problem?" I have been brought up to believe that, ifI have a problem or see a problem, I should try to solve it. In fact, I very frequently have been able to find solutions to problems, to achieve what-ever I put my mind to achieve. Similarly, in World as Love~; World as Self, Joanna Macy quotes Lyndon B. Johnson as saying during the Vietnam War: "Don't come to me with a problem unless you have a solution." She tells of some colleagues in France who, ridi-culing our American culture for demanding instant solutions to problems, said we should "let the difficulties reveal themselves first before rushing for a ready-made solution, or else you will not understand them.''4 And so, as I walked around the lake struggling with the com-plexities of my crisis, the persistent voice asking "What if you can't solve the problem?" was actually a blessing. It pushed me to experience that often I cannot solve the problem. What is needed then is not more strategies, but waiting in openness: openness to the unfathomable presence, power, energy, connectedness in the universe, in me, in other people, and in all situations--which I call God. What is needed is sitting with open hands and open heart in deep silence and solitude, or dancing with abandonment to powerful music, or walking on the beach feeling the immensity of the ocean, or remembering my redwood tree. What is needed is anything that brings home to me the sacredness of all beings. I am remembering also the poem by Wendell Berry that I first saw on the kitchen wall at Genesis Farm, the environmental study center where I spent six weeks in the spring of 1992. It moved me deeply then and still does, giving me a powerful image of commitment to the possible in the darkest of times: "In the dark of the moon, / In flying snow,/. / The world in danger. / I walk the rocky hillsides / Sowing clover." I wonder what forms my clover will take? In looking through my 1991-92 .journal, I rediscovered another powerful image, a dream I had on 1 February 1992 and had forgotten. The image of wholeness in my dream links with Joanna Macy's wisdom about the interconnected whole in Despair and Personal Power: "What is it that allows us to feel pain for our Bramble ¯ Twenty Inner-City Years world? And what do we discover as we move through it? What awaits us there on the other side of despair? To all these ques-tions there is one answer. It is interconnectedness with life and all other beings. It is the living web out of which our individual, sep-arate existences have risen, and in which we are interwoven."s Deep implications of this dream are gradually surfacing as I continue to reflect on it more than three years later: I am in a house with many people., much chaos., there is a cupboard with a lot of jigsaw puzzles., suddenly they all fall out and come crashing down . . . so there are hun-dreds of puzzle pieces all over the floor., all from differ-ent puzzles . . . instead of feeling hopeless, like I would never be able to sort out the pieces and put each puzzle together again . . . in the dream I feel hopeful . . . like what was individual puzzles is now one big whole . . . and the challenge is to make a new picture in a new way. Soon after I wrote the pages above, my friend Sister Pat, cofounder of Jubilee West, died unexpectedly while we were vaca-tioning in Vermont. We had worked, argued, dreamed, planned, and enjoyed life together in West Oakland for nineteen years of a longer close friendship. Pat was "home" to me; now I feel like a homeless person. In my grief I have felt that God is burning himself into my soul, in intense pain and intense beauty. Was it in another lifetime that I wrote, "I'm not aware of very much per-sonal pain"? I am amazed that "Feel your pain" was one of my "exploratory answers." It has helped me take time for the sadness of my loss. I am hopeful that my pain will give me strength and wisdom to respond to the world's pain in new ways. My under-standing of my own "answers" is deeper than when I wrote them. Hopefully, I am more ready to keep working to create a new pic-ture, a new wholeness. Notes ~ Michael Lerner, Surplus Powerlessness (Oakland: Institute for Labor and Mental Health, 1986). These and other quotations from Lerner are a combination of a variety of pages in this book. 2 Joanna Macy, Despair and Personal Power in the Nuclear Age (Baltimore: New Society Publishers, 1983). These quotations are a com-bination of a variety of pages in chapters 1 and 2. 3 Macy, Despair, p. 32. 4 Joanna Macy, World as Love~; World as Self(Berkeley: Parallax Press, 1991), p. 18. s Macy, Despair, p. 24. 498 Review for Religious MARGARET MARY KNITTEL Corporate Sponsorship: The 1990s and the Fruits of Our Labor I alternate between thinking of the planet as home--dear and familiar stone hearth and garden--and as a hard land of exile in which we are all sojourners. --Annie Dillard, "Sojourner" Mey mother had lived in this home, built by her father, ver since she was eighteen, and now sixty years later she was selling the stained-glass windows, the hardwood floors, everything. All went well but for that last moment holding all the pain. We walked away bearing the image of strangers in that beloved doorway, frame of four generations. Doorways of insti-tutions, too, owned and operated by generations of women reli-gious, hold countless emotionally freighted moments, and near the close of the 20th century the terms "corporate sponsorship" and "fruits of our labor" have become and remain inextricably bound. In one ethical frame come three questions that are relevant to these two realities, corporate sponsorship and fruits of our labor. The three questions suggest a fluidity of vision, a loo'sening of ties. The questions are: Who are we? Who are we becoming? Who are we called to be? Who Are We? Over successive generations the corporately sponsored institutional ministry increasingly became for Catholic women religious in the United States their "hearth and garden," Margaret Mary Knittel RSM served as director of personnel services at Saint Xavier University in Chicago from 1981 to 1987. Presently, as a consultant for nonprofit organizations, she writes to us from I 1 Simpson, H; Geneva, Illinois 60134. ~uly-Aug~st 1995 499 Knittel ¯ Corporate Sponsorship the consummate fruits of their labor, our labor. Hospitals, nurs-ing homes, orphanages, .high schools, and colleges together form a litany of dedicated achievement, of the brick-by-brick accom-plishments of many dedicated women. Annie Dillard's feelings about this planet as hearth and garden and land of exile help identify three groups or generations of women religious who for a hundred years have owned and operated those institutions.1 These generations we shall call the exiles, the arrived, and the The first generation, the exiles, traveled from countries like Ireland, Germany, and Italy to North American mission lands. The second generation, the arrived (or arriv&s), lived in an at-homeness within their institutions in the burgeoning years. Now, in these closing years of the 20th century, we have a third gen-eration, the sojourners, seeking a new way to live their profes-sional commitments and their personal lives as vowed women religious upon finding themselves living in smaller and smaller groupings on a planet presenting challenges and opportunities their pioneering sisters in exile--their grandsisters--would not recognize. For the exiles--pioneers, all of them--the missions of the late 19th and early 20th century meant lives of physical sacrifice and economic deprivation well beyond the virtue or vow of poverty. Those women pieced together budgets, scraping their ingenuity for survival. Having come intent upon working hard, they strove to build hearths and gardens and kept striving and struggling, remaining and reminding themselves to be exiles at heart, women in a foreign land. Echoing the economy at large, the institutional ministries they had founded and maintained boomed after the lean years of the Great Depression. The second generation, the arrived, brought forward personal and corporate energies to build up edu-cational, social-service, and healthcare institutions surpassing the dreams of the earlier immigrant generation, the exiles. With increased settling in, this hearth of the religious women's profes-sional lives, this sponsored work, began for some to take on near-salvific powers. This hospital, this academy, began to hold terrestrial hopes and dreams, promised a salvation, and hinted of a this-side immortality. Plaudits, awards, and status were afforded to this generation of women who had arrived, who in some cases had left a humble family circle for what was increasingly becom- 500 Review for Religious ing an educated, secure middle-class community. They, we, by one definition indeed had arrived. For the arrived, their hospital or academy chapel began to localize the garden of the spirit. Here each morning and evening, all, regardless of professional status, gathered together at prayer. Here the contemplative "side" sought nourishment as the apostolic "side" waited just outside the chapel door. Hearth of work and garden of spirit, these became fix-tures within the corporate institu-tions cared for by the members of this second generation. Who Are We Becoming? In the movie "What's Eating Gilbert Grape?" the central figure, an exceedingly obese mother of four, says to her teenage son in a moment of reconciliation, "I never wanted to be like this." She had eaten her way to virtual immobility after her husband walked away from her and their children. Do we women religious, as this 20th cen-tury of ours draws to a close, gaze at our corporate body and say to ot~rselves, "We never wanted to be like this"? The founders of mis-sions here in the United States began on an inspiration to do good The second generation, the arrived, brought forward personal and corporate energies to build up educational, social-service, and healthcare institutions surpassing the dreams of the earlier immigrant generation, the exiles. in the sight of the God, and now, one or two hundred years later, their legatee corporate body has perhaps come to he something overly substantial: substantial hearth and garden, substantial fruits of our labor. These places, these institutions, became the symbolic body of our corporate identity within the church and the symbolic immortality within our destinies. Boards, philanthropic individ-uals, committees, friendships have been cultivated in the name of a hospital, an orphanage, or a school, and individual women's identities have been formed by and dedicated to bricks and steam pipes and windows. And then, as a distant window opened in the early 1960s and Vatican Council II convened, the corporate body ~ly-August 1995 501 Knittel * Corporate Sponsorship began to be looked at and came into question: "Is this who we are becoming?" For some women and men, in and out of religious life, the signs of the times appealed to in the council documents began to replace the signs of success. The prophet Jeremiah's call to voca- Women religious know that an additional thirty years, like those since the council, will not be afforded them. A sizable amount of post-Vatican time has quickly become history, and religious can recite lists of classrooms already vacated, hospital beds unused, and doors closed. tion describes a people God observes burning incense to strange gods and "adoring their own hand-iwork" (Jr 1:16). The prophetic began to ease itself forward. The work of our hands, the fruits of our labor, came into question. Now, in these late days of the 20th century, the hearth lies gray with embers and the garden shows signs of late-summer exhaustion. Women religious know that an additional thirty years, like those since the council, will not be afforded them. A sizable amount of post-Vatican time has quickly become history, and religious can recite lists of classrooms already vacated, hospital beds unused, and doors closed. Worse, we know in our aging the lists of needs more acute, more violent, than our grandsisters might have dared imagine. With abuses crowding our culture into corners that seem to offer no choice, we acknowl-edge there has to be more to this journey. Who Are We Called to Be? Our third generation, the would-be sojourners, wonder at this late-20th-century hour: "Is this our time of exile? Shall we be graced to select to become sojourners. Selecting to be sojourners, to move from being securely settled to securely unsettled, recalls the, sweep of the Hebrew Scriptures showing us a people finding centers other than God. The king-dom, the temple, the land--here was the answer. No, not here, there. No, not there, here. Efforts to restore the earthly kingdom kept centering on realities other than God. But Yahweh contin-ued to insist. 502 Review for Religious Selecting to be sojourners calls us to know how to go into exile, how to travel. Traveling, what shall we pack? Timing, how to schedule transportation, stopovers? And we cannot forget those allowances of minutes and hours, those sponges of time, to absorb this unfamiliar territory, this plan, these new connections. We will not know the language, but will need to interact and relate with others in order to continue on the journey and will have to search our imaginations for ways to communicate constructively. Life will move more slowly even as we continually need to cope with myriad details. Knowing exile, we will know ourselves anew. A clock continues to tick, and while many individual women religious hear it, the instinct to muffle its sound remains. "Enough!" we hear. Our alternative thoughts drift to sojourning, but graying embers say "Enough." We lived through the changes of the 1960s and '70s immediately after the council. No more traveling, turning, leaving, remembering, forgetting, previsioning, refashioning, or paradigm shifting for us! Just leave me alone. Enough. Give me the basics for survival and let me live out my life, here. Give me my job, my position, my power. Give me space. But a clock continues to tick. Learning to Mourn Henri Nouwen has said, "Yes, we must mourn our losses. We cannot talk or act them away, but we can shed tears over them and allow ourselves to grieve deeply. To grieve is to allow our losses to tear apart feelings of security and safety and lead us to the painful truth of our brokenness. Our grief makes us experience the abyss of our own life in which nothing is settled, clear, or obvious, but everything constantly shifting and changing.''2 At issue here is whether or not women religious have the energy to mourn. There have been deaths--countless funerals, remembered rejec-tions, and downright hostilities and hatreds. Yes, death seems to have been an integral part of this life once so much idealized--the youth and the joy! But, through all of these deaths, have we short-circuited a certain human pathos, admixing theologies and spiri-tualities, being at times more stoic than Christian? Several weeks after the death of my mother, an acquaintance asked, "How are you doing?" An incident, fresh that day, helped me to describe a way of being that I would later learn is common to us and may be where the corporate person of religious life .~ly-Auguyt 1995 503 Knittel * Corporate Sponsorship finds itself today. I told him of my standing in the middle of a room that morning, about to clean, but not knowing what to do next. My emotional energy was somehow separated from me as a person. As women religious, do we stand in the middle of a room and not know how to clean it, with our individual and corpgrate emo-tional energy elsewhere? Solneone has said, "Leaders are people who do the right thing; managers are people who do things right.''3 Is there a sense that somehow our corporate energy has separated itself from the corporate body so that with our corpo-rate leadership we continue doing things right rather than doing the right thing? Walter Brueggemann has observed that "reli-gious practitioners are often easy and unwitting conspirators with such denial. We become the good-humor men and women, for who among us does not want to rush in and smooth things out, to reassure, to cover grief?.''4 Rush in, smooth out, reassure--sounds familiar. What and where are the deep-down places in which we will individually and corporately rejoin our emotional energies, find ourselves? While sometimes we feel sublimely practiced in the various forms of grief, having experienced death in many forms, have we mourned? Have we cared enough about ourselves individually and corporately to let in the slow, mysterious loneliness, the ever changing healing of life after a death, a shocking, numbing death, has occurred? This work of mourning looks not only to the past but also to the future, fully realizing that new steps must be taken. The ability to bear wholesome and healing grief is every bit as much a fruit of our labor as the most imposing achievement of our corporate endeavors. Who are we called to be in this late 20th century, and is God directly and immediately in charge? Given our status and our connections, have we--women religious who have arrived--cor-porately capitulated to others' being in charge, someone else's agenda. "The task of the prophetic imagination is to cut through the numbness, to penetrate the self-deception, so that the God of endings is confessed as Lord.''s We come through the numbing to learn from a God in charge that the fruit of our labor may be "only" to know Jesus the Christ once again as way, as truth, as life. In this late 20th century, the fruits of our having arrived carry the exotically sweet flavor of success taken for granted and of 504 Review for Religious controlling power. In some instances we think it necessary to cling to these fruits with an even tighter grip. What sadder use of our time than participating in meetings with unseen forces with a view to reconstituting yesteryear rather than working with hope for tomorrow! Is there true conversation within our communi-ties, or merely some talk while waiting for followers to follow? Whether we would speak with Brueggemann's "prophetic imagination" or Philip Keane's "moral imagination," can we imag-ine imagining? Keane has said, "Communities as well as persons need t6 develop moral character and exercise moral imagination as they seek to address the great issues of our times.''6 When a loved one dies, a significant part of our grieving may involve imagining the future without them. We have known and loved them, but deep down we grieve for ourselves in an unknown future--a birthday or a Christmas--without their presence. We deeply miss this lost past. The exile has begun, with or without us. We need to acknowl-edge it, learning more and imagining more about what it means to mourn. We will be sojourners, like our grandsisters before us, leaving the comforts of home, however we currently define and hold on to them. "A number of factors can hinder persons from being genuinely reflective and playful in their moral thinking," says Keane; "power or force is one such factor.''7 Shall we become more reflective, more playful, and imagine leaving our present "homes" of wrongfully constructed political power, of oppressive behaviors? What prevents us from asking: Who are we? Who are we becoming? and Who are we called to be? The answer from some, if not all, may lie in these processes of the prophetic, these questions. Land of Exile: Corporate Sojournership "Fairly often," says Keane, "I run into persons whose image of God is that God is out to get us. Such persons want to be told what to do, and they are afraid of using their moral imaginations. Their religious or prayer lives will often be quite limited because their fear keeps them from really being open to the power of the Gospel stories.''8 As women religious we seek the courage to imag-ine and do corporately what many individual women and men have already wrestled with in their lives. We need, corporately, to turn in the keys, have a good cry, and move on. 3~uly-Al¢g'ust 199Y 505 Knittel * Corporate Sponsorship Turning in the keys does not necessarily mean a wholesale closing of eacli and every institution. Some would like that, but it could indeed prove shortsighted and definitely unimaginative, even though some say the community's need for money is a good reason for selling this hospital or that academy and others say, "If we sell, we would be doing something holy." Abandoning an inner-city hospital without recourse to imaginative possibilities of how this long-cared-for space--the land's square feet and the buildings' cubic feet--could now serve the poor better might well become a new urban tragedy. We will need to go after anew, with all the civic clout that our years of being respectable arrivges can muster, the neighborhood's endemic and systemic problems. The friends of our institutions of the past may not choose to be the companions of our sojourning in the years ahead. But, together with those who would stay with us, we n~ed to find out who we are called to be. In any new land such as the future, there will be questions, then some answers, and then new questions. Our bequest, the fruits of our labor--whether embodied in our present corporate buildings and our present apostolic endeavors or not--must always be directed towards common goods that our corporate resources and corporate energies can hope to accomplish. People reflecting on the conversion to which all of us are called expect that the hearth and garden that halve come down to tis from a former time, these substantial signs of our having arrived, will increasingly suggest to us new common and corpo-rate lives of sojourning exile. These and similar questions will keep occurring to us: How will we use the power and influence we have? What could the prayer of our community be like? How will we imagine and live appropriate ways of coming together and being together--or of being together and going out together? What can we do most effectively for the coming of the kingdom? Shall we be women of vision, corporately attending to the good? Shall we corporately prepare in earnest to live in exile, to be sojourners, persons consciously and deliberately ready for the journey that begins and ends in God? Notes l Annie Dillard, "Sojourner," in Teaching a Stone to Talk (New York: Harper and Row, Publishers, 1988), p. 150. 506 Review for Religious 2 Henri J.M. Nouwen, With Hearts Burning (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 1994), p. 27. 3 Warren Bennis, Why Leaders Can't Lead (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass Publishers, 1989), p. 18. 4 Walter Brueggemann, The Prophetic hnagination (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1978), p. 49. s Brueggemann, p. 49. 6 Philip S. Keane, Christian Ethics and Imagination (New York: Paulist Press, 1984), p. 104. 7 Keane, p. 107. 8 Keane, p. 107. Tourist Your T-shirt's stamped in letters large across your chest: KATMANDU. Your bike is labeled with a hundred road resorts. Your car is dotted round with all your touring triumphs . So, why not take another route today? A low-cost tour to that other inner world inside. Stay quiet by that vast unbounded inner ocean in your mind. Dive, swim and surf. Fly free. Ride high the inner waves of thought and feeling endlessly exhilarated, or delve into the dark and secret untrod cavern of your soul. Discover now the mystery of creation; confront the abyss unending of your own nothing-self becoming. And meet in that remote mysterious empty temple, far inside, your God. Cothrai Gogan CSSP .y~uly-August 199Y 507 CATHERINE M. HARMER Retirement's Wisdom Years One of the recurring discussions at assemblies and chap-ters of religious revolves around the rising median age, the need to care for our elderly, and more subtly the growing costs of such caring. The issue is an important one in that most United States congregations have median ages over sixty. An examination of congregational budgets shows that increasingly large amounts of money are dedicated to the care of the elderly. The National Conference of Catholic Bishops has been sponsor-ing a special collection for aging religious that people contribute to with great generosity, but it covers only a small part of the actual costs. A visit to the motherhouse of almost any group of sisters will show that a large part of what was housing for novices in the past is now dedicated to the aging members. Some motherhouses have very fine infirmaries for the sick elderly. There is no question that religious leaders are making great efforts to provide the best they can for their members through all stages of life. I would like, however, to examine two aspects of that effort. The first has to do with the nursing-home care that many of the sick elderly need. The second has to do with the concept of retirement for religious and the way it has been handled over the last twenty years or so. The Sick Elderly The first topic is the simpler one and will get less treatment in this article. In the care of our sick elderly, the emphasis has Catherine M. Harmer MMS wrote "Election: A Call to Service" for our September-October 1994 issue. Her address is Medical Mission Sisters; 300 W. Wellens Street; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19120. 508 Review for Religious been changed from the simple caring for them "at home" that was possible when the median age was much lower and the num-ber of elderly religious was either smaller or relatively smaller. When that was the case, at the motherhouse a small staff assisted by novices and postulants could care for them in much the same way that a family could take care of any sick or elderly member of it. Gradually, as the numbers increased and the sick elderly lived longer, a more professional model, that of the nursing home, became more common. As this was happen-ing, the percentage of vigorously active members was decreasing. At present, in most of the retirement facilities I have visited over the years, the staff is largely lay with very few religious among them. In some very large congrega-tions, with several hundred sick elderly members, the facilities com-pare well with any licensed nursing home, often providing much better care and definitely offering more loving care than in the average nurs-ing home for the laity. In smaller congregations the attempt to pro-vide quality nursing care results in Some small congregations in a given area are studying the feasibility of establishing an intercon gregational nursing home. A few religious leaders are looking at ways to provide for their members in general nursing homes in their area. small facilities that are as expensive to maintain as considerably larger ones would be. In some cases a nursing staff (composed mainly of nurse aides) that could care for thirty patients is taking care of ten or fifteen, sometimes fewer. As congregations face the heavy financial drain, there is a movement toward collaboration among the congregations in a geographic area. This is a positive development that could lead to good care for the religious and lower financial costs. Some groups that have larger facilities are opening them to other congrega-tions. Some small congregations in a given area are studying the feasibility of establishing an intercongregational nursing home. A few religious leaders are looking at ways to provide for their mem-bers in general nursing homes in their area. All of these steps are difficult. Often the members of a con-gregation are very unwilling to have their elderly cared for away .~dy-August 199Y 509 Harmer ¯ Retirement's Wisdom Years from their own motherhouse. At times the elderly themselves feel that they are being mistreated by being separated from their tra-ditional homes. Only a few consider it a good thing to be in a nursing home of mixed patients, men and women, religious and lay, in spite of the pastoral potential of such a model. The efforts of leaders and the combined efforts of congrega-tions to deal with both the physical realities and the psychologi-cal and religious values are important ones. Key for the leaders will be understanding, patience, and collaborative stances. For the members, those who are elderly and those who are not, it is important to develop an acceptance of the reality they face and a willingness to keep their last days congruent with what has gone before. I suggest that this requires ongoing education for every-one and a spirituality that looks at one's last days as continuous with the dedication of earlier days. Religious Retirement In our efforts to prepare one another for "retirement," we may have bought into a model that was emerging after World War II and continues to develop in terms of what aging and retir-ing are all about. This brings me to the second topic, the one which will constitute the major portion of this article. It is all the more important because it bears upon the first as well. It has to do with how we are viewing retirement. I believe that we have accepted a way of looking at retirement which is increasingly being challenged in the population at large and that we need to study it in the light of what our entire religious life is about. Several aspects of this model of retirement raise new questions. The current model in the United States assumes that people will retire at sixty-five if not earlier. When Social Security became a reality in the 1930s, life expectancy was lower, many people did hard physical labor and had relatively poor nutritional histories, and their hope was simply that at retirement they could stop working without worry about becoming dependent on their chil-dren or "ending up in the poorhouse." Today life expectancy is much higher, and the reality is that many people stay active, healthy, and alert for twenty years and longer after they retire. A second aspect, then, is that retirement is a time of not work-ing and, instead, spending one's time and energy at play of one sort or another. (Married women often have less of the play since 510 Review for Religious they are still expected to do the work of keeping up the home.) A problem here is that many retired people soon become bored with the play aspect. Some move toward part-time jobs or vol-unteer work, while others become captives of the television or the endless bingo games of our less creative senior centers. A third aspect of the current model that deserves examina-tion is the tendency to move away from the place where most of life was spent. This sometimes has to do with seeking a warmer climate or more economical housing. The result is that, as peo-ple age, they are out of regular con-tact with their family and must develop new friends. Even the elderly who manage well on their own in their original home are often under pressure from relatives and friends to find a smaller place-- which often takes them away from the community in which they have close ties and away from some sig-nificant activities that they could otherwise keep up. People are living longer while remaining physically and mentally vigorous, and yet the model of retirement continues to treat them as if they cannot do anything but play. What is being lost is the opportunity for them to contribute to family, to friends, to com-munity, in a different way than during their working years, but a way that is significant and needed. What is being lost to society at large is the accumulated wisdom of the elderly, a loss our soci-ety cannot afford. It would be a shame for religious congregations to follow the national model for retirement too closely. While few if any con-gregations have fixed ages of retirement from major involvement in ministries, there has been a subtle movement over the last few decades to start "thinking about retirement" while the religious are in their fifties. Without necessarily meaning to do so, this has too frequently led to a mentality that places retiring somewhere in the sixties, even if there is no real reason to do so. I have vis-ited motherhouses where some of the sisters appear to have retired Although the idea that play is the major activity of the retired has not taken hold so completely in religious congregations, what has developed is a sense that this is my time to do with as I wish. J-uly-dugust 199Y 511 Harmer ¯ Retirement's Wisdom Years far too soon and are desperate for some way to be involved in ministry. Mthough the idea that play is the major activity of the retired has not taken hold so completely in religious congregations, what has developed is a sense that this is my time to do with as I wish. Especially in motherhouses, which tend to be out in the country or relatively isolated, this leads to a combination of small tasks around the motherhouse, activities that mimic the senior citizens' centers, and some increased emphasis on the spiritual life without much attention to how that might be different at this stage of life. Often when I talk with the retired themselves I find a deep longing for two things: to find some meaningful part-time min-istry and to explore what spiritual life means at this latter stage of life. When retirement takes place at a motherhouse, you find the same isolation from community that the lay elderly experience who move to Florida. While most religious have lived and worked in a number of places, there was always the parish, the school or hospital, sometimes the neighborhood, as a framework for involve-ment and support. This is now gone, and the beautiful grounds of the motherhouse, the special facilities, and sometimes the large numbers (for those, notably, who were used to smaller groups) are no substitute for what has been lost. Religious do not, on the whole, do a lot of complaining, but the sense of loss is often heard in the undertones of a conversation. We hear ". everything is so nice here., everyone is so kind . . . but."--and the long-ing is very real. I am increasingly convinced that elderly religious should, whenever possible, have the same choices as the younger members. This stage of life is important, and it needs to be rec-ognized as such. In the remainder of this article, I want to address two impor-tant things about aging and retirement for religious: (1) the sec-ond half of life as a time of deepening wisdom and individuation, a time for a greater spirituality to emerge, and (2) the role of elderly religious in continuing the mission of Jesus. For many ideas here, it will be evident that I am indebted to Carl Jung, but also to a fascinating book by Jane R. Pr~tat on the croning years (1994). As I read her book, I found myself dwelling on several ideas: that our society wastes the wisdom of the elderly at a time when we need it most; that aging is not just something that hap-pens, but a part of the whole picture of life; and that much of 512 Review for Religious what is wrong in contemporary ways of looking at and dealing with aging in general are found also in regard to aging among religious, especially in how we treat the reality we call "retire-ment." The Second Half of Life Some years ago a large number of articles, workshops, and counseling programs focused on a particular transition seen as noteworthy, the "mid-life crisis." This concept seems, from a Jungian point of view, relevant to the developmental model's tran-sition from the first to the second half of life. This division into two halves does not have a chronological point, just ~s mid-life cannot be tied to a specific number of years of life. The first half of life is devoted to infancy, childhood, and young adulthood inso-far as these parts of life have to do with coming to know the world around ourselves, coming to an understanding of who we are as separate from our parents, learning, developing a working career, and moving to success within that career. At the midpoint, we might wake up in the morning and ask: Is this all there is to life? How we answer that question may indicate if the second half of life is about to begin. If the answer is "Yes, this is it!" we could spend the rest of our life simply as a continuation of the first half until death. If the answer is "No, there is something more!" we could enter into the second half of life. In the second half of life, the tasks shift to integration of the parts that have been separated during the first half, the move-ment toward individuation, coming to know ourselves in a dif-ferent way, and the decision to move toward wisdom. The "wise old man" and "wise old woman" archetypes begin to emerge dur-ing the early part of this second half of life. I believe that many people make the shift to the second half of life without ever hear-ing about Jung or his developmental theories. They recognize that something is changing in themselves, and they move with those changes. Some of the "play" elements of retirement--the programs for senior citizens that involve bingo, excursions, and hobbies--could be considered a return to an early part of the first half of lifel Now that we have done our work, earned our pension, we can again become the children whose task is play. For people with a limited field of interests, this may mean watching television for ffuly-August 1995 513 Harmer ¯ Retirement's Wisdom Years As we age; there is often a longing for a deeper understanding, a greater closeness to God. It is a normal part of the second half of life. long hours of the day and night. This is to remain in the first half of life, possibly until death, without ever taking the step into the second half. For other people, the leisure activities are part of their under-standing of where they are in terms of age, but other aspects also begin to emerge. Spending time with their children and grand-children can be a way of being the elder who is communicating the lore and the wisdom of life. This is a second-half activity and one much needed in today's culture, in which single-parent families and families with both parents working are becoming the norm. Contact with the older generation, with grandparents, . uncles, and aunts, which for long years was the norm, now is the excep-tion in many families. Wisdom also has to do with com-ing to a deeper knowledge of God, a greater and deeper integration of the spiritual life. For many people, life has been so busy, so full of duties, that the spiritual life was relegated to a set of rituals honored on a daily, weekly, or yearly basis. As we age, there is often a longing for a deeper understanding, a greater closeness to God. It is a normal part of the second half of life. In some cases it is connected with daily Mass for people who during their working years were quite con-tent with the Sunday Mass; it may mean a return to some of the religious practices of childhood; sometimes it is :a search for deeper intimacy with God. This longing belongs to the wisdom quest of this second stage. Religious, hopefully, have not stinted on their attention to the spiritual and to God's presence all through the active first half of their life. Yet the sense that the latter half of life has some-thing special to offer is found among them as well. One cannot deny, though, that some religious at this stage seem to put i:he haain emphasis on play. Their way of playing may be different, but it is still play and may involve television, novel reading, trips to the casino with the senior citizens' group, and considerable family visiting. 514 Review for Religious As a country we have to explore how to make the wisdom of the elders available to our children and to our busy adults. In the extended family of the past, this happened very simply. At one time in my childhood, I went every Friday after school to my grandparents' home so that on Saturday morning I could help .my grandmother with some of the cleaning she found difficult to do. What I remember most is conversations after supper on Friday with my grandfather, who told me the stories of his youth when he was an organizer of the unions in the steel mills of Pittsburgh. I also remember listening to music on the radio, and all three of us reading our separate books or magazines. Elderly religious off in motherhouses and retirement centers lose their easy contact with yoilnger religious, lose casual opportunities to share their wisdom with them, just as grandparents nowadays are often in other states where spending time with their grandchildren is no longer 'possible. In some motherhouses there are now prayer centers and renewal centers that give workshops and courses for sisters and lay people who are interested. At one point I had a constant flow of their catalogues coming across my desk. Fine as many of these centers are, I rarely saw anything that addressed the need for exploring the spirituality of the latter half of life, of the retirement years. Yet in those same houses I often met older sisters who longed for scripture study, for prayer assistance, for some way of understanding and developing the spirit life for this special part of their earthly sojourn. Some Strategies for the Second Half of Life It seems to me, then, that there are two things leadership would do well to do~ (1)to make it possible for elderly religious (granted their varying degrees of diminished energy) to continue to be involved in meaningful ministries that connect with the congregation's charism and mission and (2) to make conscious efforts to help the elderly religious move through the integrative work of the second half of their life in a way that is just as appro-priate as the novitiate training was for the first half. ., I live in a parish at present where more than half of the sis-ters in the local convent are well into the second half of their life and thus are no longer able to be involved full-time in the min-istries of their congregation. The congregation is a teaching one, jg~uly-August 1995 515 Harmer ¯ Retirement's Wisdom Years staffing many parish and,diocesan schools. A few of the sisters teach in the parish school, others commute to diocesan high schools, and the older sisters are engaged in time,limited but very vital ministries, These include teaching and tutoring in the adult literacy center, tutoring children from the grade school, and vis-iting elderly shut-ins 'in the neighborhood. None of these are full-time involvements. In some cases the sisters go to the school, in others the students come to them in the convent. Whenever I meet with these women, I am struck by the joy and peace that are obvious in them. Not everyone can be placed in a parish convent. Some of our elderly need to be in places like motherhouses where their greater physical needs can be provided for. It is sometimes possible to bring ministries to these motherhouses and at the same time pro-vide a wonderful service to others. I have been to motherhouses where there was day care for children in some parts of the build-ing and day care for ~he elderly in other parts. Two wonderful things happened there daily. The children and the elderly spent some time together every day, and both benefited by the experi-ence. The staff of both facilities had "assistants" from among the retired sisters who, like the women in my parish, could not work full-time, but could be counted on for blocks of time on .a regu-lar basis to help with both groups of day-care clients. o To keep our religious involved as long as possible has another imp.ortant benefit. Most o£ the research on the aging process shows that, if people stay physically and mentally active, they stay healthy longer and age more slowly. We have wonderful examples of very elderly people maintaining their mental and physical capacities long past the expected time and making contributions to art, 'literature,. and the commonweal. Even more important, this is a time when .religious can begin to share the wisdom that has come to them with age, experience, and deep reflection on the meaning of life. This is a wisdom that is very much needed in our culture, a wisdom that too often the children and young peo-ple do.not find around them. Religious can become, in~ a very real way, the grandparent figures ifi their parishes, neighborhoods, and institutions. This is the wisdom of experience joined with reflec-tion upon that experience. 0 The second thing needing attention from leadership is the effort to help religious .use their latter years creatively in order to move toward the union with God that has been such a part of our 516 Review for Religious thinking throughout life. Many of the forms of prayer and spiri-tuality that are helpful to members of active religious congrega-tions during their early and middle years are apostolically oriented. Appropriately, the religious appreciate seeing a close connection between their ministry and their spirituality. The inner life and the outer life are integrated, ideally, in a rich and vibrant way. Changes take place as religious move through the early years of the second half of life. Spending less time and energy in direct apostolic efforts, they have more time for more leisurely ways of praying. They are ready for the next stage of devel-opment of their inner life. Their focus at this stage is somewhat different from that of their early and middle years. It has within it many of the same elements, but also some new ones. In this stage the elderly may desire to recall or renew some of the things they learned in earlier years, but did not have time to savor and assim-ilate. Frequently they speak of their desire for scripture classes, for prayer workshops. These can be useful, but they need to be focused clearly and carefully on the latter years. Now the emphasis is not on quantities of information, but rather on depth, on quiet composure and integration within each individual's inner reality. The wisdom years are the time when the. "wise old woman" and "wise old man" archetypes come to the fore. While the wis-dom can be for oneself, it is even more for others. At this stage there is not likely to be any necessity to go out and preach or teach, but there should be a simple and peaceful realization that the wisdom being garnered is also for others. This is why it is important during these years: for religious to have two areas of concern: one for the continuing development of the wisdom that has been growing in them over the years, and the other for shar-ing that wisdom, very simply and directly, with others. As religious move along through this final stage of life, it is essential that they have the assistance they need to foster the growth of their inner life, to be more open to wisdom, and that they have opportunity to share it with others. Thus, the ending of Most of the research on the aging process shows that, if people stay physically and mentally active, they stay healthy longer and age more slowly. ~uly-August 199Y 517 Harmer ¯ Retirement's Wisdom Years life can be as full and as rich spiritually as any of the earlier stages, and it can be lived out in a truly mission-centered way. This will enrich the lives of the elderly religious themselves, but also of those who are yearning for that wisdom and do not yet know where to find it. It will bring a fullness to the lives of the "retired" and of those around them. It will be a far happier period than one given to play, television, and various excursions. Religious have frequently been the pacesetters in ministry. Perhaps it is time for the "retired" religious to begin to model to other retirees a richer, fuller, and more outwardly directed wisdom retirement. References Johnston, Charles M. Necessary Wisdom: Meeting the Challenge of a New Cultural Maturity. Seattle: ICD Press, 1991. Pr~tat, Jane R. Coming to Age: The Croning Years and Late-Life Transformations. Toronto: Inner City Books, 1994. Exposition Bless you, caress you~ enfold and possess you. Blessed by you, caressed by you, enfolded within you. Possessed. Chris Mannion FMS 518 Review for Religious TAD DUNNE The Enneagram Since the. early 1970s, religious educators, spiritual men-tors, retreat directors, and, most recently, management trainers have been talking about the "enneagram." 1 The theory proposes that each person is hooked by one of nine psychological compulsions--similar to the seven "capital" sins in classical Christian literature? Dozens of authors. and lecturers nowadays are teaching the theory to help people discover which of the nine compulsions is theirs and bow to accomplish their psychological liberation from it. The nine types are often referred to in caricatures: the Perfectionist, the Helper, ~he Status Seeker, the Sensitive Artist, the Observer, the Accuser, the Planner, the Bully, and the Slug.3 To edch of these descriptions, enneagram teachers attach longer descriptions of phobias, ambitions, expectations, learning style, sexual dynamics, management style, virtues, prides, blind spots, fixations, senses of time, and so on. The r~lations among the com-pulsions are represented by a circle whose circumference is numbered, at nine equidistant points. Within the circle is a triangle drawn from points three to six to nine. Also within the circle is a folded hexagon drawn through the Tad Dunne is an adjunct professor of medical ethics at Marygrove College, Detroit, and a management consultant for Blue Cross and Blue Shield of Michigan. He has published Spiritual Mentoring (HarperSanFrancisco) and Lonergan and Spirituality (Loyola University Press). He may be addressed at 2923 Woodslee; Royal Oak, Michigan 48073. guidance July-August 199Y 519 Dunne ¯ The Enneagram cycle 1-4-2-8-5-7-1. This strange figure has become the logo of the enneagram system. Enneagram and Myers-Briggs People often compare the enneagram to the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator, which classifies sixteen personality types accord-ing to one's preference for ways of noticing experience and mak-ing decisions. The chief difference between them is that the Myers-Briggs instrument indicates personal preferences, all of which are psychologically normal, while the enneagram indicates pathologies. That is, in the Myers-Briggs'all the types are healthy, while in the enneagram all the types are sick. So the Myers-Briggs is useful for accommodating one's own thinking style with col-laborators'; it helps groups identify the preferences for ways of learning and evaluating that exist,among their members and to deploy their relative .strengths accordingly. The enneagram, in contrast, is useful for identifying neuroses, mostly in oneself. The Myers-Briggs indicator, rooted in Jungian psychology, carries a positive attitude toward human consciousness, whereas the ennea-gram, rooted partly in Freudian psychology, takes a more suspi-cious stand. Few psyqhologists, however, rely on either tool for diagnostic purposes, because of an absence of empirical studies that correlate with validated' tests. Among other helping professionals, the Myers-Briggs indi-cator enjoys a wider and less controversial reputation than the enneagram. The sixteen preferences are easily understood; one can readily find Jung's comments on people's preferences between extraversion and introversion, between sensate observation and intuition, and between thinking and feeling.4 The enneagram, in contrast, has sources shrouded in arcane knowledge from a cor-ner of the Sufi tradition unknown to most Sufis and from George Ivanovich Gurdjieff, a self-styled visionary from Russia with dubi-ous credentials. The many enneagram books and tapes that have been published in the last decade tend to describe each of the nine compialsions in dogmatic terms--a style of presentation that allures some but alienates others,s 520 Some Positive Aspects of the Enneagram One of the most disturbing claims made by enneagram devo- Review for Religious tees is that these nine types cover the total human range of com-pulsions. Not ten, not eight.6 There are subsets among the nine, but these supposedly cover all possibilities. Devotees base this claim on an unfamiliar model of personality and on the ennea-gram logo, whose origins are untraceable.7 But what is really dis-turbing is that, despite the dogmatic claims of the theory and an absence of experiment-based research, it is difficult to find any-one who fails to fit one of the types. Enneagram fans in the help-ing professions, after years of working with the tool, feel that these nine are just about right. And individuals claim that the enneagram has helped them to reach a deeper understanding of their personal compulsions than any other self-help system has, In other words, this weird, unempirical, upsetting, gnostic, and mys-tifying map of the psyche seems to work. In 1990 Claudio Naranjo MD published Ennea-Type Structures: Self-Analysis for the Seeker. Enneagram students were eager to read what he had to say, since he led the development o_f the the-ory among English-speaking publics. His book, the smallest I know of on the subject, builds the theory on much more solid ground. That book is now out of print, but has been incorpo-rated in Naranjo's new and expanded volume, Character and Neurosis, published in 1994. Naranjo lends legitimacy to the theory in several ways. Unlike most other enneag.ram authors, who tend to pile adjective upon adjective and style upon style to cover the many variations possi-ble within each compulsion, Naranjo,keeps the set of descriptors limited. He wants these descriptors to function the way they func-tion in clinical manuals such as the DSM tli, namely, as a list of discreet phenomena sufficient to distinguish one type from another? By describing diseases with as little overlap as possible, he enables therapists to spot the core problem more quickly and waste less time on manifestations of the problem shared with other compulsions. Naranjo also takes pains to make a distinction between pas-sions (anger, envy, gluttony, and so forth) and the cognitive errors that underlie each passion. These errors amount to uncrit-ical assumptions about what life is like--the kind of oversimpli-fied worldview (and subsequent inappropriate adaptive routines) that Ellis deals with in his rational-emotive therapy.9 By pin-pointing cognitive errors, Naranjo believes, a person can iden-tify and dissolve his or her pet myths in order to rob the j~uly-August 199~ 521 Dunne * The Enneagram corresponding passion of its rationale and thereby weaken its grip on the psyche. Another contribution Naranjo makes to the theory is that he consistently explains the psychological dynamics at work in each compulsion, rather than just stating them. By appealing to his readers' understanding rather than their memory, he invites them to consult the workings of their own psyches to verify the pres-ence of certain subconscious routines. This is no small achievement. The mind is easily content with a notional familiarity with terms. Only under the whip of intel-lectual desire will we push forward to uncover for ourselves some of our psychic gremlins that have never seen the light of con-sciousness. Likewise the heart is easily comforted with comfort-able feelings; it takes an inner discipline, responsible to no one but oneself, to face up to the discomforts of acting responsibly. In my limited experience of teaching the theory, I found that many students find it too difficult to allow the teaching to break through their automatic defenses and deal with their hidden fears and cravings. The enneagram doctrine just feeds a ravenous compul-sion. So the Status Seeker uses the enneagram to advance her own reputation. The Observer uses it to gather yet further infor-mation before he ventiares out into the world. And so on. Enneagram work is particularly difficult for teachers. They are tempted to devour the lore with teaching in mind, not learn-ing. The work, however, is for people on a personal mission-- those who possess enough self-knowledge to know they are learners in the school of self-knowledge. Much of Naranjo's prose envisions a therapeutic setting in which a seeker looks to a men-tor for guidance. The aim of the therapy is not to settle what our basic compulsion is, as if from that point on we know what box we are in. The therapeutic outcome is not to identify a conceptual scheme that sometimes describes our behavior. The desired out-come is to understand specific experiences of being not our best selves, using conceptual schemes as initial indicators of what may be causing the trouble. This is why it is important to hold the enneagram types at arm's length. Although some people seem to fit a single type per-fectly, others seem to fit several types. Are these latter persons-- whose self-deceit eludes everyone's analysis--all the while being victims of only a single compulsion? Or have they really developed several distinct alternatives to authentic living? Practically speak- 522 Review for Religious ing, it makes no difference so long as users rely on the ennea-gram as nothing more than clusters of fixations and behaviors that logically hang together. Their conceptual consistency is merely a model to help people raise relevant questions about the inner events that possess a slippery logic of their own. Besides his economy of description and his reliance on per-sonal understanding, a further significant contribution Naranjo makes to the theory lies in how he has analyzed the connection between psychological difficulties and exis-tential decisions about being human. Going beyond Oscar Ichazo, from whom he first learned the theory, as well as beyond the people who had already published his enneagram material, Naranjo bases each psychological dynamic in a fundamental spiritual crisis he calls "ontic obscuration," which is a kind of a deafness to our inner drives to be authentic persons. He proposes that, just as certain cognitive errors under' lie each passion, so certain existential fail-ures underlie each cognitive error. This is significant because it puts the focus directly on the inner work of being fully human. Other authors settle for cate-gorizing people by behavior patterns or look to childhood trau-mas to explain present weirdness--the kinds of analyses commonly found in popular psychology. Indeed, popular psychology usually lacks the words and ideas with which to reflect on that innermost work of authenticity. But, by paying direct attention to "ontic obscuration," individuals can discover that a major driver behind their compulsive responses lies in how seriously they take those quiet impulses to be fully human or else how consistently they have avoided the inner work involved in staying human. This "ontic obscuration" underlies each compulsion in its own manner. The Slug stands at the center, having thoroughly obscured inner voices about how to be one's truest self. The Bully and the Perfectionist hear the voices dimly, but respond through a focus on externals, especially through various forms of anger they feel because things are not what they should be. The Helper, the Status Seeker, and the Sensitive Artist hear the voices, but they divert their desire to become fully human persons into Enneagram work is particularly difficult for teachers. They are tempted to devour the lore with teaching in mind, not learning. ~uly-Augtwt 199Y 523 Dunne ¯ The Enneag'ram becoming just persons whose image carries clout in the lives of o.thers. The Planner, the Accuser, and the Observer also hear the voiceS, but they divert a fear of not becoming fully human into strategies designed to protect the little bits of personhood they believe they possess.l° ¯ Naranjo refers to this approach as his "Nasruddin" theory. The story goes that this mullah was crawling around in an alley near a marketplace, searching for the key to his house. A friend joined in the search and, after finding nothing, asked the mul-lah, "Are you sure you lost the key around here?" The mullah responded, "No, I lost it at home." The friend naturally asked, "Then why are you looking for the key here?" The mullah replied, "The light is much better here." 1, The point is that we often look for the key to our house out under the sun, where everything seems clear. But the key is in the house, an~l the house is dark. The Existential Questign: How Should I Be? For all the benefits ofNaranjo's "ontic obscuration," he does not explain in precise terms what being human involves; he set-tles for a description of some effects of"obscuration." For exam-ple, "loss of a sense of I-am-ness" and "something missing inside.''12 At times he presumes that deep down people really know the experience of "ontic obscuration." At other times he claims that the obscuration itself prevents people from realizing that any kind of obscuration has occurred. So, while it is appro-priate for him to recommend that the seeker find a mentor to help recognize a compulsion, the theory would benefit also from a positive understanding of just what it is that "ontic obscura-tion" obscures. To uncover this prize, we need to reflect on how being human happens to be obscured ifi the first place. Most psychologists agree that the intellect of children develops not only in the amount of information they learn but, more significantly, in whether or not they learn certain higher-level intellectual skills for understanding their experiences. So Naranjo's "ontic obscura-tion'? indicates, not a breakdown in mental development, but rather an unfinished development. It is not a matter of having obscured what once was clear; it is a matter of having been born blind and gradually learning how to see. 524 Review for Religious The developmental problem is how to move from a world of images, behaviors, symbols, and external sensations to the larger world of meaning and values. As children we were able to pose questions about being human only by using images. Should I be pushy? Compliant? Generous? Teacherly? Observant? Like a lion? A turtle? A bird? A monkey? Early successful functioning of one of these styles sets up a habit and provides evidence that the world around us must be of such and such a nature--the one that matches our chosen strategy. To the Bully, then, the world is dog-eat- dog; to the Accuser, the world is ridden with crooks. We build up a behavioral style and support it with a cognitive belief in a par-ticular strategy like one of those described in .the enneagram: being correct, being related, being impressive, being the victim, being retentive, being wary, being pleasing, being pugnacious, or being deaf. We become capable of noticing our compulsions as such only later, when we learn that proper use of our minds and hearts is more important than proper behavior and that intelligent analy-sis and reasonable judgment put us in touch with the real world far better than myths and symbols can. Only p~ople who have learned to think about inner acts of meaning can make a statement such as "There I go again" as they catch on to unreal thinking and feeling. ~ .~ This learning represents a major jump in thinking skills. A person discovers that the world is not just "already out there.''Is The real world is also the invisible world made up of the acts of meaning that occur in people's minds and hearts: the agreements, the plans, the guiding ideas, the reigning values, the loyalties, the spites, the memories, the laws, and the internalized language of the place. Former precepts such as Be corre'ct~ Be connected, Be suc-cessful, and Be the martyr were established in the mind of a~child who had no alternative but to think with pictures and symbols. Bht, in the world of meaning and values, learning how to be human ought to transcend these image-based precepts and adopt precepts based on the functions of the mind and heart. Bernard Lonergan, the late Canadian philosopher whose Insight and Method in Theology have influenced many practitioners in the human and natural sciences, has identified five such func-tion- based precepts. They are: Be attentive, Be intelligent, Be reasonable, Be responsible, Be in love.'4 These voices are in all of us. They are active long before we notice them as distinct July-August 199Y 525 Dunne ¯ The Enneagram impuls.es. Although they still escape the notice of many psychol-ogists as being the most fundamental impulses that make us fully human, they are the living source of our ability to notice, under-stand, realize, take responsibility, and love, For Lonergan, these five precepts support a highly-structured method for the human sciences. But, for people seeking to under-stand their inner compulsions, they can also provide a normal way of referring to the task of being fully human. They can rep-resent the very operations that "ontic obscuration" obscures. These are the events that promise to bring a person to what Naranjo, in a more descriptive and less precise mode, calls "the integrated wholeness of one's experience"; "true aliveness, a sense of existing, a plenitude"; "finding value in the present and the actual.''ts These function-based ~precepts not only transcend image-based precepts; they also enable people to transcend who they are and to rise toward being who they are to be. Lonergan refers to these precepts as "the transcendental precepts." A Therapy of Love The question of how we should be does not end there. While people might rely on a diagnostic tool such as the enneagram to recognize self-defeating thoughts before they become actions, they also need a therapy to help recognize self-transcending thoughts and feelings. This means learning firsthand the differ-ence between the transcendental precepts and their opposites: between being attentive and being oblivious, being intelligent and being stupid, being reasonable and being silly, being respon-sible and being irresponsible, and being loving and being hateful. While anyone can recognize abstractly the contrast between these words, the right-hand members of the pairs conspire quite suc-cessfully to obscure their own functioning right behind our eyes. Fortunately, this conspiracy can be caught in the act. By know-ingly paying attention to the transcendental precepts, we can be more attentive to inner experience. We can be more intelligent about how certain cognitive errors and existential decisions sup-port our compulsions. We can be more reasonable as we admit the truth of how thoroughly our fixation may have dominated our psyches. We can be more responsible in accepting guilt that belongs to us, in shunning guilt that is unreasonable, and in sup-pressing what compulsions we can as they arise. Most wisely, we 526 Review for Religious can let our love for others take the lead more often, including and especially our love for God. When a person falls in love, he or she suddenly sees the exter-nal world as more beautiful, more full of potential, more worthy of respect and care. What has occurred, though, is not a change in the external world one views; it is a self-transcending change in the viewer. Being in love heals much of ~' what was crippled in the other four levels of the person's self-transcendence. That is, being in love gives courage to respon-sibility, realism to reason, insight to intel-ligence, and acumen to attention. The person has risen above the imprisoned self and realized something of the profound marvels of life, nature, and the friendly character of the universe. Love's healing power is evident in the love between friends, within a family, and among fellow citizens and members of a group. It is also evident in the love of God. People who have undergone a religious conversion, whether in a sudden inner revolution or a gradual takeover, experience three new powers. The~y see goodness where the unconverted see only evil. They feel a power to reach out to others at a higher risk to themselves than self-protecting reason would allow. And, after the worst setbacks, they find themselves soon on their feet, mys-teriously alive and submissive to the impulse to love again26 More can be said about the healing effects of religious love, but this milch illustrates how an analysis of our self-transcending acts clar-ifibs'what "being human" means and reveals the available powers that "o'ntic obscuration" obscures. Further analysis along these lines would complement any instance of healing with a thera-peutic theory consistent with religious love. Notice especially how the addition of this account of self-transcendence avoids the typi~cal trap of self-help psychologies. It makes clear that people do not help themselves all by them-selves. When i't is the self that needs help, "self-help" is a con-tradiction in terms. Genuine help must be imported. We rely on each other and we rely on God. In order to let go of our worries that our failures will be someh6w held against us, we rely on the fact that we are loved. Being in love gives courage to responsibility, realism to reason, insight to intelligence, and acumen to attention. Ju~-August199y 527 Dunne ¯ The Enneagram The work of making all this real for oneself is long and hard. It might go something like this: Suppose I typically play the Sensitive Artist, envious of the personas of others and absorbing my injuries in quiet melancholy. I should first keep a diary to log the times I notice my compulsion at work, in order to grow in the habit of noticing, t~nderstanding~ and gradually realizing how precisely my frustrated desire to be a notable person works. (Naranjo suggests that this work on autobiography may take three or four months.) ~7 At the same time, as I grow in self-realization, I should grow in self-responsibility. When I hear the inner voice saying "Be sensitive, be like so-and-so," I should say "Shut up!" and then bend an ear to the quieter voices of authenticity whis-pering, "Just be attentive, intelligent, reasonable, responsible, and in love. Being that is a quite good enough way to be your best." Then, alongside the inner work of self-reflection, I should let myself connect with others. Although Naranjo believes that his book can help a person avoid high-minded and patronizing therapists, I find it hard to imagine people really benefiting from it unless they talk about this inner work with others. Being con-nected to others means obeying the transcendental precept to Be in love. That means letting my love for others be the light that revdals what is truly worth doing, rather than mere consistency or some private ethical principle. Because genuine love heals irre-sponsibility, silliness, stupidity, and inattention, the test of genuine love will be just that: Does it make me more responsible, more ready to face truth, more functionally intelligent, more on the lookout for what really counts? If it does not, it is not love. The inner work also means letting myself be loved. For most of us, with our distorted self-images, this means facing the fact that despite our faults, despite the injuries we have caused others, the person who claims to love us is telling the truth. It means dropping the flimsy defense that "you don't really know me" and admitting that the point is not whether we are fully known, but whether we are appreciated and valued for ourselves. It means realizing that we will never be perfect, that we do not need to expend that much energy defending ourselves, that we do not even need to "fix" ourselves through diligent self-therapy. Unless we rely on God and other people for forgiveness, tolerance, and patience, no pathology or self-help therapy will work. This is only an example of finding our way home. Different people will find different paths. But at least knowing what being 528 Review.for Religious human is about shows us what our home looks like. Gradually-- never fully being, but always becoming, human--we will have returned. We can come in and go out as we please. We will have found our home's key: the house is no longer dark. Notes ~ Enneagram, coined from Greek, means "ninefold marking." 2 Capital means that the sins are principal or "head" (capita) sins from which people's other sins flow. Althofigh the enneagram seems to have arisen independently of the Christian tradition, seven of its compulsions match the seven capital sins. The remaining two are bogus morality (Accuser) and bogus success (Status Seeker). 3 No two authors agree on these generic names, but there is general agreement about the descriptions of each type~ Devotees often refer just to the number, as in "She's a raving Two!" (a Helper). 4 See C.G. Jung, Paychological Types (New York: Harcourt, Brace, and Co., 1926), chap. 10. Isabel Briggs Myers and her mother, Katharine C. Briggs, developed the fourth pair of preferences, judging and perceiv-ing, based on further observations made byJung. Note that they realize that its usefulness applies mainly to the young. See Isabel Briggs Myers, Introduction to Type (Gainesville, Florida: Center for Publications' of Psychological Types, 1962), p. 8. s The works on which I have based my remarks are: Maria Beesing et al., The Enneagram: A Journey of Self Discovery (Denville: Dimension Books, 1984); Kathleen Hurley and Theodore Dobson, What's My Type? Use the Enneagram and My Best Self (HarperSanFrancisco, 1991 and 1993); Claudio Naranjo, Ennea-Type Structures: Self-Analysis for the Seeker and Character and Neurosis: An Integrative View (Nevada City: Gateways, 1990 and 1994); Helen Pahner, The Enneagram (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1988); Don Richard Riso, Personality Types: Using the Enneagram for Self-Discovery (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1987). I have also relied on various notes taken by students participating in workshops given by Naranjo and others who derive the substance of their doctrine from him. 6 An exception'is Hurley and Dobson, My Best Self, identifying two distinct compulsions in both the Status Seeker and the Accuser, making a total of eleven compulsions. In .any case, there are no enneagram the-orists I know of who have dealt with the fundamental problem of how to set a limit to types. If there is such a limit, then the types will have to be defined by a set of psychological conditions that are limited and verifiable. For example, Karen Horney's division of three reactions to conflict (against people, toward people, away from people) might be matched against three I-world comparisons (bigger than, equal to, smaller than) to generate exactly nine types. Or against the trio Denial, Overconfidence, Underconfidence. The trio Ignorance, Craving, and Fear seems to under-lie Naranjo's thinking. There are many possibilities. This kind of work will 3~ly-August 1995 529 Dunne ¯ The Enneagram be necessary if the professional psychological community is ever to give credence to the theory and, more to the point, if the theory is ever to be shown to explain the actual range of human compulsions. 7 Gurdjieff, the teacher of this model of personality, claims to have discovered the enneagram in the Sufi tradition, but there is little evi-dence in Sufism of any of the heavy interpretative overlay that it now carries. Gurdjieff's confidence in the diagram seems based on numerol-ogy rather than experiment, and he expected that the diagram could rep-resent any human or natural process. 8 Diagnostic and Stat#tical Manual of Mental Disorders III (Washington, D.C.: American Psychiatric Association, 1987). 0 9 See Albert Ellis, Reason and Emotion in Psychotherapy (New York: Lyle Stuart, 1963), chap. 3, "Irrational Ideas Which Cause and Sustain Emotional Disturbances," pp, 60-88. l0 The reader should note inconsistencies in the enneagram designs. In Naranjo's Character and Neurosis, pp. 199 and 245, and throughout his Ennea-Type Structures, the triangle arrows run clockwise. Everywhere else in Character and Neurosis, they run counterclockwise. tt Naranjo, Ennea-Type Structures, pp. xix-xx, and Character and Neurosis, p 36. Hereafter page references will be to Ennea-Type Structures, with corresponding references to Character and Neurosis in italics. ~2 See pp. 30/61 and 63/219. He also describes ontic obscuration as: "obscuration . . . of the natural, original, and truest support for one's sense of personal value" (45/196); "the universal pain of fallen con-sciousness, beyond type-bound characteristics" (45/196); "lack of ground-ingin being" (107/197); and "loss of wholeness and sense of being" (138/150). o 13 Walter Burghardt SJ notes that John Courtney Murray relies on this distinction to clarify how weak the old Catholic reliance on dogma-tism really was. See "The Richness of a Resource," in A Spirituality for Contemporary Life, ed. David L. Fleming SJ (St. Louis: Review for Religious, 1991). Murray may well have relied on Lonergan's Insight (New York: Philosophical Library, 1958) for this notion (for which, see real in its index). 14 See Method in Theology (New York: Herder and Herder, 1972), pp. 53, 55, and passim. I have developed these notions more at length in Lonergan and Spirituality (Chicago: Loyola University Press, 1985) and Spiritual Mentoring (HarperSanFrancisco, 199 I). Is Naranjo, pp. 47/197, 92/94, and 125/173. 16 These powers are traditionally called faith, charity, and hope. I have avoided the traditional terms in an effort to avoid conceptualism and to make clear how religious love heals the injured psyche. 17 Naranjo, p. 158/275. 530 Review for Religious MARY WINIFRED Imaging Spiritual Direction Ipn spite of a plethora of spiritual direction programs pur-orting to train those who would be spirithal directors, it remains a fact that gifts of direction are just that--gifts, not learned skills. Spiritual direction involves listening and hearing, discernment, clarity of vision, and assistance in the development of a relationship between an 'individual and God. While learned skills may assist a spiritual director, it is only deep sensitivity devel-oped through years of personal prayer that enables true spiritual direction. It is often easier to say what spiritual direction is not, than to describe what it is. For example, spiritual direction is not psychotherapy; it is not life skills taught by a social worker; it is not catechistic training for specific church membership. " In a pamphlet entitled Spiritual Direction, Henri Nouwen says: "It is of great value to submit our prayer life from time to time to the supervision of a spiritual guide. A spiritual director in this strict sense is not a counselor, a therapist, or an analyst, but a mature fellow Christian to whom we choose to be accountable for our spiritual life and from whom we can expect prayerful guid-ance in our constant struggle to discern God's active presence in our lives, A spiritual director can be called 'soul friend' (Kenneth I2eech) or a" 'spiritual friend' (Tilden Edwards). It is important that he or she practice the disciplines of the Church and the Book and thus become familiar with.the space in which we try to listen to God's voice. The way we relate to our spiritual director depends very much on our needs, our personalities, and external circum-stances. Some people may want to see their spiritual director Mary Winifred CtlS is the Sister-in-Charge of St. Cuthbert's Retreat House; Federal Hill Road; Brewster, New York 10509. ¯ July-August 199Y S31 Winifred ¯ Imaging Spiritual Direction biweekly or monthly, others will find it sufficient to be in touch only when the occasion asks for it. Some people may feel the need for a more extensive sharing with their spiritual director, while others will find seeing him or her once in a while for a few short moments to be sufficient. It is essential that one Christian helps another Christian to enter without fear into the presence of God and there to discern God's call" (8-9). Because the singular aim of spiritual direction is to assist in growth toward God, there are no set guidelines, no conventional measuring sticks, no right or wrong answers, and no concretely attainable goals. While training in prayer and meditation may certainly make one a more articulate spiritual director, neverthe-less spiritual direction remains a vocation unfettered by rules and regulations, by industry standards, or by a financial fee scale. Most spiritual directees practice St. Paul's suggestion in the Letter to the Galatians, "Those who are taught the word must share in all good things with their teacher" (6:6), by making some gift to their directors: homemade bread, flowers from the garden, a book or tape, or some other item; money does not usually enter into a spiritual direction agreement, nor should it. Unlike therapy or counseling, which are professional relationships between a ther-apist or counselor and a client, spiritual direction is a relation-ship of charity and generosity between fellow Christians. Spiritual gifts cannot be purchased; they are not for sale. Three images of the spiritual life may help to indicate ways in which the presence of a director (or mentor or soul friend) may effectively aid us in our growth Godwards. The first image, offered by Thomas H. Green, is :that of a marketplace. The marketplace--or, as Green also labels it, the ldtchen!--is the part of our lives that encompasses a multitude of small, necessary, sometimes tedious tasks which can seem to draw us away from the richness and quiet of our interior lives. "Frequently," Green says, "the demands and frustrations of the apostolate, or of raising a family and earning a living, seem to be merely obstacles to a genuine and deep prayer life. But if I am right in explaining the way the Lord works through these exter-nal activities and events, then we should see them quite differ-ently. Far from being obstacles to our interior growth, they become for us the very sandpaper of our sanctification, at least as important to our growth as what happens in the solitude of for-mal prayer" (121). 532 Review for Religious These are not particularly comfortable thoughts, especially for those of~us who would like to discover a large block of unin-terrupted quiet. Often it is only with the help of a wise spiritual director that we can begin to uncover and acknowledge the wealth of spiritual graces hidden in our routine daily tasks and to see opportunities in what have earlier appeared to be only obstacles. Another, who listens with detached concern, will not only listen to the occasional frustration, tiredness, or boredom in our every-day tasks, but will also hear the voice of God calling to us from what may, on the surface, seem to be 'merely dull routine. As surely as God works in this world, God is also available to us in our work, however .tedious and distracting our marketplace--or kitchen--may feel at times. Another ancient and popular image for the spiritual life is that of a journey or pilgrimage. John Gorsuch describes such a spiri-tual journey as a moving out from a place of assumed comfort, beckoned on by God into the unknown. The image of a journey is particularly apt if considered in its various stages: there is a beginning, with its preparations and planning; the travel itself; and the goal of the journey. In the early stages of beginning a journey, there may be excitement and feverish planning--a guide is helpful here in focusing our attention and helping us to leave behind our unnecessary baggage. I once watched my sister prepar-ing for a backpacking trip: with the advice of an experienced back-packer friend, she was encouraged to take only the essential objects, leaving her backpack light enough to carry and yet stocked with exactly what she would need. But traveling, no matter how well it is planned and prepared, is nevertheless an adventure into the unknown. Often we must stop to ask for directions or other help. In traveling this may be as simple as "Yes, you're on the right road" or "Two more blocks Because the singular aim of spiritual direction is to assist in growth toward God, there are no set guidelines, no conventional measuring sticks, no right or wrong answers, and no concretely attainable goals. July-August 199Y 533 Winifred ¯ Imaging Spiritual Direction and then turn left"; on a spiritual journey, as simple as "Keep lis-tening in your prayer" or "Look in the mirror every morning: you will see a person God loves profoundly." If we are fortunate enough to have a good and reliable guide or director, we are soon back on track. At times, too, the journey's route may seem long and wearisome--turning aside or even giving up altogether may look like the most positive option. Then a wise mentor's word of encouragement may challenge and enliven us to continue with new energy and zeal. And then there is the goal to our journey. Sometimes we are so caught up in the travel itself that we lose sight of the goal. A friend and I once planned to spend a restful week together; iron-ically, we also planned too many sight-seeing activities, with the result that the true goals of the week--to ,rest and enjoy each other's company--were lost. So, on a spiritual journey, it is easy to be distracted by circumstances and surroundings from our true goal of knowing God. We need a wise and discerning director to help us in maintaining a clarity of vision about our goal. A third image is that of epiphany. Adrian van Kaam, from whom I have borrowed this image, describes an epiphany as the "shining forth of eternity in daily people, in often unnoticed events and things" (8). It is an epiphany that comes through in the openness and vulnerability of spiritual direction. Van Kaam goes on to say: "The risen Lord is our life now. Our life must become a hymn of praise to Jesus rising in us . Jesus tells us that the kingdom of God is at hand in each of us. It is already here and now, for we are called to share his resurrection in humanity and history" (65). And surely this is the heart of spiritual direction, that one Christian shares freely with another a word of help, a message of encouragement, a glimpse of eternity. Bibliography Gorsuch, John R An Invitation to the Spiritual Journey. Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1990. Green, Thomas H. Darkness in the Marketplace. Notre Dame: Ave Maria Press, 1981. Nouwen, Henri. Spiritual Direction. Cincinnati: Forward Movement Publications, 1981. Van Kaam, Adrian. The Music of Eternity. Notre Dame: Ave Maria Press, 1990, 534 Review for Religious MARY C. SULLIVAN The Brazier That Is My God: Teresa on True Prayer's Dispositions, Gifts, and Signs It is 2 June 1577. Teresa of Avila is, in effect, under house arrest in the convent of the Discalced Carmelites in Toledo, Spain--a community she founded in 1569.1 She has been on the road for almost ten years, establishing reformed monasteries of Carmelite women and even of Carmelite men committed to the poverty, silence, soli-tude, penance, prayer, and detachment she believes are envisioned in the primitive Rule. But now for the last year she has been ordered to remain in one of her convents (she chooses Toledo) because of political tensions between the Calced and Discalced Carmelites. She is regarded by the Calced as a ringleader who must be kept out of cir-culation. To add to her isolation, on 18 June 1577 the papal nuncio Nicol~is Ormaneto, who has been friendly to the reform, will die, and his successor, Felipe Sega, will come to Spain in August already prejudiced against Teresa and her work. He will later call her "a. restless gadabout woman, disobedient and stubborn, who under the cloak of devotion invented wicked opinions, going about breaking enclosure, contrary to the decree of the Council of Trent and the orders of her superiors, teaching as if she were a doctor, in contempt of the teaching of St. Paul, who com-manded women not to teach."2 Mary C. Sullivan RSM works in the College of Liberal Arts of Rochester Institute of Technology. She may be addressed at Sisters of Mercy; 18 Upton Park; Rochester, New York 14607. heritage j~uly-August 1995 535 Sullivan ¯ The Brazier That Is My God Prologue But now, in early June 1577, during her enforced reclusion, Teresa is in Toledo, writing a book on prayer at the request of her confessor, Jer6nimo Gracifin, a Discalced priest. By the end of July, after one month of work on Las Moradas (The Interior Castle, or The Dwelling Places3), she will be recalled to Avila, where against her own desire she has again been elected prioress of Incarnation, the Carmelite convent she entered as a young woman and from which in 1562 she will found San Jos4, the first convent of the Reform, across town in Avila. But the Carmelite authorities do not want Teresa to be the prioress of Incarnation. They will call for a second vote, and when fifty-four sisters at Incarnation persist in electing Teresa, these sisters will be ex-communicated and denied the sacraments. On 3 December of this same year, John of the Cross, the confessor and spiritual director at Incarnation, will be abducted from Avila at night by Calced friars and taken to the windowless closet cell in the Toledo monastery of the Calced Carmelites where he will remain impris-oned for six months. Simultaneous with all this, the modern form of the Spanish Inquisition is in full swing in Seville, having been operating as a powerful ecclesiastical tribunal for almost a hundred years. The manuscript of Teresa's Life has been in the Inquisition's possession for two years, after being denounced to it by the dis-appointed and vindictive Princess of Eboli.4 In the midst of all this difficulty, most of which deeply dis-tressed her, in the six-month period from 2 June to 29 November 1577 (which will actually amount to only two months of writing time), Teresa will start and complete her masterwork, The Dwelling Places, the treatise on prayer and virtue which more than any other of her writings led Pope Paul VI in 1970 to declare her a doctor of the universal church. Not once in this volume does Teresa refer explicitly to the external affairs which weigh so heavily on her mind and heart, though her letters of this period amply demon-strate her concern, and dismay. Rather, in this magnificent book about a human person's gradually increasing communion with the God dwelling within her, Teresa speaks about the prayer of per-sonal conversion, the prayer of reordering and reordered charity within the human heart. And so The Dwelling Places is a book which may contribute immeasurably to the present-day conversion of the church, of religious life, and of the hearts of individual Christian women and men. 536 Review for Reli

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 46.1 of the Review for Religious, January/February 1987. ; R~.\'~l~w ~oR R~.~;iotJs ( ISSN 0034-639X), published every two months, is edited in collaboration wflh faculty members of St. Louis University's Department of Theological Studies. The editorial offices are located at 3601 Lindell Blvd., Room 428; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. R~.:w~.w FOR R~,~;Iou.~ is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO © 1987 by R~-:vw:w ~.'OR R~-:~.~t;n)tJs. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription: U.S.A. $11.00 a year; $20.00 for two years. Other countries: add $4.00 per year(surface mail). Airmail(Book Rate): $18.00 per 3'ear. For subscription orders or change of address, write: R~:\'~r:\v ~'t)a REl.~;IOtlS: P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Daniel F.X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.SoN.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editor Jan./ Feb., 1987 Volume 46 Number I Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to Rl.:VlEW FOR R~:l,lc.mt;s: Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd., St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Richard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave., Berkeley, CA 94709. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REv~:w you R~:~,w.~ot~s: Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. A major portion of each issue is also available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually impaired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. Review for Religious Volume 46, 1987 Editorial Offices 3601 Lindell Boulevard, Room 428 Saint Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Daniel F.X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editor REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is published in January, March, May, July, September, and 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 Microfilms International; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. Copyright © 1987 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. A major portion of each issue of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is also regularly available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually impaired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East.23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. Christ: the Heart and Soul of Vocation John R. Quinn On October 4, Feast of St. Francis of Assisi, Archbishop Quinn addressed the fol-lowing homily in the course of a Eucharist celebrated for religious of San Francisco. It provides a fitting celebration of the conclusion of his commission's work. Archbishop Quinn may be addressed at: Office of the Archbishop; 445 Church Street; San Francisco, California 94114-1799. One week from today I will arrive in Rome. A few days later I will present to the Holy Father the final report of the Pontifical Commission on religious life in the United States. One of the tasks assigned to the Pontifical Commission was to under-take a study of the reasons why young people do not enter religious life in greater numbers. It was a long and exacting study involving a large number of priests, religious and lay people. Clearly, it is excessive to believe that any one single cause can explain the phenomenon of the decline in vocations. Just as obvious is the fact that there are causes internal to the life of the Church as well as causes which touch all of human society. Yet there is one striking factor in the decline of vocations which emerged in our study and it seems to me very fitting to touch on it in the context of this Feast of St. Francis. One of the first things that comes to mind when we think of St. Francis is poverty. Poverty was to be one of the hallmarks of his sanctity. But what was the meaning of that poverty for Francis? Was it a protest against the excesses of the rich? A statement about social justice? A wit-ness of solidarity with the oppressed? There may have been some of these factors, of course. But the overwhelming and consuming reason for the poverty of 3 4/Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 Francis was his love for Christ Jesus our Lord. His poverty was a power-ful witness that those things I used to consider gain I have now reappraised as loss in the light of Christ. I have come to rate all as loss in the light of the surpassing knowledge of my Lord Jesus Christ. For his sake, I have for-feited everything; I have accounted all else rubbish so that Christ may be my wealth and I may be in him . I wish to know Christ and the power flowing from his resurrection; likewise to know how to share in his sufferings by being formed into the pattern of his death" (Ph 3:7- 10). For Francis, poverty was his witness to the centrality and Lordship of Christ. In our study of the decline in vocations, we did not hear much about poverty. But we did learn that if we want to attract vocations, the reli-gious dimension of our lives must be unambiguous, and that religious must be more willing to share that dimension than they have been. It is not that American religious are not contemplative and spiritual men and women. They are, and our study shows that they are increas-ingly so. Yet Americans are somewhat inclined to regard religion as a private, interior affair not to be discussed. And this is the weakness. The rich treasure of our relationship with Christ and his meaning for us has to come out more. The story needs telling. But how can we tell the story of a relationship we do not have? And so the contemplative dimension of our lives is the foundation of every-thing else. It is the contemplative dimension that makes it possible for the religious to say to Christ what the lover said in Christopher Fry's play: "Everything I loved before has come to one meeting place in you. And you have gone out into everything I love." So deep was this reality in Francis that he spent whole nights repeat-ing the simple prayer,,,"My God and my all!" When we look at the per-vasive contemplative dimension of Francis' life, it is significant to recall that there are few saints who have had a more universal impact in all cul-tures, an impact that is strong and enduring even today. We need not fear that the contemplative dimension of our lives will reduce the effectiveness of our witness for justice or our service to the world. It will only enhance it. Think of the human service given by Francis himself, but think of the tremendous inspiration he has been for justice and peace through seven centuries. That inspiration cannot be sep-arated from his holiness, and his holiness is rooted in his union with Christ. The path of discipleship is perfectly articulated in a few brief words: Christ: The Heart and Soul "Those whom he foreknew he predestined to share the image of his Son" (Rm 8:29). Francis showed that one and only path of discipleship when he grew into the mystery of the Cross. Fittingly the Church brings to mind on his feast the words, "May I never boast of anything but the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ" (Ga 6:14). Without the Cross it is impossible to "share the image of his Son" who freely chose the Cross for himself as a witness of love and obedi-ence, as a witness of poverty and humility. Without the Cross there is no discipleship. But we should not forget that without the Cross there is no vision, no understanding. The Cross is the key to understanding the Church and human history. How can one learn the difficult grammar of the Cross without years of persevering and serious prayer? Thoreau, when asked why he was living in the wilderness, answered: "I do not want to come to my death and dis-cover that I have never lived." At death we will discover we have never lived the Christian life unless we have learned through the contemplative dimension to love and understand the mystery of the Cross. But what is this Cross for us? It is not wood. It is persons, places, circumstances, situations. Just as for the Lord, so for us, the Cross is what is absurd, ridiculous, frustrating, the unexplainable. The Cross is when we are powerless: no matter what we do, it makes no difference. The Cross is pain, it is loneliness, it is lack of support. It is confusion, uncertainty. But the Cross is also death -- it is letting go. It is surrendering every-thing into the Father's hands, and knowing that he will be glorified in us and in Christ Jesus. This mystery of the Cross we suffer both in the Church and in the world. We suffer before the tensions and divisions in the Church. We suffer before the massive and overwhelming injustices in the world. But in the midst of the Church and in the midst of that world, reli-gious are called to be the bearers of hope because they have lived and understood the Mystery of the Cross, and have personally discovered that the message of the Cross is complete absurdity to those who are headed for ruin, but to us who are experiencing salvation it is the power of God . Yes, Jews demand "signs" and Greeks look for "wisdom," but we preach Christ crucified. Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God (I Co 1:18; 22-25). It is the serious, prayerful contemplation of the Mystery of the Cross that yields the kind of love which is "patient; love [which] is kind., love [which] is never rude, [which] is not self-seeking, [which] is not prone to anger" (1 Co 13). It is this contemplative dimension which makes it Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 possible to say that "there is no limit to love's forbearance, to its trust, its hope, its power to endure" (ibid). And so it is this contemplative dimension that imparts the vision of the Church described by Gregory the Great some thirteen centuries ago: Because the daybreak or dawn changes gradually from darkness into light, the Church. is fittingly called daybreak or dawn. While she is being led from the night of infidelity to the light of faith, she is opened gradually to the splendor of heavenly brightness, just as dawn yields to the day after darkness. The Song of Songs says aptly: "Who is she who moves forward like the advancing dawn?" Holy Church, inasmuch as she keeps searching for the rewards of eternal life, has been called the dawn . The dawn intimates that the night is over; it does not yet pro-claim the full light of day . While it dispels the darkness and wel-comes the light, it holds both of them, the one mixed with th6 other. Are not all of us who follow the truth in this life daybreak and dawn? While we dp some things which already belong to the light, we are not free from the remnants of darkness. And so to Christ Jesus, crucified in weakness but risen in power, be glory in us and in the Church now and forever. Amen. From Tablet to Heart: Internalizing New Constitutions I and I! Address: by Patricia Spillane, M.S.C. Price: $1.25 per copy, plus postage. Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 "1 Have Called You Friends": The Priest Today John Paul H On July 5, 1986, Pope John Paul ordained ninety-two men to the priesthood in Medellin, Colombia. In the eucharistic celebration, the theme of which was "Fidelity to the Priestly Vocation," the Pope offered the following reflections. This article is based on the text which appeared in L'Osservatore Romano (18 August, 1986, pp. 4-5). Beloved brothers in the priesthood of Christ: "No longer do I call you servants., but I have called you friends, for all that I have heard from my Father I have made known to you" (Jn 15:15). During the celebration of the Last Supper Jesus addressed these words to the apostles as he instituted the sacrament of his body and blood and charged them: "Do this in memory of me" (Lk 22:19). These words are linked in a most particular way with the priestly voca-tion. Christ makes the apostles priests, entrusting into their hands the sacrament of his body and blood. That body which will be offered upon the cross, that blood which will be shed (now under the species of bread and wine), constitute the memorial of the sacrifice of the Cross of Christ. In the Upper Room, Jesus calls his apostles friends because he has given them his body and blood. From that moment on, sacramentally real-izing this sacrifice, they were to work in his name, representing him per-sonally, in persona Christi. In this consists the essential greatness of the ministerial priesthood -- in which, today, you, sons of the Church of Colombia, of the Church of Medellin, will be made participants through the Sacrament of Orders. It is a very important day in your lives and in the life of this Church which, on this occasion, I wish to greet cordially. 7 Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 I affectionately greet the Christian people that has assembled this evening. The Christian nobility of your families -- nurseries for priestly and religious vocations -- and their deep adherence to the Church have been the characteristics of this beloved region of Colombia. The Priest's Vocation Is God's Initiative Today's liturgy indicates to us in a particularly profound way the truth about the priestly vocation. A vocation is first of all an initiative of God himself. God continuously calls individuals to the priesthood, just as in the past he called the prophets. How striking is the description of that call given by Jeremiah: "Before I formed you in the womb I knew you" (Jr 1:5). The "knowledge" of God signifies election, the call to partici-pate in the fulfillment of his salvific plan. In the light of the Mystery of the Incarnation, this choice is closely linked with Christ as Priest: "[God] chose us in him even before the foundation of the world" (Ep 1:4). "Before you were born I consecrated you" (Jr 1:5). Consecration to God is full and total dedication for one's whole life to a charge or mission, under the action of the Spirit of the Lord who anoints and sends (Is 61 : 1). Through Holy Orders the priest participates in the anointing and mission of Christ the Priest and Good Shepherd: "He has anointed me to preach good news to the poor"(Lk 4:18). For Eternity From this it follows that the mission of the priesthood carries the seal of eternity. You are consecrated forever. It is not a decision that is sub-ject to the fluctuations of time or the vicissitudes of life. It cannot be founded upon transient sentiments or feelings. It involves, as authentic love, permanence in fidelity. You are called to remain always with the Lord, tO perpetuate friendship with him day after day, in order to model yourselves after his heart. Only in the light of this love can the evangel-ical requirements that the priestly ministry involves be understood and lived. You must put your youth fully and without reserve at the service of Christ in order to become instrumenis of salvation without frontiers. "Be not afraid of them" (Jr 1:8), we are told in the first reading from the prophet Jeremiah. There is no room for doubt and discouragement. "For I am with you" (Jr 1:8), the prophet repeats to us. Human weak-ness is not an obstacle when we know how to recognize it and place it faithfully and confidently in the hands of God. The Risen Christ empha-sizes this presence: "It is I" (Mt 28:20). Thus is it possible to carry out the mission of the Lord: "to all to whom I send you, you shall go" (Jr 1:7). I Have Called You Friends "Behold I have put my words in your mouth" (Jr 1:9). These are "words of eternal life" (Jn 6:68) which sustain the generosity of the one sent and assure the fruit of the apostolate, even if through the Mystery of the Cross. Is it legitimate to fear the word and the call of God? No! One may fear human weakness, but God's call -- never. In fact, it always indicates a marvelous path: it calls one to a particular participation in the "great things of God." It is thus wise to listen attentively to the words of the Apostle in the letter to the Ephesians: "I, therefore, a prisoner for the Lord, beg you to lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all lowliness and meekness, with patience" (Ep 4:1-2). Biblical Poverty Beloved sons, consider as well that the journey towards priestly holi-ness and the apostolate is one of biblical poverty. When we recognize our weakness, it is then that we are strong (see 2 Co 12:10). This attitude of humility, which is authenticity and truth, will lead you to recognize with joy that the priestly vocation is a gift of Christ's heart and a choice that reaches the depths of one's heart and mind. In the priestly vocation one experiences the contrast between the power and holiness of the Master who calls and the fragility and littleness of those who have been chosen. You have surely experienced within your-selves a sense of awe before the sublimity and the greatness of the mission that is being entrusted to you; but feel also the security and joy of knowing that it is Jesus who calls, that he will always be with you and give you the strength and joy to be faithful in his service. And he never abandons his disciples. Priesthood: A Gift for the Church The priestly vocation is a gift for the Church. In the Church there are diverse gifts, as the Apostle teaches us: "Grace was given to each of us according to the measure of Christ's gift" (Ep 4:7). All of these different gifts constitute an essential and unrepeatable "part" of "Christ's gift." In reality, all graces and charisms serve jointly "for building up the body of Christ" (Ep 4:12). Among these gifts, the ministerial priesthood takes on a particular importance. We participate in a special way in Christ's priesthood. Even if "from his fullness have we all received, grace upon grace" (Jn l:16), each participates in "Christ's gift" (Ep 4:7) according to particular graces and charisms, always at the service of the ecclesial community, which is the Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 communion of all the faithful. It is necessary to recognize, love and live the diversity and particularity of the gifts, precisely in order to build up the "one Body" of Christ that is the Church, animated by "one Spirit" (Ep 4:4). To the extent that you joyously love your priesthood, you will feel called to appreciate, respect, awaken and cultivate the other charisms of the ecclesial community in order to build up the Body of Christ unto perfection and fullness (see Ep 4:i2). The priestly identity is thus a joyous reality which we experience when we love the gift received in order to serve and improve others, with the commitment to "lay down our lives" like the Good Shepherd (see Jn 10:15). Give Yourselves in Love for Christ, for the Church If the priestly vocation is such a great gift for the Church, this means that you no longer belong to yourselves, but have become the property of Christ, who lives in this Church and awaits you in the many fields of the apostolate. You belong to Christ andto the Church, his "spotless Bride," whom "Christ loved . . . and gave himself up for" (Ep 5:25). This is what is asked of you: that you love. Love of Christ and love of the priesthood would not be possible with-out deep love for the Church, which, notwithstanding the limitations proper to her pilgrim state, does not cease to be the Body of Christ, his Spouse, and the People of God. Serve the flock as priest "not by constraint but willingly, not for shameful gain but eagerly., being examples to the flock" (1 Pt 5:2-3). May the community be able to see in you heralds of the Gospel, ded-icated to this mission of which the world has such urgent need -- a full time dedication, without invading other fields and secular occupations that do not concern you. May you be found in the place assigned to you by the bishop, whose collaborators you will be, in loyal unity, as solic-itous pastors, who in everything reflect their sacramental condition: in the soul's depths, in pastoral activity and in external behavior. To follow Christ also means to fee! truly Church, with filial love, ready for responsible collaboration and with a prompt and generous adher-ence to her discipline and norms, loyally cooperating with your bishop. Only through remaining with Christ, living with him, letting your lives be formed by him, will it be possible to proclaim him with decisiveness, frankness and ardor, communicating the experience that one lives in the mystery of and in communion with the Church, "the universal sacrament of salvation" (Ad Gentes, 1). I Have Called You Friends / 11 Abide in My Love In this way, beloved brothers and sisters, we today experience in a special way -- all of us here present -- the Father's love of which Christ speaks to the apostles on the eve of his death: "As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you" (Jn 15:9). In Christ, the Father's love becomes for us an inexhaustible source of life and light. "The priesthood is the love of the Heart of Jesus,'" said the holy Cure d'Ars, the second centenary of whose birth we celebrate this year, the year of your ordina-tion. Truly, "greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends" (Jn 15:13). It is Christ himself who lays down his life for us. And this "laying down of his life," this sacrifice, remains in the Church and, through the Church, remains in humanity from one gen-eration to the next. It remains through the word of the Gospel and in the Eucharist, the sacrament of the death and resurrection of Christ. It remains, therefore, through the ministry of priests. And through this ministry it renews itself and makes itself present in all ages. From the height of the Cross and from the heart of his salvific sacri-fice, Christ continues to say to us: "Abide in my love" (Jn 15:9). The Lord today tells each of you in a very special way, dear priestly candidates: "If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love" (Jn 15:10). Yes! "Just as I have kept my Father's commandments and abide in his .love" (ibid). In these words the divine bond or relationship transposed to the dimension of human existence is truly manifested. We know well the commandments that constitute the solidity of this permanent bond in the love of Christ. We know very well the principles of priestly life, the requirements of priestly discipline that constitute the firmness of this response. It is truly a matter of sacrificing oneself in following Christ, and this excludes any form of self-establishment, and demands the greatest possi-ble readiness, as is required of him who has nowhere to lay his head (see Lk 9:57-62). It is a commitment that embraces all one's existence, as the Messiah, the Son of God, demands, who with his word calms the tem-pest, heals the sick, evangelizes the poor, drives out demons, reconciles humanity so as to regenerate it to life. He demands full submission to the will of his Father, who may lead you, like Peter, where you do not wish to go (see Jn 21:18). But he always leads the way, lovingly carrying the same cross that he places upon our shoulders and lightens. In fact, the Lord says: "My yoke is easy and my burden is light" (Mt I 1:30). A life faithful to these requirements, a life lived with this love, simulta-neously opens before us the prospect of divine joy. "These things I have 12/ Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full" (Jn 15:11). "This is true paschal joy" (Presbyterorum Ordinis, 11), characteristic of the priestly identity and the prelude to the flowering of priestly vocations. This is the meaning of the priestly vocation and of the service~of, or priestly ministry to, the People of God. "You Did Not Choose Me, But I Chos~ You" "You did not choose me, but I chose you" (Jn 15:16), says the Lord. These words we have all had branded on our hearts, you and I! They are Jesus' words in the familiar and intimate context of the Last Supper, when the Lord lovingly opens his heart to his disciples. It shows the gratuitous nature of his choice of those whom he constitutes his ministers, those to whom he entrusts a mission of particular importance. It is God who initiates the dialogue in salvation history, interwoven with the mar-velous reality of his love. It is he who takes the initiative with the trans-forming power of his Word that re-creates everything. "He first loved us" (Jn 4:9). For this reason the Lord adds: "I chose you and appointed you that you should go and bear fruit and that your fruit should abide" (Jn 15:16). Just as the fruit of the first sowing of the Gospel in this land and on this continent has abided in an admirable way, so will your fruit abide today, in these last years of the second Christian millennium, as the fifth centen-nial of the beginning of evangelization in Latin America approaches. Why does this fruit of Christian life abide? Perhaps because those who sowed it knew, at the same time, how to pray, to ask in Christ's name: "So that whatever you ask the Father in my name, he may give it to you" (Jn 15:16). And he will give it to us as well. Fraternal love will be the guarantee of our union with Christ and the efficacious sign of evangelization: "This I command you, to love one another" (Jn 15:17). The efficacy of the Gospel produces fruit that our eyes often do not see. The Lord's grace waits secretly in men's hearts. Today we are living off the seed which generations of generous missionaries planted in the fer-tile Colombian soil and God's grace has caused to sprout and bear fruit. Beyond Frontiers On this day which is so important for the Church, let us look to the future with confidence. The Church thanks you for the work that you are doing, beloved brother bishops and religious superiors, in the realm of vocations, with the cooperation of solicitous and suitable experts in forma-tion, attentive to the norms of the Church and the integral spiritual, academic and pastoral formation of candidates to the priesthood and reli- 1 Have Called You Friends gious life. I thank and bless you for the enormous amount of work which has been carried out in the vocations apostolate. The increase here must bring about the generous opening of hearts with a missionary spirit and a sense of co-responsibility, so that necessary help can be given to the other sister Churches which today suffer a shortage of priests. Looking to Mary, Mother of the Church and loving Mother of priests, in this extremely solemn moment, each of us will feel invited to imitate her motherly love: "In her life the Virgin has been a model of that motherly love with which all who join in the Church's apostolic mission for the regeneration of mankind should be agnimated" (Lumen Gentioum, 65). "The form of this world is passing away" (1 Co 7:31). The genera-tions of all peoples and nations pass away. But the words of the Lord do not pass away. Jesus' words pronounced at the Last Supper will now be made a reality through the Sacrament of Orders that we are about to confer upon the candidates here present. The entire Church of Colombia assembled around her bishops, the universal Church assembled around the Successor of Peter, raises its confident prayer to the Father for these deacons who today, in the city of Medellin, will receive the order of the priesthood. On Mirrors Mirrors can tell me only what I know, That with the rub of time all thing~ grow old. Nothing they hold to stir the still conviction, This must be -- Must wisely be. Wherefore, my summer over, In my skies the first sharp hint of snow, I turn all mirrors to the wall. Let come what may, This is a season now of no surprising -- Nearer the promised Springtime past surmising When God who gave me life Will claim it. Sister Cecilia Ward, S.C. Sacred Heart Convent 6225 Walnut Street Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania 15206 Mythology, Revitalization and the Refounding of Religious Life Gerald A. Arbuckle, S.M. Father Arbuckle, well known to our readers, will be directing a workshop on the sub-ject of the refounding of religious orders this summer under the auspices of REVIEW FOR RE~Jr~OUS. Just completing a sabbatical year of study and formative prayer expe-rience, he returns to the East Asian Pastoral Institute (P.O. Box1815; Manila 2800; Philippines), where he may be addressed. A myth is a story or tradition which claims to enshrine a fundamental truth or inner meaning about the world and human life. Contrary to popu-lar belief, myths are not childish stories nor mere prescientific explana-tions of the world nor are myths to be equated with falsities or fantasies. Myths are deeply serious insights about reality. Without myths we are unable to determine what things really are, what to do with them, or how to be in relation to them. We come to this conclusion in more recent times because of the writ-ings of people like Raimundo Panikkar,' Karl Jaspers and Paul Ricoeur,2 but particularly because of the careful research of cultural anthropologists into the role of myths in traditional religions. Scripture and theological studies have benefited from this rediscovery of the role of myth in society.3 Myth is recognized as essentially the way we talk .about our religious encounter with God and with the spiritual world. "Unlike historical or abstract truth," writes Avery Dulles, "mys-tery cannot be described or positively defined. It can only be evoked."' The use of symbols and mythical language is crucial for the evoking of mystery. The role of myths in the revitalization of a religious congregation is also acknowledged. For example, in a recent significant reflection on the 14 Mythology, Revitalization and Refounding Religious Life future of religious life it is said that "Central to the project of revitalization is the need to deepen the mythic roots of one's own life and those of one's community. ''~ But the nature of myths and their precise function in revitalization is poorly researched. This article is an introduc-tory attempt to respond to this paucity of research into the function of myths within religious-life revitalization. I will aim -- to clarify the nature and types of myths and the ways in which they are interpreted especially by cultural anthropologists; -- to reflect on the role of myths for religious-life revitalization and refounding. Myths, Truth and History Anthropologically a myth is a type of narrative which seeks to express in an imaginative or symbolic form a belief about the human person or culture, the world or deity, which cannot adequately be expressed in ordi-nary language. Myths reveal the "meaning and significance of spiritual reality, and how it interpenetrates and affects the familiar physical world. ,,6 Myths are concerned about the meaning of human existence at the deepest possible level, about the problems of evil, the source of crea-tion or how chaos became cosmos, the origins of different cultures. By mythically defining and structuring the world, the human person is able to grasp to some degree or other the regions beyond human control which deeply influence well-being and destiny. Like sacred icons, myths are the "medium of revelation rather than of man's self-expression . They are accepted., as handed down from the gods themselves.''7 Sometimes individuals, e.g., Old Testament prophets, are seen as the agents of the revelations of the gods in the estab-lishment or revitalization of myths. But the myths remain as the revela-tions of mysteries rather than clever illustrations or didactic entertainments on the part of mere human persons. Like all symbols, myths can evoke deep emotional responses and a sense of mystery in those who accept them, simply because they develop out of the very depths of human experience of birth, life, death. No matter how hard we seek to deepen our grasp of the meaning of myths, they still remain somewhat ambiguous and mysterious because they attempt to articulate what cannot be fully articulated. Myths can maintain their influence even though people do not con-sciously accept them. Take the first myth of Genesis, the creation story. Most Western peoples, whether they adhere to the Jewish/Christian faith 16/Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 or not, accept the myth's conclusions that people are sacred and have inalienable rights. Myths articulate attitudes toward reality. These atti-tudes can maintain a powerful influence on behavior over a long period.8 Myths, then, are about reality. They are efforts to explain what usu-ally is beyond empirical observation and to some degree or other outside human experience. They speak of reality and experience other than the physical world. This is an important point that needs to be understood if confusion is to be avoided. Myth and empirical truth do not contradict one another. Myths, remember, reveal truths that cannot be grasped through empirical observation. Likewise myth and history do not contradict each other. Each relates to facts from its own standpoint; history observes facts from the "outer physical side, myth from the inner spiritual side. ,9 It can happen that the symbols used to express an inner meaning or truth about life are histor-ically untrue. For example, in the Genesis story we are t01d the vital truth that God created the world. The symbols used, e.g., the number of days for creation, are not all necessarily historically true. But the myth in this case is not out to tell about an event with total historical accuracy. That is not its purpose. Sometimes a myth is totally false historically, even though it is described as though it were an historical event, e.g., the story of Job, Noah's ark. Recall the key insight: myths are out to reveal truths that'mere human observation itself cannot grasp. All kinds of symbols are used to express these truths. Myths sometimes include actual historical events but in order to give them special significance. For example, in Disneyland, Los Angeles, Abraham Lincoln is brilliantly re-presented in the Main Street Opera House, delivering a speech on liberty~ An actual historical event is portrayed. But the props used are not historical, e.g., the dramatic use of lights, the nobility of the furnishings. But these props are rightly used to convey an atmosphere of reverence for one who is "above the normal human person." Lincoln is now seen to embody key virtues of the nation's founding myth, e.g., respect for liberty, democracy and human dignity. The myth gives an inner meaning to an actual historical event. Lincoln saved the nation because he embodied the virtues on which the nation is built. Interpretation of Myths Commentators generally interpret myths in one of three different ways: functionally, symbolically or structurally. Sometimes authors blend aspects of two or all three ways of interpreting myths. This blending is in-valuable. Myths are too rich to allow only one method of interpretation. Mythology, Revitalization and Refounding Religious Life / 17 According to the functional way of interpretation, myths justify exist-ing social institutions or ways of doing things,'° People feel a deep need for an authority that transcends rational argument to justify what is happen-ing. The rise of democracy was justified in part by the myth of the "social contract." In Nazi Germany programs of vicious race-hatred were justified in part by a revival of the ancient German mythology of race superiority.'~ Symbolic interpretations assume that mythology is a poetic way of com-municating; the meanings of myths are to be found beneath the surfaces of stories. Carl Jung, Sigmund Freud and their followers support this form of interpretation. Jung believes that "the primitive mentality does not invent myths, it experiences them.''~2 There is a "collective uncon-scious," the psychic background which is common to all people, though at the same time supra-personal. There are archetypes, "forms or images of a collective nature," which are active in every mind, remnants of "his-torical mental states" which have been transmitted by traditions, migrations and heredity. These archetypes are identical with the themes of myths. Jung concludes that myths are not charters to legitimate cul-tural institutions, but psychological realities or expressions of the archetypes or primordial images of the collective unconscious. They rep-resent inherited forms present in every human person. Myths give a "local habitation and a name" to these general forms and give them "real-ity" by revealing them to the consciousness. Anthropologists, however, criticize Jung for treating myth as an irreducible mental property.'3 His explanation of myth "denies to culture any formative role in its symbol-ism.'"' For Freud and his followers myth is a type of daydream. It uses the symbolism of dreams articulating unconscious desires and conflicts. But the likening of myth to a daydream does not explain why people build myths in preference to just any daydream and why the sharing of myths is a significant social and cultural fact.'S As w~th Jung, Freudians fail to acknowledge the cultural influences in the evolution of myths. The source of myth for them is far too much dependent on the individual.~6 Many contemporary anthropologists approach the analysis of myths from a symbolic point of view. They claim however that the meanings of symbols are strongly influenced by cultural, rather than individual, experiences. The structural interpretation of myths is a rather recent development. A myth is broken into its different parts, its incidents and motifs, and the interpreter reflects on the ways in which they are interrelated. The aim is to uncover the underlying structure of a myth like a cross-section of the Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 geological strata beneath a landscape. The significance is not sought in the narrative but rather in the arrangement of the underlying strata. One structural pattern common in myths is the interplay of opposites and their resolution. For example the present state of things is the opposite of what was "in the beginning.'''7 In the Genesis story of the fall, Adam and Eve (and their descendants) must work hard to survive. Not so in the begin-ning. In a later myth the opposition will be resolved: "The wolf shall be ¯ a guest of the lamb .The baby shall play by the cobra's den"(Is 1 1: 6,8). A leading structuralist, anthropologist Claude Levi-Strauss, sees in myths "the emergence of a logic operating by means of binary oppositions and coinciding with the first manifestations of symbolism."'8 One of the prime functions of myth is to reconcile apparent contradictions in cultural life. Anthropologist Victor Turner has a quasi-structuralist approach to myth. Myths are for him liminal phenomena; they are recounted fre-quently at a time or in a state that is "betwixt and between," that is, when people are confused or without their traditional cultural supports. Myths recount a period in which the uncertainties and tensions of being in a state of confusion do not exist.'9 For example, the psalmist in the midst of desolation turns to the mythical expression of the Lord's great-ness and concern for Israel. The recounting of this myth gives him con-solation: "I remember the deeds of the Lord; yes I remember your won-ders of old . You led your people like a flock under the care of Moses and Aaron" (Ps 77:12,21). I will return to this insight later. Types of Myths Creation and Regeneration Myths Here are several relevant types of myths: While all cultures have specific myths through which they respond to questions of identity or behavior, it is in their creation myths that the most basic answers are to be found. Not only are creation myths the most all-embracing of mythic proclamations, addressing themselves to the widest range of questions of meaning, but they are also the most pro-found. Take, for example, the New Zealand Maori myth of creation, a myth that is extraordinarily dramatic and rich in language. Being- Itself evolves "from the conception" through thought, spirit and matter to the great peak, the "blaze of day from the sky. ,20 Creation myths like this speak about first causes; in them people express their primary understanding of mankind, the world, time and space. Mythology, Revitalization and Refounding Religious Life By way of summary,2~ many old creation myths place an absolute real-ity as the very foundation of all life. This reality is both transcendent, i.e., true for all times and places, and immanent, i.e., true in the here and now. To be both transcendent and immanent, the reality is believed to be eternal. While this absolute reality, in whatever way it is defined, is behind all myths, it is most obviously so in strict creation myths. These myths are concerned about the relation of the known to the unknowable, e.g., in the Genesis myth the relation between the world and God. Often the original reality out of which the Absolute created the world is consid-ered divine chaos. It is a chaos out of which order and dis-order can develop. Rather than being "something" negative, chaos is vigorously positive inasmuch as order can emerge from it. Anthropologist Mircea Eliade believes that there is a creation dimen-sion behind every kind of myth. Myth, he says, "is always the recital of a creation; it tells how something was accomplished, began to be. It is for this reason that myth is bound up with ontology; it speaks of realities, ~ ,~22 of what really nappeneu. For him "reality" means "sacred reality." And the sacred reality belongs to sacred time, the time when creation took place. In profane time people carry on the ordinary business of daily living. It is sacred time. which gives meaning to life; sacred time breaks into people's lives through rituals in which people re-enact, re-live the holy or the original creation, their emergence out of chaos. In short they relive the founding myths of their cultures. The reliving of the founding myth is called a regeneration ritual. It is particularly relevant when a people's cultural identity seems to be falling into chaos or is threatened with chaos. People feel the need to relive their original founding, and thus win back their identity. Regeneration rituals are not commemorative. They are always founda-tional or re-creative in their demands on people. That is, people are expected to undergo a deep interior and exterior change or revitalization; they must experience a new creation out of chaos. They are to be passive and active in the presence of the revealing absolute.2~ To use Eliade's lan-guage, in regeneration rituals sacred time breaks into profane time. Sacred time is ritual time, the brief transcendence through festival. It con-sists of those rites in which people re-enact the holy, aboriginal events of their culture. The escape into sacred time intimates immortality, a rescue in any case from the meaningless. Charter Myths These myths legitimate actions in the present or in the future. For example, people who are influenced by the Genesis myth of creation feel 20/Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 legitimated in their work of dominating nature.2' The American political system of checks and balances is legitimated in the Constitution myth. Identity Myths These myths, intimately related to creation myths, provide individuals and cultures with a sense of belonging. The Old Testament is filled with myths that give identity to the Israelites, e.g., the Exodus narrative. In identity myths there are often heroes, including historical figures, who symbolize this identity and whose lives indicate how this identity is to be achieved or restored, e.g., Old Testament prophets, Abraham Lincoln, J. E Kennedy. Eschatological Myths These are myths about the end of an age or the end of time. They speak about key issues of life, death and resurrection, future rewards and punishments, even an apocalyptic ihsight into a future age of peace and plenty.~ These myths often tell of a former age of peace and contentment that was lost but is to be restored if people act rightly. They are the driv-ing force behind the way people live their morality and institute revolu-tionary movements. Communism offers its golden age of the classless soci-ety, one to be shared by those who battle against oppressors. The col-lective champion, or culture hero, in this myth is the proletariat which struggles against and, eventually overcomes, the bourgeoisie. Dominant, Supportive and Directional Myths In the narrative story of a people, different myths may be intercon-nected into what is called a mythology. Generally, one myth will stand out over the others in the mythology. This is called a dominant myth. The other myths complement or support this dominant myth. Some myths, called directional myths, indicate how the foundational or creation myth is to be lived out. The written American Constitution, which established the political system, could be considered a directional myth. Myth Management New myths are created and old myths are maintained in existence, are constantly revised or die out because of a variety and flow of forces, changing needs and new perceptions. We call the creation, revision or disappearance of myths myth management. Myth management occurs through such processes as myth extension, substitution, drift and revitaliza-tion. We will briefly examine each of these processes. Mythology, Revitalization and Refounding Religious Life/91 Myth Extension When people ransack the past to find legitimation for the present, there is myth extension. For example, American politicians are apt to quote great politicians of the past, or other cultural heroes, in order to legitimate what they are saying about the present situation. In the process of extension the myth is applied to new needs. Sometimes revision or extension occurs if only the meaning of the specific myths, not the words themselves, is changed. The American foundational myth -- which includes the "revelation" that "all men are created equal," -- for exam-ple -- is still vigorous, even though we have come to include blacks and all women in an originally very restrictive assertion. Although the mean-ing of the myth is much extended, the "fact" of equality is still consid-ered to be unchallenged. Notice that the community itself is involved in one way or another in revising or extending the myth's meanings or emphases. Myth Substitution Myth substitution is a difficult and often painful process. Marxist Rus-sian leaders seek to manipulate their people, often under the threat of violence, by inventing new myths to legitimate their power and suprem-acy. 26 Sometimes a new myth becomes acceptable through a process of education, persuasion and example. Paul VI deliberately used ritual experi-ences to help people grasp Vatican II mythology. For example, in order to stress the servant role of the papacy he put aside the use of the regal tiara. For his funeral he willed that he be buried in a simple wooden casket. Myth Drift Drift occurs when myths change, degenerate or disappear without deliberate planning on the part of individuals or groups. Fairy tales and legends are sometimes secularized myths; they have lost their original sacredness because over time they have ceased to be important to people in answering key questions about life and its meaning. In our contemporary world there is a strong tendency to equate "literal-ness" with "truth." When this happens the power of myths is undermined. For example, if the metaphor referring to the ascension of Jesus to the Father is taken literally in spatial terms, then God is assumed to be resident in space, at a certain height in the atmosphere. Once this literal interpretation is brought into question, however, the danger is that the inner meaning of the myth is also called into question. But the reli-gious symbols of myth cannot be reduced to purely factual or intellectual 22/Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 terms. Truth is bigger than what can be empirically analyzed.27 Sometimes the dominant myth is distorted because a secondary or directional myth assumes an exaggerated position. This has happened to the Genesis creation myth. Extreme capitalism with its emphasis on indi-vidualism displaces the original stress in the mytl~ on our responsibility to be co-creators with God in this world. Social consciousness thus is downplayed in what has become a distorted myth. Marxism, with its stress on the future communist golden age, is a secularization and vulgarization of the same creation myth; for, remove God and individual dignity is unprotected.28 One of the most powerful barriers to an understanding of myth, and it~ survival, is the fact that people may no longer share the kind of faith which had originally given rise to it. As T. Fawcett says, "The myths embody a religious outlook on the world. If this is not shared by one who seeks to interpret the myths, there is at least a strong possibility of misunderstanding. Myth Revitalization Myths can articulate "how chaos became cosmos.''3° When a people or culture is threatened with chaos or experiences chaos it feels the urge to rediscover the original creation myth, to relive it. Iri the reliving of the myth, it seeks once more to achieve identity and self-worth. Take the example of the American foundation myth. This myth exalted the potential of the human person to grow in strength and human perfection. During the late 1960s and 1970s the nation experienced cultural turmoil. Antiheroes abounded: people burned the sacred flag, presidents failed to live up to the American spirit of pride in the nation's prestige, the nation suffered a disastrous war in Vietnam and was humiliated in Iran. There was needed, said Time, "a reassertion of man as shaper of the world rather than the '70s model as victim or passive partner.''3~ The 1984 Olympics at Los Angeles gave many Americans the chance to relive their founding myth: "The belief was reborn that Americans can do, well, any-thing."~ 2 There were other events also: "It was a year of ceremonies . Some of the rites played a kind of sacramental role., conferring a heal-ing reassurance."~ And there were cultural heroes: the organizer of the Olympic Games, the participants themselves, thecountry's actor-president. Notice the key factors in revitalization: a feeling of chaos/confusion, the emergence of cultural heroes in touch with creation roots and the will-ingness of people to participate in the reliving or reappropriation of the founding myth. The myth can be updated, distorted or purified in the pro-cess. Stallone in Rambo and Rocky is, an updating of the American mythic Mythology, Revitalization and Refounding Religious Life hero; he is the modem cowboy, now dressed for contemporary deeds. In light of the Gospel, and indeed of the creation myth of America itself, this updated mythic hero is a moral distortion of what the hero should be because of the senseless use of violence .34 Notice, finally, that for revitalization to occur the myth should come alive in new symbols, e.g., in the American case, the "Games Extrava-ganza." If this does not happen, then the supposed revitalization is a regressive and fundamentalist movement, such as happened in the Iranian revolution. There is a failure to adjust to the realities of change. Summary: Key Anthropological Points in Myths Despite the divergent approaches to the study of myths, there are important points of agreement among anthropologists. Here are some of them: Myths Are Symbolic Revelations of Truths A symbol is any reality that by its very dynamism leads to another deeper reality through a sharing in the dynamism that the symbol itself offers. Symbols speak not just to the intellect, but more especially to the heart, to the feelings. Symbols arouse strong emotional responses. The one symbol can contain many meanings at the same time, even contrary meanings, e.g., the cross connotes both death and resurrection. ' Symbols do not just point to the things signified (as simple signs do), but they truly represent them. This is why symbols operate at the level of metaphor, not of simile. The metaphor articulates not merely a like-ness, but an identity. Such a metaphor insists on being taken seriously at a very deep level, that of personal commitment. So a myth, expressed in metaphorical symbolism, demands that people identify with its inner mes-sage and accept the consequences in action of this inner conversion.~5 Within each myth one metaphor will pred6minate over others. This metaphor is called the root metaphor, e.g., in the Way of the Cross, Christ is the root metaphor, while the persons of Mary and Veronica are complementary or supportive metaphors in the narrative.~ Creation Myths Speak of Chaos Creation myths are the most universal kind of myth. They tell us why humans suffer and die, how they establish and maintain social cohesion, how they relate to absolute reality. In many myths an original chaos is depicted, but a chaos that has potential for creativity. In the Judaeo- Christian tradition, the absolute reality is God. When people experience intense confusion, they are apt to experience themselves as reinserted into 24/Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 that original chaos. The retelling of the myth can give them new energy, new hope. Myths, History and Doctrines Are to Be Distinguished A myth is not some kind of mixed-up history. It tells what occurred not in profane or ordinary time, but in the beginning, in sacred time, i.e., in the period of the gods or the creators of the world. It is an account of a primordial event that gives meaning to reality, telling why it came into existence and why it continues to exist. History deals With another type of reality altogether, i.e., the observable world. Historical analysis is invaluable in helping people dis-cover how local history has affected the interpretation of myths. History, however, cannot evaluate the authenticity of the inner meaning of a myth. Special evaluative principles, e.g., from theology or Church magisterium in relating to Christian mythology, are needed to authenticate a myth's meaning. The aim of a myth is to communicate a profound truth in the form of a story. Religious myth achieves a kind of revelatory character through this truth, by uncovering something of universal validity about the nature of life and reality. Neither are myths equivalent to doctrines, though they are both ways of interpreting religious experiences. Doctrines generally use philosoph-ical language to express meanings, whereas myths use highly symbolic language. Myths complement doctrines; they help provide insight into the more abstract content of doctrines.37 Mythical Archetypes and Ritual Assume Conversion Anthropologist Bronislaw Malinowski asserts that myth "is not merely a story told but a reality lived." It is "not an idle tale, but a hard-worked active force.''~ Eliade believes myth is a "sacred history" and hence "saturated with being . . . and power. ,,39 Both authors, experts in the study of myth, are speaking of the "eternal" relevance and dynamism of myths for those who accept them. What does this mean? In all cultures there are some forms of repeated symbolic behavior that are tied by explanatory verbalization to their basic ways of understand-ing human existence. The repeated symbolic behavior is called ritual. The explanatory verbalization is myth. The myth sets out what should be; it .is the archetypal directive to a group of people. In ritual, people "own" or interiorize that directive; ritual provides a way of participating in the myth experience. The key word is archetypal. The Absolute -- in whatever way it is defined -- is immanent as well as transcendent in every creation myth. That is,the Absolute is here as well as everywhere; it is now as well as always. Mythology, Revitalization and Refounding Religious Life The Absolute achieves transcendence and immanence through arche-types; they give shape and form to this or that. Archetypes are always valid, never change, because they are the Absolute and belong to sacred time. Archetypes break into profane time through ritual, giving people the chance to experience sacred time. Jesus, the archetype, rises from the tomb and transcends his relativity at all times. But he is with us now as he was with those who saw him on the first Easter Day.'° This is a key insight especially into creation myths. The archetype is not a prototype. The latter connotes the first of a line; the prototype may or may not con-tinue to influence subsequent events. But the archetype has universal application; it is timeless, it guarantees authenticity, it is the re-presentation of the Absolute of the myth in the here and now. Adam has relevance to us, not just because he is considered the first man, i.e., prototype, but because he represents the essential man, i.e., an archetype. His original sin is therefore ours. It is inherent in the human condition. We inherit the sin to the degree that we inherit our humanity. This is what is meant when we say that a myth is an active force or is saturated with power. For that power or active force to have an effect, people must acknowl-edge its existence; they must own it. For this to occur there needs to be a conversion to the reality of the myth. It is to accept the reality and force of sacred time within our lives. We allow the transcendent Absolute to become immanent, i.e., to take over our lives through the myth. II My task now is to illustrate how this analysis of myth can help us to grasp in more depth what is meant when we, as religious, are called "to deepen the mythic roots of one's own life and those of one's com-munity." The "Creation Myth" of Religious Life We believe as Christians that the Absolute in the Genesis creation myth is God himself, and that Jesus is the Absolute in the redemption myth of the Gospel. We come to these insights through the power and the presence of the Holy Spirit: "The Spirit we have received is not the world's spirit but God's Spirit, helping us to recognize the gifts he has given us" (l Co 2:12). The life, suffering, death and resurrection of Jesus constitute the Re-creation Myth; through Jesus we have a more pro- 42 found understanding of God and his designs for us. The Christian "locks in" on the Re-creation Myth by accepting the 26/Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 same mission that the Father gave the Son, the mission to go out and bring the Good News to all. The call by the Father to mission with the Son constitutes the creation myth of religious life. While all Christian people are committed to evangelical perfection and mission with the Son, religious for their part publicly commit them-selves in faith to be unconditional in their response to the Father's call, in their love of him and of members of their own communities, his Church, and the world he wants to be saved. They openly commit them-selves not to this or that particular demand of the Lord at this or that par-ticular time and place but to be totally available, as other Christs, for the Father's work. They strive to take seriously always the command of the Lord: "Be converted and believe in the Good News"(Mk 1:15). This requires of religious an enduring identification with Christ, an act of love, that should govern all their actions. This describes the identification myth of religious. Religious are drawn by the power of the eschatological myth also, that is, the myth of the 'promise of "new heavens and a new earth where., the justice of God will reside"(2 Pt 3:13). They seek to reveal this new world of justice and love now, that through their example others maydiscover the saving power of the Lord, his mercy and compassion.'3 The commitment through the vows logically flows from the ear-nestness of t:eligious to be available to the Lord and to his Church. Vows place the person at the service of mission; they give religious more free-dom to be totally at the service of the Lord's mission. J. Tillard notes that the vows form a supportive myth. When they are seen as the dominant myth in religious life, religious tend to become inward-looking and hesitant in serving the needs of an ever changing world: One becomes a religious for the sake of the Gospel, not strictly for the . sake of the three classical vows. Although the vows represent elements that are specific to the religious life and therefore indispensable to who-ever feels called to that life by the Holy Spirit, they are not the primary elements in the concrete life of grace of the religious." This was recognized in practice by the Church for centuries; the custom of the now traditional three religious vows comes only from the 45 turn of the twelfth century. As religious commit themselves to be in the forefront of revealing the mythical mYstery of the Lord's redemptive love for the world, the Church rightly expects of them a creative dynamism in searching out new and better ways of preaching this message. Religious, then, are to be special-ists in pastoral innovation, in giving ritual flesh to the myths that motivate them. This charismatic character of religious life ,as being open to the Mythology, Revitalization and Refounding Religious Life / "2"1 Spirit in mission we can refer to as its directional myth. It indicates the how of living out religious life. Theologian Johannes Metz says that religious are to be a kind of shock therapy instituted by the Holy Spirit for the Church as a whole. Against the dangerous accommodations and questionable com-promises that the Church as a large-scale institution can always incline to, they press for the uncompromising nature of the Gospel and of the imitation of Christ. In this sense they are the institutionalized form of a dangerous memory within the Church.'6 Once religious cease to be a dangerous memory within the Church, or once they stop being creatively responsive to the needs of the Church, they cease to be identified with the distinguishing mythology of religious life. Ultimately identification with Christ the Redemptive Myth comes through faith, nourished in prayer. The day-to-day struggle of the reli-gious to be uncompromising in mission will at times fill him or her with "fear and distress" such as Jesus experienced in the garden before his passion, for "the spirit is willing but nature is weak"(Mk 14:34,38). Their fervent prayer is: "My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass me by. Still, let it be as you would have it,,not as I"(Mt 26:39). Zeal with-out prayer cannot survive. In prayer we discover the precipitous depths of our own poverty on the one hand, and the saving presence of Jesus the Myth on the other. With him we speak confidently for strength to the Father. The Mythology of Religious Congregations Individual religious congregations exist in the Church because found-ing persons are deeply shocked to see the gap e~isting between the Gospel and the world. They see people who do not know of the mercy and healing power of Christ. They~see even people who have heard of Christ compromise with worldly values. These founding persons recog-nize how the gap between the Gospel and the woi'ld Can be bridged through particular apostolic strategies. So they act. Inspired by the Holy Spirit, they invite others to join them in living out their new vision. Thus the seeds are sown for a new religious congrega-tion to emerge. Each congregation, then, has its own distinctive mythology--its crea-tion, identity, .directional myths. The myth-maker is the founding person in cooperation with the Holy Spirit. The root metaphor or symbol in the dominant myth will be the particular aspect of the redemptive myth of Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 Christ that is seen to be especially applicable at a particular time and place in the Church's life, e.g., the poverty of Christ, Christ as evangelizer. A religious congregation, when it is true to its mythology, is a medium of God's revealing and redeeming presence in the world. The fervor of the original congregational creation myth, as history shows, is very rarely sustained.'7 Our analysis of myth management helps us to understand how this winding down of enthusiasm occurs. Through a process of "myth drift" religious congregations can, even without realiz-ing it, accommodate their apostolic work and way of living too much to ambient secular values and customs. They neglect the uncompromising nature of the original myth. In the Middle Ages the Benedictines in Europe went into decline. "No one [any longer] looked to them for new ideas or new forms of spir-itual life," comments historian Richard Southern. "Rather they looked to them for stability, pageantry, involvement in the aristocratic life of the upper classes."4~ Gone was the inner commitment to the founding myth of creative obedience through a vigorous spirit of self-abnegation. They became lost in maintenance and forgot mission! Historian David Knowles, reflecting on the decline of the quality of the lives of monks, religious and clergy in the early Tudor period in England, comments: "Monks and clergy alike were children of their age and country; it was this that made the Dissolution [of the monasteries under Henry VIII], and indeed many of the religious changes of the reign, not only possible but relatively easy of accomplishment. ,,9 They had become accommodated so comfortably to the worldly values of the time that they were indistinguishable from the people they claimed to serve. Through the neglect of their founding mythology, religious had drifted to a point of spiritual and innovative enfeeblement. Their extinc-tion was then inevitable, even if Henry VIII had not himself acted with such speed. Sometimes a secondary or directional myth can be substituted for the creation and/or identity myths as a result of unchecked drift on the part of the religious congregation. For example, a congregation established for the pastoral needs of the poor through education services found itself eventually running schools only for the well-to-do. Members of the congre-gation "justified" this movement away from the poor on the grounds that the institute was founded "for education through schools." The mythology of the congregation was being misread. Concern for the poor belonged to the creation and identity myths; the establishment of schools pertained only to a directional myth. The congregation had definitely moved away from its mythical roots. Raymond Hostie believes that a myth substitution through the imposi- Mythology, Revitalization and Refounding Religious Life tion of a semimonastic model of religious life affected many congrega-tions of both men ahd women founded in the two centuries prior to Vatican II. In its defense against the effects of the Reformation and an emerging secularism, the Church turned in on itself. Its "narcissistic pre-occupation," as Avery Dulles phrases it,~° discouraged experimentation. Congregations certainly grew numerically and spread geographically. But the creative insights of founding persons, which should have led to rad-ically new forms of religious-life witness and pastoral action, were unable to be realized. It is not surprising, therefore, that the models of religious life in non-European lands even now remain Western.~' In the period fol-lowing upon Vatican II, religious life inculturation is a slow and very hes-itant process. Case Study of a Mythology: The Marists In this case study I will first describe the mythology system of a particular religious congregation; then I will summarize what has hap-pened to this mythology after the congregation was formally approved. Aspects of the above analysis will be highlighted in the case study. Mythology of the Society of Mary The Society of Mary (Marist Fathers and Brothers) was founded by Father John C. Colin in Lyons, France, and formally approved in 1836. Its aim is to carry on Mary's work in the world. "She is," he writes, "the refuge, the defense, the support, the advocate . the recourse of the militant Church." The creation (and dominant) myth reveals Mary as sup-porting the apostles at Pentecost or at the beginning of the Church, but with an added dimension. That support is to be continued now in and through Marists and other people committed to her seryice. She is recorded as saying: "I upheld the Church at its birth; I shall do so again at the end of time." Mary herself, through the Holy Spirit, decides to found a congregation which is to take her name. Her human instrument in this founding, according to Fr. Colin, is Fr. Colin himself. She remains the first and perpetual superior of the congregation, which is itself committed to be her presence within the Church "at the end of time." The root metaphor is Mary herself, Mother of Mercy. And it is from this metaphor that Marists receive their identity. Marists are to "be Mary" to the world; they are to think, judge and act as Mary does. So they are to be instruments of the Divine Mercy. There are several directional myths indicating how Marists are to be Mary as the support of the Church. As instruments of Divine Mercy, 30/Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 Marists are to stress qualities of forgiveness, tenderness, compassion. A second direction myth is summarized in the phrase "hidden and unknowns" In the early Church Mary acted quietly, aiming all the time to inspire people to grow in Christ. So also Marists are to encourage people to develop their own gifts in the Lord. Hence, Marists must be prepared to withdraw from involvement as those they serve discover their own potential for self-growth. A powerful symbol of this action-principle, "hidden and unknown," is Nazareth. No one can act in a hidden, self-effacing way, unless he or she has the humility, the detach-ment that comes from deep union with Christ in prayer. Nazareth sym-bolizes these key virtues. Only through these virtues will a Marist avoid selfishness and the desire for power that are obstacles which would obstruct Mary's work in the Church. To be Pentecost people, Marists must be firmly rooted in the contemplative virtues of Nazareth. A further directional myth is devotion to learning. Marists are to be concerned for any kind of learning that would make them better instru-ments of the Divine Mercy. There is also a vigorous eschatological myth within the Marist mythology. "The Society of Mary," declares its founder, "must begin a new Church over again." By this he means not an arrogant claim to reform, but rather a challenge to "re-create the faith of the first believ-ers." As the early believers were of one mind and one heart, so there will be the same kind of communion in the fullness of Christ's kingdom. By living in one mind and in one heart, Marists will help transform the Church, aiding it to be now what the world will be in the perfection of the kingdom to come. This eschatological myth affected the founder's vision of how Marists are to relate to lay people and to worldly symbols of power. Colin had the vision of a family, a family of Mary, in which there would also be lay people who commit themselves to be Mary to the world in which they live. Because he stressed the notion of Mary's family, Colin reacted to the evils of clericalism and attachment to worldly distinctions. On the practical level, therefore, Marist brothers and priests are to live together without distinction, showing to a world in which distinctions and unequal differences of lifestyles are commonplace that such behavior patterns are foreign to the kingdom that is to come. The particular object of Marist apostolic concern is those who are the most abandoned, the "little people" of this world, those with whom no one else is involved. The concern for the "little people" belongs to th.e identity myth ofthe congregation. Anthropologist Levi-Strauss speaks of "binary oppositions" within Mythology, Revitalization and Refounding Religious Life myths. Such oppositions exist in Marist mythology. And they are dialectical in quality or tension: Pentecost versus Nazareth, identification with the local Church versus commitment to the more universalist reli-gious life, with its freedom and identity. Take the latter tension. Colin says that bishops must consider Marists "as if they were their own men." On the other hand he insists in word and action on areas of independence from bishops. How are the two to be reconciled? As in all myths, no detailed instructions are given on how such tensions are to be reconciled in practice. It is assumed that their res-olution is possible only through people identifying thoroughly with the mythology. Marists in a spirit of faith will discover how the tensions are to be worked out in reality, thus revealing that people can live together with one heart and one mind. In summary, Colin founded a congregation committed, through its stress on Pentecost, to a service within the Church that is pastorally cre-ative, mobile and flexible, depending on the priority of need. He strongly detested any apostolate that would prevent the congregation from acting according to these qualities. Hence only in very exceptional conditions did he allow Marists to staff parishes. He feared that parishes would pre-vent Marists from being available for works of greater need. Colin believed that the nineteenth century had ushered in the age of Mary. He felt chaos on all sides, both in the civil and in the ecclesiastical spheres. Mary established her congregation to be one instrument of mercy to people caught in this chaos. To respond adequately to this challenge, Marists must possess the creativity of Pentecost and the hidden, contemplative virtues of Nazareth. Implementation of Marist Mythology: Myth Management Did Colin's dream of Pentecostal creativity take place in the congrega-tion he founded.'? For a variety of reasons, the actual interiorization and living out of Marist mythology (as revealed through Colin) up to Vatican II have been very hesitant indeed. Certainly, as with many other congrega-tions founded in France in the nineteenth century, the institute expanded numerically and geographically at great speed. Marists, with extraordi-nary courage and faith, left for remote and dangerous mission fields. The congregation has loyally served local Churches wherever it has been estab-lished. But, as with many other congregations over the last two hundred years, the institute has rarely shown any above-average pastoral creativ-ity, mobility or flexibility--at least if we take the founder's Pentecost met-aphor as the measure of analysies. Powerful internal and external factors militated against the type of pastoral and religious-life creativity that 32/Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 could have been expected to have emerged out of the founding charism. Internally, myth management through substitution and drift par-ticularly dulled the impact of the founding charism. The founder's suc-cessor as superior general had not adequately interiorized the founding mythology. He had a far less exalted vision of what the congregation should be. Hence he proceeded to impose his own mythology on the young congregation. He believed the congregation should be nothing more than a pious association of dedicated people. The founder later had his own vision concretized into approved constitutions. But in practice the institute rarely lived the rich insights of the creation ,and dominant myths. What was a directional myth -- the Nazareth symbol -- became instead the dominant myth. instead of the Nazareth myth ("hidden and unknown") remaining as an action-principle, that is, indicating how Marists are to act apostolically, it became an end in itself. Now Marists were to do nothing apostolically that would in any way attract attention to themselves. This was a tragic distortion. It legitimated mediocrity and dullness. It reinforced the already existing nineteenth-century image of religious life, namely, that it be semimonastic in structure, inward-looking and a vigorous supporter of the status quo. The distortion also effectively killed another key directional myth, namely, the concern that the founder had for learning as an essential means for the living out of the creation myth. Few people were encour-aged to research and publish their findings for fear that they would draw attention to the congregation and to themselves. Inevitably the distortion influenced the initial formation programs of the institute, so that it thus became perpetuated from generation to generation. The overall failure of the congregation to grasp the founder's insights is evident in a review of the general and provincial chapter decrees or legislation from the 1870s to Vatican II. For example, the 1873 general chapter of the Marists established the aims of the provincial chapters: to promote religious discipline according to the Rule and to inquire into the financial administration of houses. No mention was made of the need to. foster new forms of religious-life witness or pastoral action. The 1893 pro-vincial chapter of one of the provinces directed that "Religious [includ-ing pastors] were° prohibited from going out after the evening meal for unnecessary visits." The assumption was that a Marist house is a quasi, monastery; people should respect this, and anyone in need pastorally should be discouraged from approaching Marists "after the evening meal," unless in exceptional circumstances. An examination of provincial visitation reports reflects the same con- Mythology, Revitalization and Refounding Religious Life cern for the maintenance of religious discipline and respect for the Rule, but again no interest in the evaluation of pastoral effectiveness or creativ-ity. For example, just prior to the Japanese invasion of Ne~v Guinea in World War II, a provincial reported on the state of Marists in a particu-larly difficult section of that country: "The fathers, in spite of their pov-erty, must wear socks when saying Mass and be dressed decently, as respectable clergymen ought to be when appearing in public." Nothing was said about the enormous pastoral and cultural challenges which con-fronted the men.5' Externally the congregation was affected deeply by the semimonastic view of religious life referred to above. This model provided very little opportunity for the type of creativity envisaged by the original Marist mythology. It was assumed theologically that the world should adapt to the unchanging Church, not vice versa. The curricula of seminaries of this time allowed for little or no room for positive social-science subjects, e.g., sociology, anthropology. These subjects were not seen to be neces: sary for the apostolate. The above analysis is given not to provide reasons to ridicule the past, but to illustrate the historical way in which this particular congrega-tion, along with many others at that time, found difficulties in interiorizing the founder's vision. The analysis also helps to put into per-spective the adaptive efforts of the congregation since Vatican II. In the 1950s, there began within the congregation an historical in-depth analysis of its mythology. Thus the institute was well prepared to take up the challenge of Vatican II that religious should reflect on their founding charisms. The richness of the original insights of the founder were already being exposed. Through the advances in Scripture and the-ology studies, the congregation was able to deepen yet further its grasp of the meanings of its myths. Thus, through a process of myth extension, it became possible for the congregation to embrace insights unknown at the time of the founder, e.g., insights into Mary as a s~ymbol within the Church, the role of the local Church, confirmation about the creative role of religious life. Marists were now exposed to a mythology that was denied many previ-ous generations. Little wonder that the comment is made today that the congregation, having rediscovered its original mythology, is set for refounding. Mythology, Revitalization and Refounding Religious Life Religious congregations today are experiencing chaos.5~ Twenty years after Vatican II, despite renewal chapters, surveys, renewal programs, 34/Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 congregations remain confused. Recruitment is poor, entrants even nonex-istent in many instances. The average age of religious rises alarmingly. Unless the present trend is checked, extinction for many institutes seems inevitable. Yet, as history shows, this experience of chaos is a potentially cre-ative atmosphere for religious-life growth. New religious congregations have generally emerged not so much when the Church was flourishing, but rather when it was profoundly disoriented and uncertain of itself. The Church is disoriented and unsure of itself at this moment. Hence the urgency to look more .closely at the creative possibilities of the chaos we are experiencing. In the Book of Jeremiah we have an insight into the positive dimen-sion of chaos. Yahweh informs Jeremiah what he expects of him: "See, I place my words in your mouth!. To root up and to tear down, to destroy and to demolish, to build and to plant"(1:10). Before there can be life again among the Israelites, all their securities, their apparently eternally valid ways of acting, must be destroyed and pulled down. The people will feel lost and disoriented. They will look for the consoling help of Yahweh. Then they will realize that they have become too com-placent about life and their institutions: they must again become pilgrims. The message of the book remains highly relevant. We religious are a pilgrim people. There Jan be no permanent security, whether in ideology, apostolates, buildings, ritual ancestry, history, except what comes from our trust in God. While we relate to the past and our roots, we are to be open to the future in constantly changing ways. People tend to react to chaos in one of two possible ways: negatively or positively. When people deny that chaos exists they act negatively. Jesus often reminds the Pharisees and Scribes that they are denying the chaos and confusion within them. He condemns them for distorting the founding myth of the nation. Within their hearts there is but chaos and confusion, and they will not admit it: "You cleanse the outside of cup and dish, but within you are filled with rapaciousness and evil . You are like hidden tombs over which men walk unawares" (Lk 11:39,44). People can refuse to accept the challenge of chaos by attempting to escape into the past. They find comfort in a kind of historical romanticism or nostalgia. The past is idealized, and they hope for a restora-tion without change. Such people will not acknowledge the need for interior and exterior adaptation to a changing world. Nostalgia, however, gives only temporary consolation. Eventually reality must be faced if people are to survive. Positively, people can react to chaos when they acknowledge their Mythology, Revitalization and Refounding Religious Life total dependence on God and enter into a reconversion process. Reconverted, these people live with new and zealous lives of justice and love in Yahweh's service. Often in the Old Testament the longing for con-version grows out of a deep sense of sin, suffering, and frustration, result-ing from an experience of disorientation. All these agonies of soul are cou-pled with prayers for mercy, forgiveness, and for yet another chance to begin all over again: -"A clean heart create for me, O God, and a stead-fast spirit renew within me . I will teach transgressors your ways, and sinners will return to you."(Ps 51:12,15). In the midst of chaos the reconverted Israelites retell, and relive, the nation's 9reation myth, e.g., "Aloud to God I cry;o.on the day of my distress I seek the Lord . I remember the deeds of the Lord; yes, I remember your wonders of old. And I meditate on your works; your exploits I ponder."(Ps 75:2,3,12,13). Through his recital of the foundation myth the psalmist gains hope, but only on condition that he hir~self is in deep union with Yahweh through reconversion in faith. Faith's hope and reconversion are integral. The archetype of the creation myth is: God saves a humble and con-trite people who cry out for help. When the Israelite is humbly, contrite and cries from the depths for help, the myth is once more revitalized. So also in the New Testament. There are eight occasions in the gospels on which Jesus says "Your faith has saved you," or equivalent words, e.g., the blind man (Mk 10:52, Lk 18:42). In all eight examples there are three characteristics: first, there is a situation of critical need; second, this need is expressed in some action or statement that clearly costs much; third, there is a clear sign that the petitioner abandons himself or herself uncondi-tionally to the will of Jesus. In Gethsemane Jesus himself gives an exam-ple of this prayer pattern when he petitions the Father: expression of dire need, action and statement that costs so much, the expression of his total abandonment to the w¯ dl of the Father (Mk 14:32-42). As with the Israelites, as also with Je~sus, we religious are confronted with a dire need: the urgency to abandon our congregation and ourselves to the will of God. He has allowed our securities -- born of our t~:ust in fine buildings and institutions, and of a never ending supply of vocations -- to be destroyed. What is God asking of us now? What is our future? In times of chaos, positively oriented Israelites retold their mythology, especially their creation myth. The act of obedience to Yahweh became the ritualization of their mythology. As for those Israelites, so also for contemporary religious. In the retelling of our congregational mythology, there must be the carrying out of God's will 36/Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 in the here-and-now. This is the ritual dimension of mythology. The transcendent power of God becomes immanent in this or that particular action. H~wever, for an authentic retelling of congregational myths, the individual religious need to be involved in three processes: 1. The interpretation of the congregational 'mythology.~ Congregational mythology must b~' purified of all distortions and inau-thentic substitutions that have occurred over time. Purification requires a critical, historical analysis. This should be done with due reference to theology and the relevant documents of the Church. For example, if pas-toral creativity has ceased to be a key directional myth in the congrega-tional, mythology, it is to be restored to its correct position. Or if the mythology does not permit of due consultation by superiors of religious, then a correction is required in line with Vatican II and the New Code. This latter eventuality would be an example of myth extension. Interpretation is a long and difficult task. Not all have the expertise to undertake it. However, all are to be critically acquainted with the results of interpretation through personal and community study/reflection. Expert historians should be available for questioning by the congregation. At some point an official group of the congregation may have to' decide on what should be an interpretation of difficult texts -- especially if it is a question of new constitutions. There are two dangers to be avoided at the interpretation stage. First, religious who are insensitive to the power and necessity of symbols, met-aphors and mythology, may want congregational literature, e.g., con-stitutions, presented "rationally, scientifically, literally." The argument of this entire article is that this cannot be done. An attempt to do so will only distort the founding person's message. Second, no matter how many conferences and learned discussions are held to interpret the founding charism or learn about it, this does not mean that congregational revitalization has occurred or will inevitably take place. Remember, the temptation to escape into historical romanticism or nostalgia through frequent references to the founding person's insights without at the same time being prepared to live out the challenge of his charism in contemporary life is very real indeed. Mere discussion can take on an almost magical note: "The more we discuss, the faster we will find our way out of chaos." Expert interpreters come to be viewed as gurus or congregational magicians: they will lead us to the right and ancient ways of doing .things. I suspect that all too many of us fall victim to this temptation. We fear the internal and exter-nal changes that will have' to be made if we take the role of mythology Mythology, Revitalization and Refounding Religious Life / 37 as the way out of confusion seriously. Remember, interpretation is only the first stage in congregational revitalization. Reconversion and discernment have yet to occur. 2. The discernment of the mythology's relevance.55 For discernment to take place there must be a reconversion by reli-gious on three levels: personally (and corporately) to Christ, to the mission of the Church and to the congregation's mythology (which assumes a revitalized theology of religious life). The call to reconversion (or, as it is sometimes called, "second con-version") is the call to transcend previous levels of faith and love, to move toward a mature faith which transforms the person from disciple to steward, one prepared to give oneself without reservation to the mission of the Lord.56 St. Paul explains it in this way: "It is not that I have reached it yet, or have already finished my course: but I am racing to grasp the prize if possible since I have been grasped by Christ . I give no thought to what lies behind but push on to what is ahead"(Ph 2:120. The call to reconversion will invariably bring with it the request by Christ to an ever more radical experience of him--in his suffering, his facing of chaos and a sense of abandonment, his complete commitment to the will of the Father, his death -- before there is the "resurrection" of inner clarity as to what the Father wishes. To live as steward for others means we must first die to self: "He died for all so that those who live might live no longer for themselves"(2 Co 5:15). The poorer we are in spirit, the more preparted we are to spot and abandon our prejudices and our yearning for power over others. Freed from such obstacles we are open to see the Lord in others and in the events around us. Without the cross there can be no reconversion. Historian David Knowles, in the last paragraph of his detailed analysis of the causes of the decline of monasticism in England in Tudor times, warns: "When once a religious or a religious order ceases to direct its sons to the abandonment of all that is not of God, and ceases to show them the rigors of the narrow way that leads to the imitation of Christ in his love, it sinks to the level of a purely human institution, and whatever its works may be they are the works of time and not of eternity.''57 The message is that of the Gospel. It is as valid today as it was in the English Tudor times. There is an ecclesial dimension to the reconversion of the religious. Religious congregations exist to serve the Church. And the Church exists to serve the world that .is today in revolutionary change. Any reconversion will involve a recommitment to the mission of the Church in this world. This means listening to what the needs of the world are; it Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 also includes the commitment to be bold in pastoral initiatives in response to these needs. Finally, reconversion involves the radical recommitment to the con-gregational mythology. The individual religious, united with Christ and inspired by the Holy Spirit, experiences the same kind of outrage that the founding person felt when he or she was confronted by the enormity of the chaos separating the Gospel on the one hand and the world in its need on the other. The reappropriation of the founding charism is first and fore-most the reliving of this original shock. The founding person's spirit breaks into our lives the moment we experience that shock. Anthropologist Bronislaw Malinowski justly speaks of myth as "a nar-rative resurrection of a primeval reality."s8 The primeval reality is the shock, the archetype, that belongs to sacred time or the time of the begin-ning that is relived here and now. The converting religious resurrects and relives the sacred time of the beginning once more in all its radicalness. At that point the founding charism lives again. The mythology is alive and active. Like the founding person, some of the reconverting religious will see what strategies are needed to help bridge the chaos. The people who have such gifts of insight and action are in fact re-founding persons, congrega-tional prophets. They should not be viewed as "loners" or "individualists" who lack a sense of community. Despite the very real danger of rejection by other religious, they retain a deep love of the found-ing mythology. They yearn, as did the founding persons, to draw others with them into a radical faith-community of congregational rebuilders. There is a fire in these people, a Gospel radicality that disturbs the com-placent, the spiritually leth-argic, those who have compromised with worldly values. Not all reconverting religious are called to be significant refounding persons. Most of us are rather called to exercise our discernment in discovering those among us who are gifted to be such people. Once these individuals have been spotted, our task is to join with them in aiding the congregation to move out of chaos into a new integration of the Gospel and the needs of the world.5" 3. Effective commitment to action: myth ritualization Myth is action as well as words. The action is the ritual dimension of the myth. Sacred time, primeval reality, breaks into life here and now. For myth ritualization there is required courage, a boldness of initiative and drive. In brief, an ongoing process of reconversion is necessary. In ritual we grab hold of the inner dynamism of the myth in action that is adapted to changed circumstances of time and place. Mythology, Revitalization and Refounding Religious Life Of course, we need to be open to the fact that in our discernment we may discover it is actually God's will for our community, province or congregation to die. Gospel resignation in the face of even congregational death will be salvific, a badly needed witness to many contemporary cul-tures of how death must be faced. Most Western cultures do everything possible to avoid facing the reality of death-chaos. From a Christian point of view, active submission to the realities of one's own death-bound nature becomes an act of obedient surrender to the Father, a total com-mitment to the full power of faith, hope and love.~° As it is for each Christian, so it should be for a religious congregation that discerns it is God's will for it to die: "Father, into your hands I com-mend my spirit" (Lk 23:46). Summary Myth is always an effort to reveal or articulate, and so to make compre-hensible, some truth about the world and our life in it. This truth cannot be grasped or known fully in itself but is capable of being expressed in and through symbols. The myth should attempt to articulate transcendental reality, to give the meaning behind ever changing experi-ences that influence human life, "to pin down an Absolute in which the human mind can rest with some feeling of security."~' Myths become distorted or cease to exist for several reasons. In particular, myths die because they are no longer relevant or because people refuse the self-discipline required by the myth. Myths are liminal phenomena, that is, their retelling gives meaning and security to people in the midst of personal or cultural chaos. If people are prepared to adapt their myths to new circumstances, then they will break through chaos into new life, and their myths will become vital bnce more. Religious congregations have their own particular mythologies. Today congregations are in chaos. They are confused about what to do, how to revitalize, how to discover what God is asking of them. They may even be fearful of what God will ask, now that their once secure struc-tures have disappeared. For revitalization to occur there needs to be a retelling by religious of their congregational mythologies. This retelling, if it is to be something more than a hollow nostalgic or sentimental recital of past achievements, must emerge out of a process of myth interpretation/ reconversion/discernment. Reconversion is the wholehearted abandonment to the Father's will in imitation of Jesus who "emptied himself., obediently accepting even death on the cross"(Ph 2:7,8). It is the admission that oneself and one's 40/Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 congregation have an absolute need of God who alone is the ultimate source of security and identity. When this abandonment takes place, then the experience of chaos or confusion within oneself and the congregation becomes creative. Through poverty of spirit, the religious finds a way to discover the presence of God, the Absolute, the ultimate figure revealing laimself in the congregational myth. Strengthened by this grace of reconversion, the religious and the congregation itself are prepared to discern God's will in their regard. Through discernment religious may discover that God wishes the congre-gation to die. The free acceptance of congregational death is a salvific action. Or discernment may reveal that the congregation should come alive through reliving the experience that gave birth to the original congregational charism, but adapted now to new needs and circum-stances. Reconversion, discernment and reappropriation of the founding experi-ence will not take place as long as religious are not prepared to face these questions: Do we deny the existence of chaos within and without? If we acknowledge chaos, am I and my congregation willing to acknowledge its positive potential? Are we prepared to face the self-abnegation and abandonment to God, with its naked faith darknesses, as the prerequisite for congregational resurrection? I suspect that many of us still deny the reality of chaos. If some of us do acknowledge the creative potential of chaos, then perhaps our answers to the two last questions are a half-hearted "yes." A pity. If only we could reply with a firm "yes," then we would be on the way to dis-covering the riches of our congregational mythology. The Church, and the world, would be richer for this discovery. In the beginning, when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless wasteland, and darkness covered the abyss . Then God said, "Let there be light. (Gn 1:1-3). NOTES ~ See Raimundo Panikkar, Myth, Faith and Hermeneutics: Cross-Cultural Studies (New York: Paulist Press, 1979). 2 See Paul Ricoeur, The Symbolism of Evil (Boston: Beacon Press, 1967), pp. 161ff, and Interpretation Theory: Discourse and the Surplus of Meaning (Fort Worth: Chris-tian University Press, 1976). Mythology, Revitalization and Refounding Religious Life ' See John L. McKenzie, Myths and Realities: Studies in Biblical Theology (London: Geoffrey Chapman, 1963), pp. 182-200. ' "Symbol, Myth and the Biblical Revelation" in Theological Studies. Vol. 27, No.l, 1966, p. 1. ~ Lawrence Cada, Raymond Fitz, et al., Shaping the Coming Age of Religious Life (New York: The Seabury Press, 1979), p. 6. 6 Morton T. Kelsey, Myth, History and Faith: The Demythologizing of Christianity (New York: Paulist Press, 1974), p. 5. 7 Thomas Fawcett, The Symbolic Language of Religion: An Introductory Study (London: SCM Press, 1970), p. 101. 8 See Barbara Sproul, Primal Myths: Creating the Worm (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1979), p. I. 9 Morton T. Kelsey, op. cit., p. 4. Also see Elie Wiesel, "Myth and History," in (ed) Alan M. Olson, Myth, Symbol and Reality (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1980), pp. 20-30. ~o See Bronislaw Malinowski, Magic, Science and Religion, and Other Essays (Glencoe, Illinois: Free Press, 1948), pp. 100f. " See Donald A. MacKenzie, The Migration of Symbols and Their Relations to Beliefs and Customs (New York: AMS Press, 1970), p. 5. '2Psychological Reflections: An Anthology of Writings, (ed) Jolande Jacobi (New York: Harper, 1953), p. 314. t~ See C.S. Kirk, Myth: Its Meaning and Functions in Ancient and Other Cultures (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1970), pp. 275-280; and Percy S. Cohen, "Theories of Myth" in Man: Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute Vol.4 No.3, 1969, p. 340. " Victor Turner, "Myth and Symbol" in International Encyclopedia of Social Sci-ences (Assen: Van Gorcum, 1977), Vol. 10, p. 579. ~ See (ed) Richard Cavendish, Mythology: An Illustrated Encyclopedia (New York: Rizzoli 1980), pp. 10f. For Freudian view see O. Rank, The Myth of the Birth of the Hero (New York: Robert Brunner, 1952), passim. ~6 See P. S. Cohen, op. cit., p. 341. ~7 See Richard Cavendish, op. cit., p. i !. ,8 Totemism (Boston: Beacon Press, 1963), p. 104; also Myth and Meaning (New York: Schocken Books, 1979), passim. For critique see Edmund Leach, The Struc-tural Study of Myth and Totemism (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1967), passim. ~ See Victor Turner, The Ritual Process: Structure and Anti-Structure (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1969), pp. 96f. 2o Quoted in A.W. Reed, Treasury of Maori Folklore (Wellington: A.H. and A.W. Reed, 1963), p. 19. 2~ For overview, see B.C. Sproul, op. cit., pp. 5ft. "2The Sacred and the Profane (New York: Harcourt, 1959), p. 95. 23 See Leonard J o Biallas, Myths, Gods, Heroes and Saviors (Mystic, CT: Twenty- Third Publications, 1986), p. 24. 2, See B. Malinowski, op. cit., pp. 100f. ~ See L.J. Biallas, op. cit., pp. 258-282. 26 See Christel Lane, The Rites of Rulers: Ritual in Industrial Society -- the Soviet Case (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981), passim. ~7 See T. Fawcett, op. cit., p. 98. 42/Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 '" Ibid, p. 277. '" Ibid, p. 98. .,0 See Victor Turner, "Myth and Symbol," op. cit., p. 576. ~' 7 Jan. 1985, p. 26. '~" Ibid, p. 20. See insights also by Christopher E Mooney, Religion and the Ameri-can Dream: The Search for Freedom Under God (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1977), pp. 17-60. ~ lbid, p. 23. ~' See lan Craib, Modern Social Theory: From Parsons to Habermas (Brighton: Wheat-sheaf, 1984), pp. 115-119. According to The New York Times (14 July 1985) Rambo was invoked at least a dozen times in the discussion on the aid to Afghanistan. Also comments in The Economist (UK), I I Jan. 1986, p. 12. '~ See T. Fawcett, pp. 52-54. .,6 V. Turner uses the expression "root paradigm." See hnage and Pilgrimage in Chris-tian Culture: Anthropological Perspectives (New York: Columbia University Press, 1978), pp. 248f. 37 See L.J. Biallas, op. cit., p. 20. 3, Op. cit., pp. 100f. '~ Op. cit., p. 95. ~0 See B.S. Sproul, op. cit., pp. 27f. ~ Ibid. ,2 See Andrew M. Greeley, The Jesus Myth (New York: Doubleday, 1971), p. II and passim. ~ See Lumen Gentium, par. 44. ~" A Gospel Path: The Religious Life (Brussels: Lnmen Vitae 1975), p. 101. ,s Ibid, p. 94. ,6 Followers of Christ: The Religious Life and the Church (Exeter: Burns and Oates, 1978), p. 12. ,7 See Raymond Hostie, S.J., The Life and Death of Religious Orders': A Psycho- Sociological Approach (Washington, DC: Cara, 1983), pp. 252-272. ~ Western Society and the Church in the Middle Ages (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1970) p. 237. '~ The Religious Orders in England, Vol.3, The Tudor Age (Cambridge: University Press, 1959), p. 198. so "Vatican II and the Church's Response" in Theology Digest Vol. 32, No. 4, 985. ~' See R. Hostie, op. cit., pp. 248,251,269-275. Also G.A. Arbuckle, "lncultura-tion and Evangelization: Realism or Romanticism?" in (ed) Darrell L. Whiteman, Missionaries, Anthropologists and Cultural Change (Williamsburg: Studies in Third World Societies,1985), pp. 176-186. s2 See G.A. Arbuckle, "The Evolution of a Mission Policy: A Case Study (Marist Fathers)," in Missiology, Vol. 14, No. 2, 1986, pp. 131-145. s.~ See G.A. Arbuckle, "Refounding Congregations from Within: Anthropological Reflections," in REview Fo~ R~.~.l~ous, Vol. 45, No. 4, pp. 538-553. ~' See Francis, E. George, O.M.I., "Founding 'Founderology'," in R~vmw For~ R~t6~oos, Vol. 36, No. I, 1977, pp. 40-48. ' ~s For discernment explanation see John C. Futrell, S.J., "lgnatian Discernment" in Studies in the Spirituality of Jesuits, St. Louis, April, 1970. Spirituality of Jesuits, St. Louis, May, 1982, passim. Mythology, Revitalization and Religious Life/43 ~ See Magic, Science and Religion, op. cit., p. 101. ~" See comments by R. Hostie, op. cit., pp. 257ff. See helpful insights by John W. Gardner, Self-Renewal: The Individual and the Innovative Society (N.Y.: W.W. Norton, 1981), pp. xi-xviii and passim. ~o Johannes B. Metz, Poverty of Spirit (N.Y.: Paulist, 1986), p. 46. 6~ R.A. MacKenzie, S.J., Faith and History in the Old Testament (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1963), pp. 63f. Christ the Center of Our Vowed Life by Boniface Ramsey, O.P. Father Ramsey's three articles on the vows of religion'are available as a single reprint: i - The Center of Religious Poverty ii - Christocentric Celibacy iii - Cruciform Obedience Price: $1.75 per copy, plus postage. Address: Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St, Louis, Misso~Jri 63108 Images of a Novice Director Melannie Svoboda, S.N.D. Sister Melannie Svoboda became novice director after receiving her Masters in "For-mative Spirituality" from Duquesne University. She may be addressed at Notre Dame Educational Center; 13000 Auburn Road; Chardon, Ohio 44024. For the past four years I have been novice director for my religious com-munity. During these years I have often reflected on what my ministry means to me. I have also shared with other directors our ideas and feelings about our unique role in community. This article is an outgrowth of that personal and shared reflection. It attempts to explore the question, "How does it feel to be a novice director today?" In doing this, I have resorted to the use of images. Although there are many images I could have selected, I have chosen four that I feel convey something essential about the role of novice director. I hope these images provide encouragement for others involved in forma-tion work. I also hope the ideas presented here might help those not directly involved in formation to a better understanding of this ministry. The In-Between Door The first image that comes to my mind when I think of my ministry is "the in-between door." Let me explain. In our provincial house the novitiate is located on the third floor. On that same floor is another wing called St. Anne's where many of our elderly and retired sisters have their bedrooms. Between the novitiate and St. Anne's is a set of double doors. One day, after recreation with the novices, I passed through those doors on my way to another part of the building. As I did, I passed two elderly sisters who were on their way to their rooms. One was using a cane; the 44 Images of a Novice Director/45 other was holding on to the railing along the wail. The sharp contrast between the novices and these elderly sisters struck me. I suddenly thought: being a novice director is a lot like being a door between two very different wings of the same building. In other words, I realized that a novice director is very much an "in-between person." Age wise, many of us directors do stand "in between" the younger and older members of our communities. Ministry-wise, we stand "in between," too. As members of our community, we bring to our ministry years of lived experience as religious. We have a sense of our com-munity's history and traditions, its successes and apparent failures, its struggles and joys, and its hopes and expectations for the future. On the other hand, as directors we come to know the novices well. We learn of their personal histories, their past successes and failures, their struggles and joys, and their hopes and expectations for the future. Thus, we stand "in between." As directors, we are aware of our respon-sibility to communicate to the novices what religious life is in general and how our particular community gives expression to that life. But we also sense a corresponding responsibility, to a certain extent, to convey to the larger community who the new members are and what they are bringing to religious life. Such an "in-between position" can be both painful and exciting. It can be painful because it has its own built-in tension. As novice directors, we sometimes feel "caught in the middle" or even "torn apart." We find ourselves thinking or saying to our fellow religious: "If only you could see how much the novice is struggling with right now, how much goodwill there is in her, you would be far more patient and understand-ing." Similarly, we find ourselves saying to our novices: "If only you could appreciate more what we have gone through as a community and what we have experienced in the past, you would not be so quick to judge." But being "in between" is exciting, too. As novice directors, we have a unique perspective on religious life. Many times we may be asked to explain or defend what the novices may or may not be doing. Like-wise, we may be asked to explain or defend the traditions and attitudes of the professed community. We can welcome this "in-between-ness" since it affords us the challenge to reassess continuously our values and priorities or simply to articulate our beliefs anew. The Big "Meannie" Several years ago I was teaching film study to high school seniors. One day a film arrived addressed to me. But there was a typing error on 46/Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 the label. The letter "!" had been left out of my name, so instead of saying Sister Melannie the label read Sister Meannie. I laughed at that mistake back then, but, since becoming novice director, I have sometimes felt that I had been changed from Sister Melannie to Sister Meannie. Another novice director echoed this same feeling when she said to me recently: "I used to be a nice person. But since becoming novice director, I feel I've become an ogre." There are a number of factors that contribute to this feeling. Within the past several years there has been a movement in many religious com-munities to involve the larger community more in the initial formation pro-cess. Professed members have a greater sense of their personal responsibil-ity for welcoming and encouraging new members. Such a trend is basically very good. Like all of us, the novices need affirmation in order to grow, and today we see the larger community more and more provid-ing this affirmation. But the novices need to be challenged, too. They need to come to a healthy awareness of their weaknesses and shortcomings. Although the professed community does help out in this area, nevertheless, the primary responsibility for doing this lies usually with the director. One director explained it this way: "Novices are so few these days that sometimes the sisters bend over backwards to make the novice feel accepted. They do nothing but praise the novice -- I'm the one who has to tell her the things she doesn't want to hear." A few examples might clarify this. Perhaps a novice is lively and witty -- two characteristics that, in themselves, seem attractive. The pro-fessed might continuously affirm these qualities in the novice. But I, as director, might begin to see that the novice's liveliness reflects a deep need to be the center of attention. Her wit might reveal a lack of sensitiv-ity to the feelings of others. As director, I have to lead her to this aware-ness. That is hard to do. No one likes to bear bad news. No one enjoys confronting others on this level. But what makes it possible for us is to see such a confrontation within the context of love. Often I find myself asking the question; "Do I love her enough to be honest with her?" The Island In her Gift from the Sea, Anne Morrow Lindbergh writes (p. 40): '"No man is an island,' said John Donne. I feel we are all islands -- in a common sea." I agree with Lindbergh that we are all islands. But we novice directors can experience our "islandness" in very sharp and often painful ways. There are several factors that can contribute to the novice director's Images of a Novice Director/47' feelings of isolation. First, there's the simple fact that there are not too many novice directors to begin with. With the decline in the number of novices, there is a corresponding decrease in the number of directors. As a result, we directors have few "colleagues." This situation can lead to the feeling that no one really understands our unique stresses and frustra-tions. This sense of isolation can be intensified by the decisions we are called upon to make. Perhaps the most difficult decision in our ministry is the decision that a novice does not belong in religious life. Making such a decision, especially when there are so few novices to begin with, can increase a director's sense of aloneness or even rejection by the larger community. Fortunately there are steps we can take to ease our "islandness." In my diocese of Cleveland, for example, we formation directors meet regu-larly not only to plan our inter-novitiate program, but also to share ideas and experiences informally. There are regional and national organizations we can plug into as well as periodicals (such as this one) to which we can subscribe. Support groups are very popular today. Those of us involved in formation need such a support group in order for us to minister effectively and happily. The Gardener When I became novice director, I simultaneously began to grow some African violets. Perhaps something deep inside of me sensed a connection between ministering to novices and caring for plants -- I wasn't sure. But I received a few clippings from my mother and, within a relatively short time, I had a number of healthy looking violets. Now I know for sure: caring for these African violets is very similar to being a novice director. If there's one thing a good gardener knows, it's this: the gardener does not cause the plants to grow and flourish; he or she can only assist in their development. A good gardener is more observer than doer, more admirer than cause. The same is true for novice directors. Over and over again we have to remind ourselves that God is the formation director. We are mere assistants. This attitude of dependence and trust in God is not only fundamental for our ministry, it is refreshingly freeing. As directors, we can worry too much. We can become too impatient with a novice's apparent slow devel-opment. We may find ourselves saying: "She should be farther along by now," or "Prayer should mean more to him at this stage." Sometimes we can be tempted to intervene too much, to say too much, to control too much. Like a bad gardener, we may handle too much, water too much, Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 and fertilize tOO much, thus causing more harm than good. But our experience in formation soon leads us to trust more in God -- in his way, in his time -- than in our own expertise. One of the great-est joys as novice director is being privy to tremendous growth in our directees -- growth thht sometimes occurs not according to the "law," but even seemingly contrary to the "law." This truth was brought home to me recently by one of my "baby" African violets. When I started this plant from a cutting, I knew I would have to wait many months, perhaps even a year, before I could expect to see any blossoms. But this particu-lar African violet surprised me. After only several weeks, although its leaves were extremely tiny, this plant produced not one, but two giant purple blossoms. The plant, by all rules, was far too young and immature to produce such splendid flowers, yet, there they were, beautiful to behold. That "infant" African violet is a reminder to me that, as novice director, I have to be ready for surprises in my ministry. The in-between door, the big "meannie," an island, a gardener. These are four images that come to my mind when I reflect on my ministry as novice director. When we use images to try to explain the essentially unexplainable, we are in good company, for Jesus himself resorted to images time and time again: "The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed., is like a buried treasure., is like yeast., is like a drag-net thrown into the lake." I hope these few images I have used, though incomplete and imperfect, might help draw us more deeply into the mys-tery of our formation ministry. Prayer for Peace Give me to see, O Lord, By Faith's clear vision, Troth that to other sight at best is dim. Grant me to know, O Lord, By Love's deep wisdom, Peace in the Cross, Christ in the Sign of Him. Sister Cecilia Ward, S.C. Sacred Heart Convent-- 6225 Walnut Street Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania 15206 Surrender: The Key to Wholeness William A. Barry, S.J. This is Father Barry's third article on the theme of "a peculiar sort of resistance to God." He continues to work in the formation of novices and may be addressed at Saint Andrew House; 300 Newbury Street; Boston, Massachusetts 02115. In two recent articles' I have discussed a peculiar sort of resistance to God, a resistance that seems to be the avoidance of good experiences. Recently in a prayer group discussion I received some more light on this puzzling phenomenon which I would like to share with the readers of this review, z Have you ever wondered about people like Bartimaeus, the blind beggar who receives his sight (Mk 10:46-51)? Did it ever occur to you that they might not want to be healed? Well it has occurred to me because there have been times when I have not wanted inner healing -- the heal-ing of resentment at a personal loss, for example. As a result I have thought that people like Bartimaeus have a rather remarkable kind of courage and hope in the future to want to be healed. Let us reflect on what it must have meant for Bartimaeus as he pon-dered the question Jesus put to him, "What do you want me to do for you?" If he allows himself to want his sight, two possibilities open up. His hopes could be dashed if it proves impossible for Jesus to fulfill his desires. Often enough, I believe, we limit our desires precisely so that we will not be too disappointed. On the other hand, he could actually receive his sight. But what then? After all, he now has an identity that revolves around being a blind beggar. Who will he be if he is no longer blind? He knows how to cope with who he now is; he makes a living and he gets attention and perhaps even pity from others. How will he live as a sighted person? Suppose that a great deal of his vital energy is fueled 49 50/Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 by resentment of the trick life has played on him. What will it be like not to have that resentment? His friends will have to learn new ways of deal-ing with him as well. Indeed, they may not be willing or able to make the transition to relating to a man who is no longer handicapped. All of this may seem quite fanciful. Yet any counselor or spiritual director can testify that there is in us some power that is inherently con-servative, that wants the status quo to be preserved no matter how painful that status quo is. I may be between a rock and a hard place, but it is my rock and my hard place, and I know how to cope with the situation. Leaving it is very difficult, no matter how painful it also is to stay. Can we make sense of this difficulty that works against even desiring a change to something better? I have already pointed to one source of the difficulty. My identity can be wrapped up in my present status, whether that status is "blind beggar," "jil.ted lover," "bereaved husband," "unloved child," "unappreciated coworker," or whatever. To give up the identity may seem like giving up one's only self. Moreover, as already indicated, I have built up around this identity ways of coping with life, and even of earning a living. To change means to face an unknown, and perhaps worse future. There is, perhaps, a more subtle source of resistance as well. Freudian analysts speak of the covert gratification neurotic symptoms bring to the one who has them. There can be covert sexual and/or aggressive gratification, for example, in a wife's agoraphobia (fear of open spaces) because her husband has to stay at home more with her -- and also has to do the shopping. Suicidal people have been known to get gratification from the thought of making others guilty, miserable, even sick by their deaths. It may be that all of the status quos which we find so hard to give up provide some covert gratification. For example, Bartimaeus might well wonder whether anyone will pay attention to him if he is no longer blind. Again, to want to be healed of the resentment caused by a friend's hurtful remarks may mean that I will have to give up the covert hope that my friend is feeling pangs of remorse. We come close to the central insight I received at the prayer group. To want to be healed, to be changed, to become more whole means to surrender to life and to the future. The surrender involves two distinct, but interrelated movements, I believe. On the one hand, it means accept-ing my past as precisely what it is, my past. On the other hand, it means surrendering myself to the mystery of the future, ultimately to the Mys-tery we call God. We will look at each of these movements in turn. Bartimaeus must have accepted his past. He is a blind man, a blind Surrender: the Key to Wholeness beggar. He does not seem to wallow in resentment at what life has done to him; if he did, he would not have been able to ask so forcibly for his sight. To come to this point of acceptance he may have had to go through all the stages of grief described so well by Kubler-Ross.3 He may have denied his blindness, raged at it, at life, and at God, bargained with God, and become depressed. But now he has accepted that he is blind. And yet it is accepted as somehow past, as not controlling his freedom now, his freedom to desire a change. "Master, let me receive my sight." It is important to grasp the full impact of what it means for Bartimaeus, or anyone of us, to accept the past. It does not mean a stoic impassivity toward life. It does not mean a rosy optimism either. Life has dealt Bartimaeus a cruel blow, as it has dealt cruel blows to many people. Children have been subjected to abusive, unloving and unskilled parenting and have been psychically and spiritually scarred as a result. Loved ones have tragically and permanently been parted, and the surviv-ors are wounded deeply. To accept the past does not mean to condone everyone and everything. But it does mean to forgive in some deep way. SCren Kierkegaard makes a powerful statement while commenting on the biblical story of Tobias and Sarah. Recall that Sarah has become a mockery to her own maid because seven men had died on their marriage night to her. Now Tobias has asked to marry her. Many see Tobias as the hero. "No," says Kierkegaard: It is Sarah that is the heroine . For what love of God it requires to be willing to let oneself be healed when from the beginning one has been thus bungled without one's fault, from the beginning one has been an abortive specimen of humanity! What ethical maturity was required for assuming the responsibility of allowing the loved one to do such a daring deed! What humility before the face of another person! What faith in God to believe that the next instant she would not hate the hus-band to whom she owed everything!4 To accept the past as my past brings a freedom from it. But freedom does not mean that I am no longer the person that past has made me. Bartimaeus is who he is because he has been a blind beggar. So too, Sarah is who she is because of her.history of marriages. Another example is supplied by a response of a young man who was born a hemophiliac; at any moment of his life he could bleed to death from a simple cut. He was asked whether he wished that he had not had the illness. "How can I -- or anyone -- wish that the most important thing that ever happened to me had not happened? It is like saying that I wish I had been born on another planet, so different would I probably be. Put it this way: I would not have it any other way." 5 52/Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1987 And yet with this acceptance there also comes a freedom from the past. Bartimaeus is free of the imprisoning identity: "blind beggaL" Even if he does not receive his sight, he is free to become blind Bartimaeus the poet, or blind Bartimaeus the husband of Mary, or blind Bartimaeus the follower of Jesus. Just as the young hemophiliac can, by accepting his past, become a doctor, a teacher, a husband who also hap-pens to be hemophiliac. To accept the past as my past means to accept a future limited by my past, but nonetheless a future. Erik Erikson calls his final developmental stage the crisis between ego integrity and despair. Ego integrity or wisdom is described in this way: "It is the acceptance of one's one and only life cycle as something that had to be and that, by necessity, permitted of no substitutions: it thus means a new, a different love of one's parents."6 Such wisdom, Erikson maintains, leads, to freedom from the inordinate fear of death. And this may be the crux of th

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

Issue 25.5 of the Review for Religious, 1966. ; Mal~ Religious in Past and Present by Maurice A. ROche, C.M. 749 Updating the Cloister by Sister Teresa Margaret, O.C:D. 770 ' Directed vs. Preached.Retreats by Ladislas M. Ors,2, S.J. 781 The Religious Teacher by Sister M. Fredericus, O.P. 797 The Woman Religious and Leadership by William J. Kelly, S.J. 814 Retreat: Dialogue or Silence? by Ambrose de Groot, O.F.M.Cap. 828 A Pastoral Theology Program by Gerald G. Daily, S.J. 836 The Eucharist as Symbolic Reality by J. P. de Jong 853 Retreat or Community Experience by George A. Aschenbrenner, S.J. 860 The Problem of Vitality by John Carmody, S.J. 867 D, irection and the Spiritual Exercises by Daniel J. Shine, S.J. 888 Poems 897 Survey of Roman Documents 899 Views, News, Previews 906 Questions and Answers 909 Book Reviews 925 VOLUM~ 25 NUMBER 5 September 1966 Notice to Subscribers Because of constantly increasing costs, REVIEW FOR RELK;IOUS finds it necessary to increase the cost of its individual issues as well as of its sub-scriptions. The new rates, effective in 1967, will be the following: (l) Individual issues of the REVIEW will cost one dollar; this price will apply not only to all issues beginning with 1967 but also to all previously published issues. (2) Subscriptions in the United. States, Canada, and Mexico will cost $5.00 per year; $9.00 for two years. (3) Subscriptions to other countries will cost ~;5.50 per year; ~;10.00 for two years. (4) All the above prices are in terms of U.S.A. dollars; accordingly all payments must be made in U.S.A. funds. These prices will affect all individual issues sold on or after January 1, 1967. The new subscription prices will be applicable to all subscriptions-- new and renewed---beginning with the January, 1967, issue of the REVIEW. MAURICE A. ROCHE; C.M. The Male Religious in Past and Present What is the perfect Christian life? Can it be lived? If so, how? Does it entail the transformation of all human society? Can in-dividuals be immersed in a prevailingly or partially un-Christian society without compromising their principles and be fully Christian? To be fully Christian, is it necessary to withdraw from society? If so, must one live alone, or must those intent on the complete Christian life seek it in.community with othersP These and similar questions have been asked by zeal-ous Christians and by the Church herself since the time of Christ. According to the circumstances of time and place, the answer of the Church has varied. This article will treat in summary form the major manifestations of the "perfect life" as .they have appeared in the Western part of the Catholic Church during the past nineteen hundred years. As with most 'institutions in the Church, both the idea and practice of: the religious life developed rather slowly. Some of the elements of the religious life, for example, common purse, existed among the disciples even during the lifetime of Christ.2 Shortly after Pentecost at least some of the disciples gave all their possessions to the p0or.s In the First Epistle to the Corinthians (written about the year 57), St. Paul talks about the concern of a Christian father for his virgin daughter;4 presumably the motive for her virginity was a religious one. ÷ During ,the first two centuries, the life of perfection was lived within the family circle; domestic asceticism + was the rule. Given the small number of Christians in a pagan society, no othel- solution seemed feasible. Such persdns engaged in ordinary employments; each local church usuall~ had a number of these "continentes" ; ampton, 1 Kenneth S. Latourette, .4 History ol Christianity (New York: vania 18967. H~rper ~nd Row, 1953), p. 221. =Jn 13529. VOLUME 25, 1966 ' 1 Cor 7:36-8. 749 Father Maurice A. Roche, C.M., is a faculty member of Mary Immaculate Seminary; North- Pennsyl- + ÷ ÷ M. A. Roche, .M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 750 and "virgines." They formed a sort of spiritual aristoc-racy and occupied special places in the church. These primitive ascetics differed in many respects from the later religious: no special ceremony marked their entrance into the ascetical life; they wore no distinctive clothing; they did not live in community (though they might fre-quently assemble for mutual encouragement); they did not abstain from ordinary employment; they did not devote themselves as a matter of course or in .any special way to the corporal works of mercy. This mode of striv-ing for perfection has never died out in the Church; every parish still has its group of unmarried women who work for a living and are exceptional for their piety. About the middle of the third century there arose in Egypt the institution of monasticism. Authors have ad-vanced various reasons to explain its development in this place at this time. (a) Pagan Egypt had a strain of .mysticism in it. (It was in Alexandria that Ammonius Saccas [d. 245] had founded Neoplatonism.) Thus the Egyptian people were not entirely unprelSared for this mode of life which purported to lead to mystical union with God. (b) The desert wastes of Egypt made it easy to find solitude. Food and water were a constant problem of course, but the hot dry climate simplified the matter of clothing, shelter; and so forth. (c) The Decian persecution (249-251) was particularly thorough in Egypt and the desert offered a safe refuge. Some, driven out of the cities by the persecutors, sought refuge in the wilderness, liked the solitude, and remained there. Each of the above statements is true, and probably each contributed in some way to the growth of monasti-cism. They seem, however, to be occasions rather than causes. The basic cause for going to and remaining in the desert was the desire to live completely for God, a desire that was difficult of fulfillment in the still pagan atmosphere of the cities. Some ascetics had previously attempted to live in seclusion on the outskirts of the in-habited areas; this halfway measure proved in the main unworkable, and so the more zealous among them aban-doned the dwelling of men completely. Traditionally, the first hermit was St. Paul of Thebes (228-340) who fled to a remote mountain during the Decian persecution. St. Antony (250-356) was for a time a solitary hermit, but eventually a group of disciples gathered about him. Basically, these men were still her-mits, each living in his own ceil, giving hihaself to pri-vate prayer, reading, and manual work. Occasional dis-courses by St. Antony (and perhaps Mass) were the only occasions on which silence was broken. St. Antony was at heart a hermit, yet the needs of the Church twice called him to the active life. In 311 he left his retreat in order to encourage the victims of the persecution of Maximin, and about 338 he quitted his solitude in order to confer with St. Athanasius on means to defeat the Arian heresy. Between these two dates the desert had flowered: in the ),ear 325 the Nitrian Desert alone counted some five thousand men dedicated to God. Five years before this, another manifestation of the perfect life had appeared in Egypt: cenobitism, of which St. Pachomius (d. 348) is considered the initiator. His followers were not solitary hermits, nor were they inde-pendent hermits joined together by an accident of loca-tion; rather, they lived in common in subjection to ~he rule of the superior or abbot. Unlike some solitaries who neglected the sacraments, the Pachomian monks took part in Mass twice weekly, at one of which celebrations they communicated. The Pachomian rule tended to moderate some of the corporal austerities of the hermits, but it was withal quite severe. St. Pachomius was, it seems, the first to draw up a rule for monks. The great codifier of Eastern monasticism was not 'he, however, but St. Basil the Great (329-379). To his personal sanctity and firsthand experience with the dangers and advantages of monasticism, he added familiarity with the~ problems of rule, the grace of the episcopal office, a good education, and a keen intellect. His rule became the norm for Eastern monasticism, and in its broad lines at least is still followed today. More to our purpose, however, St. Basil's rule had an effect on the rule drawn up by St. Benedict in the sixth century. Before leaving the East completely, reference should be made at least in passing to the pillar saints, of whom the most famous was St. Simeon Stylites (d. 459). This singular expression of the perfect life had a brilliant but short-lived existence. Up until this time, monasticism had not developed much in the West. For the most part an importation from the East, it was, like much Eastern food, too highly seasoned for. the Western man: it did not suit Western climate, Western mentality, or Western man. Mention Should be made, however, of those who were more or less successful in forming monasteries after the Eastern fash-ion: Saints Hilary (315-367), Martin (c. 315-c. 399), Am-brose (339-397), Jerome (c. 347-419 or 420), Honoratus (c~ 350-430); and John Cassian (c. 360-c. 430).5 St. Augus-tine of ~Hippo (354-430) lived a common life with his clergy, but these were (to use a later terminology) can-ons regular rather than monks. ,~ Cassian is not usually recognized as a saint; this is probably a re-sult of his views in what has come to be known as the semi-Pelagian controversy. ÷ ÷ ÷ The Male Religious VOLUME 25, 1966 ÷ ÷ ÷ M~ A. Roche,~ C.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 752 By the end of the fifth century, monasticism, already firmly established in the East, had begun to sink roots in the West, although its exact form had not yet been definitively established. Over the years monasticism would undergo many changes in the West; "but in its various ramifications it was to be the main channel through which new bursts of life were to find expression in the various churches which conserved' the traditions of the Catholic Church of the Roman Empire," ~ The institution had already been in existence over two hun-dred years by the time St. Benedict of Nursia (480-550) was born; the number of monasteries varied greatly from place to place at this date in the Ctiristian West, but the institution as such had gained ac.ceptance in the minds of men. The work of St. Benedict was not pre-cisely to introduce a completely new organism into the Western Church; it was more to reform and adapt an existing institution so that it might be viable and useful in his time and place. In drawing up his rule, St. Bene-dict apparently took the rule of St. Basil as a model, though he did not imitate it slavishly; rather, he modi-fied it in order to suit the needs of himself and of his followers. The judgment of Latourette on St. Benedict's rule is worth noting: ~ The rule of Benedict became standard in the West, probably because of i~s intrinsic worth. Pope Gregory the Great did much to give it popularity. It was taken to Britain by missionaries sent by Gregory from: Rome . In the seventh century it began to gain in Gaul. Charlemagne admired it and furthered its adop-tion. By the latter part,of the eighth century it was generally ac, cepted. No central organization existed for its enforcement and to bring uniformity. Each monastery was independent of ~very other." Modifications might and often were made in the rule by individual houses. Yet it became the model from which many other rules stemmed. In an age of disorder the Benedictine monasteries were centres of quiet and orderly livfng, communities where prayer, work, and study were the custom, and that in a society where prayer was ignored or was regarded as magic to be practised for selfish ends, where work was despised as servile, where even princes were .illiterate, where war was chronic. ,.Like other monastic establishments, Benedictine foun~lations tended' to decline from the high ideals setby the rule. Many were heavily endowed and in numbers of them life became easy and at times sCa'ndalous. When awakenings occurred, they often took the form of a re-turn to the rule or its modification in t.he direction of greater austerity. Even when the rule was strictly observed, the mon-astertes were self-centered and were not concerned with the sal-vation of the so~:iety about them, except to draw individuals from it into their fellowship.' Hdwever., the missionaries of the e Latourette, History o[ Christianity, p. 233. ' As it stands, this sentence is far too sweeping. The monks at this time (outside of mission lands) did not engage in parochial wo~'k; but the monastic priests did not refuse their ministration to those lay Western Church were predominantly monks. It was chiefly through them, although often at the initiative and under the protection of lay princes, that the faith was carried beyond its existing frontiers. Later, moreover, monks of the Benedictine rule became prominent in the general life of the Church and of the community as a whole,s The life [in the monastery] was orderly but was not unduly severe and was probably more comfortable than was that of the great masses of the population. Clothing and meals were simple but adequate, and special provision was made for the ill, the aged, the very young, and those doing heavy manual labour. There was to be fasting at regular times, but this was not the kind practised by the extreme ascetics . Much weight was given to humility. Provision was made for various degrees of discipline, from private admonition to physical punishment, ex-communication, and as a final resort, expulsion. The entire round of twenty-four hours was provided for, with eight services, one every three hours, and with .periods for sleep, including a rest early in the afternoon, for eating, and for labour . Silence was encouraged and was the rule at meals and after compline. . Stress was placed on worship b.y the entire community and directions were given for the services. There was a place for priests, for they were needed to say mass, but they were to obey the rule as fully as the lay monks. The rule was wisely designed for a group of men of various ages living together in worship and in work for the cultivation of the full Christian life as it was con-ceived by the monk? The spirit of the rule is perhaps best summed up by its author in the prologue when he wrote: Therefore we must establish a school of the Lord's service, in founding which we hope to ordain nothing that is harsh or burdensome?° Dorn David Knowles writes: ¯. if the Rule holds within it so much of th~ wisdom and ex-perience of the past, its anticipation of the needs of the future is even more striking. The ancient world, with its city life, its great seats of culture, its graded society and its wide and rapid means of communication, was rapidly disappearing. In the new world that was coming into being, the estate, the village, the district were the units; Europe, from being a single complex organism was becoming an aggregate of cells, bound to one an-other by the loosest of ties. St. Benedict lived in a society where the scope and opportunities of education, secular and theologi-cal, were yearly narrowing, and in which the numbers of the people who sought it. The monks also wrote works for the edification of the faithful and furthered the development of theology¯ Moreover, their example of selfless devotion to God had a salutary impact even on those who did not become monks themselves¯ Finally, an important part of the religious life was prayer for the benefactors, for the local clergy, for the civil government, for the conversion of pagans, and so forth. Even the most cloistered monk was solicitous for the salvation of the society about him. s Latourette, History o] Christianity, pp. 335-6. 9 Ibid¯, pp. 33,1-5. l° Justin McCann, "The Rule of St. Benedict," cited in Colman Barry, Readings in Church History, v. 1 (~Vestminster: Newman, 1960), p. 168. 4- 4- 4- The Male Religious VOLUME 25, 1966 4" M, ,4. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS educated were yearly lessening; a socie(y in.which the family, the farm;the estate was strong--a society continually threatened with extinction., by invasion, or (with) chaos, and which therefore needed above all some clear, simple, basic principles to which it might hold and rally . This suitability to the needs of the time was met at every level of life, by the monastery of the Kule . Only in the early centuries or backward countries of medieval times could such a community continue to be a norm, and it did not, in fact, long endure in its original com-prehensiveness . A full acknowledgment of the unique ex-cellence of the Ruie does not imply that it had no limitations. Such are inevitable in every code that bears the stamp of time and place . ~ Benedictinism was not without rivals in the West. There were the Eastern-type monasteries founded before the time of St. Benedict, most if not all of which were within the then existing boundaries of the Roman Em-pire. 12 Of more importance and more influence were the Celtic monasteries initiated both before and after the lifetime of the saint of Nursia. For the most part these monasteries were located in regions that had never been or were not at the time of foundation within the. con-fines of the Empire. This Celtic monasticism was il-lumined by a galaxy of brilliant saints like Columkil (521-597) and Columban (540-615), the latter of whom composed the rule that bears his name. Much shorter than the Benedictine rule, the Columban rule Was Orien-tal in spirit. (This is not so strange as it may at first appear: St. Patrick had been formed to the religious life in the Eastern-type Abbey of Lerins founded by St. Honoratus about 400 A.D. and the influence of, the East had remained strong among the Celtic Christians.) The Celtic rule was very severe: hours of prayer and of work were multiplied; discipline was strict, with corporal pun-ishment meted out even for slight faults,' Columban monks went to England and to the continent in great numbers and started monasteries--such as Ltixeuil, Bob-bio, and Saint Ga!l--which were of great importance in the Middle Ages. The C61umban rule produced spiritual giants; but conversely, it was made only for spiritual giants, not for ordinary men. By what seems to us a strange quirk, this very strict rule allowed great freedom ~Dom David Knowles, The Monastic Order in England (2nd ed~; Cambridge: Cambridge University, 1963), pp. 9-11. = No one rule predominated here. Rufinus had translated and abridged the rule of St. Basil; St. Jerome had put the rule of St. Pachomius 'into Latin. Some in the West drew up new rtiles: St. Honoratus of Lerins gave out certain constitutions which are no longer extant; we do, however, possess the Regula ad monachos and the Regula ad virgines of St. Caesarius of Aries (469-542) and also rules by Aurelianus, bishop of Aries from 546 to 551. See P. de Labriolle et al., "De la mort de Th~odose h l'fiiection de Gr~goire le Grand," v. 4 of Histoire de l'Eglise, ed. by Fliche and Martin (Paris: Bloud and Gay, 1948), p. 592. of travel, and this sometimes led to disorder. For a while both the Benedictine and Columban rules existed over large portions of Western Europe; but eventually the Celtic Rule was forced to yield: in England at the Synod of Whitby in 664, in the Frankish Empire at the Synod of Autun in 670. Only in Ireland.did the Celtic Rule manage to endure. Even there it was eventually replaced, though by the stricter Cistercian Rule rather than by the Benedictine Rule strictly so-called. Even in defeat the austere:Irish monks won half a victory. , The character of Western monasticism, influenced.to some degree by St. Columban, was affected even more by the saint'g Italian contemporary, Pope St. Gregory I (540-604). About the year 575, he converted his parental home on the Caelian Hill into a monastery (St. An-drew, s), and there lived as a simple monk until chosen abbot in 585. The, regime at St. Andrew's was Benedic-tine in spirit; perhaps it even followed the Rule of St. Benedict explicitly. At any rate, St. Gregory was himself formed according to the Benedictine ideal. Chosen as bishop of Rome in 590, six or seven years later he sent St. Augustine and other monks from St. Andrew's to evangelize" the Angles, Saxons, and Jutes in present-day England. His use of monks as missionaries undoubtedly effected a notable change in the Character of Western monasticism. Up until his time, Benedictinism had been basically a lay movement. In the mission lands, clergy were needed; and so most of the missionary monks re-ceived ordination. By the end of the Carolingian era, the great majority of monks were priests. Besides con-tributing to the clericalization of the monasteries, the missionary movement also fostered an activist strain in Western monasticism. From time to time this tendency would become prominent in the West; it is the more noticeable because such external work is much less en-couraged in Eastern monasticism. As the number of clerical monks increased, manual labor was relegated to servants, and the liturgy was lengthened. In 817 St. Benedict of Aniane attempted a monastic confederation, but feudal disorders hindered his work. The last half of the ninth and the first half of the tenth centuries were periods of great disorder in the civil and religious fields. Civil wars; invasions by Northmen, Muslim, Magyars; lay patronage; and so forth contributed to the breakdown of civil government, to the physical destruction of numerous monasteries, and to the relaxing of morals, both within and without the monasteries. In the second half of the tenth century, a great re-awakening occurred in the Western Church. Of major importance was the reform of Cluny, initiated by. its ÷ ÷ ÷ The Mal.e,~Re.ligious VOLUME 25~ 1966 M. A. Roche, C.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS first abbot, St. Berno (850-927) in 910 and continued for some two and one half centuries by a series of outstand-ing and long-lived successors. An important innovation in the Cluniac reform was its centralizing tendency. Dur-ing the years after 910, many monasteries placed them-selves under the aegis of Cluny. The Cluniac regulations as eventually in force under St. Odilo (abbot from 994 to 1049) suppressed the title of abbot for heads of sub-ordinate houses; in charge of these lesser foundations were priors, subjected to the sole rule of the abbot of Cluny. By the beginning of the twelfth century, the num-ber of subordinate houses had risen to three hundred, the number of monks to ten thousand. Next to Rome, Cluny was regarded as the ecclesiastical center of Europe. Equally important to the monastic renewal was a movement, largely successful, to free the monasteries from the control of local lay lords and diocesan bishops. This question of exemption is a very involved affair, but it seems good to present a summary of the chief develop-ments in order that we may view with objectivity the events of the tenth and later centuries.13 The early monks, usually far removed from the cities (and from the bishops resident there), tended to develop independently of the hierarchy. The cenobitic life, more-over, demands a certain independence for the superior, or else he is superior in name only and powerless to lead his monks. Hence a certain tension developed between the legitimate abbatial desire for independence, and the likewise legitimate episcopal concern lest diocesan dis-cipline be subverted. The oldest extant conciliar legislation regarding monks and domestic ascetics goes back to the fourth century. The Council of Gangra in Paphlagonia (c. 340- 350) issued a series of anathemas against false ascetics; a council at Saragossa (380) speaks of the cleric who be-came a monk out of a spirit of pride and makes provi-sion for religious profession and veiling of virgins.14 Im-portant here is the fourth canon of the Council of Chalcedon (451): Those who lead a true and sincere monastic life ought to en-joy due honor. Since, however, there are some who, using the monastic state as a pretext, disturb the churches and the affairs of state, roam about aimlessly in the cities, and even undertake to establish monasteries for themselves, it is decided that no one shall build or found a monastery or a house of prayer without the consent of the bishop of the city. It is de.cided furthermore that all monks in every city and country place shall be subject to 13 The following remarks on exemption are taken for the most part from E. Fogliasso, "Exemption des religieux," Dictionnaire de droit canonique, v. 5, col. 646-51. 1, Hefele-Leclercq, Histoire des Conciles, v. 1.2 (Paris: 1907), pp. 1029-45; 986-7. the bishop, that they love silence and attend only to fasting and prayer, remaining in the places in which they renounced the world; that they shall not leave their monasteries and burden themselves either with ecclesiastical or worldly affairs or take part in them unless they are commissioned to do so for some necessary purpose by the bishop of the city; that no slave shall be received into the monasteries and become a monk without the consent of his master. Whosoever transgresses this decision of ours shall be excommunicated . ~ Though the text seems to subject the monks without any restriction to the local bishop, E. Fogliasso comes to a different conclusion. In his opinion, the council merely stated the general principle that monks are sub-ject to the bishop but did nothing to revoke the various customs which in practice limited episcopal control, The council did not annul the authority of abbots, nor did it reserve to the bishop the choice of the abbot, nor did it regulate the administrative relations between monastery and diocese; all of these continued in the same way as beforehand. In short, .relations between bishop and monks were not yet precisely regulated. The Council of Chalcedon had dealt chiefly with problems of the East rather than of the West, and there were comparatively few Western bishops in attendance. Hence the canons did not impress the Western bishops with their urgency; just four years after Chalcedon a council was held in Aries which, among other concerns, regulated the relations of bishop and monks. Without saying so in so many words, the council in effect held that the bishop was to regulate the external activities of the monks, while the monks were independent of the bishop in their internal affairs. This division of control (which later became normative in the West) was not ac-cepted everywhere immediately. Some particular coun-cils, especially the African, gave to the monks a very great liberty; other councils subjected the monks more strictly to the bishop. With St.: Gregory I, the concept of the regimen inter-num became more precise. St. Gregory desired that the internal independence of the monasteries be preserved, particularly in the choice of the abbot and in temporal administration. A short time later, in 628 to be exact, Pope Honorius I (625-638) went much further: he re-moved the monastery of Bobbio (founded near Milan in 613 by the wandering Celt St. Columban) completely from the jurisdiction of the local ordinary. Monasteries in Benevento (714 and 741) and Fulda (751) were granted exemptio.n by the Apostolic See in the next century. About this time, another current of events was leading a~ H. H. Schroeder, Disciplinary Decrees o] the General Councils (St. Louis: Herder, 1937), p. 92. -I. ÷ ÷ The Male Religious VOLUME 25, 1966 757 ÷ + + to or at least facilitating exemption from the bishop: the so-called "gift to St. Peter." 16 Pious laics would found a monastery and then give it to St. Peter, repre~ sented by his vicar in Rome. The prestige of the Apostle and of his vicar were so great, it was hoped, that no king, bishop, or lesser person would dare seize the foundation for his own ends. A few examples of this occur in Italy in the eighth century; in the ninth cen-tury, the custom crossed over the Alps.17 In this period, too, certain lay persons were persuaded to abandon the dominium that they had acquired over religious houses. In virtue of this and in virtue of the above mentioned donation to St. Peter, many monasteries succeeded in avoiding or in freeing themselves from lay control. This independence from local lay control must have also en-couraged the monks to seek exemption from the reli-gious control of the local ordinary. After this long digression to obtain the background, we return to Cluny; at its foundation in 910 it was do-nated to St. Peter; a few years later (912) it was given exemption from episcopal authority by Pope Anastasius III. This exemption it communicated to all the monas-teries subject to it, in virtue of a special papal concession given in order that the reform work of Cluny might be furthered. Toward the end of the tenth century, the question of exemption became more difficult. Many monks felt that the local bishop was not respecting their rights: he would demand the fulfillment of unjust and unreason-able conditions before he would perform the services for which only he had the power and jurisdiction. The bishops on the other hand claimed that the monks were exceeding their rights and privileges: disparaging the prelates, absolving from censures when they had no au-thority to do so, and so forth. In the pontificate of Pope Gregory V (996-999), exemptions multiplied both in number and in extension. Cluny was the beneficiary of further privileges: no one, not even the local ordinary, could enter the monastery to ordain without the permis-sion of the abbot, and the abbot could invite any bishop to ordain his men without even consulting the ordinary of the place. As a result of these and similar privileges, the great abbeys succeeded from the beginning of the eleventh century in freeing themselves completely from the authority of the diocesan bishop. This exemption soon characterized all the monastic orders. ¯ M. A. Roche~ REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 10 Emile Amann, "L'Eglise au pouvoir des laics," in v. 7 of Fliche- Martin's Histoire de l'Eglise (Paris: Bloud and Gay, 1948), pp. 343-64. 1~ It should be noted that this donation referred to the temporalities of the abbey; it had nothing to do with withdrawing the monastery from the spiritual jurisdiction of the local ordinary. Other centrally organized Benedictine groups came into existence after Cluny: the Camaldolese founded about 1015 by St. Romuald (950-1027); the Vallombro-sians begun about 1038 by St. John Gualbert (958- 1073). Distinct from these were the more eremitical Carthusians initiated about 1084 by St. Bruno (1030- 1101); to them Innocent XI in 1688 gave the supreme compliment: "Cartusa nnmqnam reformata, quia num-quam deformata." In the twelfth century, the leadership in vigorous, creative monastic life passed from Cluny to Citeaux, established in 1098 by St. Robert (1029-1111). The dis-tinctive features of this new Benedictine movement in-cluded: (a) white rather than black habits; (b) a strong insistence on the observance of poverty; (c) the establishment of monasteries far from the haunts of men; (d) a lessening of liturgical prayer and an increase of private prayer; and (e) a provision for uniting all the houses together into an integrated order, the first of its kind and precur-sor of many others. The houses of the older Cluniac reform were theo-retically under the control of the motherhouse, but they soon became too numerous for one abbot to rule. In the Cistercian system each monastery retained a large degree of autonomy, but there were also certain unify-ing factors. Identical service books were provided for all houses; each abbey was visited annually by the abbot of Citeaux or by the abbot of one of the four other oldest foundations (La Ferte, Pontigny, Clairvaux,18 Mori-mond); every year all the abbots assembled at Citeaux in a general chapter in order to maintain unity and mu-tual charity and to take such legislative and disciplinary actions as might be necessary. The Cistercians are usu-ally credited with the introduction (or better, reintro-duction) of laymen into the monastery. In Cluny and its dependent houses, all monks were clerics and took part in choir; manual labor was done by serfs. The Cister-cians admitted to tI~e habit such as were nnwilling or unable to become choir monks. These non-choral reli-gious were called "conversi" or lay brothers; they did the manual work of the monastery and were complete though subordinate members of the monastic family. Though Citeaux at first refused exemption from episcopal authority, it later accepted that privilege. As with Cluny, the primitive fervor of the Cistercians is Clairvaux was made famous by its abbot St. Bernard (1090-1153), the most influential ecclesiastic of his time. The Male Religious VOLUME 25, 1966 759 4. 4. 4. M. ~. Roche, .M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS '760 gradually waned. The downfall of the order has been attributed to internal disorder around the beginning (1378) of the Great,Western .Schism; self-willed abbots abused local autonomy, capitulated to national differ-ences, and allowed frequent exceptions to the rule. Learning came into prominence, flesh meat was allowed, wealth .and pomp entered in. Efforts to restore pristine observance broke dowm with the cessation of general chapters in 1411 during the Great Western Schism. The order later split into congregations more or less dis-tinct. ; Thus far this article has limited itself to the monastic life. It should be noted that the influence of the monastic life upon the non-religious clergy has been profound. It is perhaps not too much to say that clerical celibacy be-came morally necessary in the West in order to main-tain the prestige of the parochial clergy against odious comparison with monks. The more zealous ~ among the non-monastic clergy have always been eager to borrow such elements of religious observance as would be com-patible with their duties. It may be that the direct in-fluence of the Cluniac reform upon the secular clergy has been exaggerated; but undoubtedly the spiritual success, of Cluny suggested the advantage of cooperative effort in promoting one's individual holiness and~ in furthering reform on a broader scale. Up until the time of Gregory the Great, it will be recalled, monasticism was chiefly ~a lay movement; few clerics were involved. The only place in which there was a number of clerics was in the city, for only the city needed the services of more than a few ministers. Those clerics who lived together in a city under a rule (usually with their bishop at the head) were' not known as monks; later they would be known as canons regular. The credit for organizing the first body of ministers in the common life is usually given to St. Eu~ebius of Vercelli (d. c. 370), though the influence of St. Augustine (354- 430) in this field was much more profound. At the time of the barbarian invasions, the canonical life as well as many other Christian practices suffered greatly; in fact the next great man whose name is strongly associated with the canonical life is St. Chrodegang of Metz (700- 786), who is considered the proximate founder of the canonical life in the Teutonic West.19 His ideal was to lOThe canons were distinguished from the monks by their es-sentially pastoral orientation, The canon was basically a member of the pastoral clergy who followed a rule and lived in common with others of like mind in order to sanctify himself and to make.his work mo~e effective. The monk, on the other hand, became a monk not in order to minister but in order to seek God; if he later became a priest and did work among the people, this was not an essential part of his vocation as a monk. combine the apostolate to the laity with the practice of monastic asceticism; he therefore adapted the rule of St. Benedict to the life of the parochial clergy, prescrib-ing a common dwelling, common table, and common dormitory. Chanting of the Divine Office was to take place at fixed hours. It is uncertain why these men were called "canons." Perhaps it was because their names were inscribed on a "canon", that is, on a list; or maybe because they re-citedthe horae canonicae; maybe because they lived ac-cording to a canon or rule. Their institute was especially (and perhaps uniquely) suited to churches where many priests were attached. Though the institution of canons did considerable good for'a while, it had within itself a cancer which would destroy it: the absence of a rule of poverty. Archbishop Gunther of Cologne about the middle of the ninth century authorized his canons to use and administer the ecclesiastical revenues at will, and very soon the common life ended for those canons. Other groups of canons followed the example of Co-logne, and by the end of the ninth century there were few canons still living the common life. Those canons who lived in private dwellings but still were attached to the cathedral or collegiate churches came to be known as secular canons (which is almost a contradiction in terms); those canons who continued to live the common life were known as regular canons (which is almost redundant). In the eleventh and twelfth centuries there occurred a great revival among the canons, as elsewhere in the Church; in many secu-larized cathedral and collegiate chapters, canonici saecu-lares began to live the common life again and thus be-came canonici regulares2°. The best known group of canons regular are the Premonstratensians~ founded about 1120 by St. Norbert (1080-1134). They remained subject to the local bishop, rejecting all exemption un-til the fifteenth century. A second group is the Canons Regular of St. Victor, formed in 1108 by William of Champeaux (1071-1121). There were in addition many loosely knit bodies of Canons Regular of Saint Augustine, usually of diocesan proportions; they numbered some four hundred housesby the sixteenth century.21 The age of the Crusades produced the next species of religious observance: the military orders, which com-bined practices of the monastic life (including the three vows) with the chivalry of knighthood. The government ~o Karl Bihhneyer, Church History, trans. Victor E. Mills, v. 2 (Westminster: Newman, 1963), p. 222. ~The Canons Regular of St. Augustine are to be distinguished from the Hermits of St. Augustine later fused by papal authority into the Augustinian Friars. 4. 4. 4- The Male Religious VOLUME 25, ~966 761 ÷ ÷ ÷ M. A. Roche, C.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 762 of these military orders was,, as may be expected, strongly centralized; only the general chapter could limit the power.0f the grand master. The Knights of St. John or Hospitalers were organized around a hospital in Jeru-salem by a knight named Gerard (d. c. 1120). Succes-sively removed to Rhodes and Malta, they still survive. The Knights Templar were formed at Jerusalem in II19 ,by Hugh of Payens and seven other French knights. Like the Knights of St. John, they defended the Holy Land with courage; they were, however, sup-pressed by Pope Clement V in 1312. The Knights of St. Mary were instituted at Acre around 1198; eventually they became preponderantly German (whence the name Teutonic Knights), and moved their field of operations to the Baltic. In 1525 the grand master Albert of Brandenburg secularized the order's holdings, erected them into the hereditary Duchy of Prussia, and. became a Lutheran. Even though a Protestant as well as a Catho-lic branch of the order survived, for all practical pur-poses the order was dead. Other knightly orders existed ~n the Iberian peninsula. These military orders had a relatively brief existence; of far greater importance to the history of the Church are the mendicant orders which next appeared: The emergence of the me0dicant orders was associated with the growth of cities in Western Europe. By the thirteenth cen-tury, that part of the world was beginning to move out of the almost exclusively agricultural economy which had followed the decline of the Roman Empire and the disappearance of the urban civilization that had characterized that realm. Cities were once more appearing. It was to deepening the religious life of the populace of the cities and towns that the friars devoted much of their energy. Most of the monasteries had chosen solitude and centers remote from the contaminfiting influences of the world. In contrast, the mendicant orders sought the places where men congregated and endeavoured to bring the Gospel to them there. The older monasteries were associated with a prevailing rural and feudal ,milieu. The mendicant orders flourished in the rapidly growing urban populations,m The mendicants are usually listed as four: the Car-melites whose foundations were laid in 1156; the Franciscans begun by St. Francis of Assisi (1181 or 1182- 1226) and given tentative approval in 1210; the Order of Preachers instituted by St. Dominic (I170-1221) and approved in 1216; the Augustinians, amalgamated and formed as an order only in 1256.28 Sometimes the list of mendicants is expanded in order to include the Ser-vites: established in 1223 by seven youths from aristo-cratic Florentine families, the group was constituted an = Latourette, History of Christianity, p. 428. = The order formed in 1256 was composed of preexisting congre-gations, one of which had been founded by St. William about 1156. order in 1240, although final approval did not come un-til 1304. The largest of the mendicant groups owes its origin to St. Francis of Assisi. He wrote a rule for his followers in 1221, and a second one in 1223. After his death, the friars (First Order) split, chiefly on the question of pov-erty, into the Observants and Conventuals. The Second Order developed from the little group of women headed by St. Clare. The Third Order, established in.1221 under the name of the Brothers and Sitters of Penance, de-veloped into the Third Order Secular '(persons living in the world), the Third Order Regular, and numerous other tertiary organizations basing themselves on the Franciscan rule. The friars of the various orders quickly spread and rapidly attracted large numbers of members. Perhaps this Was due to the fact that they combined in an obvi-ous way the love of God (as' did the monks) with service to others. This growth b~ought the mendicants into re-peated conflicts with the secular ~lergy. The friars were by the nature of their institute destined to go°and to minister to the people everywhere. To do this, they needed exemption from the diocesan bishops, exemp-tion that was not local (as in a monastery), but personal. This exemption the popes gladly gave, for they saw 'in the friars a most powerful aid in the work of reform. During the fourteenth century, the Brothers of the Common Life, a congregation of laymen without vows under the leadership of Gerard de Groote (1340-1384) did much to revitalize education. They attempted to combine a thorough Catholic training with the new classical curriculum. Despite their work and despite the presence of some religious saints, the fourteenth~ century was in general one of decline among monks, canons, and mendicants. In the years around 1350, the Black Death took a heavy toll among the more zealous; While in some lands religious life recovered, in many places the de-terioration in discipline and morals seems to have been especially marked in the latter part of the fourteenth and in the fifteenth centuries. Besides the Brothers of the Common Life, only a few small religious groups were founded. There were nevertheless some attempts at re-form among the Franciscan groups and among the Dominicans. The Augustinian friars experienced a re-form in certain countries; it was to an Observant friary that Martin Luther would apply. The Carmelites un-derwent a reform movement in Italy about 1413, but this gradually spent itself. In general, these pre-Triden-tine reforms lacked thoroughness and permanency. At the time of the Reformation, consequently, many religious houses were in a low spiritual state and their ÷ ÷ The Male Religious VOLUME 25, 196~ 763 + + + M. A. Roche, C.M. REWEW FOR .~ELm~OUS 764 members were unprepared to meet the attractions of Protestantism. The list of those who embraced the new religion included many priests and nuns. Reform came, though somewhat late, to the older or-ders. The Dominicans, less in need of moral than in-tellectual renewal, were given impetus in the latter field by Cardinal Cajetan (1469-1534). The Franciscans were again reorganized (in 1517) into Conventuals and Ob-servants; a later offshoot of the latter group is the Capuchins. The Augustinians were reformed by their general, Giles of Viterbo (d. 1532). The work of renewal undertaken on behalf of the Carmelites by St. John of the Cross (1542-1591) and St. Teresa (1515-1582) re-sulted in the separation of the new Discalced Carmelites from what came to be called the Calced Carmelites. Re-form was also undertaken with more or less success by the Benedictines,~4 Camaldolese,~5 Ciste~'cians,2~ Canons P,.egular,"-'7 and other groups. Before the opening of the Council of Trent (1545- 1563), the reform movement in the Church had pro-duced a number of new institutes. Prominent among these are the clerks regularY8 Included in this group are the Theatines founded in 1516 by St. Cajetan of Thiene (1480-1547); the Barnabites initiated in 1532 by St. An-thony Zaccaria (1502-1539); and the Somaschi begun in 1532 by St. Jerome Aemilian (1481-1537). The most important of these pre-Tridentine founda-tions was the Society of Jesus begun in 1540 by St. Ig-natius of Loyola (1496-1556). The Society had many unique qualities, so that some feel that it should be classified not as an order of clerks regular but in a sepa-rate classification.-~9 Among the distinctive features of the Jesuits were: (a) a two-year novitiate; (b) the deferral of profession for ten, fifteen, or more years after the novitiate; .-4 A reformed cmlgregation of Benedictines that received papal ap-proval in 1604; an offshoot of this reform is the later Congregation of St. Maur. = Paolo Giustiniani (1475-1528) worked to restore the primitive spirit of the Camaldolese. -~ A reformed group of Cistercians (the Feuillants) arose in France under the leadership of Jean de la Barri~re (1544-1600). In 1662 Ar-mand de Ranc~ (d. 1700) initiated the reform of La Trappe. -~ Peter Fourier (1565-1640) worked to renew the canons regular in Lo~:raine. ~ The clerks regular are distinguished from (a) canons regular, in that the clerks do not have Office in choir in order to have more time for the ministry; (b) monks, in that they are pastorally oriented; (c) mendicants, in that they do not subsist from alms and do not recite the choral Office; and (d) secular priests, in that that they live a com-mon life with vows. -~ Ricardo Garcia Villoslada, Historia de la lglesia Cat61ica, v. 3 (Madrid: 1960), p. 827. (c) the division into the professed of the four vows (a minority who take solemn vows); and the ordinary members, coadjutors spiritual (priests) and coadjutors temporal (lay brothers); (d) the great power of the superior general; (e) a fourth vow of obedience to the Roman Pontiff; and (f) the elimination of the choral Office. The members of the Company wore no garb other than the ordinary dress of secular clerics; made much of study; and engaged in works of education, mission; and controversy. They were ch.iefly responsible for halting the further spread of the Reformation; indeed, they often succeeded in winning back regions that had fallen to Protestantism. Especially noteworthy .were their works in the foreign missions. After much delay, the Council of Trent finally opened in 1545. Besides the many other pressing problems, the Council fathers interested themselves also in the ques-tion of religious orders. By this time exemption had grown so universal that it created administrative chaos in the Church. The council decided what the local or-dinary could do in regard to regulars jure ordinario, jure delegato and utroque simul jure. Thus, for exam-pie, a bishop was empowered to punish regulars for crimes committed outside the house, if his superiors failed to act, and so forth, In general, Trent preserved the internal autonomy of religious, but subjected them to the authority of the local ordinary in all ministry to the bishop's people and in all things looking to the common good of the Church. After the Council of Trent, a new type of clerical life became exceedingly popular: that of secular priests liv-ing in common but not bound by vows.s° One of the earliest of these groups was the Oratory founded in 1564 by St. Philip Neri (1515-1595). The members of the ora-tory lived together without vows, retained their own property, and provided for their own needs except for lodging. The superior was more a chairman than a ruler, since no public act could be decided without the approbation of a majority of the members. Each house was independent, although the personal influence of St. Philip was very great. In France, Pierre Cardinal de B~rulle (1575-1629) organized a French oratory on the principles of St. Philip, though the independence of each house was re- ~o These priests resemble the canons of the time of St. Chrodegang in that they are priests living in common without vows. The canons of St. Chrodegang were almost all in the parochial ministry; the newer groups, on the other hand, engage in a great variety of works: parishes, schools, seminaries, domestic missions, foreign missions, and so forth. + + + The Male Religious VOLUME 25, 1966 765 ÷ ÷ ÷ M. A. Roche, .M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 766 placed by a type of federation. Similar groups were the Oblates of St. Ambrose initiated in 1578 in Milan by St. Charles Borromeo (1538-1584); the Doctrinaires begun in 1592 by Caesar de Bus (1544-1607); the Lazarists or Vincentians" founded in 1625 by St. Vincent de Paul (1581-1660); the Sulpicians begun in 1642 by Jean- Jacques Olier (1608-1657); the Eudists formed in 1643 by St. Jean Eudes (1601-1680); the Paris Foreign Mis-sion Society organized in 1660 at Paris by Pope Alex-ander VII (1599-1667). After the Council of Trent there also arose new com-munities of religious who differed from the newer com-munities of secular priests in that they took the usual three vows of religion, and from the older orders in that these vows were not solemn but simple.The great ma-jority of post-Tridentine religious groups are of this type. Among them are the Camillans organized in 1584 by St. Camilhls de Lellis (1550-1614); the Passionists begun in 1737 by St. Paul of the Cross (1694--1775); the Redemptorists started by St. Alphonsus Ligouri (1696- 1787); the Company of Mary initiated by St. Louis Marie de Montfort (1673-1716). The above congregations were composed chietly of priests; St. John Baptist de la Salle (1651-1719) organized abont the year 1684 a congrega-tion of non-clerics, the Brothers of the Christian Schools. Despite these new foundations and despite the re-newal of the older orders, the religious life began to decay ;~gain during the second half of the eighteenth cen-tury. Gallicanism, Josephism, Jansenism, and subservi-ence to the king seriously weakened Catholic life in gen-eral and reached even into religion. The suppression of the .Jesuits by Pope Clement XIV in 1773 temporarily removed the Society from the scene; the French Revolu-tion and the Napoleonic era dealt harshly with com-munity life in what remained of Catholic Europe. The one other area of ltourishing religious observance, Span-ish America, lost most of its monasteries and convents during the wars for independence and the subsequent years of turmoil. In 1815, then, the religious life among clerics had to ;i large degree disappeared; but the nineteenth century witnessed an extraordinary revival. The Society of Jesus (granted some sort of recognition in 1801) was restored to the whole world in 1814. The Benedictines--their houses reduced to about thirty--took on new life. Not the least of their contributions was the impetus given to liturgical study and liturgical worship by Dora Gu~r-anger. The Cistercians reopened many old monasteries and made new foundations. The Dominicans acquired fresh vigor--the name of Lacordaire. is important here-- and qnickly accepted the invitation of Leo XIII to re- vive the philosophy of St. Thomas Aquinas. The Fran-ciscans were again reorganized in 1897. Numerous new institutes of clerics arose, almost all (if not all) congregations with simple vows. St. ,John Bosco (1815-1888) begafi the Salesians; Blessed Peter Julian Eyniard (1811-1868) started the Priests of the Blessed Sacrament. The Congregation of the Immacu-late Heart of Mary (1841) of Venerable Frances Lieber-mann merged with the Fathers of the Holy Ghost in 1848; William Chaminade initiated the Marianists around 1815 or 1816; in 1816 Eugene de Mazenod founded the Oblates of Mary Immaculate; in the same year Jean Claude Marie Colin (1790-1875) began the Marists. Blessed Vincent Palotti (1798-1850) about 1835 formed the Pious Society of the Missions, soon called after him the Pallotine Fathers; two existing groups united in France in 1842 to form the Congregation of Holy Cross. In 1898 the Anglican Father Paul Francis established the Society of the Atonement; in 1908 he and most of his followers were received into the Church. Several new congregations of religious clerics with simple vows were initiated solely or primarily for work on the foreign missions. Among these are the Congrega-tion of the Immaculate Heart of Mary begun in 1863 by Theophile Verbiest in Belgium; the Society of the Di-vine Word inaugurated in 1875 by Arnold Janssen; the Mill Hill Fathers, started in England in 1866 by Her-bert Cardinal Vaughan. In addition to the above religious congregations, sev-eral societies were formed for priests living in commu-nity without vows: the Precious Blood Fathers started in 1815 by Gaspar del Bufalo; the Paulists formed by Isaac Hecker (1819-1888); the Maryknoll Fathers established in 1911 by James Walsh and Thomas Price; the Joseph-ite Fathers inaugurated in 1893; the White Fathers be-gun by Charles Cardinal Lavigerie in Algiers in 1868. As this paper draws to a close, perhaps it will be help-ful to give a panoramic view of the religious life as we have it today in the western Church. The modern canoni-cal organization of the religious life is divided into the orders (in which solemn vows are pronounced) and con-gregations (in which simple vows are taken). Included among the orders (in their order of precedence) are: (a) canons regular, for example, the Canons Regular of St. Augustine at St. Maurice, Switzerland; (b) monks, such as Benedictines, Cistercians, and so forth; and (c) other regulars, such as mendicants (Franciscans, Dominicans, and so forth) and clerks regular (Barnabites, Jesuits, and so forth). ÷ ÷ ÷ The Male Religious VOLUME 25, 1966 767 + + M. A. Roche, C.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 768 Among the congregations aye the Passionists, Redemp-torists, Salesians, and most of the newer groups. Somewhat like the congregations are the societies of secular priests living in common without vows: Sulpi-cians, Vincentians, Maryknoll, Paulists, and so forth. It seems fitting here to add a word about secular in-stitutes. They are societies, whether clerical or lay, whose members profess the evangelical counsels in the world in order to attain Christian perfection and to ex-ercise a full apostolate. Though these institutes are still in the embryonic stage, they show much promise [or the future. A treatment of these, is beyond the scope of this article, but it is interesting to note that they are somewhat akin to (though better organized than) the groups of domestic ascetics of the first century. The wheel has returned to its starting place. At the end of this article, it seems appropriate to list some conclusions that may be drawn from a study of the historical aspect of religious life.al (1) The practice of the evangelical counsels with or without vows has always been esteemed in the Church; moreover, it has a necessary.role to play. (2) As a general rule, religious orders increase in power between general councils as a result of papal grant. During general councils, religious usually lose power as a result of episcopal action. (3) A good criterion for the vitality of the Church in any period or in any area is the vitality of the religious (and especially of the monastic) observance. (4) Every approved form of religious life gives wit-ness to a special attribu'te of God or to a special truth that needs emphasis. The monk, for example, witnesses to the absolute primacy of the supernatural; the Domini-can to the wisdom of God; the Franciscan to the neces-sity of detachment and to the joy of the Christian life; the Mayknoller to God's universal salvific will, and so forth. In addition to this basic emphasis, most religious engage in work for the people. At times it may seem that a par-ticular form of religious life is today not the most efficient type for external work; perhaps, for example, the choral Office or prescribed manual labor or the vow of poverty may hinder to some degree the work of the ministry. This does not mean, however, that a seemingly less efficient group should be allowed to die; nor that it ought to change its nature radically. Every religious group still serves a most useful purpose in the Church by witnessing to its basic orientations. In the case o[ those who vow = Some of these points were made by Pope Paul VI in his allocu-tion, Magno gaudio, of May 23, 1964, treating of the religious life; an English translation of the allocution can be found in REVIEW FOR RELIC~OUS, V. 23 (1964), pp. 698-704. poverty, for example, their profession of detachment is of great value to the Church and ought not to be aban-doned lightly. (5) As a corollary to the foregoing, it can be said that religious orders and congregations ought to adhere as closely as possible to the spirit given them by their founders, for only then can they give the witness for which they were created. A further corollary is that there is need for a periodic examination of conscience by every order and congregation to see whether it has really kept its original orientation. (6) The history of religious life is not necessarily an e~colution from a less perfect to a more perfect form. A particular form appears because changed conditions have called for a new mode of religious observance. Thus the monastery (and it alone) was ideal in the agrarian society of the early Middle Ages; there was in fact little call for wandering friars. The reurbanization of Europe in the eleventh and twelfth centuries did not necessitate the abandonment of monasticism; but it did call for another expression of the religious life, and the friars appeared. (7) As a corollary of this, it is quite possible that mod-ern times demand new types of religious life, types which up till now have not been tried. It is also quite possible that these new forms will have a difficult birth, that some attempts will be premature and abortive. Only time will tell. In the past, certain representatives of es-tablished forms of the religious life have with the best of intentions attempted to thwart men seeking to estab-lish newer forms of religious observance. It would be a tragedy if today we repeat these errors of the past. It would be far better if the established orders, congrega- ¯ tions, and societies would assist these new attempts with their counsel, encouragement, and prayer. Love of one's own institute ought not to blind a man to the fact that there are other ways of serving God. We know that God is wonderful in His saints; He is also wonderful in the variety and holiness of religious life. The Male Religious VOLUME 25, 1966 769 SISTER TERESA MARGARET, O.C.D. Updating the Cloister ÷ ÷ ÷ Sister Teresa Margaret, O.C~D,, writes from the Carmelite Mona-stery; Bridell, (~ar-digan; Wales. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS We have reached a turning point in history, it would seem, when the world is taking a new path and when, in the words of the late Cardinal Suhard, "the greatest mis-take the Christians of the twentieth century could make would be to let the world develop and unify itself with-out them." In saying this, the cardinal was urging the Church to emerge from her closed circle and become immersed in the activity of the world. But his words apply no less to the necessity of the religious "emergence" by shedding the inhibitions and barnacles of centuries. Adaptation and Renewal. Cardinal Suenens and other notable writers on the subject of religious reform have confined their suggestions and criticisms, to the active apostolate, specifically excluding the enclosed orders of ~women from their remarks. This has been interpreted in many cloisters as indicating that in our case no updat-ing was necessary, either because our customs and the externals of our life were "changeless" (which, in effect, merely means that they have not changed since the sixteenth century), or because they are so perfect in themselves that they stand in no need of renewal-- which sounds like the stock formulation of Pharisa-ism. Glosses traditionally applied to the monastic life as an anticipation of heaven or a continuation of the Gospels should be taken for what they are--metaphors --and not lead cloistered religious to believe that they form a privileged elite of humanity, a class of Christian different from and superior to all others. Everything human changes with time except human nature itself; and in a world subject to continuous alteration; it would indeed be a rare individual or community that stood in no need of renovation. Any lingering doubts on this score should be dispelled by the Decree on the Adaptation and Renewal of the Religious Life promulgated by Paul VI on October 28, 1965: The adaptation and renewal of the religious life includes both the constant return to the sources of all Christian life and to the original spirit of the institutes and their adaptation to the changed conditions of our time. [but] even the best adjust-ments made in accordance with the needs of our age will be in-effectual unless they are animated by a renewal of spirit . Therefore let constitutions, directories, customs books, books of prayer and ceremonies and such like be suitably re-edited and, obsolete laws being suppressed, be adapted to the decrees of this sacred synod . Papal cloister should be maintained in the case of nuns engaged exclusively in the contemplative life. However, it must be adjusted to conditions of time and place and obsolete wactices suppressed? External Reforms 1. Enclosure. A recently published symposium entitled Religious Orders in the Modern World2 contains as the last and longest contribution a survey of practical aspects of renewal made by the Bishop of Arras, Mgr. Gerard Huyghe, a couple of years ago. Bishop Huyghe does not limit himself to criticisms of outmoded customs, and dress that hamper the exercise of the active apostolate but turns his searchlight also upon the cloister. Present forms of enclosure, he rightly says, are a legacy from' the Middle Ages, grilles, curtains, and turns being, "doubtless a survival from the long period of Moslem domination over the Iberian peninsula," a weight of custom that is purposeless and ridiculous in this age. Certainly it is advisable for [cloistered] nuns to live entirely apart from the world--partly for protection against the noise of the world, and as a defense against the temptation to go out too much; but mainly as an unequivocal sign that they have chosen to offer their services gratuitously to praise God in the Church's name. But all external signs of such enclosure should be ruth-lessly eliminated, and the law on enclosure for nuns should be brought into harmony with the law on monks' enclosure, which is much more humane and has more respect for the dignity of the person . Canonical penalties like excommunication should be abolished, because they are a threat to none but the scrup-ulous; 8 I would like to make it clear at the outset that in relegating grilles and prison bars to the category of "obsolete practices" which the decree recommends should be "suppressed," I am in no way championing claustral emancipation in the sense of more contact with the secular world, or any mitigation of the monastic need for withdrawal and rules of silence and solitude. But it is a poor form o~ "aloneness with God" that can be enforced only under lock and key. If one has not already erected a cloister of the heart, no multiplying of bolts and veils will provide the necessary withdrawal, which is something essentially interior. No, my reasons ~ Decree on Adaptation and Renewal of Religious Life, nos. 2, 3, 16. -" Geoffrey Chapman (ed.), Religious Orders in the Modern World (London: 1965). ~ Ibid., p. 156. Updating the Cloister VOLUME 25, 1966 771 + Sister Teresa Margaret REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS for assuming the grille to be obsolete are all strictly utilitarian. It hinders vocations, creating antagonism and an entirely false and unhealthy conception of the con-templative life in the modern generation; it causes un-told and unnecessary suffering for parents; and it serves no useful purpose. If I wanted to get out of this cloister tomorrow, I could achieve it with the greatest of ease and without any need to make a dramatic nocturnal escape over the wall. It is anti-feminist discrimination that presumes no woman may be trusted except under lock and key and constant supervision, else why are regulations for enclosed men so different? It is shocking that in this day and age some monasteries of women actu-ally continue the most reprehensible practice of sending "companions" to the parlor so that a sister may not speak to a friend or relative except in the presence of a monitor. If she cannot be trusted in the parlor, then by all means keep her out of it; but do not send her with a hidden vigilante. Again, why may a nun not embrace her mother, or sit with her in the parlor in the normal way, as any monk does when his parents visit him? Why may a monk offer Mass in the public sanctuary of an enclosed convent while the nuns must "participate" from the other side of a grille? These are all matters of discrimination and serve no usefizl or sensible purpose except that since time imme-morial women and children were expected to show so little discretion that they must be confined to the nursery under the watchfi~l eye of a governess. Bishop Huyghe says: A final reason for abolishing some of the externals of the nuns' enclosure is connected with the present needs of the Christian people in liturgical matters. As a nun says: "Priests and sacred ministers are allowed to enter the enclosure to bury the dead (Inter coetera, n. 27). Why should they not also do so for the processions on the Rogation Days and Palm Sunday? It becomes increasingly difficult for us to see why the priest should be left 'marking time' on one side of the grille, while the nuns go off to perform their own little ceremony on the other. Why should a function like the Easter Vigil be cut in two by a grille? Moreover, I do not see why there should be a grille separating the nuns from the altar. Would it not be more reason-able if the priest came in to say Mass and went out as soon as the sacrifice was over?" ' We have been told by the highest authority that cl6istered nuns are not to remain aloof from litur-gical participation by silence, darkened choirs, or veiled faces, but to join in with celebrant and congre-gation in dialogue Masses, hymns, Benediction, Bible vigils, and such services. But present claustral regulations do not facilitate participation, tending to isolate the nuns' choir from the action in the sanctuary and chapel beyond the grille, both physically and psychologically. Ibid., p. 156-7. 2.Habits. Any suggestion to modify nuns' habits meets ~with varying reactions; and, in fact, little practical lead has been given in the matter, although in recent years there has been considerable reduction of the bulk, both in material and unnecessary layers of garment. But the habits still look voluminous, unhygienic, and incon-venient. And they are. Nowadays few would agree that this is an acceptable or reasonable form of penance, for wearing heavy clothes fatigues one unnecessarily and reduces efficiency and working capacity. Is there any reason why habits should not be shorter and lighter so that wasted energy could be redirected into more pro-ductive activities than mere physical exhaustion? Nor can I see much force in the argument that, were habits not at least ankle-length, Poor Clares and Discalced Carmelites who do not wear shoes, would look most inelegant. Granted they would. But why not adopt normal twentieth century footgear as the more sensible alternative? The Council fathers in their decree stress that the religious habit is an outward mark of con-secration to God and therefore "should be simple and modest, poor and at the same time.becoming. In addition it must meet the requirements of health and be suited to circumstances of time and place., the habits of both men and women ~religious which do not conform to these norms must be changed," ~ and that, one imagines, would include the habits of most enclosed orders, male and female, Can one think of anything less practicable than the white habits of Cistercians, Carthusians, and Dominicans? And' th~ fact that brown or black merely do not show th~ dirt is 'little recommendation'. In the interest of simplicity, I fail to see why we can-not have a common habit for all religious. For the various, congregations, teachers, nurses, catechists, social workers, could not each group, rather than each congre-gation, wear a common "religious" dress for inside their convents/and another suitable costume (with, perhaps, a distinguishing badge) for external work? And could' not all cloistered nuns and monks have a common habit, combining the best and most servicei~ble features of all? The cloistered religious could retain veil and scapular (in a modified form), which would clearly differentiate them from their apostolic sisters. Thus a nun would be easily identified on sight without this perennial hunt for a different style to mark off the var-ious orders which has led to such exaggerated headgear in the recent past, when latecomers in the field found that all moderate, styles for coifs had already been snapped up. The badge of the order or congregation would distinguish one's identity and form of work. ~ Decree on Adal~tation and Renewal oI Religious Life, n. 17. + + ÷ Updating the Cloister VOLUME 25, 1966 773 ÷ 4. ÷ Sister Teresa Margaret REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 3. Legislation. Another point that needs urgent re-vision is the framing of our laws, which is at present done exclusively by men who, however learned and holy, simply do not understand women's domestic prob-lems. Thus, no sooner are new regulations issued than it is necessary to apply for dispensations and indults be-cause of local conditions; and it seems an anomalous rule that can be maintained only by constant dispensations. Why [asks Mgr. Huyghe] should [women] not be allowed to share in the work of reformation themselves, as they are the principal persons to be affected by it? It is not fitting that the rules for contemplative houses of women should be made ex-clusively by men, even if these men belong to the same Order as the nuns? Principles of Renewal The above matters are all more or less self-evident, but merely "keeping abreast of the times" or "adapting ourselves to the modern world" is not enough. However, the impressive bulk of bibliography about religious life, theory and practice, theology and pastoral application, does not on the whole contain a great deal of fun-damental thinking or real help. No order or congre-gation can effectively undertake reform or renewal with-out a very clear grasp of the principles that are its underpinning. Too often the accidental has been allowed to shift to main focus so that the means take precedence over the end, customs which have no longer any relevance become canonized and then fossilized until some religious seem to fear that their removal will topple the whole structure of religious life. But surely it is built on a sounder foundation than that. Nor will renewal be effected by adding new gimmicks; merely because they are modern, brightly packaged and labor-saving, they are no more going to effect the necessary aggiornamento of themselves, than those sixteenth century ones they are replacing. There is no such thing as push button renewal. In his speech to the Council fathers proclaiming a jubilee to mark the close of Vatican II, Pope Paul said: We ought not to pay attention to these reforms, however necessary they are, at the expense of those moral and spiritual reforms which can make us more like our Divine Master and better equipped for the duties of our vocation. To this we should attend principally: to our effective sanctification and to realizing our capacities for spreading the Gospel message among the men of our time7 Superiority-complex. Caste spirit is strong in human Chapman, Religious Orders, p. 162. Quoted in the Tablet, Nov. 27, 1965. nature, and religious are human beings. Of course, the religious is not .seeking personal aggrandizement; but she knows that the order she has entered is undoubtedly the most perfect form Of life in the Church. Cardinal Costantini wrote: Take religious individually and you will find them of the highest calibre: broadminded, genuinely devout and often excellent theologians. As individuals they are faithful to the vows., humble.Yet taken together, in the Congregation, the sun1 of these virtues undergoes a change. The members' natural instincts for glory, power and wealth are transferred to the Congregation. The members themselves are humble; but no one must touch d~eir Congregation, its honor or its prestige. The members are poor individually, but do not ask that their Congregation should be poor . s Obvious examples of this have been the blatant an-nexation of saints to which many orders have no legitimate claim and even the fabrication of "saints" who have never existed; the astounding .n~ture of some supposed "relics" that have been exposed and venerated m Europe and the Middle East; and in our own day, the fervor with which, in the face of liturgical renewal, so many orders cling to their own rites and liturgies. Any reform immediately meets with requests from some reli-gious congregation for a dispensation, since a "venerable tradition" in their institute has always celebrated such-and- such a feast as a double of the first class or with a privileged octave, and despite the fact that the Sacred Congregation has issued a uniform ruling for the universal Church, their first instinct is to preserve intact their own beloved rubric. Can religious wonder if at times the laity regard them as being outside the main stream of °the Church's life when they deliberately seek special donditions for no really good reason (except hidebound custom), thus putting themselves into a special category? Religious life is a special consecration to God indeed; but it is a sharing of the life of the Church. Wholehearted participation in that life is essential for any really effective renewal in religious life. To seek anything else wot~Id be no less unfruitful than cutting ourselves off from the sacraments, as death-dealin~ as .closing off a main artery. Reform Is Not Revolt. There are many cloistered nuns who harbor an unexpressed fear that to plunge into the main stream would be synonymous with a loss of monastic 'status, the first step on the downgrade to secularism. Take away the grilles, open the cloister win-dows, let in some fresh air, and who knows what kind of virus and restlessness will find its way in with it. Could this be the thin end of the wedge that will eventually send s Chaptnan, Religious Orders, p. 142. 4- Updating the Cloister VOLUME 25, 1966 775 + ÷ ÷ Sister Teresa Margaret REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS us out into the world to assist in the active, apostolate~ The fathers of the Council have no such scruples: Communities which are entirely dedicated to contemplation, so that their members in solitude and silence,, with constant prayer and penance willingly undertaken, occupy themselves with God alone, retain at all times, no matter how pressing the needs of'the active apostolate may be, an honorabl~ place in the Mystical Body of Christ, whose "members do not all have the same function" (Rom 12:4) . Nevertheless their manner of living should be revised according to the principles and cri-teria of adaptation and renewal mentioned above. However their withdrawal from the world and the exercises proper to the contemplative life should be preserved with the utmost care. [Italics mine]? Nor can adaptation to the twentieth century be interpreted merely as a movement "back to the founders," if by that we mean a literal interpretation of what was laid down and practiced by our founders in the sixteenth, twelfth, or sixth centuries. Yet one hears astounding reports of communities where oil lamps, are still used and bathing is prohibited because the founder had specific remarks to make on such matters. Even more absurd are the accounts of importation, at exorbitant costs, of a particular type of pottery which the founder legislated for refectory use and which can now only be obtained at great expense abroad, handmade and fired, in the precise shade and shape used by the first monastery of the order. Common sense and genuine poverty.demand that we use wl~at is the cheapest and commonest' ware today, as such pottery (now a luxury ware, the art dealer's province) was in the time of the founder. Archaeologism is one of the pitfalls that beset any movement back to the past. Return to Sources. How, then, should we implement the "constant return to the sources of all Christian life and the original spirit of our institutes,'~' as the decree puts it? We cannot return to the conditions, social~ cultural economic, and religious, that prevailed then and which shaped the founders' minds and spirituality, dictating the norms of their institutes. Religious orders no less than civilizations and nations are living entities, subject to growth, change, evolution; and in all live organisms change is an indispensable condition. Only a mummified body does not alter, for even a corpse decays. The original institute cannot be regarded as a finished work, coming down from heaven like the New Je.rusalem, perfect in every detail, which subsequent generations ne~ed only maintain in that condition, occasionally scraping off time's corrosion to restore it to its :pristine glory. Rather it is the mustard seed which grows into a Decree on Adaptation and Renewal o[ Religious LiIe, n. 7. plant, then a huge tree in which the birds of the air shel-ter. The holy rule leaves its mark on all.the members of the order, but no less do they leave their mark on the holy rule, sometimes for better, sometimes for worse. I fancy that St. Teresa of Avila would make one of her characteristic "God preserve me from." exclamations were she to find her daughters today clinging like limpets to some outmoded custom that was a normal social acceptance four centuries ago. St. Teresa herself was as strong a champion of flexibility as St. Ignatius was of mobility; and neither of them would have wished their sons and daughters to imprison themselves in the narrow groove of formalism which precludes either. As a concrete example: St. Teresa swept away much of the protocol both of speech and elaborate ceremony surrounding social life in her day, which was meticu-lously observed in religious houses, her attempt being to "return to sources," that is, of the gospel. The result was that her ceremonial and customs book were extremely simple for the times; and if today some of the prescribed c.urtsies, inclinations, and forms of address seem to us excessive that is only because such tokens of personal reverence to teachers and parents have entirely disap-peared from the modern scene. To drop them betokens no disrespect; they are simply archaic. Again, St. Teresa ruthlessly swept away the elaborate clothing, the yards of material, trains, rings, pectoral crosses, croziers, and all the episcopal insignia that abbesses had gradually acquired through the Middle Ages. She laid down unequivocally that habits and cloaks and all garments were to be as spare as decency allowed, so that only the minimum of material and work might be expended on clothing. In St. Teresa's day the Carmelite habit as she reconstituted it was simple to the point of skimpiness. It is not today, but that is because a yard of material now suffices to clothe our modern contemporaries. Even St. Teresa would not wish her daughters to get about in a cotton shift; but in a period when it is ho longer considered immodest for girls to go bareheaded, stockingless, and with bare arms, she might not consider that the Carmelite habit was any longer "as spare as possible." Another interpretation of "returning to the founders" has been that superiors should translate the founder's intentions and principles into present day norms and conditions, bringing the institute into line with them by striving to do what the founder would do here and now in this situation, did she live today instead of in a previous age. But this is not really possible, unless the superior is to become herself a founder or at least a reformer. The superior today has inherited not only the time-honored ÷ ÷ ÷ Updating ,the Cloister VOLUME 25, 1966 + + + Sister Teresa Margare¢ REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS traditions, but a way of life that has been approved by the Church for centuries. What she must do is take the situa-tion ~as it exists and work on and with that, for in the first clause of the above quotation, the conciliar decree provides th~ solution to this question: ". constant re-turn to the sources of all Christian life." No founder, however holy, however inspired, is the source of all Christian life. Christ alone is that, and the return to the sources envisaged by the decree can mean only one thing: renewal in the spirit of the gospel according to the par-ticular forms of life framed by the founder for this insti-tute and sanctioned by the Church. When on a Sunday afternoon I look out of my window ~nd see a row of schoolgirls pass, dressed all in black, wearing ridicu-lous berets and led by a sour-faced nun, also in black, I cannot help wondering. Is that really what the Church should look like, what Christianity should look like? Is that the only ex-ample we can give the faithful and the rest of the world? Is that negative attitude 'to the simplest and most elementary values of life the necessary premise of a life consecrated to God? ~o Starting Point: The End. The end of thereligious life is no different from that of ever~ Christian life: the attainment of perfect charity towards God and men. All Christians are called to perfection, to love God and their neighbor with their whole heart an'd mind and strength; and this is exactly what perfection means, this is the essential end Of the Christian life, whether one is a religious or not. The perfect love of God" and men to which each is called in a particular state of life and consonant with his own gifts and graces, is an obligation laid on all: "Ydu therefore .are to be perfect, even as your heavenly Father is perfect" (Mt 5:48). But the talents we have received differ; and "the administrator must be content with his administration, the teacher with his work of teaching, the preacher with his preaching. Each must perform his own task well; giving alms with generosity, exercising authority with anx-ious care, or doing works of mercy smilingly" (Rom 12:7-8). There are in the Church orders whose purpose is to promote the prayer life of their members, as there are congregations constituted for the performance of char-itable and apostolic works. Each and every form of life and work of mercy, spiritual, corporal or material, contributes to the building up of the Church. "The eye cannot say to the hand, I do not need~thy help; nor again 10 Bernard Besret, S.O.Cist., in Chapman,.Religious Orders, p. 121. The questions of the ends of religious life and return to Gospel sources for principles of renewal are discussed at length in two outstanding egsays by Fr~ Besret in this book. They should be read by all religious interested ih these matters. the head to the feet, I have no need of you" (1 Cor 12:21). The hand, however efficient, is simply incapable of performing the fnnction of the eye, or vice versa, so it is futile to argue whether cloistered nuns should go out and work in soup kitchens or nursing sisters incarcerate themselves in monasteries. But it is well not to lose sight of the fact that the classifications of ',active" and "con-templative" lives are a comparatively modern inno-vation. In the monastic tradition and the writing of the fathers, the terms "active" and "contemplative" do not represent two separate and mutually exclusive states' of life deriving their distinctive character from the work engaged in; they were rather two stages of the same spiritual growth: asceticism or the practice of the virtues (active life); and union with God, knowledge and ex-perience of His love (contemplative life) was the goal. for which the active asdeticism was but a preparation and training. This remains substantially true today. There is no teacher, preacher, missionary, or nurse who is so committed to non-stop activity as to have no time f6r prayer; any more than there is any such creature as a "pure contemplative" so emancipated from the mate-rial needs of this life and the demands of charity as never to engage in some form or degree of activity. I doubt whether any modern exegete would try to defend the overworked interpretation of Luke 10:38-42 as a contrast made by Christ between the apostolate (Martha) and the life of prayer (Mary), let alone that He preferred the second. In fact, many i'ecent works of exegesis have demonstrated clearly that he was in no way pointing to different canonical forms of religious life as we know them, but which were neither born nor thought of during His lifetime. Every active missionary since St. Paul understands the need of a vital life of prayer if his apostolate is to succeed; and it is only in this sense that the Church stresses the value of the contemplative life, for unless they called down "an abundant rain of divine graces to make this harvest fertile, the workers ~f the Gospel would reap less fruit." 11 The Church, in proclaiming St. Teresa of Lisieux co-patroness of the missions with St. Francis Xavier, has underlined the mutual assistance of the interior life and apostolate for souls, not only in the missions but in every sphere of activity. St. Teresa and St. Francis Xavier are eminent representatives of the Gospel commandment of love, which is twofold: God and our neighbor. Not that one does the work and the other the praying; such an apportionment is never possible. St. Francis Xavier would not have been the perfect, or even a good, mission-n Pius XI, Umbratilem. + + updating the Cloister VOLUME 25, 1966 779 ary without a deep interior life; nor would St. Teresa have perfectly fulfilled her contemplative vocation unless her love and zeal for souls was overflowing the narrow horizons of her own cloister and embracing the whole world, preparing the ground for future evangelization. But it was fitting that two outstanding patrons should jointly watch over both parts of the commandment. Practical forms of renewal are urgent and necessary; but it must never be forgotten that the principle "First things first" applies here as elsewhere. Unless "they are animated by a renewal of spirit" says the decree, "even the best adjustments made in accordance with the needs of our age will be ineffectual . This must take precedence over even the active ministry." 1.o To attempt anything else is not repairing the foundations; it is merely plastering over cracks. Decree on Adaotation and Renewal of Religious Life, n. 2. 4. 4. Sister Teresa Margaret REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 78O LADISLAS M. ~SRSY, S.J. Directed Re reats vs. Preached Retreats With the expansion and renewal of the retreat move-merit there is an increasing interest in the so called di-rected retreats as distinct from the tradkionally well known preached retreats. Priests who give retreats re-ceive inquiries frequently from persons and communities about the desirability or feasibility of a directed re-treat. The inquiries are in many cases followed by invi-tations to help make one. Moreover, there are retreat masters who insist that all retreats should conform to this apparently new pattern that consists more in direc-tion given personally to each of the retreatants than in talks or conferences given to a community. This movement of directed retreats has existed long enough and made enough progress to permit the assess-ing of its value and its suitability for the needs of vari-ous persons and communities. In this article my intention is precisely to attempt this evaluation; and I shall do it through three steps. First, I shall try to present the method of directed retreats; then I shall recall briefly the way in which preached retreats are given; an.d fi-nally I shall attempt to draw up a balance of advantages and disadvantages that may flow from the application of the two different methods. Directed Retreats A retreat is usually called a directed one when the emphasis is not put on talks and conferences given to a community but on personal prayer under the guidance of the retreat master. Talks to the community are not fully excluded, but they are reduced to a minimum: one or two rather short conferences a day. Even these few conferences would be marked by a certain simplicity and clarity so that the minds of the retreatants might not be overcrowded with ideas, or their nerves over-whelmed with holy but unruly emotions. It would be ÷ ÷ Ladislas M. Orsy, s.J., is professor of canon law at the Catholic Univer-sity; Washington, D.C. 2O017. VOLUME 25, 1966 expected that each one of the persons in retreat will be in close contact with the director and will keep him in-formed about his progress in prayer, about the inner world of his conscience where the grace of God meets his human nature. The retreat master in his turn would help him to discern the inspirations of the Holy Spirit from other movements in his soul and to obey the will of God thus manifested. One can see that the emphasis is on personal activity. Or, more correctly, on a right type of passivity which is the fertile soil for activity. This passivity makes a person able to receive the grace of God, to become aware of the life of God in himself.1 It has a hidden dynamism and very soon it blossoms out into personal activity. One is reminded of the evangelical parable: when the good seed takes root in receptive soil it will finally grow into a large tree. If this is the essence of a directed retreat, the inade-quacy of the term directed comes to the fore. There is really no question of a continuous direction. The retreat master's office is to convey some basic elements of the gospel to the retreatant, letting him penetrate its depth with the light of grace and reason. The work of the director consists more in reviewing and somewhat con-trolling the internal life of his disciple, more in watching over his progress than in giving him direction in the ordinary full sense of the term. The example of John the Baptist is a good illustration of the office of the director: he pointed out the Messiah to the disciples, sent them to Christ, and then withdrew since his mis-sion was accomplished. The retreat master presents the image of Christ to the person under his care, sends him to Christ, then leaves him alone with the Redeemer. It is this meeting that brings into motion the whole internal world of the retreatant. He will experience the attraction of grace that calls him to follow Christ. He + + + L. M. Orsy, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 782 a The genuine Ignatian method of prayer is really a incthod to build up a disposition in the mind and the heart of the retreatant to receive the grace of simple prayer. The Saint never intended to impose a rigid logical pattern on those who are seeking the grace of God, but he tried to help them to detach themselves from the visible world in order to enter into God's invisible mystery. All the preludes and points in a meditation serve to tune up, to warm up the person to the communications or consolations of the Holy Spirit. Once God's grace is somehow experienced, the method has fulfilled its purpose and the person in prayer should enjoy the freedom of the children of God. No formal meditation in the world could give him so much as the Holy Spirit working in him. Paradoxically, the purpose of the Ig-natian meditation is to help a person to abandon meditation and to take up a simpler form of prayer. St. Ignatius does not seem to think that this development should take a long time. He certainly assumes that some transformation will take place in a well

Issue 4.1 of the Review for Religious, 1945. ; 'Origin o{ Ref.reats forR61i9ious INUMBER 1 Review t:or. Religious Volume IV January'--DeCember, ,1945 Published at THE COLLEGE PRES~ Topeka, Kansas Edited THE JESUIT FATHERS SAINT MARY'S COLLEGE St.'lVlarys, Kansas Origin of Re!:rea~:s for Religious Augustine Klaas5 S.3. THE statement is sometimes made that retreats t~or reli-gious originated in the sixteenth century with 'Saint Ignatius of Loyola. Historical facts, however, do not sustain this assertion. It is true that, owing to the influence mainly of Saint ignatius, and later of Saints Francis de Sales, Charles Bor-romeo, Vincent de Paul, and others, retreats for all classes of socii~ty flourished far .and wide in thelatter part of the sixteenth and especially in the seventeenth century--so much so that the seventeenth century could justly be called "the century of retreats." It is, also'true, as Saint John Eudes, a zealous promoter of retreats, wrote specifically of religious in 1636, that a retreat is made "every year at least once in all religious communities in which piety and the love of God reign." Yet, if one examines the spiritual writers of the period as to the origin of these numerous retreats, he will find that almost unani,mously they ascribe it, not to their own times, but to a far earlier period. They ascribe it to the primitive ¯ Church, even to Jesus Christ Himself. It was Christ, they say, who inaugurated, retreats, particularly when He Him-self made a forty days' retreat in the desert before heginni.ng His public life. Retreatants.down ~the centuries have only imitated Him--the retreatant par excellence. What Histor~t 8a~s Already in the early third century we find Tertullian exhorting the persecuted and imprisoned Christiansl among whom there were many religiou.s,.to make their AUGUSTINE KLAAS 'imprisonment a time of retreat.~ The Lord Himself was very often in retreat, thit He might pray more freely.and withdraw from the world (Luke.4). Let us abolish the word prison: let. us call it a retreat" (Migne, PL 1:623.):. Saint Gregory Nazianzen notes a century later that Christ "did not,need a retreat," but He made it "that we might learn that there i~ a time for action and a time for more sub-lime employment" (PG 35:1238). ~The most striking example of imitating Christ's retreat ot~ forty days is that furnished by the monks of Palestine in the fifth century. During Lent-they were not s:itisfied to imitate merely the Savior's fast, but were determined to emulate also His stay in the desertmand that titeratl~t. The monk who inaugurated these annual Lenten , retreats for religious in the Holy Land was Saint Euthy-mius, who.died in 473 at. the age of ninety-five. An Armenian by birth, he came to Palestine at twenty-nine and established himself about six miles from Jerusale-m, near. the laura of Pharan, a group of separate, independent, monastic cells under a common superior. Each year, from the octave of the Epiphany to Palm Sunda.y, he retired 'to the desert, at first with one companion, Theoctistus, and later with his disciples, Sabbas, Elias, Martyrios, Domitian, and many others. The desert was the iddn'tical, desolate region by the. Dead Sea where our Lord had fasted,-prayed, and was tempted by Satan. Here the monks dispersed and, with .only. wild animals for- companionship, they spent their long retreat, fasting, doingstrenuous penance, soul-searching, and° communing with God. They called their retreat "a combat," and that is precisdly what it was. The length of the retreat varie~l. Thus, Saint Sabbas, thefutuie abbbt of all the hermit monks of Palestine, con- 1The. word i"religious" is applied to these early Christians, not in the technical sense o( canon law, but in a wider sense, namely as persons who had dedicated thegn-selves to God by taking private vows. 4 danuarg, 194 ~ , ORIGIN OF RETREATS tinued ithe practice of his spiritual master, Euthymius, though he almost died of heat and thirst during his first retreats. However, he changed the date of beginning from the fourteenth tO the twentieth of January, in order, he kells us candidly, that before his departure he might cele-brate at the laura the feastsof Saint Antony and of Saint Euthymius--no doubt, to brace himself for the ordeal ahead! The retreats usuaily ended on Palm Sunday., Monks in Retreat A vivid description of th~se Palestinian religious setting out' for their annual retreat is found in the Life of St. Mar~/ of Eg~Ipt (PG 87:3702-3), believed to h~ive been written by Saint Sophronius, patriarch of Jerusalem, . who died in 638: "On the first Sunday of Lent were celebrated pubiicly according to custom 'the holy mysteries, during which all the monks communicated of the unbloody arid life-giving sacrifice. Afterwards they took a little breakfast.Then they assembled in the church, recited some long prayers accompanied with many genuflexions, and lgave one another the kissof peace. Singly they prostrated themselves at the feet of the abbot, asked his pardon, for faults cdmmitted, and his' blessing, that they might, be assisted by his prayers during the imp.ending combat. "Now. the door of the monastery was thrdwn open, and they went forth chanting in unison: 'The Lord is my light and my salvation, wh6m shall I .fear? The Lordis the protector of my life: of. whom shall I be afraid? . . . ' (Psalm 26). One or two were ordinarily left behind to guard the monastery, not that they might protect what was stored up within,, for there was nothing for thieves td steal, but that the church might not be without divine services. "Each one saw to his own provisions as suited l'iimself: AuGUsTINE KLAAS ReVieo7 for Re!igious for :his bodily needs, one ;took along a little bread; another, some figs; a third, s6me dates; a fourth, vegetables soaked in water. Some took nothing along with them except their bodies and the mantles they wore, and when nature should clamor for food, they purposed to eat the herbs which grow in the desert. "Among them there existed an inviolable rule and law~ one was not to know what.austerity another practiced, nor what manner of life he led. "Having crossed over the 3.ordan, they scattered far and wide, seeking complete isolation, so that they would not ¯ even meet one another. If it happened that any one saw another approaching in the distance, he Would turn aside immediately and proceed in another direction. Each one lived for himself and for God, chanting the psalms inces-santly., and subsisting on the food he had with him. "After they had spent the days of Lent in this fashion, they came back to the monastery ota the Sunday-preceding the life-giving resurrection of our Savior from the de.ad. Each returned bearing the personal fruit of his retreat and the testimony of his own conscienc~ as to the manner in which he had conducted himself, and the fruits of labor he had harvested. "No one, however,-presumed to ask another how he had carried out his combat. Such was the rule of the mon-~ astery and it was observed perfectly. For in the desert, every monk fought against himself° with God as referee, not seeking to please men-nor fasting out of ostentation, because what is done for the sake Of men and from the desire to please them, far_from being a help, is often th~ ¯ cause of great personal ruin." Abbot Zozimus in Retreat Naturally we are curious to know more in d~tail how 6 ,~m~um,'tj, 1~)'$.,~ . ORIGIN OF RETREATS these religious spent their Lenten retreat in the desert wil-derness by the Dead Siva. Sophronius tells us how the Abbot Zozimus, presumably a model monk, spent his time of retreat (PG 87:3703).: "According to the custom of the monastery, Zozimus also drossed the Jordan atthe sametime, carrying a modi-cum of provisions' for necessary use, and only the garments he had. on. There, as the rule prescribed, he wandered through the desert. To satisfy nature's demands, he had a set time for taking food, and wherev.er night overtook him, he lay down on the ground to snatch a little sleep. In the morning, he girded himself again for travel and gaily trudged onwards, desiring, as he afterwards narrated, tO penetrate into the deep interior of the desert to find a cer-tain Father living there who might guide him to what he " aspired. And he walked fast, as though he were going to arrive soon at some famous hostelry.' Thus he spent. twenty days in travel. At the.sixth hour, he slowed his pace somewhat, and turning towards the east, he recited his customai'y prayers. At certain times during the day he was al~;o wont to interrupt the strain of walking by resting a little and praying and chanting psalms, now standing, now kneeling." These Lenten retreats are the most notable ,example of retreats for religious in ancient times. They were not a mere passing episode. They continued on for centuries, surviving even the bitter Arab persecutions which destroyed so many Palestinian monasteries and .decimated the monks. Gregory's Life of Saint Lazarus, an eleventh-century document, describes the desert retreats as still flourishing in that century. Outside of Palestine Retreat~ for religious were by no means confined to 7 AUGUSTINE KLA&S [or Religious Palestine. All over the East we find religious withdrawing to greater seclusion and to a more penitential life during Lent. The saintly monk, Macarius of Alexandria, who died about 393, used to remain the whole of Lent in the dark-ness of a windowless, cell (PG 34:1059 C). A certain monk of the desert of Scete, in Egy.pt, was astonished to discover that he could seek spiritual direction from the ven-erable Poemen during the second week of Lent. ~'I almost decided not to come to' .you today," said the monk. "Why?" asked Poemen. '.'I was. afraid that because of Lent you wouldn't open the door to me." "We have not been taught to close the. wooden ~loor," replied the old man, "but the door-of the tongue" (PG 65:336): Saint Hypatius, the most influential monk in Constantinople at-the beginning of the fifth century, made his annual Lenten retreat. And Saint Theodore of Sice, a very famous sixth-century monk of Galatia, later a bishop, began the custom of making an annual retreat in his home at the age ,of twelve, and kept it up throughout his life. From Epiph-any to Palm Sunday, he used to retire to a cave, or an aban-doned, uncomfortable hut without a roof, there to pray and do penance. ¯ These are by no means exceptional, isolated cases: they are illustrative of a custom, widespread among religious throughout the East. And in the West The practice is also found in the Western Church:. Dynamius, in his life of Abbot.Saint Marius, says that the Lenten retreat was common among the religious in Gaul in the sixth century. Saint Radegunde, roundness and abbess of the famous convent of the Holy Cioss at Poitiers, is a notable~example.,,. Among the nuns~of the eighth Century January, 194.s. ORIGIN OF RETREATS we may cite Saint Sigolena,.Abbess of Troclar. " E~ample. after example can be.adduced to sh.ow that. religious, both. men and women, in Italy, France, Brittany, the German Rhineland, England, and Ireland, spent the time of Lent in ¯ the silence and recollection of retreat. Let us conclude the list with Saint Bernard,. Who would not leave his monas-tery to meet his good ~riend William of Saint-Tbierry, nor even to refute the false doctrines of Abelard, that he might not disturb the prayer and solitude of the Lenten retreat , (P.I2. 182:533). For the same reason he wrote shorter let-ters during Lent! Purpose of the Retreats The purpose of these retreats was substantially that of our own retreats: the' "noverim te, noverim me" of Saint Augustinema deeper knowledge of God'~nd of self. It was a time of greater seclusion, of more fervent prayer, of more intense spiritual life and¯activity. It was alooking back over the achievements and fhilures of the past year, and a looking forward with resolutions to a better year to come. In the tenth century, John Tsimitzes addressed, the monks of Mount ~thos in Greece as follow.~: "We exhort all those who practise the ascetical life in monasteries, all those who live in community, to spend the time¯of Lent in recollection, and not to deal with each other except about important~business, or when there is necessity, or on mat-ters of conscience. Let no one go out to work, except on Saturdays, and let all be occupied solely in spiritual things." ¯ Echoing Saint Augustine, Bishop Caesarius of Arlesl one of the most illustrious monks of the early sixth cen-tury, states the general purpose of these Lenten retreats very clearly (PL 39:2019-21): "Although throughout the year, thanks be to God, we llstened often and faith- AUGUSTINE KLAAS ~ ¯ Review) for .Religions fully to the word of God, nevertheless during these days, When we have retired from the. ocean storms of this world -as to the haven of Lent, we must gather the divine word in the receptacle bf. our hearts amid silence andpeace. And this we must do, in order that, occupied with eternal life, we may with the grace of God during these days repair leisurely and put in order all that has been broken, destroyed, damaged, or" lost in the ship of our souls by the year's storms, that is, by the tempests of our sins." Then, Changing the figure, he likens Lent to a time of spiritual harvest, a time .when, by fasting, ~by reading, and by praying, we .make provision for the future, and store up what the soul will live on for the following year. In a word, it is the opportune season to fill the spiritual barns and cellars of the soul. Other Retreats Too ¯ Bdsides these long Lenten retreats for religious, "so prominent in ancient Palestine, but also in vogue through-out the Eastern .and Western Church, there were other retreats in use, of varying .lengthmthree,.seven, or nine days: Notable in the monasteries were those following the religious profession, especially among the Benedictines and Carthusians. Retreats were not confined to religious alone: Including the Lenten one, they weri~ made in surprising numbers by bishops, diocesan priests, and even layfolk from the earliest times, the purpose being always the same, renewal of spirit and imitation of Christ. However, as we leave 'the Middle Ages and approach the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries there is a marked.decline in the making of retreats. May not that neglect have been one reason why the reJigious spirit of so many monasteries and convents was. at a 1.ow ebb on the eve of. the Reformation? danUarF, 1945 ORIGIN OF RETREATS Conclusion: Work of Ignatius It is c~rtain, then, that religious made retreats, quite like our own in purpose, long before the time of Saint Ignatius of Loyola. ~The work Of Ignatius lay mainly in injecting a new life into this pot.ent spiritual means to per-fektion that had come to be neglected in religious houses arid else.where, and in popularizing the making of retreats among all classes of soci.ety. This was noted by Saint Francis de Sales, who, in his Treatise on tb~ Looe of God (Lesson 12, chapter 8), lauds th~ retreat as "that holy de~-i~e, familiar to the primitive Christians, but since almost completely abandoned, until the great servant of God, Ignatius of Loyolal restored it to use in the .time of our Fathers." Arid Father Julius Nigronius, S.J., a 17th cen-tury authorit~ on the. history of retreats, cites with apprbval the judgment of his confrere Father John Lori-nus: "If Saint Ignatius is.not the originator, he is at least the restorer .of the spiritual retreat." This he accomplished, and it is his chief merit, by reducing the retreat to a definite method. Surely the spir-itual ideas, doctrines, and practices 0f the Spiritual Exer-cises are not original; they are for.the most part the com-mon traditional Ones of the Church. But the grouping and marshalling 6f them in logical sequence fo~ a clear-Jut and the striking psychological presentation of them,, this was something the old retreats had lacked. And this was supplied by Ignatius in masterly .fashion. He was not alone in. this work, but his is .the most important c0ntribu.- tion to the renascent retreat movement which grew so vig-orously during the sixteenth and seventeen'th centuries. This "second spring" Of retreats has flowered~ and prodt~ced ¯ a fruitful, harvest .that'still goes on increasing from year toi year, to the immense spiritual benefit of religious and of the whole Church of God. 11 AUGUSTINH As Plus XI so aptly remarks in the Encyclical Mens Nostra: "Ignatius, in the lit.tie book he compiled when he was still without literary education, and to which he him-self gave the title of Spiritual Exercises, was the first to trace a path, the first to teach a method of retreat, suitable ~o help marvellously the faithful to detest their sins and to model. holily their lives according to the exampl~ of 3esus Christ. . The power of the Ignatian method,a's Leo XIII affirmed, has been shown by .the experience of three cen-turies, and by the testimony of all who', during that time, have distinguished themselves by. their science of asceticism and sanctity of life. ~' Thus Ignatius of Loyola merits the title bestowed upon him by Plus XI: Patron of Retreats in the Universal Church. " " For Deans of Summer Sessions At about this time many religious throughout the country are beginning to con-sider their summer school programs. For some. of course, there is no difficulty. b~cause their own institutes provid.e the educational facilities. Others, however, must go to outside schools. It has occurred to us that superiors who must send their subjects-to outside schools might benefit by a summer session directory in our March and May numbers. We will gladly pro.vide this service if the deans will send us the requisite information. We cannot afford much space; hence we ask the deans to sen~l us only a very brief statement comprizing the following points: a) Name of school. ' b) Courses ~hat are of. special interest or value to religious. (Evidently we can-not print a complete statement of all courses offered at the summer sessions, We wish to know only about thbse things that have a particular interest or value for reli-gious.) c) Accommodations for religious who attend the summer school. d) Where to write for.further information. Deans who wish to have their announcement appear in the March number should send us the information immediately. Address: The Editors of 'REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, St.Mary's College,, St. Marys, Kati.sas. 12 General Councillors ot: a Religious Inst:i!:ul:e Adam C. Ellis, S.J. [T HAS ALWAYS beenapart of the polityof the Church . to provide that those who are given authority to govern in the name of the Church should have the benefit of the experience and wisdom.of prudent men. The glory of God, the welfare of the Church, and the good of souls,, are immeasurably, promoted by the prudent counsel of good men. Thus the Sovereign Pontiff has his Senate of Car-dinals; Bishops have their Chapter of Canons or board of Diocesan Consultors; Rectors of Seminaries have a two-fold council, one for discipline, the other for the adminis-tration of property. We are not surprised, therefore, but rather expect to find that the law of the Church shou.ld pro-vide some sort of council for religious superiors. It does,so in canon 516, § 1 of the Code of Canon Law, which reads as follows: The superior general of, every institute or monastic congregation, also every provincial superior, and local superior .at least of every fdrmal house, shall have their.councillors, Whose consent, or counsel they must seel( according to the terms of the constitutions and the sacred ca, n6ns. Appointment The Code does riot determine how the general councit-lors are to be appointed. ¯ Hence the constitutions or cus-toms of each institute will have to be Consulted. Usually ~h, ey are elected by ~he general.chapter in conformity with the nbrms laid down in canon 101,' § 1, 1 °, of the Code of Canofi L~w. These norms require an a~bsolute rnajorii~ for an ~lection 0fi the first .or Second ballot: that is, more than bali the vhlid votes cast. Thu~ 8 would constitutd a ADAM C. ELLIS Review for Religious majority when 15 votes are cast. If no majority is obtained oh the first or second ballot, a third and final ballot is taken in. which a relative majorit~l (plurality) will suffice for an election: that is, the person receivin.g the most votes of all the candidates will be elected, even though the i~umber of~ votes he receives does not constitute an absolute majority, or more than half the votes cast. In case two or more persons are tied for the .relative majority on the third ballot, the senior by reason of ordina-tion, of first profession, or of age, is 'considered to be elected. In clerical institutes ordination will determine the senior-ity: in non-clerical institutes the date of first profession, and, in case the persons concerned made their profession on the same day, the senior by reason of age will be considered as ~lected. The first person to be elected councillor is commonly also tl~e assistant or vicar of the superior general, and takes the place of the latter when he is absent or impeded from the exercise of his office. It is also usual to allow any one of the other councillors, but not the first, to hold the office of secretary general. Term of Ot~fce When gendral councillors are electei:l to office in a gen-. eral chapter, they rema'in in office until the nextgeneral chapter of ~lections takes place. Usuall~r their term "of Office coincides with that of the superior general to whose council they have been elected. However, should the superior general .resign,. or die during his term of office, .the assistant or vicarr (first councillor) will take the place of the superio~ general and convoke a general chapter of elec-tions. All the councillors continue in office until this gen-eral c.hapter convenes to elect a.new superior ge.n.eral. After his election the general chapter will proceedto, the. election danuarg, 194 ~ GENERAL COUNCILLORS of his general councill~rs.~ The general law of the Church places no restrictions on the repeated election of the same persons as general coun-cillors. Sometimes the constitutions of individual insti-tutes limit their cap.acity to.two or three successive t~rms of office. ~ General councillors may. not be removed fromoffice except for a grave cause, and.most constitutions require the deliberative vote of the council; as Well a's the subsequent approval of the Holy See, for such a course of action. Duties ot: General Councillom General councillors enjoy no authority merely by rea-son of their, office. They are not commissioned witfi the government of the institute; but it is their special and prin-cipal duty to give advice and aid to the superior general in the government and administration of the entire ~institute. They have the right and the duty to give a deliberative or consultative vote in matters to be submitted to them as pre-scribed by carion law or by the constitutions. Each may likewise suggest to the superior general that certain matters which he judges important and for the good of the insti-tute be submitted to the general 'council for discussion. ¯ Superiors are not limited in seeking the advice of their council to the cases in which the Code of Canon Law or the constitutions require them to do so. They may and should consult their council on all matters of great moment. The Normae of 1901 required that the general coun-cillors reside with the superior general, though they allowed .two of them to reside elsewhere, provided that they could easily be present at council meetings when needed (Art. 276). Furthermore, councillors were forbidden to hold any office whidb might impede their principal duty of 15 ADAM C. ELLIS Revi~to for Religious assisting the superior general ~ith advice and co~unsel (Art. 279) ; specifically, they were prohibited from holding the office of bursar or treasurer general (Art. 284), as well as that Of master of novices¯ (.Art. 300). These provisions are found today in most c6nstitutions of congregations approved by the Hoy See, although they are not contained _in, the Code. A councillor, though not enjoying any authority by reason of his office, may be given a share in the authority of the superior general in certain matters if the constitu-tions do not prohibit it. Or he may be given another office which carries ~authority with it, such as that of local superior. Council Meetings The Code does .not determine when or how often the superior must call meetings of his council. Constitutions usually prescribe that the general council meet once a month, and oftener whenneed shall require. ¯ ' Ir~ council' meetings it is customary for the superior gen~ eral to propose a subject for consideration and, after having given whatever information is required for a proper under-standing of it, to ask the opinion.of the councillors. It is advisable (and sometimes required by the cons~titutions) to ask the youngest councillor first, then the others in order,,and to have the superio.r general give his opinion last, so as not to influence the councillors by any undue regard for the opinion of their elders. After a reasonable time has been devoted to discussing the subject under consideration, a vote is taken. This vote may be eil~he~ delibe.rative or consultative, oral or secret. Deliberative vote: In certain matters the Code of Canon Law or the constitutions require the consent of his council before the superior canact validly. A vote taken in 16 January, 194 ~ GENERAL COUNCILLOR~; such cases is called a deliberative or decisive vote, .in contra-distinction to a merel~; consul~ative vote. The vote of the. council decides the matter, and the superior must follow the majority vote of his council in order to act validly. Here a?etbe canons of the Code in which a deliberative vote of the council is required: 5116, '§ 4: for the appointment Of bursars or treasurers, when "the constituti6ns make no provision for their appointment; 534, § 1 :. for the" alienation of property, and for the contracting of debts, even though the permission of the H~ly See is not required; .575, §. 2: for the admission poral profession of vows;' 647, 650, and 653: for hlI of a novice to first tern-cases of dismissal of reli-gious, whether they have temporary or perpetual vows. Furthermore, in loractice, the Sacred Congregation. of Religious demands the consen.t of the general' council for all matters requiring, the permission of the Holy See. Consultative vote: The vote of ~he chapter is s~'id to be only consultative when the superior is obliged indeed by the law of the. Church or by the constitutions to ask the advice of his council, but can. act validly even if he does not follow the advice given. Canon 105, however, admon-ishes superiors. "to make mu~h of the unanimgus opinion of those to be heard, and not to-depart, from it Without a weightier reason, of which~.they are the judge," Thus; canon 543~ requires at. least a consultative vote of the council for the' admission of candidates to the novb tiate;, as well as~ for professi.dn in general, subject Co the restrictions of canon 5.75, § 2,. which states: explicitly that the vote of the c6uncil is d~liberative for the first temporar~l profession of vows~ but only consultative for the subse- ADAM C. ELLIS Rm.tiew for~ Re~igio-~ quent perpetu.al profession, whether of simple or solem~i vows. . It may be well. to consider .here just how far the, lcon-stitutions. may require more in this matter than is required by the law of. the Church. These general rules may.help" to answer the question: ' 1. Evidently the constitutions may contain prov.isions regarding matters not determined b~ or contained in the Code, for example, the number of'consultors. ,Such a pro, vision-is said to be outside (or beyond) the law (praeter. 2. The constitutions may not contain prov.isions conz trary to the Code (contra ius), for example,, they may not exempt the superior from asking the vote Of his council wher~ the Code requires it; nor may they allow less than the Code dem~ni:ls (infra ius) ". for instance, they may no( pre-scfibe. ohlya con~ultative ~rote when thd Code reciuir.esa deliberative vote. '3. The constitutions may be stricter than the Code (supra ius), provided they are~notcontrary to it. Thus canon 543 requires thevote of the council or chapter for admission to the novitiate, as Well as for the subsequent profession of vows. The constitutions may require that the vote Of the council or chapter be deliberative for the admission of.candidates to the novitiate. However, .canon 575, § 2 defines the nature of the vote of the council or chapter "in two case~: for the/irst profession of temp0raiy vows, the vote is d~liberative;for the profession of per-petual vows, whether si,rnple or solemn, the vote is.con-sultative only. Hence the constitutions may not require that the vote .of the council or chapter be deliberative for. the final profession. That would be not only stricter than the Code, but contrary to it. All provisions of consti-tutions which are contrary to the Code.wdre abrogated January, 1945 GENERAL COU~,'C/LLORS by the Code itself (canon 489), and a special privilege would have to be obtained from the Holy See in order to ¯ " retain thefn. Again, in" some 'institutes tempbrary vows ari~ taken, not for a p~riod of three years, but for one year onlY, to be renewdd for a year on two successive occasions. The Code requires the deliberative vote of the council for the first pro-fesSilala of such temp6rary vows, but says rlo~hing about the nature of th~ vole for the anntfal renewal'of ~uch t~mpo-rary vowg Hence th~ cons~itdtions may detb~ine' ~hether thisv6te is deliberative or m~rely consultative. O'Orat or secret vote: Ordinary matters in which the ad~ic~ of tile~ coBncd is sought by '~he ~up~rior general are &scussea o~ally and op~mons are'expies~d verbally. Even ~ntfie cbnse~ 0f ihb c~b~ncil is requiie~ by law, it ii ~ot "~ e.~.a.dded t~"t a' s~cr~t ~ be taken, ~xc~pt in th~ case of cbntracfing Aebtl or aiienhtin.g property -(canbn ~34, ~. 1 ), -and in all card 6f ~diimislal 0f.rdigib6s With temporary ~ows (khfion~ ~47, ~ "1) Constithtions frequently' call f~r a secret vote i~other matters, a~ ifi the appointment of ocal superiors, and at t~me~ giye the ~guhcillors the right-to ~demand a ~ecret Vbte in any important matter. " ~The ~e~retar~ "oeneral is present at all council heetings, without vote; ~howe~r, unlem he be a councill~r. It is his-duty to re~drd th~ 8eliberations ~nd decisions arrived ht, be "iehd and appr6ved ~at ~he follbwing meeting' and si~ned b~the suPeiidr.and~e ~ecre'tdry. ' Spir~'t of Consultation All Oarsons whose cons~n~ or advi~o is askad, should s~a~a *hair opln-ion w,~h dun raspa~L ~ru~ulnass. and s,n~r,~ {canon 105. ~o}. 'T6~'~ ~hoh'td s?~ fbeir okibio~: .that is, they must. g~ve an opm~o~ tor or against me measure id question when their~onsem is'req~iredb~, the law or thee constitu- ADAM C. ELLIS Review [or Religious tions for the. validity of the superior's act; they may decline to give an o~pinion if they have nothing worth while to con-tribute to the discussion when the superior is only obliged° to hear his council, that is, to listen to and consider their ¯ advice. ' Councillors should always remember that they are but advisors of their superior, to whom reverence is due. When they find it necessary to e~press an opinion 'contrary to that of their Superior, 'it should, be given with all due respect, without acrimony, in simp~le but dignified language. Trutht:uli~ess means not merely the avoidance ofall that is false, but especially the positive disclosure of facts and cir-cumstances that are relevant to the matter under discussion. Sincerity implies a candid and genuine expression of opin-ion, and excludes ali dissimulation or pretence, even though motivated by a desire not to displease the superior. ¯ On his part the superior who is obliged by the law of the Church or by the constitutions to seek the advice or to qbtain the consent of his council should do so willingly and even eagerly, since it is for his benefit as well as for the com-mon good that th'e Church has established its system of councillors for all those who exercise authority in her name. To try to influence his councillors in such a way as to impose his opinion upon them, Or to give them the impres-sion that he considers the council meeting a mere formality, would show~ that the superior does not ,understand the spirit of the law. Provincial Councillors What has been said regarding general councillors may and should be applied to provincial councillors within the scope of their activity.as defined by the constitutions. They" are usually appointed by the superior general and his coun'cil, but in some institutes they are elected in a pro- 20 Janu'ary, 19#5 j GENERAL COUNCILLOR8 vincial chapter. Their ~umber is usually four, and the con-stirutions determine how often they meet, as well as the nature of their vote. Matters usually referred to the prrvincial douncil by .~he constitutions include the following: admission of can-didates to the novitiate; admission of novices to first vows; dismissal of novices; admission to perpetual vows; aliena-tion of property and the incurring of debts bY the province or by the houses of the province; investment of dowries; all matters which must-,be rei~erred to the Holy See for permis-sion or approval. Local .Councillors Canon 5.16, § l.requires them at lea'st foc .formal houses, those, namely, which have at least six professed religious in the community, four of whom must be priests in the case of a clerical institute (canon 488, 5°). The "'at least" of the. canon implies that they are desirable ialso in a smaller d0mmunity, but are not strictly of obligation. Usually they number four in larger communities,.and not less than two in smaller ones. They are appointed by the superior general and his council, or by the provincial supe-rior and his council in institutes which are divided into provinces. The matters in which their counsel or consent must be bad by the local superior are defined by the con-stitutions. OUR C~ONTRIBUTORS AUGUSTINE KLAAS, ADAM C. ELLIS, and GERALD KELLY are pr.ofessors of sacramental thdology, canon law, and moral theology, respectively, at St. Mary's College, St. Marys, Kansas. ROBERT B. EITEN, of the University of Detroit, is an ~siduous writer bn ascetical subjects. FRANCIS L. FILA~, of West Baden Col-lege, West Baden Springs, India.ha, is the author of The Man Nearest to Christ. recently published by Bruce. JAMES A. KLEISTI Of St. Louis University. is the author of The Great Prayer Now in Time of War, published by The Queen's Work. 21 Towards $implit:ied At:l:ect:ive Prayer Robert B. Eiten~ S~J. THE purpose of the prdsent article is to offer some sug-gestions for disposing a soul to reach simplified affec-tive prayer or to grow in such prayer, if one has already attained it. Of course, not all these suggestions can be used by everyone. The important thing is that every-one who desires to advance in prayer will fdllow those sug-gestions that help him and then set about to prag, and prag, afld prag some mode. Only thus does one normally advance inprayer. The realization of God's presence is perhaps the first step toWaids successful prayer. Of course, we know by faith that Godis present everywhere in and about us and that, when we are in the state of grace, He dwells within us as in His temple; yet, unless we have received mystical graces, we m~ist frequently recall, this mar~rellous presence and try as far as possible t0 get a habitual realization of i~. Otherwise while at prayer we may fail to realize sufficiently His.presence. We do not see God, we do nottouch Him. All these pleasant experiences connected with our sense life are not ours in addressing God. Yet by faith we know that He is most near. Our faculties bf prayer, the imagination, memory, intellect, and will, have their natural-objects towards which they have a natural affinity and in which they find pleasure when they are exercised. It is hard to pull these faculties away from . natural objects. Much self-control and self-denial are required to withdraw them from ~hings_naturally pleasing to.them and tS direct them to that (the Divine) 22 SIMPLIFIED AFFECTIvE PRAYER towards which they have little or no natural attrac~jon or ~spontaneity in the beginning. When we speak to God in prayer we cannot see Him and it is no easy task to hear His whispered inspirations. But we must try to realize His presence. This c.ertainly is possibl~. I can be most awareof another person's presence in the dark even though I do not hear him.speak, nor see him nor even hear any movements of his, nor touch him. It is sufficient that some trustworthy person tell me of the presence of this third person. ¯ It is not strange, then, that a great saint insisted that at the beginning of our mental prayer we should recall God's presence. Much of our success and progress .in men-tal prayer will largely depend upon our growing realiza-tion of God's presence. If we fail to make God, our loving Father, vivid and rightat hand With us, our prayer will most likely be i;trai.ned; andlack a' familiar touch and spon-taneity. Mucfi care, thought, and ~oncentration should be devoted to developing within ourselves ~the realization of the Blessed .Trinity's indwelling. Briefly, our psychologi-cal dispositions toward God must bemade so realistic that" we act almob;t as if we saw Him, touched Him, and so forth. Then prayer will b~ easier and carried on with grbater relish. ' It will ordinarily take a l'ong time to arrive at the point where we instinctively, as it were, live in God's presence. And here I am not referring to the presence bf God as felt through inystical graces. Perhaps one of the best,ways to arrive at this state is to medi~ate fiequently on the in~lwel!- 0ing of the Blessed Trinity and to direct all our ejacula.tions ,to that indwelling Guest. Long, careful, and repeated striving,and prac'tice will'bear fruit. What a'grace it would bd if We could e~perience habitually all day long the reality. arid consciousness of. G0d's indwelling .as we experience ROBERT B.' EITEN ," " ,, " . Review for Religious His presence when we are before the tabernacle in church! Many who have been sacristrans or who have had occasion to.work inside a church *certainly have had this practically const:~nt and subconscious awareness of God's pre~efice. It resembles the awareness which a child, although much. occupied in playing with-his toys, has of his mother, who is perhaps busy in the next room of the home. Our realization of Christ's presence in the tabernacle b~gan in early~childho0d, our mothers cons(antly hushed us when we~babbled out in church. Then they ~pointed to ~he l~abernacle, and. tried, to tell.us most simply who was there. ~ With other training in this matter,, we gradually formed a sort of instinct or conditioned reflex whereby we .came to.~,an active and spontaneous realization of God:s ¯ presef~ce whenever we were in church. : ."' Heart-to-heart chatting with our indwelling Guest will help.not a little to obtain this rather spontaneous aware-' r~ess and living experience of His presence. This will bring 'us to St. Teresa's ;onception of mental prayer, which she says, "is nothin.~ else but an intimate friendship, a frequent ,converse, heart to heart, with Him Whom ~e know to be our Lover." Again, how we experience God's presence after Holy Communion! . We are very self-conscious of the necessity of being by ourselves, alone and recollected. Why cannot good habits directing our t.houghts and affections to the indwelling Trinity bring similar rgsults? True, this is not usually a. work of a few weeks or months, and ordinarily much patience, calm, and protracted effort is required. A soul that has reached this active rea!ization Of God's presence will 'instinctively :upon waking in the morning turn its first thoughts to God. Outside of formal rspiritual exercises such a. soul, while walking or unoccupied with other mental work, is rather instinctively taken, up with January, 1945 SIMPLIFIED AFFECTIVE PRAYER God's sweet presence. This soul too is alway~ seeking times and opportunities for spiritual reading, and visits to the Blessed Sacrament. Even during the various duties of the day such a soul is very frequently aware of God's abiding presence. Obviously such a soul'during formal mental prayer is quite, taken up with God since its every impulse, even outside of prayer, is towards a continuous and affectionate abiding with God. At praye~ we should not be afraid to interrupt our part, of prayer to listen quietly to God. We must permit God to have His parr in our chat with Him. He will do His part by His silent inspirations. We must get into the habit of making these attentive pauses. For beginners they should be short. Later on it will be easier to lengthen th'em either because of habits acquired here or because of an. attraction . for recollection. ~At any rate, let us rest in them as long as we find profit. In the beginning, if we: experience little or no results, we should not become wearied or distrustful. Patience will win out and have its day. of harvest. In any case these pauses are not.a waste of time. At least, they are made with a good intention, and this makes them pleasing to God. Moreover, to summarize de Caussade, they imply many Other good acts. For example,, they include an act of faith in the presence, the power, and the mercy of God, and an act of hope, for we await only that which we' hope for. The pauses further imply contempt of ourselves and great con-. fidence in God, since during these pauses, we suspend our own mental acts only because we count very little on our own and very much on God's. Finally they imply deep .humility, as well as resignation and surrender, since We" remain before God in silence either to be heard or'refused and in .spite of all the distractions, tedium, and weariness which make these attentive pauses at times wearisome,, ROBERT 15. EITEN ¯ Review for Religious tedious,¯ and distressing. (See de Caussade, On Pra~ter. pp. 210-211.) Some persons think erroneously that their prayer is of little worth unless the)~ are in a.continual interior activity or movement, piling reflection on reflection; prayer .on prayer, act on act. It Would be well for these people to realize that the more important part of prayer is rather the attention of the heart. Let us learn, then, to rest in God in silence, pe.ace, and attention, especially when He seems to invite us to this holy repose of soul. This, may happen Outside our formal .prayer, as during Mass, spiritual reading, and .so forth. Always bear in mind that this is a favorable moment, not for talking to God, but rather for listening to Him, not for .acting as.we ordinarily do, but rather for simply abiding in God's presence and being, receptive to all He. works in us. Let us try then to.enjoy His presence as a mother will qui-etly and.in silence at times enjoy the presence of her soldier- :~.on, who, after being a long time away, has now returned home. To sit merely in his presence is a real thrill for her. Would anyone be so rash as tO deny that this mother, although silent externally, is without any mental or affec: rive activity? .What maternal love is active in her heart! Although she doesnot reflect that she,is loving him, never-theless that love is there in a.sublime way. She loves him without saying anything. And if her 'son saw her heart, what actual tenderness he would find there, what depths of deliberat~ and freely accepted, although r~on-reflective, emo-tions he would see! Thus, in'this apparent idleness there is a height.of activity. This same height of activity can be present if, imitating this mother, .we quietly rest and enjoy God's presence. Another helpful means for progress in prayer is to repeat slowly, affectionately, and wi~h relish some aspira- 26 January, 1945. SIMPLIFIED AFF:ECTiVE PRAYER tion, be it one's own or another's, or some Scripture text, over some period of time. While this is being done we ought to ponder over it carefully, as well as sense and relish it in its complete significance. It is related of .St. Francis of Assisi that he spent an entire night in prayer uttering very slowly, but with great devotion and relish, the following ~ublime words: "My God and my All!" It is easy to see how this prac.tice can.be a beginning, 6r at least an approach, to the prayer of simplicity; for, ~Ithough there may .be various affections occurring, .there is one predominant one whose object is, as it were, a t~xed' idea about which our other ideas and affections are pivoted. This seems t6 be little more than an extension of St. Igna-tius' second method of prayer. Or even better, it is in some respects a combination of, or a variation between, St. I.gna-tiusr second and third methods of prayer. In his second method of prayer St. Ignatius-recommends that we leisurely meditate on the Our Father, or any other prayer, by dwelling on it word by ~word as long as we find meanin.gs, comparisons, relish and consolation in such con-siderations; while in his third methodof prayer he suggests that we,recite the Our Father, or any other prayer, in such a way that by properly synchronized rhythm only one word is said between one breath and another, and while the tim~ fromone breath to another l~ists, [one gives atten-tion] to the meaning of such word, or to the persgn .to whom he recites it, or to his own baseness, or to the 'differ-ence from such great height to his own so great l~wn'ess. Of course this rhythmic interchange between word and affectionate thought must not be taken too lit~rally or mathematically. It is {mportant for anyone aiming at high sanctity and progressive prayer to have recourse to God in all difficulties, joys, and so forth,'by informal ejacfilatory prayer. (See 27. ROBERT B. EITEN- Reoietu for Religious" gEVIEW r~0g RELIG~OUS, Sept. 1943, p. 305.) This can be reduced to an attitude resulting from the habit of talking, famiiia.rly with God as with anyone who is constantly around us. He becomes our constant ~;ade mecura. Why . not act on this principl~ .by familiarly talking with Him frequently as we would with a friend who never left our side? In this practice one must, of.course, avoid brain-fag. This latter can be largely obviated if, rather than trying to imagine too vividl~r God's presence, we simply take it for granted. This obviously is notthe work of a day; but "when. acquired, it will immeasurably help our prayer-life. Our progress in prayer is also helped by repeating the same meditations several times. After several reflections we find that the intellectual part ,0f our prayer has been con-siderably. diminished while the affective part ~has consider~ ably'increased. It can in many cases end in an affectionate, loving, and protracted gaze upon God or some divine mys-tery that would be simplified affective prayer. In gen.eral, it is well, after we have been accustomed for some time to mental prayer, to lessen gradually the discur-sive .element. Though it is profitable, while meditating on the mys.teries of Christ's life, to reason and weigh various facts, motives, and so forth, yet, other things being equal, we should not weary, ourselves too much b.y .trying to fatfiom these divers points. Let us rather remain in peace near our Lord. "The soul should then be occupied according to her ability in reflecting that He is.loo.king at her: she will keep Him company and will address her petitions to Him" (St. Teresa, Life., ch. 12). We ought to endeavor gradu-ally to lessen our considerations both in length and number, and accustom ourselves "to go through the mysteries of our Lord by merely glancing at them, rather than by meditating upon tbem;~ and to make use of their different circumstances 28 danuary, 1945 SIMPLIFIED AFFECTIVE PRAYER to excite in our soul acts of love, gratitude, humility, or similar affections" (Lehodey, The Wa~ts of Mental Pra~/er, p. 187). In.this way.our prayer will g.radually become a ¯ simple loving gaze at God or divine things. No 10nger,will ~the soul be seeking for truth as in meditation, for, now pos-sessing it, the soul rests in it with love. It looks and it loves--that is the sou1~s chief preoccupation. Grasping things now by intuition and immediately rather than by the long, toilsome, and roundabout 'ways of the~ imagination; the memory and the understanding, the soul perceives thd things of God almost as we perceive first principles. " "We remember, we look, we attend, and this is enougl'i. This does not hinder this view from being sometimes more luminous, sometimes weaker and more veiled. By i~s very nat.ure it is somewhat obscure and confused, because it pro.- ceeds mostly by way of general views, not stopping at details, pretty much as we take in at a single glance a whole landscape. "This simple look is always accompanied with love-- a love, it may be, almbst imperceptible or all on fire, calm or impetuous, bitter or savoury . . . We look because we love, we 10ok inorder to love, and our love is fed and inflamed by looking" (Lehodey, The Wa~/s of Mental Pra~ter, p. 193). Both our looking and. loving mutually help each other. In the beginning of the spiritual life we reason and meditate. But after we .have grasped our Lord's beautiful character we sit at His feet with Mary Magdalene tO look at Him that we may love Him. more, and our love in turn makes us want never to ~take our eyes from Him. "He is all mine and I am all His." ¯ .It is often helpful after preparing our prayer to go -before the Blessed Sacrament' (it can be done elsewhere too) and let our Lord speak to us on the matter prepared. Ask 29 ROBERT B.' EITEN Him to develop the ~ubject for us. Ask Him to let us know His mind on the subject. It is really surprising how many new angles and lights He sometimes suggests. It is,. besides, a very reposeful prayer, to say nothing of its being very simple and affective. Balthasar Alvarez, who directed St. Teresa and who, according to the latter, was more advanced in prayer than" she, thus describes what we have been trying to say: "To p~ay is to raise our heart to God; to communicate with Him familiarly, though with great respect, regarding ail our affairs; to confide in Him more than a child confidesin h;s mother, however good she may be; to offer Him all that we possess, all that we hope for, without any reserve; to open our heart to Him, and pour it out, as it were, before Him: to speak to Him of our labours, of Our sins, of our desires, our projects, and all that occupies our mind; finally, to seek in Him our consolation and our repose, as one friend with another, in whom he has full confidence" (Life of Ft. Bal-tbazar Alvarez, vol. 1, p. 175). The burden of this entire article has been to show ways and means of quickly disposing, ourselves" to reach simpli-fied affective prayer as well as to grow in it. Still, we must be on our guard against outrunning grace With the result " that we are like a boy in a class .beyond his intellectual years. We must avoid either extreme, the tendency to go too slowly and the impulse to jump too fast from ordinary meditation tO affective prayer: or from affective prayer to simplified affective prayer. A. Good Book for March For reading daring the month of March, we s~ggest The Man Nearest to Christ, by F. L. Filas, S.J.' It provides interesting and valuable material on St. doseph. Published by Bruce, Milwaukee. Price: $2.50. Some Th6ugh! s on t:he I-Ioly Family. Francis L.Filas, S.3. OWING to limitations of space meditation manuals usually present only tWO or three points for medita-tion on the hidden life of the Holy Family and do not enter on the. subject at greater length. Yet since the richness and utility of this meditation call for more ~letailed treatment, we shall bring together in this article the ideas ordinarily proposed and at the same time shall endeavor to .suggest several new avenues of thought. Above all else, meditation on the Holy Family finds its u~efulness in its direct, many-sided application to the reli-gious life. The religious life is essentially a hidden and obscure life, in which the interior efforts God alone sees (and not necessarily outward results) are the hallmark of success. It has its long periods of difficult preparation such as the postulancy, the novitiate, and years of Study--years tbat,:may appear utterly useless at the moment. At certain times temptations to discouragement arise because of a lack of tangib!e results. For the inspiration to adyance stead-fastly amid all such circumstances there is no antidote or tonic better than the example of the hidden life of 3esus, Mary, and 3oseph. Perhaps' we db not suflicientJy associate the hidden life of Christ with the life of the Holy Family: yet .the one is .actually a part of the other, as Leo XIII wrote: ".In the( veneration of the HolyFamily the faithful rightly under-stand that they are reverencing the mystery Of the hidden life which Christ led together With His virgin mother and 31 FRANCIS L. FILA8 Review for Religious St. Joseph."* It is from this that the meditation derives so much of its richness." Then, too, it offers healthy variety. Whatever con-sideration we select can be projected against any of six or" seven aspects, according as we feel inclined at the moment. We can look at the relations of Jesus to Mary or Joseph; of Mary to Jesus or Joseph: of Joseph to Jesus or Mary: or ,finally, at the union of these three h61iest of. persons as the "earthly trinity." This opportunity of co.ntemplating the same truth from different angles is of great psychologi-cal value, for the mind quickly becomes fatigued if its atten-tion is focused uriswervingly on only one facet of a given subject. The meditation falls into two salient divisions,: the fact of the hidden life of the Holy Family, and the multiple lessons,it teaches. Its Gospel. text is, of course, that of St. ,Luke (2:51, 52),_"And He went down with them and came to Nazareth, and was subje~t to them; and His mother kept all these things carefully .in her heart. And Jesus advanced in wisdom an~ age and grace before God and men." The Fact Jesus Christmthe Second Person of the Blessed Trin-ity, who took to Himself human nature--whose mission was the redemption of mankind by means of suffering and a p.ainful deathmwho came to teach mankind the difficult law of brotherly love--to found a Church that would last for all time as the only .certain road to salvati0nmwho would draw men to embrace a moral code of self-denial and even suffering for the love of God. W.ith this tremendous task before Him Jesus spent ten *,Further information on the nature and history of the devotion to the Holy Family is contained in the author's article in REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, January 15, 1944. 32 danuarg, 1945 THOUGHT8 ON THE HOLY FAMILY times as much of His life in obscurity as in His p.ublic aposa tolate--because it was the will ,of His Father in heaven. Only two personswere Hi~ intimate and c6nstant com-panions during this period Mary and Joseph. Mary--the Mother; of God-God's choices~ handi- Wi~rk among mere creatures--who lived with Jesus'in the intimacy of mother With son--in obscurity because He willed it--the second Eve, .united with Him in His.work of redemption as the first Eve was united with Adam in the ' first sin. Joseph--the only man who ever received the virginal conjugal 10ve of Mary and the filial, submission'of Jesus--- truly the'virginal husband of the Mother of God and the virginal f0ster-i~ather of the Son of God--buried in obscurity because. Jesus willed it--and realizing perhaps that this obscurity must be continued in the life of the Churcl"i for more than a thousand years, lest the iecogni-tion of the foster-father hinder the recognition of Christ's divinity and Mary's virginity. The Holy Family--a true family supported by Jbseph its head--mothered by the perfect mother--preparing the Lamb for the sacrificemthe Child and Son in this .family like to us in all things, sin alone excepted. - The Lesions Obedience and use of authority: Jesus with His divine wisdom often knows a "better way,'"but does He refuse to obey Mary and Jbseph? .--Mary has the unsurpassed holi-ness and dignity that befit the Mother of God,, but is. she any.less submissive to her husband and head of the fam-ily?-- How,great must be theworth of Joseph, to be put in charge of Jesus and Mary, as the representative on earth of the Eternal Father!--See how prudently Joseph usds his authority, recognizing that its source rests in no intrinsic 33 FRANCIS L. FILAS Review for Religious superiority or. merit of his own~ but.on the will of God! The value ot: labor and ot: works ot: charity: Jesus works for Mary and Joseph diligently, in a spiri.t of coop-eration, and with a willingness to take up any task assigned . Him.---Mary and Joseph work for Jesus; was ever labor done more perfectly "all for Jesus" ?--If a cup .of water offered in Christ's name is to receive its reward, what must be the merit of these two great souls directly employed in Christ's personal' service.~ Yet even this their pri.vilege is not all-exclus.ive, for we can always remember that what we do for the least of Christ's brethren, we do to Christ-- in imitation of Mary and Joseph. Life of obscurity: The actual fact is that for thirty years Christ. hid Himself from the public view. For our. instruction and for the .success of His own future miiaistry. Christ shows the need of conformity to God's will even if it means givingoup the externalworks of the apostolate.--If God wishes to accomplish great work for souls through our efforts, the or~e essential condition is that~ we be conformed to His will,, united to Hini.--Then, too, there is only one soul over which we have .direct power, and that is our own. All othets~we can help or guide only indirectly, :for God with His grace does the work, using us as instruments.---!f our life is obscure according to God's will (we may be spending months and years in preparation for the active apostolate, .or on the other hand our time of labor may be cut short by sickness or old'age) ', we should not fret because of the apparent uselessness of our efforts. They are highly meritorious for ourselves and fo~ others precisely because they are done according to God's will.-~They can be far more selfless than prayers united with an exterior action in which we have Succeeded and semi-deliberately take the credit for ourselves.---We lose 0nly self-love in God-willed bbscurity. 34 THOUGHT~ ON THE HOLY FAMILY If We are spending Ourselves in a public apostolate such as the hospital Or classroom, our interior life ever remains hidden and obscure, knownonly to the Father from Whom we derivethe strength and inspiration to labor in His sdrv~ ice, and from whom Will come the reward that is Himself. ¯ ---To imitate the hidden life that Christ led, we look.to the two persons who followed Him most. closely, Mary and ~Joseph. Cbarit~l: desus, the perfect Son; Mary,. the perfect wife-arid mother; Joseph, the perfect husband and father: need more be said to describe the bond ~of lord that existed at Nazareth, our ideal to imitate? Pra~let': At Nazareth we see the value of the contem-plative apostolate, as well as the background of prayer that is so essential in. supporting and making fruitful the works o'f the mixed apostolate.--Our novitiate, our annual retreat, monthly recollection, daily meditation,' and exa-mens, are all so many times when we "go down to Naza-retl'i" to" pray.m"Whoever wants a master to teach him how to pray, let him take St. doseph for. his guide, and he will not lose his way" (St, Teresa of Avila).--Mary is the mediatrix of all graces, whose prayer God can never refuse, who a~ St. Luke says (2:52), pondered "all these things carefully:in her heart."--Jesus here at Nazareth is pre-paring Himself bypraying during a period ten times as long as His public life--and even in His public life and Passion He prayed before anal during every, action, To pray is to raise, the mind and heart to God, to put oneself consdously in God's presence. Mar~r and: Joseph were ever in the bodily presence of Jesus; can we doubt that the house at Nazareth was a house of prayer?-,--We marvel at thii privilege of Mary and Joseph; do we appr.edat.e and utilize to the full ~our.privilege of b,eing in the b.odily pres-ence of Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament? FRANCIS L. FILAS ¯ Farnil~ virtues: If the.Holy Family is the patron of the Christian family, it is no less the exemplar for all families of religious. We have the love and concord that existed at Nazareth to show us how we should live our religious fam-ily life.--:-' In imitating the family virtues that were exempli, fled at Nazareth, we may well offer our own efforts ~n con-junction with those of Jesus, Mary, and. Joseph, begging God to protect and bless the families of our Church and ¯ riation. - Triple,Colloquy/: with Joseph, Mary, and desus--"By :.Joseph we are led to Mary, and by Mary to Jesus" (Bene-dict XV).--No one, save Jesus, ever loved Mary more than did Joseph: his greatness comes from his union With her" .and Jesus--can there be a greater proponent of devotion to Mary?:--No human person ever loved Jesus more than did Mary; can there be a. surer way of coming to the Son than through the Mother? '--"Jesus, ' Mary, Joseph, be with us now and at the hour of our deathV'- ¯Books Received (From O~tober 20: to December ~0) THE BRUCE PUBLISHING CO., Milwaukee. War Is My "Parish. By Dorothy Fremont Grant. $2.25. A Realistic Phi-losopby. By K.'F. Reinhardt, Ph. D. "$2.75. The Man Nearest to Christ. By the Regerend F~ L. Filas, S.J. $2.50. THE NEWMAN BOOKSHOP, Westminster, Md. ' " With the Help of Thy Grace. By the Reverend John V. Matthews. S.J. S.T.D., Mag. Agg. (Pont. Greg. Uniw). $1.50. Our Lady of Fatlmm B~ the Most. Reverend Finbar Ryan, O.P. $1.25. SHEED ~ WfiRD, New York. Secrets of the Saints. By Henri Gheon.$3.1~0. 8peaMng, of How to Pray. By Mary Perkins. $2.75. GEORGE GILL ~ SONS, LTD., London. A Heroine of the Mission Field. By Dom. Romanus Rios. O.S.B. $1.00. ST. PAUL'S PRIORY, Keyport, New Jersey. Symbols of ChriSt. Volume I: The Old Testament. By the Reverend Damasus Winzen, O.S.B. $1;00~ 36 "l'he ,D~ily I::~min~:ion of Conscience James A. Kleist, S.J. RELIGIOUS are accustomed.to make a"dai'ly examina-tion of conscience. ' In some communities.the rule pre-scribes two such examinations: one at noon, the other ifi the evening. The time allowed for the exercise varies in different institutes, but nevor, so far as I know, exceeds fir-teen. minutes. It is not.to my present purpose to stress the imp0rtanc¢ of this spiritual exercise, beyond saying that i~ is intended, not only tO cleanse the. soul from blemishes con-tracted during the part of the day which it covers, but also to pave the way for a definite improvement of the whole-tone 0f one's spiritual 1ire. My immediate purpose is to enlarge upon a partic,ula.r method of conducting this inquiry into the state of one's soul. The fifteen minutes at our disposal pass sw!ftly, and they are either fruitfully spent or frittered away without results. To avoid iuch loss of time, it is well to have a definite method, for example, that recommended by St. Ig-natius in the Spiritual Exercises, "The method for making the general ¢xamen,:' says. th~ saint,. ~'has five points in it. The first po, int is to give thanks to God our Lord for the benefits received." Itl was a stroke of genius for the saint to advise opening the unpleasant business of examining our conscience with an act of thanks- .giving to God, the. Supreme Judge, who is either to. ratify or to. reject, our findings. We. are to thank "God our Lord." God is infinite in all. His perfections. He is holy, almighty, immense, everlasting:, just, sovereign in every respect. He is; 37 JAMES A. KLEIST Re~ieu~ [or Religious moreover, supremely happy. And yet, He created the worId, and u.s, who live in the world. He willed to be "our Lord." Vainly ~hall we try to~ understand fully God's reasons'for creating. What we do know for certain is that He wished to share His happiness with other beings, with finite creatures. To enable us to reach this end lie has endowed us with marvellous faculties, both of body and of soul. Moreover, He so directed the oursd of events fro.m the beginning that the wOrld might almost seem tO be cre-ated for ea'ch one Of us ihdividually. The psalms cannot 'say enotigh of His Providence, which looks after the tiniest details of our lives. When mankind failed to cooperate with H~s original beneficent designs, even then He was not turned aside: He sent His Only-begotten Son into the world to restore us to grace. Besides these.general ble~sings,.each one of us can tell of special graces showered upon him. No 'need of going into details; but we must not overlook the .blessings received on the particular day when the examen is made. : ' Thus .far our minds have been busy with'a rapid survey ~of God's g00dne~s toward~us. But wehave'not yet corn- .plied with St. Ignatius's first point. We have not yet ¯ ~'~halnk~d. God our ILord.'~. Ev!denfly, we must do more than m e 'r e'l y , r e h e a r s ~ o u r B e n e f a c t o r ' s k in d l y ' d '~eds. The next and altogether necessary st~p, then, is to find ~¢ords :a~Pr0tSriate to the praise of God our LOrd. This is the problem of the first point. Imight solve it by saying that each one is be~t qualified to find words to express his thanks. Or I might suggest the use of the¯psalms,those great store-houses of devout aspirations. But ~just now I prefer to recommend the use of' the ¯Roman Missal, especially the Ordinary of the Mass, for .fitting expressions of gratitude. Many prayers Of the Mass have beer~ in Use for fifteen hundred years, or even more: Itsword~ tome to us laden Januar[l, i945 DAILY EXAMINATION OF (:ONSCIENC~ with" an unction which nothing else can rival, except, of course, the words ~)f Holy V~.rit. A further advantage is that, if~we cull our ejaculations from the Mass, we feel, our-selves in communion, with the whole Church. V~re speak not merely as individuals, .but as God's "holy people." This is an important point, as we shall see presently. To begin with, we ,may repeatthe Church's doxology: "Glory be to the F~ther, and to the Son, and to the H01y Spirit." Again, we may recite the tuneful opening of the Preface: "T~uly fitting it is and just, truly right and wholesome for the soul, that we.should, in every place and. time, give thanks to Thee, 0 I-I~ly Lord, Omnipotent Father, Eternal God." Then there are the Urgent declara-' tions of the Gloria: ."~re.p.raise Thee! "~xr~bless Thee! "~re adore Thee! :V~re glorify Thee! ~re give Thee thanks for Thy great glory!" Again,-we may turn tO our Blessed .Lord in phrticular, and say the beautiful, ending of that song of' the angels: "ThOu alone art holy; Thou alone art Lord; Thou alone' art Most High, 0 Jesus Christ, together with the Holy Spirit, in the glory of God the Father." A well-known text from St. [~aul's epistle to the [~hilippians occurs in several Introits: "In the name of Jesus every knee shall bend, of beings in heaven, of beings on earth, of beings in the world below; and every tongue shall confess, to the Father's glory, that Jesus Christ is Lord." Again, there is-not a priest but feels a touch of solemnity ,when he says at the "little elevation": "Through;Him, and with Him, and in Him, all/2onor and glory/ redounds to Thee, O God the .Father Almighty, in the unity of the Holy Spirit." In our examination of conscience, why not make the priest's words our own?. W~ thus conclude the first of the five points. Wh~t counts is not so much a multiplicity of prayers as a :deep-felt desire to pour out our thanks to God for.all the benefits 39 JAME~ A. KLEI8T Re~ieu~ for Religious received. The prayers suggested ~above will be helpful, unless we have still better ones suited to our individual temperament. I said a while ago that it was important ifor us to feel ourselves in communion" with th~ whole Church whenever we pray. It is signHcanr that her prayers are ~couched in the plural number. Are there not millions and millions of men and women who breathe God's air and have their daily bread from God, but never have a word of thanks for Him? ]~riefly, then: while the mind takes a rapid view of God's blessings, the heart is .constantly and devoutly engaged in prayer., "The second point," says St. Ignatius, "'is to ask grace to knov~" our sins and cast them out." How well the saint understood the paramount place which di~rine grace holds in the sanctification of ~e soul! "Without me you can do nothing," our Lord had said. We cannot know our failings in their true light, and rid ourselves of them, withou~ help ~rom God. Gettihg rid of inordinate habits is much like casting out the devil, and this, a~ the apostles found, out on a certain occasion,, is no child's play. The grace we ask is twofold: to cure the blindness of mind which refuses to recognize sin, and to rouse the sluggish will to form strong resolutions. Our problem now is how ~o secure this divine assist-ance. ~,Ve must pray for it. "vVe may, perhaps, begin with a prayer to Mary Immaculate, whose mind was flooded. with light, and whose will was untouched even by the faintest weakness. We shall of course,, recall the Church's official prayers for light and strength, the vigorous Veni Sancte Spir~rus and the.collect for the Sunday of Pentecost. The.Sequence, in particular, will yield a number of power~ ful pleas for help, especially the two stanzas in which each verse begins with an urgent imperative.~. "Wash, water, Januarg, 19415 DAILY EXAMINATION OF CONSCIENCE heal; bend, warm, direct"--all expressions that stress the difficulty the soul experiences in the process of driving out sin. But here, as elsewhere in this examination of conscience, - I would recommend that we go through this point with an eye to the future. We may ask the grace to know and expel sin., not only here and now for the purposes of this examen, but also. to secure help for the future, as, for example, by asking the twofold grace for our next weekly confession. This practice, faithfully adhered to, will raise our estima- .tion of the Sacrament of Penance, and, no doubt, make its reception more profitable. Again, there is but one step in thought from the weekly confession to that last ~f all con-fessions which we hope to make when we arrive on the threshold of eternity. Our death is in the hands of a mer-ciful God: it may be sudden, if He so decides, but we pray' that it may not be unprovided. This long-range prepara-tion for it will win us special light' and special strength in the momentwhen'we shall welcome them most. It is then that we shall wish to know all our "innumerable sins and offences and negligences" and to repent of them so genuinetg that our entrance into "the Holy of Holies" may, if pos-sible,, be instantaneous. And here, too, we may be apostolic in our prayer and ask the twofold grace for the thousands, that shall die this day. Are they prepared? Or are they ' unprepared? We shudder to think of it. Many live so lightheartedly as hardly ever to think of God.~ We can assist them in the hour of their greatest need. I repeat what I said in the first point: what is v~anted is. not a multiplicity of prayers, the depths of which we do not sound, but rather one or two sincere aspirations that set our hearts aflame. We are "now ready for the third point, the scrutiny. Here we are: defendant, prosecutor, witness, judge, all in 41 JAMES A. KLEIST Reuietu f6r Religious one. "The.third.point," says St. Ignatius, ;'will be to ask account of our soul from the time at which we rose tO the present examen, hour by hour, or period by periodl and first .as to thoughts, then as to words, and finally as to acts." Thoughts,. words and deeds are. the material on which to base the final verdict. Of th'e five points this is the only one into which prayer as such does not enter. It is a Cold-blooded examination conducted by the understanding, illumined, of course, by the light of the Holy Spirit for which we prayed in the sec-ond point. Among the "thoughts" we include motives, those hidden springs of action which make an individual's seemingly plain, monotonous life so ~colorfui in the sight of God. Further detail is unnecessary: We know the ten commandments, we know the precepts of the Church, we kno~¢ the rules of our order. We recall the persons .w.ith whom we were dealing earlier in the day, and the work or task we were expected to perform. That is all. The minutes allowed for the examination'are brief, and we must proceed to its most important part. "The fourth point," 'says St. Ignatius,, "will be to ask pardon of God our Lo~d for the faults committed." Contrition is sorrow for sin,, and sorrow has a sting in it. St. Ignatius has two significant words for it, "shame"-and "confusion.''~ But while the realization of the numerous'lapses in the past (I ¯ say "the past" designedly, for we may wish to include in. .every act of contrition the sins committed from the dawn of reason onward-) is painful ~o a soul that loves God, yet sorrow for them must not be depressing. True Christian contrition is hopeful, and hop~ is not unmingled with joy. Even the Church on Holy Saturday, after the night of sin has passed away and the true Light of the world has risen, cries' out: "'0 felix ci~Ipat."' Adam's fault was a "happy" one in the sense that it has brought "us " a Redeemer.so 42 danuar~ o 1945 DAILY EXAMINATION OF CONSCIENCE good, so great." So in" our own case; our sorrow for sin, if genuine, will be a source of blessings. Every sin of the past will be a stimulus to greater fervor in the service of God. This, surely, is reason enough, even if there were 'no others, to make our contrition as perfect as we can. The devil, who rejoiced in. our faults, ~s thus utterly routed. In going through this fourth point, we should remem-ber that there is a distinction between perfect and imperfect contrition, the former based on the love of God, the latter on supernatural, though inferior, m6tives. Furthermgre, every sin presents many. aspects. It is "heinous," says St. Ignatius, "even' if it were not forbidden." It forms the , strongest possible contrast to the infinite holiness of God. It is also an offence.against the divine lawgiver who forbids sin as an infringement of His commandments. It is ingrati-tude toward'our divine Benefactor, whose blessings we recalled in the first point. To deplore our faults more e~- caciou'sly, we may also remember that, in committing them, We seemed to make so little of all that Christ our Lord did and suffered for us. Thoughts like these will furnish numerous motives for making a heartfelt act of contrition. As to the words in which to clothe our act of contrition, the Church supplies us with numerous well-tried patterns. There is, first of all, the act of contrition so familiar to us from childhood. Then, again, we may find something suited to our state of mind in the psalm, called the Miserere. But here, again, I would stlggest that we closely adhere to the Ordinary of the Mass. It is.not without significance . that the priest at the foot of the altar, in preparing for the Holy Sacrifice, spends so great an amount of time in asking God's pardon. The Conliteor invites Heaven to witness our contrition, and thereby increases our sense of shame. Again, have we ever tried to utilize the urgent appeals for divine'mercy in the versicles and responses directly follow- 43 JAMES A. KLEIST Reoieu~ [or Religious , ing the Conl:iteor? "May Almighty Go~] have mercy on us, forgive our sins, and bring .us to ere}hal life. May the Almighty and Merciful Lord grant us pardon, absolution, and remission of our sins. Turn to us, 0 Lord, and give us file: and Thy people shall rejoice in Thee." (Note by the way, how the Church couples "joy" with the act of con-trition. Sin is not forgiven except through the infusion or an increase of "life,"' tha/is, sanctifying grace.) Ascending the altar Steps, the priest says the beautiful Aut:er a nobis:. "Take away from us our sins, we beg, O Lord, that by Thy grace we may enter the Holy of Holies with minds that have been purified." In the Oramus te he calls upon the saints for their intercession: "We implore Thee, O Lord, by the merits of Thy saints whose relics are upon our altars. graciously to forgive all our sins." Th~ need of contrition for sin is so vividly present to the mind of the Church that expressions of it appear again in later parts of the Mass, as, for example, at the offering of~the bread, when the" priest asks pardon "for my innumerable sins, offences, and negli-gences." Again, a little later: "In humble frame of mind and with a crushed heart we beg to be received by Thee, O .Lord." ¯ The last reference to sinin the Mas.~ occurs in the Placeat, the ver~ last prayer in thi~ Mass. Th.ese prayers are all apt expressions of contrition that We 'may use in the examination of conscience. Fr. Meschler says:. "Our sorrow for sin should be as perfect and sincere as we can make' it " A further warning by the same writer is also jn place here: "It is of importance td spend most of the time (that is, during the dxame.n) on the act of contrition and on the constructive part of the exercise. To rembve ~the dust from a piece of furniture w~ do not pick up particle after particle. One good sweep of the duster will do the woik in a momimt. The effect of deep-felt sorrow fo~: sin and a firm purpose0f amendment 44 January, 1945 DAILY EXAMiNA'~ION Ol= CONSCIENCE is much the same. One more remark before we pass on. As Ghrist our Lord took.upon Himself the whole burden of the world's load of sin', and made Himself a pe¢¢otum, that is, a sin, a repre, sentafive of the whole sinful race, so we may, in imi-tation of Christ, take the world's sins~upon ourselves and include, in our act of contrition, a will to make reparation forthe sins of all men. In the general examination of conscience, by the way, St. Ignatius says nothing about corporal penances or acts of mortification which, one may undertake as a natural and spontaneous fruit of contrition. But we know from his life that he was one of the world's great penitents; and besides, from occasional remarks in the Spiritual Exercises, it is clear that he approves of this pbacfice. There is one more point to consider, the constructive part of the examination of conscience. After tearing down the whole or part of a building, it is necessary to build up again. "The fifth point," says St. Ignatius, "is to propose amendment with God's .grace."-Again we notice the saint's awareness of the fact, that divine grace plays an indispen-sable part in the work of sanctification. "The resolution," says Fr. Meschler, "should be.firm and. strong. ¥~re should foresee 'the ordinary occasions of our faults and take preo caution agaifist them." Here, as elsewhere in this examination, the Missal is a trustworthy guide. I would call attention tO two prayers in the Canon of the Mass which seem to me well suited to ask the help of God in laying a solid foundation for the future. There is first the Supptices te rogamus, in which we pray that our sacrifice (which in our own case should mean-all ~the efforts we wish to make to reform our lives) may be presented,, by the hands of the Angel, to God's majesty "in order that we may.be filled more and 45 JAMES A. [~LEIST , Review for Religious ¯ more with every celestial grace and benediction.~' Then I suggest the Libera nos, which comes directly after the Pater~ noster and ends in this consoling prayer: "Graciously shed peace upon our darts, in order, that, aided by the wealth of Thy mercy, we may ever be free from sin and secure from eyeful disturbance." Here the Outlook is upon the rest of our days which we hope to spend in this vale of tears. "Gra-ciously shed peace upon our aa~ls. Once more I wish to point out that these prayers of the Church are phrased in the plural number,, so that, in saying them, we actually include the interests of our fellow men. HoWever good a prayer may be, it is still better for an addi-tional touch of Christian charity,.and since charity begins at homel we are praying for our fellow religious, thosel in particular, who live in the same community with us. With them our lot is cast by the arrangement of our superiors, and it is essential tha~ we live in harmony and give edifica-tion. When. defects are noticed, human nature is prone to ~riticize, to judge rhshly, to harm more than to help. All such unlovely traits of character may be effec.tively stifled ¯ by a hearty prayer for the supposed offender. Nor would khe examination of conscience be quite complete if we did hot resolve to mend such ways of our own as we know from experience to be irritating to those with whom we live. ,St. Ighatius Wants us to close the examination with ~in Our Father. After all, the Lord's Prayer contains every-thin. g we need for a devout life. I must conclude. The daily examination of conscience is a recognized practice in religious institution~. It is of vi~al importance for the spiritual well-being of the entire community, and should, therefore, be made, to borrow a ¯ phrase from St. Ignatius, "with all~ diligence in the Lord." Unless our heart is in it, it becomes a matter of routine ~vhich leaves us just where we ~were before we began. -46 danuar~l, 1945 DA!LY EXAMINATION OF CONSCIENCE An examination well made prepares the soul 'for the various indulgences, plenary or partial, which one may ¯ wish to gain that particular day. It is essential to St. Ignatius's method to go through all the five points as often as the examen'is made. But it would "be contrary to his mind'to give the same amount of time, say, three minutes, to each of the points. °On Easterday, for example, it would seem natural to draw out the time for the giving of thanks, while on Good Friday the soul is, perhaps, more attuned to sorrow for sin. St. Ignatius believed in methods, but had no ,use for soulless rigidity in the use of them. , The pattern here set forth links the examination with the Roman Missal and thus centers our attention arofmd the one great act Of worship, the Mass: There are, of course~, other ways,, of conducting this inquiry. I once listened to a talk in which the instructor linked St. Ignatius's five points with the Five Wounds of our Blessed Savior. The saints are ingenious in devising methods of prayer that suit their personal preferences and, at the same time, yield notable results. A decided advantage of the method here proposed is, I think, that it lays stress on actual prayer. The complaint has been made that "some religious giv~ more time, in their devotions, to the play of the intellect than they give .to the Will." After all, prayer is the daily bread of a religious. I,shall close, therefore, with the admonition of St. Paul: "Be assiduous in prayer." Holy Hour for C6nvers;ons Father Albert A. Murray, C.S.P., has m~de a simple, striking arrangement of prayers for use during a Hol!i Hour for Cont~e~:dons. The Paulist Fathers will supply the 'booklets, free of charge, to religious communities that wish to establish this apostolic devotion. Write to: The Paulist Fathers. 911 South Wabash Ave-nue. Chicago 5. Illinois. 47 Decisions'orr I-Ioly .July 21, 1944: The Sacred Cbngregation of the Holy Office pub-lished a decree in whicl~ it declared that the system of mitigated mil-ler~ arianism cannot be taught safely. His Holifiess, Pius XII, approve~l and confirmed this answer and o~dered it to be published. In its decree the Holy Office defines mitigated millenarianism as that system "which teaches that Christ the Lord will come before the final judgment, either before or after the resurrection of many of the just, for the purpose of reigning visibly here upon this earth." May 20. 1944: In an audience granted to the Cardinal Major Peni-tentiary, His Holiness, Pius XII,in reply to the .request of' many "priests, granted to those who, in the adversities of this life lift up a trusting heart to God and with pious mind and contrite heart recite the words: "Thy will be done," t14e following indulgences: (1) 50 days each time; (2) a plenary indulgence to be g;iined under the usual conditions, after having devoutly recited the aspiration every day for a month. Promulgated in a decree of the Sacred Peniten-tiary, dated July 10, 1944, , January 24, 1944: In an audience granted to the Secretary of the Sacred .Congregation of Religious, His Holiness, Pius XII, approved with his apostolic authority, the erection and constitution of a special commission within the said Sacred Cdngregation to assist it in ful-filling the duties entrusted to it by canon 251. This new commis-sion, tO be made up of learned and experienced men, will handle all questions and matters in any way pertaining to the religious and clerical training of aspirants, novices, and junior members of every-religious institute, and of societies living in common without vows. It will also handle questions pertaining to their literary, scientific and practical training. The following will be especially entrusted to the Commission: (a) to define and outline the cardinal principles and p~uliar charac-teristics which should guide the education and ~training of religious; (b) to keep a watchful eye on the ordinations of supdriors and chapters regarding matters pertaining to education and training, as well as to inspect and examine carefully the reports furriished on these subjects by superiors and apostolic visitors. 48 Should We Baptize Dying Adults? Gerald Kelly, S.J: 44~ATHER, why do priest~ differ so much on the qu~s- I~ .tion of baptizing unconsc!ous dying people?" The speaker was a zealous nurse. I suspected what she meant, but I preferred to reply the Irish way: ",Just what do you mean, 'differ so much' "Well, during my trainingthe priest who taught us religio.n advised us always to give conditional baptism, to unconscious dying people, ~nless we were surethey.-were already:baptized. But our hospital chaplain insists that it is wrong to baptize people unless they have given some kind of sign that they want to be baptized. This is a.pretty serious matter, it seems to me. We nurses frequently have to attend patients who. were brought into the hospital unconscious.and who die without regaining consciousness. Sometimes we don'~ know anything, about their religious beliefs. It might be that they want baptism and that they .need it, but.they can't express themselves. Are we to stand by and let them lose their souls when we might do the :one thing necessary to save them?" That nurse rather completely outlined a difti~:ulty not infrequently encountered by those who care for the sick. .Priests differ on a point of seemingly supreme importance. Some say, "Baptize": and some say, "Don't dare baptize": and the result is confusion, even distress, on the part of the Sisters, Brothers, and nurses. In slightly varying form, this question has been often presented to me. -I have given answers and explanations to the.individuals presenting the qtiestion; but it has occurred 49 GERALD KELLY. Reoie'w for Religious to me'that, since a large number of our readers are engaged in caring for the sick, it might.be well to give them the back-ground for this diversity of opinion among priests regarding the baptism of unconscious dying people. The ques'tion, of course,, concerns dyingadults. No chaplain, I know,' would tell a nurse that she ~hould never bapfze an unbaptized .dying baby. ¯ Dying infants who are not certainly baptized, are always to be baptized unless their baptism wouid bring harm to the Church--something which is quite improbable. But the question of baptizing dying adults has certain complications, both theoretically and practically; and a difference of opinion regarding some casesis almost inevitable. The Church law concerning the baptism of adults is contained in canon 752. The thrde parts of this c~an0n. 'cover three distinct cases: (1) The baptism of adults.who are not' in danger of death; (2) the.baptism of adults.who ¯ "are, in danger of death, but conscious; and (3) the baptism o°f adults who are in danger of death and already uncon-scious. Since our present discussion coficerns the baptism ¯ of the dying, the first part of the canon is not strictly per-tinent. However, for the sake of ~:ompleteness and clarity, [ believe it advisable to give 0a brief commentary on the entire canon. NoDanger of D~ath The first part of canon 752 prescribes that adults who are not in dangerof death are not tO be baptized unless they expressly desire it. Moreover, before they are baptized they are to be given complete catechetical instructions and are to be warned to make an act of contrition for their sins. Such are the' regulations for what we may'term the 6rdin~rycases: that is, the'.preparation and baptism of con-verts who ard nol~ in danger of death. .The reasbn for the January, 1945 "SHOULD WE BAPTIZE DYING ADULTS? first prescription is obvious. Everyone who has reac~ed the agi~ of reason must decide for himself whether bewishes, to receive baptism; God does not force his gifts on anyone. Hence, in the case of ail but infants, a: requisite for valid baptism is the w(lffngness of thesubject. And of course, the ministel of l~he sacrament should know of this willing-ness before he baptizes. The need of complete instruction in this case is also evident. The convert is being prepared to lead a Catholic life, and one can hardly lead such a lifd iif he knows only the few truths of Faith that are necessary for salvation. Finally', the act Of- contrition is necessary, because even bap-tism cannot wipe away his persorial sins unless he iepefits of them. We need not delay further on thi~ p.art of the canon. - A priest would be the one to confer baptism in these ordi-nary cases, and he would know. the requisites of law and should see that they are fulfilled. I might add, however, for the benefit of those religious who may be called on occa-sionally to instruct converts, that it is very important to teach them how to go to confession. The knowledge .will be an immense help tO them after their conversion. Dying, but Conscious The second partof the canon deals with the case of a person who is in danger of .death,but still conscious and in possession of his faculties. In this case there is no change with regard to the requisiti~ intention and act of contrition. The person, is not to be baptized unless he wishes it; and. if he isbaptized, he is to be cautioned to make an act of contrition for his sins. With regard to the instruction, there must be some modification. The complete instruction of a convert-takes sever~il weeks, or even several months, depending on the GERALD KELLY Review for Religious convert's capacity and on ~the frequency and durdtionof the instructions. Evidently such complete instruction is im-possible, when death is imminent. The canon recognizes this and indicates the minimum essentials of instruction to be given in these urgent ~ases: namely a sufficient explana-tion of the principal truths of the Catholic Faith so that the sick person can give some assent' to these truths and pro-fess his willingness to live up to the obligations.imposedby the Christian religion (in case he should recover). The principal truths of our Faith, belief in which is ' necessary for salvation, are four: the existence of one God, the.fact that God rewards the good and punishes the wick-. ed, the mystery of the Blessed Trinity, and the mystery of the Incarnation. These truths ar,e. aptly expressed in simple acts of faith by Monsignor Markham in the prayers he. has composed for the assistance of. dying non,Carbolics. "I believe, iri oneGod, I believe that God rewards the good and punishes the Wicked. I believe that in God there are three divine Persons--God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy. Ghost. I believe .that God the Son became Man, without ceasing to be God. I believe that He is my Lord and My Saviour, the Redeemer of the human race, that He died on the Cross for the salvation of all men, that He died also for me." Such isonebrief statement of the four truths tha~every-one must believe in order to be. certain of saving his soul. If at all possibl~, something should be said about each of the truths so that 'the dying person can make his act of faith ¯ ~n all of them. This can generally be done in a few min-utes; hence there is usuaIly no great difficulty in at least out-lining the truths. In the rare cases in which all "four truths ' cannot bementioned, we should, at least help the patient m~ke an act of faith in the first two truths: namely, in the e~istence of one Godand in the fact that God rewards the 52 danuar~t, 194"5 SHOULD WE BAPTIZE DYING" ADULTS? good and punishes the wicked. It is probable, though by no means certain, that faith in these two truths is sufficient for salvation; ahd that probability can be'acted upon when further instruction is impossible. In assisting dying non-Catholics we should not place ,too much confidence in the mere words,. "I believe." In Catholic doctrine the words' "faith" and "believe'.' have technical meanings. When we say we believe, we meah we accept a truth, not because we see it' or understand it, but because God revealed ~t. in other words, we take God's word for it. It is important for us to bear this in mind and to impress this point on the dying non-Catholic, because many of them have v.ery vague notions Of "faith" and "be-lief." Monsignor Markham's card, after giving the acts of faith cited above, adds this brief prayer: "I believe, on God's authority, everything that He has taught and re-v. ealed." If a nurse is using this card, these words would give the opportunity for a brief explanation of the true meaning of faith. Father William Bowdern, S.d., in his pamphlet, The Catholic Nurse and the Dyin'9, suggests that the nurse ex-plain the meaning of faith and the truths necessary to be believed in the. following simple manner: "You believe that there is a very good and loving God, don't you? You know that He could not tell a lie or teach us anything wrong. Hetold us some tlSings about Himself, and because He only tells the truth, you and I believe what He has told us. We take His word for it, don't we? He told us that there is only one God and three divine persons: the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. And He said that the Son ~ame down on earth and took on Himself our hu-man nature, and then died on the' cross to save us, ~because He loved us so much. And He told us that He wants us all to be happy with Him forever in heaven when we die. 53 GERALD KELLY ¯ minist,ered unconditionally."~ . : ".* .: ~ Dging, bht Unconscious Reoieto [or Religious And He told us that the only ones who will not be with Him in heaven are those who insis.t on going to bell where they wills u"f f e r~ and never see Him. We believe these thir~gs because God told us," don't we? The fof~goiiag are ways ,9f helping 'the d~inigperson make th'e necessary acts of fhith. Every nurse ought to have some s,mple, eleafly-planfied way o~ doing .th~s? ,Having helped the patient m~k~ th~ acts of faith, ~h~ ~shbuld then help him to make the other pr~ers,particularlY the act of contrition. M0nsi~fi~r Mhr~am's card is'also a great aid to this, as it contains, be~des the ~cts of faith: also brief acts,of hope~ charity, and'c~n~rition. - What we have said thus far pertains to the preparatton 0f a dyi.ng person for baptism. Tfiis is equivalent to saying that '@e are ~repa~igg him for admtss~oh into t~e C~iholic Church; hence the canofi caa~ions u~ t~.have ~e~atient ex-press a wilhngn~ss to observe tb~* ~recepts "of~the Christian rehg~on. ~h~s db~s fi~t ~an 'tSat~we 'have to &codnt all thesd precepts ifi d~tail: but wh:en~e ar~" d~aling ~with a con-scio~ person and~there ,s ~me We should~ at least be sure that he wants to.keep thCe o m "mandmen.ts of God and live ~p to thebbligatio~s that the Church impos(s on him. - he~xpresses't~s wflhng~ess,be is tb be baptized Without oe~ay. ~ne canon supposes that the oapt~sm~wm oe con-ferred while the recipient ~s sm~ onscious, i~ tbis'i~ possible. H~w4ver, should he ~o~e" ~o~scious~ess~ bef6re receiving the sacrament, bu~ after havin~ requ~s~e~"i°t, ~:sho61~ be ad- The third part of Canon 752 gives us.some-practical rules about dying adults who are either wholly or partially-unconscious. Such persons are to be bapti'~'ed'd~3ndi~ionally if, before°becoming uncbnscious, they"gave Some l~robable 54 , Januac~/o 1945 :, ~. SHOULD WE BAPTIZE DYING~ADULTS?. sign that they wanted baptism, or if, in their present state (when-partially unconscious) they give.a probable indica-tion that they wish to be baptized. The baptism is admin-istered c0nditionally--the condition being: "If you wish to.be baptized." Later,~ if the subject recovers and mani-fests a clear desire to be baptized,, he is tO be re-baptized conditionally (".if Y0u.are not baptized:7.), because it'.is not certain, that the first, conditional baptismis valid. Such are the prescriptions of the canon. In. themselves, these prescriptions are clear.and admit of ~no controversy. However, with regard to one .point there is evidently room for differences of opinion. I.refer to the interpretation Of the words. "a probable, sign that be wishes to be baptized." Theologians can and do dispute .over what. constitutes a wish to be baptized, and also over what constitutes a mani-festation of such a. wish. Because of this possibility of differencesof opinion, it may be.well for us to consider some of the cases likely to arise. - - Mr. X belongs to no particular religion: but his wi~e is .a Catholic and his children areCatholics. He.has never said openly that he intended to join~thi~ Catholic Churcki, l~ut he has manifested such general good will that those who know .himfeel rather confident that he had .~'leanings". in that direction. Cases like this are not infrequent. One who is assisting at X's deathbed has good reason to conclude" "It is probable that this man intended to join the Catholic Church before his death." Evidently, an intention to join the Catholic Church incl.ukles an intention.to receive bap-tism; hence we have here a probable .sign of the will to be baptized. I doubt if any one would question the.fact that such a person should be given, conditional baptism if be -were.unconscious and dying. . . Mr. ~Y presents a somewhat different case. He has never manifested ~hat he wanted to be a Catholic, but he has 55 GEliD KELLY Reoie~o for Religious shown a disposition to be a '~Christian," ~l~at is, to belong to One of the sects that profess Christianity. In other words he has given some indication that he Wants to belong to "Christ's religion,." whatever that is. Actually, of course, thi~re is only one true Church of Christ.- A person may be mistaken as to which is the' true ohe: but, if he does want to belong to Christ's Church, he also wants baptism, because our Lord made baptis.m the sacrament of entry into His Church, Hence, anyone who has given an indication that he .wants to be a Christian should be c0nd!tionally baptized when he is unconscious and dying, unless it is ce'r-tain that he is already validly baptized. Mr. Z presents a still different and. more difficult dase: He belongs to. no Christian bod~,; but he has been a "good man," in the sense that he wanted to do the right .thing, or at least he has manifested' that he was sorry for all his sins and: that he wanted to do what was necessary to save his soul. This, of course, is a much more ger~eral disposition than that of X or Y. And the question arises: can such a. disposition, for example, sorrow for sins and desire to do what is necessary for salvation, be construed, as a wish~ to receive baptism, or is something more definite d~mafided? Theologians do. not agree in 'their answer to, the question. Many hold that this dispositi0n~ is entirely too general: others consider that it implicitly includes the' wish to receive baptism, because baptism is one' of1 the ordinary means, of salvation instituted by God. Because of the controversy ~just mentioned:, .we cannot say .with certainty, that a man who has indicated that he wants to do everything necessary tO save his, souli has tl~e requisite intention for baptism. But we can say, at least because of the authorities behind: the opinion,, that it is ¯ p.robable ~that such a, person, wishes to be baptized; hence we are justified in conferring conditional baptism when the 56 January/, 1945 SHOULD WE BAPTIZE DYING ADULTS? man is in danger of death and unconscidus. ~. The foregoing .brief .comments exhaust the .provi-sions of canon 752. The canon says nothing directly about thecase proposed by fhe nurse at the beginning of this article" namely, about the unconscious pearson about whom we know nothing. From the silence of the Code, ,and from the severe tenor of cert~iin decisions of theHoly See that are used as the foundation for canon 752, many theologians argue that the Church forbids the baptism, even conditional, of a dying unconscious person unless he has given some posit!ve sign that he wishes to be baptized. In other words, according to these theologians, canon 752 tells us not merely everything that we should do,. but also everything that we rnag do, Some authors convey the. impression that this severe opinion is the only tenable opinion in the matter. Very likely the reh.son why the.chaplain referred to by the nurse a(the beginning of this article insisted that unknown, unconscious dying persons may not be baptized, even con-ditionally, is that he had not heard of another tenable opinion. ' Yet there is another, opinion, an. opinion held as prac-tically probable by such theologians as Bucceroni, Cappello, Da, vis, Genicot, Iorio; Lehmkuhl, Piscetta, Sabett~i, Ver-meersch, and Wouters. I. realize, of course, that a list of names like this may be "so much Greek" to nurses and hos-pital Sisters and Brothers; yet to the priest wh~ is conver-sant with books of Moral Theology the list should be highlY significant. Some, if not all, of these men are cer-tainly among the outstanding moralist~ of the present cen, tury. We may safely say that the opinion they sponsor as probable in the present matter may be followed unless some further decision of the Holy See makes it clear that the opi.nion is to be.rejected. 57 GERALD KELLY Review ~or Religiotts In the opinion of the authors just cited--an opinion often referred to as the "lenient" opinionmwe are°justified in conferring conditional baptism on the unknown and unconscious dying adult. The authors admit that their opinion seems less in conformity with the decrees of the Holy See than the severe opinion; but they deny that these decrees make the other side certain. To sum Up the mate~:ial treated.in this article. In 6rdi-nary cases of conversion, when there is no urgent necessity for baptism, thd sacrament is not to be conferred unless the subject expressly asks for it and until he is prepared for the sacrament by complete catechetical instruction. And, in order that the ~acrament be certainly fruitful, he is to be warned to repent of his sin~. In urgent cases, in which even those who are not priests may confer the sacrament, it suffices to help the dying per-son make the essential act of faith and a sindere act of con-trition. The supposition here, of course, is that the sub-ject wishes to be baptized and is willing to live up to the precepts of God and the Church, should he recover. As for unconscious persons, we have treated three dis-tinct cases. First; those who certainly wanted baptism before lapsing into unconsciousness are~ to be baptized unconditionally. Secondly, those who gave some probable sign that they wished to be :baptized are to be baptized con-ditionally. And finally--in the case proposed by the nurse --if nothi~ag is known about the person, the nurse is justi-fied in conferring conditional baptism if she wishes.to do so; but because of the strong opinion against it, she is not strictl} obliged to do so. As Father Sabetti would say: "If she does nothing, I do not reprimand her; but if she confers conditional baptism,. I. praise her." In other words, the nurse may make her ow6 the opinion of Father Ver-meersch, who, after having examined all the arguments of 58 January. 1945 SHOULD WE BAPTIZE DYING ADULTS? the severe side, concluded that: "If scandal is avoided, one may confer conditional baptism on any unconscious, dyi~.g adult who is not known to be already baptized." As for myself, I believe that this same Father Vermeersch expressed what seems to be a Catholic instinct when he said: "I could not resign myself to permit a single soul to be lost that might have been saved by my ministrations." Father Vermeersch's words could ~ell be taken as an ideal by all who minister to the dying. The wolds are applicable, not merely to the case of giving conditional baptism to unknown, unconscious persons,, but also and even especially to the preparation of conscious patient~ for death. After all, the baptism of unknown and unconscious persons is of very dubious efficacy, as even the staunchest defenders of the practice will admit. It is the seizing Of a last plank of hope, the use of a last desperate remedy. But "when a patient is conscious, no matter what his religion, the nurse accomplishes results that abe definitely fruitful, even to.a high degree, by encouraging.him to devout acts of faith, hope, chaiity, and contrition. In the case of non- Catholics, in particular, the nurse's spiritual assistance may be badly needed, .because very often they have no one to help them prepare for their meeting with our Lord. For this reason, I again recommend the splendid work of the Apostolate to Assist Dying Non-Catholic.~.1 1For further information about the Apostolate to Assist Dyin~ Non'Catholics,' see REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS,. I, p. 338; or write for sample brochure and prayer cards to one of the following addresses: (a) Rt. Rev. R. J. Markham, S.T.D., Comptora Road, Hartwell, Cincinnati ! 5, Ohio. (b) Sisters of the Poor of St. Francis, St. Clare Convent, Hartwell, Cincinnati 15, Ohio. (e) Sister M. Carmelita0 R.S.M., Cdnvent of Merclr, 1409 Freemarl Avenue, Cincinnati 14, Ohio. Ques ions and Answers I ¯ Our (ionsfitufion~ prescribe a half hour of' private spiritual reading. Is that requisite fulfilled when we have reading in common and one person. delegated to do so reads for the duration of half an hour? Yes, the common performance of.an act will always sat.isfy the obligation of the coristitutions requiring the private performance, of such an act. Thus on special occasions, such as feast days, or on the day of m6n.thly recollection, it may be desirable to have some special reading appropriate for the feast or monthly recoll~ctibn. Sin~e such. reading may not be available for all because c~f the lack of°books, the reading held in common would satisfy .the obligation of private spir-itual reading¯ The question, might be rai~ed whether the superior could oblige the Sisters to have, rea.ding .in common when the Constitutions requi,re private reading. We think that this might be done occa-sionally, as indicated above, but not habitually. If the superior d~sired to have some. particular book read for the community because of its spedai spiritual value, she might invite the Sisters to attend the common reading of that book over a period of time, but she could not strictly oblige them to be present at the common reading. In s6me cbmmfinifies the Sisters wffh temporary vows are referred to as "professed novices," Does this imply that they may be classed with and mingle with the n6v;ces rather than ~;th" the perpetually professed Sisters? The.t~rm "professed novices" is a misnomer. If they. are pro-fessed they. are not novices, and if they. are novices they are not pro-fessed religious. The custom of having the religious professed of temporary vows remain in a class by themselves, and of giving them special additional training in the stiiritual life, is most praiseworthy, though not required byCanon Law. A better name for them is that of "junior professed" whereby they are distinguished from the "sen-ior professed," that is, those religious who have taken their perpetual VOWS. The Codeof Canon Law is meticulous in its u~e of the terms 60 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS "novice". arid "professed religious," and' this use should he re'rained in order to°avoid many misunderstandings. ~ The answer to our question is given in canon ~640 § 1 which tells us that "the novitiate shall be, as far as possible, "separated from that part of the house inhabited by the professed religious, so that, Withbut a'special cause and the permiSsion of the superior or of the master, the novices ma~, not have comm,unication with the professed religious, nor these latter with the novices." The canon makes no distinction between religious whb have taken temporary vows, and those who have maiie p~ofession of perpetual, vows, as it frequently does in other cases. Hence we can only conclude that the. professed of temporary vows are included in °th~ prohibition. What is the mean;nq of the statement in a recent issue of the Review " (111, 371)that the Epistle to the Hebrews may be the work of another writer than Paul~ at least ;n part? It means that the literary form of theEpistle may be the world of ¯ someone other than Paul. Catl~olic critics are permitted to hold this view, with deference, of course, to any further decision of the Church. For further explanation confer the introduction to the Westminster Version of the Epistle to the' Hebrews, or sde the Commentary on the Ne'w Testamerit prepared by the (American) Catholic Biblical Association. Our constitutions prescribe our makincj the Stations of the Cross ;n common every Friday. Do we ejaln any indulgences, if the congregation, which consists of some thirty S;sters~ remains ;n the pews and the superior alone proceeds from station to stati6n? Although this question was answered in Volume I, page 424 of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, we shall give here the substance of that answer for the benefit Of tbosd who may not have that volume. On February 27, 1901, the Sacred Congregation of Indulgences granted to the Marist Brothers the favor whereby they could gain the indul-gences of the Way of the Cross if only one person (for example, a Brother of the community) made the round of the stations, the rest of the community remaining in their places. The condition laid down in this grant was that there was a lack of space in the community 61 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS chapel for hll the religious to move from station tO station. On May .7°, 1902, this same privilege was extended to the chapels Of all reli-gious ~vomen, under the same ~onditions. Is it being "more ~athollc than the Church" to keep the. Lenten fast, if the blshop.has dispensed from the obligation of fasti~g"for'the duration"? The dispensation takes away the obligation imposed by the gen-eral law of the Church: and even those who are able to fast and who would normally be obliged to do. so are exempted. The dispensa-tion does not affect obligations imposed bn religious, by their rule, and it does not change the. fact that fasting is a good penance when prac-ticed accor.ding to the norms'of prudence. Fasting, even "during the duration," is very much in tune with the spirit of the Church¯ The Ldnten liturgy is full of references to fasting. Would it be incorrect to have flowers on the altar during the Benedic-tions of the Blessed Sacrament which occur from Passion Sunday to Easter~t The prescriptions of the~ rubrics forbidding the placing of flowers on the altar during penitential seasons, apply only when the Mass or o~ice of the season is said. Even then flowers are allowed on the altar by way of exception on the occasion of the First Communion Of children: and in honor of St. Joseph during the month of Ma~ch (S.R.C., d. 3448 ad XI). Hence it seems reasonable to allow them during the Benedictions of the Blessed Sacrament which occur during Passiontide. Could you suggegt, through the pages of the Review, a book of medi-tations suitable for boys in a'mlno~ seminary? We r, egret our inability to suggest such a book of meditations, and request our readers whohave knowledge of such a book or' books ¯ to communicate it to us sO that we may publish it in this column. 62 Book Reviews DO I REALLY BELIEVE? Meditations on the Aposfl.es' Creed. By the ,Reverend Henri Lebon, S.M. Translated from the French by the Reverend Peter Resch, S.M. The Abbey P~ress, St. Melnrad, Ind. $2.25. This book of meditations should receive an enthusiastic welcome, especially from religious. It consists of ~ s~ries of seventy-four medi-tations based entirely on the articles of the Apostles' Creed. The theme, of. co.urse, is not new; many meditations have been based on. the Creed. But this series is possessed of a unique spirit. It is the~ spirit of the Founder of the Society of Mary, the venerable Father Chaminade. Father Lebon.has captured this spirit hnd edited it. ¯ Father Chaminai:le, in his work of catechising and training young religious, found himself constantly stressing faith as the bed-rock of all Christian per.fecti0n. Indeed he was convinced that defection from religious vocation could be traced to a lack "of lively faith. So he found it exceedingly~ profitable to base many medita-tions on the Apostles' Creed. The book follows faithfully the traditional form'of preludes, division of matter fok thought, followed by examen, affections, and resolutions. However, into that form the author succeeds in weaving a wealth of apt illustrations from personal experience. The Holy Fathers speak too from e;cery page. And there are constant quota-tions from both the Old and New Testaments. ---W. J. O;SHAUGHNESSY, S.J. LENT: A Liturglc.al Commentary on the Lessons and Gospels. "By the Reverend Conrad Pepler, O.P. Pp.x -I- 406. B. Herder Book Co., St. Louis, 1944. $4.00. ¯ This bodk of very serious Lenten reflections has an advantage for religious communities in that the daily portion offered is .of greater length, closer to fifteen minutes, than the sparse outline contained in most manuals. A further merit is that its reflections on penance and the Passion are brought clearly into line with the day's Holy Sacrifice. Undoubtedly every religious, as the sombre impressiveness of Lent looms on his prayer horizon each year, ha~ felt a thirst of soul 63 BOOK REVIEWS Review for Religious .for. a richer understanding of the Le~nten liturgy. How fine it would be if those reflections on sorrow for sin and union with the suffering Christ, which common consent.dictates as the atmbsphere of the Forty Days, might, unfold naturally out of the venerable solemnity of each day's Mass, obviating that unwanted disunity in the morning's stint of prayer! Hence the value of, Father Pepler's achievement. It would be no small injustice to this meditation book to judge it too' ~arrowly in the light of its subtitle, "A LiturgicalCommen-tary." 'The author uses the liturgical text. He wrestles earnestly with it to make it subserve the orderly plan of reflections he has pro-posed to himself as likely to be most profitab!e to the reader:' whereas the task of a commentator is to fol[oto his text, adapt him-self to it, "make all his explanations serve it faithfully. Moreover, Father Pepler is di,tinctly patristic, rather than modern or scientific, in his attitude toward both Scripture and the liturgy. The Jacob incident, like the whole of Scripture, "is not intended to signify itself, for that is some material fact, but a hidden truth which ~is tO be soughtunder the symbolism" (p. 126). Thd author's Augus-tinian emphasis on the "mystical" accommo'dation of Sclipture, though not precisely what we look .for 'in a modern "commentary," " is satisfactorily handled for purposes of devout meditation.': --R. G, NORTH, S,J~ A REALISTIC: PHILOSOPHY. By K. F. Relnhardt, Ph.D. Pp, xli-I- 268~ The Bruce Pdbllshincj Company, Milwaukee, 1944. $2.75.' In this "Science and Culture" book," Dr. K. F. Reinhard~ of Stanford University presents a brief account of Scholastic philos-ophy, and shows how it works into political and economic philos-ophy. Philosophers should read this book to see how their thought furnishes principles of ac'tion most appropriate, to reestablish peace and justice. Those who are working for internationfil order and social justice should read it for its clearand rel.atively simple presen-" tation, of the 0principles through which alone these ends can be achieved. Dr. Reinhardt is well qualified to handle the interrelations be-tween these fields. He has a doctorate in philosophy to give him a solid background in this field; his practic.al experienceas an active member ~of the German Centrist party, as editor and publisher, 64 January, 1945 BOOK REVIEWS qualifies him to speak on polit.ics and economics. Scholastic thought, as.it appeari in this necessarily brief compass, is shown tO be realistic and logical. The author's main effort in the earlier section of the book is to show the realism of the "perennhl philosophy"; .that it ft, in fact, the only true realism, since it alone deals 'with all reality. Philosophy is of course never light reading. Dr. Reinhardt does "well in avoiding technical terminology and Latinism. His vigorous and concrete style carries the educated reader along through pages of closely packed reasdning. Those who are interested in the ploblems which are treated here. but who have felt themselves excltided from the technical literature on the subjects thr6ugh lack of formal training in them, will profitably and gladly read this eminently worth-while book. The book is implemented with a glossary of technical terms and bibliogr~aphy: there is an index.--G. P. KLUBERTANZ, S.J. SPEAKING OF HOW TO PRAY. By Mary Perkins. Pp. xll + 276. Sheed and Ward. New York. 1944. $2.75. Saint Teresa, who loved intelligent persons, would have loved ¯ Mary Perkins, for Mary Perkins is a Very intelligent person. More than that, she. is able to explain what she understands~ in clear and non-technical language. She has written a very sound and valuable book, which should enable any reader to comprehend better" than he did before the meaning of life and the way to live. The title is not very revealing. The book is much more than a disc.ussion of how to pray. It sets forth God's blue print for the universe and for each man, and points out the orie.m~thod of carry-ing out the divine idea. Part I, about a fourth of the book, is ;an amazingly fine syn-thesis of theology, ~given the brief compass allotted to it. God's pur-pose in creating the world, original sin, the Incarnation, the redemp-tion, and the Church are discussed and related in such a way that the whole o.rganism of~Christian revelation, stands forth clearly. The remaining chapters, which make up Part II, describe the life each Christian is called to live in the Church so as to achieve the closest possible union with Christ, and through Christ with God, our ultimate end. This section of the work is extremely practical; it shows us how to utilize the means of: union which Christ offers us in the Church,: especially the Mass, the sacraments, the divine office, 65 BOOK REVIEWS Reuieu~ for Religious and prayer, b6th vocal and mental. The author fully appreciates the wealth of Catholic liturgy, and is in complete sympathy with the objectives of the liturgical movement that has given a renewed impetus to Catholic life in recent decades. Anyone who follows the plan here attractively presented is on the road to sanctity. For this is the.Church's own plan, and the life outlined is the life of the , Church. The book should not be read rapidly. Otherwise a certain unrelieved monotony in the style will pail. A chapter each day, read slowly and reflecti'bel'y, would be ideal. An excessive fondness for capitalization of words which need not, by any. rules or. usage, begin with capital letters, and the d~vice of splitting words into com-ponent elements, such as "will-full," "super-natural," "norm-al," and a host of others, may serve to attract the attention of some readers, but will probably irritate others.--C. VOLEERT, S.d. WITH THE HELP OF THY GRACE. By the. Reverend John V. Mat-thews, S.J., S.T.D., Macj. Acjg. (Pont. Gre9. Univ.). Pp. 114. The Newman Book Shop, Westmlnsfer, Maryland,' 1944. $1.50. This book is, in substance, the treatise On Actual.Grace taught in seminaries. As such it Will be of interest to the student of the-ology, for laymen and for religious. It takes up in turn the meaning of Grace, its source, a few fundamentaldivisions, a definition of Actual Grace, its supernatural character, its nature, necessity and dis-tribution, Grace and freedom of the will. To these questions are added such distinctive chapters as: :'Can Actual Grace be seen or touched? . When may Actual Grace be expected?" . "How great a gift is Actual Grace?" Certain sections of the formal treatise on Actual Grace are omitted. For example, no mention is made of the highly controverted subject of the reconcili~ition of Actual Grace with the freedom of man's will. Discussions of this nature are not considered pertinent to the purpose of the "book. The topic of each chapter is propose~l in the form of a question. The body of the chapters PrOceeds in the catecbetical method of question and answer. To these are appended Scripture quotations in support of the truth proposed. But the book is more than a cate-chism, as some of the questions run through two pages or more. Chapter questions serve as a striking way of approach t'o a truth put in thesis form in theological manuals. They remind one of the very January3, 1945 BOOK REVIEWS effective yet simple problem method of St. Thomas. The primary purpose of this book is to convey to the reader'a fuller knowledge of Actual Grace. 'This is as it ought to be, for appreciation and solid devotion presuppose understanding. ToO little has been said and .written in explanation of Actual Grace. Too much of the little said has left minds without a grasp of basic ideas. To accomplish his aim .the author bends every effort. His insistence throughout is on clarity and ~implicity, even to the deliberate sacri-rice of literary style. But th~ book is not all purely informational. A certain propor-tion of appreciation joine~l to.instruction 'is obtained by the intro~ .duction ~it the end of each chapter, of what is called a "Practice." 'This "Practice," a word used for want Of a better one~ includes fur-ther explanations, applications, comments and exhortations. In them occur such expressions as: "Dear Reader," "which could bettei have been omitted. This book offers no surprises for those who know their Actual Grace. "For others it has both limitations and "advantages. The method adopted by the author limits the richness and power of pres-entation to which Actual Grace, or, for that matter, any doctrinal subject lends itself. On the other hand, the bbok is a simple and unmistakably clear explanationof fundamentals. As such it merits the highest rating. :It can serve as a valuable aid for individual study, for the prepa-ration of sermons and for teaching in High School and College. With its help, many more souls can come. to a fuller knowledge and appre-ciation of Actual Grace.-~L. A. CORESSEL, S.,J. HUMILITY OF HEART. By Father Caietan Mary Da Bergamo, Capuchin. Translated by Herbert Cardifial Vaughan. Pp. 211. The Newman Bookshop, Westminster, Maryland, 1944. $2.50. This book of 153 paragraphs contains "Thoughts and Senti-ments on Humility." Written in Italian by one who led the humble life of a Minor Capuchin, the book made a profound impression On Cardinal.Vaughan who, as we are told in the introduction, "For more than thirty years had known and studied ihat Work and it is scarcely an exaggeration" to say he .had afade ito during the last four-teen years of his life, his constant companion, his vade mecum." To the Cardinal we are indebted for the present excellent translation of Father Cajetan's treatise on humility. BOOK REVIEWS " Reaiew [or Religious The book is divided .into six chapters. The first of these gives us a clear idea of. humility, its necessity, its excellence and its motives and arouses in us a fervent desire to practise it. In the four succeeding chapters we have treatises on apractical examen on the virtue of humility, humility towards God, towards our neighbor, and towards oneself. Finally, there is the chapter "Moral Doctrine on the Vice of. Pride and the best Us~ to be made:of the Practical-Examen." " Each of the 153 .paragraphs furnishes ample matter for one or more meditations. Containing sublime and practical reflections/the book shows Us how to obtain that humility of heart wherein "the soul," as Father Bernard Vaughan, S.J., tells us in his introduction, "will find a sovereign remedy for its many ills, a matchless balm its many wounds, while' a soul-beauty all its.own wilbspring up in

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

Issue 60.6 of the Review for Religious, 2001. ; ° R-eview for Re!igio~s b~lps people re~pon~ and befaithful to.God's, universal ~ail to holiness' ' " by making; available tO them the sl~irituai legades - " tb~t flow-~om the, charisms of Catbolicconsecrated life~ Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bimonthly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Telephone: 314-977-7363 ° Fax: 314-977-7362 E-Mail: review@slu.edu ° Web site: www.reviewforreligious.org Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393 Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP Mount St. Mary's Seminary; Emmitsburg, Maryland 21727 POSTMASTER Send address chafiges to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©2001 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the pers6nal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. vi,ew for religious LIVING OUR CATHOLIC LEGACIES Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Clare Boehmer ASC Philip C. Fischer SJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe TracT Gramm Judy Sharp James and Joan Felling Adrian Gaudin SC Sr. Raymond Marie Gerard FSP Eugene Hensell OSB Bishop Carlos A. Sevilla SJ Ernest E. Larkin OCarm Miriam D. Ukeritis CSJ NOVEMBER DECEMBER 2001 VOLUME 60 NUMBER 6 contents 566 a wider mission The Interreligious World: A Nun's Experience There Mary C. Boys SNJM probes aspects of religious life in light of the Catholic-Jewish relationship and provides a testimony that emboldens her continued commitment to this lifeform. 581 'Unsuspected Mission A. Paul Dominic SJ identifies the mission of spiritual conversation as the basic apostolic work of Jesus and of all who are his followers. 594 spiritual directions On the Seventh Day God Rested Marie Beha OSC suggests ways of understanding and making more creative use of Sabbaths in our life. 602 Where Your Heart Is Donald Macdonald SMM sees in Jesus' journey to Jerusalem (in Luke) an ardor and constancy that our bonding with him through Sc~ipture's strong and burning words can accomplish also in us. Review for Religious evaluations 614 628 Criteria for Change: Women's Ministering to the Body of Christ Marie Brinkman SCL looks at the lives lived by sisters in the past as the foundation that must validate today's discernment criteria for the needed changes. Missionary or Mercenary Patrick Sean Moffett CFC offers a perspective on changes in membership, changes in collaboration, and changes in corporate commitment in order to stimulate discussion on community apostolates. 640 647 divine initiatives What Only God Can Make Ann Marie Paul SCC imaginatively ponders religious community pictured as a tree, with the trunk representing chastity, the branches poverty, and the leaves obedience. God's Will: Where Desires Commingle Denis Donoghue SJ ruminates on the seeking out of God's will and illustrates some principles of discernment in a personal'example. departments . 564 Prisms 655 Canonical Counsel: Readmission to a Religious Institute 661 Book Reviews 667 Indexes to Volume 60 November-Dece~nber 2001 prisms All of us have to be born and have to die. These "have to's" sound like some activity we must do, when both are rather something that happens to us. "Being born" and "being dying" are the leveling events that bookend all human life. What fills the space in between seems to spell out nothing but all the hills and valleys, rolling vineyards and desert wastelands, that represent the inequalities of human living. Some people are born into wealth, and they will never know want. Others are only fortunate enough at birth to have a mother healthy enough to give them mother's milk, but they will go through life malnour-ished and disease-prone. Some are born highly gifted and fail ever to develop their talents. Others struggle through life with a minimum of human endowments, but successfully act with a perennial zest. Some will spend their life in steel and glass skyscrapers, and others will know only the simplest of grass or plywood huts. Some will travel the world; others will know only their village. Except for "being born" and "being dying," we human beings seem to spend lifetimes of greatly unequal value. There seems to be no level playing field for all people to encounter each other on. God engages the inequalities of human life in the incarnation and birth of his Son. In the familiar hymn quoted in St. Paul's letter to the Philippians, our atti-tude must be "that of Christ: Though he was in the form of God, he did not deem equality with God something to be grasped at. Rather, he emptied himself and took the form of a slave, being born in the likeness of men. He was known to be of human estate, and it was thus that he humbled himself, obediendy accepting even death, death on a cross" (Ph 2: 5-9). Paul reflects that God takes on a true inequality. In becoming human, Christ goes from the fullness of divin- Review for Religious i'ty to the emptiness of humanity. Theologically, humanity is empty because everything that each of us has is gift, as Jesus reminds us in saying that all his words and his works are not his, but come from the Father. So in faith we know an inequality that is real between God and the human. But, then, in God's becoming human in Jesus, we come to know God's definitive action in breaking down all the appearances of inequality that divide us humans. Jesus entered into the leveling experience of all humans by "being born" and by "being dying." Through all the in-between time, he lived his life as an example and .taught by word and para-ble that the leveling process permeated the whole of human living. While friendly with rich and poor alike, with learned and unlearned, Jesus seems to violate our sense of leveling by his iden-tifying with the poor, with servants and slaves, with the marginal-ized. He reaches out to them in his care; he tells stories about them for our instruction. Jesus asks us to be like him--one who serves. In the Last Supper washing of the feet, Jesus stresses that he has given us an example. Jesus transfigures the language and meaning of slavery, ser-vice, and ministry. All these words now describe valued human interaction from a divine perspective. We all are meant to be helpers--in Scripture, sometimes called slaves, sometimes servants, sometimes minis-ters-- to one another in life. Helpers and those being helped are on the same level. One is not superior as a human being in either being the helper or minister or being the one being helped or ministered to. Jesus gave us an unforgettable image by answering "Who is my neighbor?" with the parable of the Good Samaritan. Th~ second half of the one commandment stresses that we love our neighbor as ourselves. Our love goes out to whomever, persons always on a level no different from ourselves. We neither reach down in helping nor reach up; we only reach across. By entering into our human level, God broke through all the specious levels that seem to divide humankind. By our entering into the divine experience of Jesus, we see and act as sons and daughters of a heav-enly Father. Every Christmas, we challenge ourselves anew about the Christian leveling of human life. By our faith we live life on the same level--the level has been forever divinely clarified because of the birth of Jesus. David L. Fleming SJ November-December 2001 a wider mission MARY C. BOYS The Interreligious World: A Nun's Experience There A great value of ecumenical and interreligious exchange is that it sheds light on one's own tradition. Seeing oneself through the eyes of others expands one's reflections, provokes absorbing questions, and clarifies values and modes of thought. While my roots in the religiously variegated Pacific Northwest mean I have long been in Protestant company, and my interest in Judaism dates back to my college years, it was only upon moving to New York City seven years ago that I staked my tent on ecumenical and inte~religious terrain. Teaching at the historically Protestant Union Theological Seminary and working in Christian-Jewish dialogue beyond Union's quadrangle afford new understandings not only of the religiously "other," but of Catholicism as well. And, by providing a flesh viewpoint on religious life, my situation exercises a profound personal effect) SandraSchneiders has observed that women religious seem able to work beyond the boundaries of Christianity while remaining deeply affiliated with it; we Mary C. Boys SNJM is the Skinner and McAlpin Professor of Practical Theology at Union Theological Seminary in New York City and the author of Has God Only One Blessing? Judaism as a Source of Christian Self-Understanding. Her address is Union Theological Seminary; 3041 Broadway; New York, N.Y. 10027. Review for Religious "are at once very deeply involved in institutional Catholicism and often widely and deeply involved in the experiences of spirituality beyond its denominational boundaries.''2 Yet, in exploring the topic of religious life and interreligious dialogue, she turns her gaze more to the East, to dialogue among monastics. By exploring the implications of interaction with Jews and Judaism, I hope to highlight a distinctive interreligious conversation that Schneiders touches on only tangentially, and thereby to add another layer to, and engage in occasional argument with, her outstanding scholarly study. Probing religious life, a topic on which I have never published, in light of the Catholic-Jewish relationship, on which I have published, challenges me to hold together two vital parts of my life. This essay, then, revolving around four "scenes," is deeply per-sonal, but I hope not solipsistic, for I intend it as a stimulus for conversation. I. London, June 2000, a Catholic-Jewish conference on "The Theology of Partnership." This conference involved participants principally from the United Kingdom and the United States, along with a few European and Israeli scholars and a Vatican delegation. Although the large number of participants hindered the flow of discussion, our exchange was for the most part candid and stimulating. In the latter part of the conference, one of the Catholics, a priest, launched into a romanticized mini-sermon about Mary as virgin and mother. Its traditionalist theology and tangential relation to the point under discussion elicited considerable skepticism, if one might judge by the body language of rolled eyes and heads held in hands. Many sought recognition by the chair to respond (including all the Catholic women), but I have less recollection of the rejoinders than I do of the comment by the woman next to me. A Reform rabbi from the United Kingdom, she wrote furiously on her notepad: "Mary. Virgin. Why don't they talk about real women?" Liminal. Marginal. Such terms, used by Schneiders (among others) to describe religious life strike a chord. Insofar as this lifeform has a prophetic character rather than a hierarchical status, religious life is indeed lived on the "thresholds where realities meet, dash, and merge.''3 Nonetheless, such terms are sometimes far too academic to describe moments of feeling just how odd and anomalous we religious are. While on one level I suspect I November-December 2001 Boy~ * The lnterreli¢ous Worm To be with Jews as a member of a religious congregation is to experience our liminality, our oddness, on a regular basis. understand what my table companion was objecting to, the starkness of her opposition of "virgin" and "real women" hit hard. In reflecting later, I realize I never use terminology about virginity to describe celibacy; not only does it connote a naive innocence, but it speaks only to the dimension of abstention from genital sexual intimacy. Without question, this self-chosen abstention---or, better, an abstention that is part of our being called to a distinctive way of life--has its ascetic aspects. Nevertheless, the term virginity seems to suggest that we have repressed our sexuality, thereby ceasing to be "real" women. Whether or not the Jungian-grounded theory of the "virgin archetype" or a similar perspective can overcome the cultural stereotypes of virginity is a real question, but this dimension of Finding the Treasure offers a compelling description of the inner autonomy celibacy can offer. In the halls of Union, being a nun (in the imprecise use of the term) is sometimes seen as a "weird" way of life. Yet consecrated celibacy is not unknown in Protestantism. Students of Hinduism and Buddhism, moreover, know about celibacy in those traditions. It, is, however, completely uncharacteristic of rabbinic Judaism, which places intense emphasis on family life and home-based ritual.4 So to be with Jews as a member of a religious congregation is to experience our liminality, our oddness, on a regular basis. While this experience can be jarring, as it was at that conference June 2000, in general it has increased my sensitivity to the peculiarities of religious life, a sensitivity that can be dulled by remaining in the more homogeneous company of one's religious congregation.5 At the same time, it makes the God question more prominent. Jews typically are more reticent in speaking about God, a healthy corrective to the overfamiliarity with which many Christians ~peak about the Holy One.6 The presence, however, of persons for whom the "God quest" is the principal explanation for their liminal way of life raises questions, at least implicitly, about the divine-human relationship. Perhaps, to balance the incident with which I began this section, I should report that recently, at the conclusion of a Review for Religious weekend spent as a scholar-in-residence at a synagogue, an elderly man came up to thank me. His eyes welling with tears, he said, "You answered God's call many years ago, and now you are able to be among us." II. November 2000, a gathering of Holocaust survivors in the New York metropolitan area. While giving a series of lectures in a Catholic parish on New York's East Side the previous September, I met Lewis Weinstein, a businessman who had just published a novel on the Spanish Inquisition, The Heretic. A few weeks later he phoned to ask if I would share the podium with him at an event sponsored by the New York area Holocaust survivors. They had invited him to speak about his book, and he in turn thought it would be good if I would speak about developments in the Catholic Church's relations with Jews. His historical novel portrays a grim time. The Inquisition bears witness to the ways in which the legacy of anti-Judaism became a justification for greed and intolerance and persecution. His selections mirrored the bleakness. For example, one of the principal characters, Friar Ricardo Perez, copies texts from the New Testament and early church writers such as Chrysostom in order to justify his hatred of Jews. Lew's final excerpt was from John Chrysostom, whose vitriol toward Jews is well known: "These Jews are gathering choruses of effeminates and a great rubbish heap of harlots. Their synagogues are brothels and theaters, dens of robbers and lodgings for wild beasts. Jews know but one thing: to fill their bellies and be drunk. Their condition is no better than that of pigs and goats. Refusing to accept Christ, they have made themselves fit for s!aughter. The synagogue is a dwelling of demons, and the Jews who pray there themselves are demons. If the Jews are acting against God, must they not be serving demons? For they did sacrifice their sons and daughters to demons. Jewish mother~ ate their own children, and the hands of Jewish women boiled their own children. Their synagogues are fortresses of the devil, and the pit of all perdition. The devil is a murderer, and the Jew demons who serve him are murderers, tOO.''7 The air hung heavy in the room. Then the chair introduced me in her heavily accented English. "Mr. Weinstein wanted this Sister Mary to come. I'm not sure why. I did not have such a good experience of nuns in Poland. Anyway, here's Sister Mary Boys." " "Oy ray," I thought on the way to the podium. "How did I get myself into this one--and what now?" November-December 2001 Boys ¯ The Interreligious Worm There was enormous anger in that room, much of it directed at the Catholic Church, which I represented to them. Their anger was not simply the church's failure to live the gospel during the Shoah (Holocaust), but also their experience as children. These were men and women who had been taunted, even beaten, as "Christ-killers," who feared--with good reason--walking by a church, who were terrified to go out in the streets on "Good" Friday. I had with me the 1997 "Declaration of Repentance" by the French bishops. Its words came to life before my eyes: In the judgment of historians, it is a well-proven fact that for centuries, up until Vatican Council II, an anti-Jewish traditibn stamped its mark in differing ways on Christian doctrine and teaching, in theology, apologetics, preaching, and in the liturgy. It was on such ground that the venomous plant of hatred for the Jews was able to flourish. Hence the heavy inheritance we still bear in our century, with all its consequences which are so difficult to wipe out. Hence our still open wounds? To work as a Catholic with Jews is to witness many "open wounds," wounds from the "heavy inheritance" of our own tradition. For this reason, the Catholic-Jewish encounter is sui generis in the interreligious sphere, a point Schneiders overlooks in saying that the interreligious encounter differs "in virtually every way from the ecumenical one. It involves an encounter not between separated siblings, but between virtually total strangers.''9 We Catholics and Jews are indeed separated siblings, and that separation has been bitter, violent, and tragic. We are not strangers; we have been enemies--and to work for reconciliation is an obligation of justice. It is difficult enough for us as Catholic women to deal with church structures that mute our voices. It is even more disillusioning to study the long history of Christian contempt for Jews, the tradition of adversus Judaeos: how rivalry hardened into contempt, and contempt fostered disputation, and disputation developed into demonization, and demonization fertilized this "venomous plant of h~tred for the Jews." Like all of history's stories, the church's relationship with Jews and Judaism is a complicated tale--with significant contextual factors in every age, occasions of amity and respect and of prophets with a different vision. Nonetheless, it is largely a story of moral blindness, imperialism, and violence. While I am not personally complicit, it is Revie~v for Religious a story of which I am deeply ashamed--and one that demands I examine my complicity in other betrayals of the gospel. I am grateful for the privilege, difficult though it is, of facing those whom our history has hurt. Meeting survivors and knowing children of survivors (and, for that matter, knowing any Jews at all, for who among them has not been touched in some way by the Shoah?) means not only reading this history with deepened sensitivity, but also being emboldened to act differendy so that "the spoiled seeds of anti-Semitism should never again take root in the human heart."1° Nevertheless, confronting this history causes anguish and compounds my problems as a feminist with the institutional church. The "open wound" of which the French bishops spoke festers even as I struggle with my Catholic identity in a church that treats women as second-class citizens. I live, too, with the irony that the official church seems more committed to dialogue with Jews than with their own women. The confrontation with history, moreover, triggers another crisis, a dark night of the soul. If "the most acutely painful point of intersection between the postmodern sensibility and religious faith is the God-image,'' 11 then the Shoah is the starkest event in this intersection. It brings one face-to-face with the "abusing God," requiring us to ponder unbearable questions about the One to whom we pray22 As grateful as I am for all I have learned (and continue to learn) about prayer from my sisters, we seem reluctant to address these searing questions in our common prayer. Indeed, I cannot recall any occasion in which the Shoah and its challenges to our understanding of God have been raised to the conscious level in the communal prayer of my own congregation, the Sisters of the Holy Names of Jesus and Mary. This leads me to wonder whether any congregation, with the exception of the Sisters of Sion, confronts "God issues" that swirl around the Shoah23 The way that many Jews, especially in this post-Holocaust period, address God in a challenging manner has much to teach us. Elie Wiesel says that those who stand within the covenant have the To work as a Catholic with Jews is to witness many "open wounds," wounds from the "heavy inheritance" of our own tradition. Nbvember-December 2001 Boys * The Interreh~ious Worm right to say anything to God--even blasphemy.~4 In the concluding section of his profound meditation on God and abuse (including the Shoah, but also sexual abuse), David Blumenthal composes darifig prayers for use in Jewish liturgical services. He cautions that prayers of this type require preparation: One must have a deep commitment to God, a deep desire to want to be with God, to want to have a relationship with God. It must be important, indeed a matter of spiritual life and death, to be able to address God. One must have, too, deep and abiding faith in the covenant, in our ability to address God no matter what the circumstances and no matter how severe our prayer may be; and in God's desire to hear us and to help us address God. One must also have a sense of proportion about our relationship to God. We are creatures, not Creator. We are innocent, as victims of abuse; but we are sinners, in many other matters. We are accusers, yet we are children. This creates a tension in our images of ourselves, of God, and of the proper relationship between us; yet we must live, think, and pray within this tension.~s Facing the history of our relationship with Jews and learning Jewish ways of addressing God have provided depth and texture to my own prayer. I~I. Friday nights: a guest at the dinner table for Sbabbat. Passover: a guest at the Seder. I feel deeply privileged to join jewish friends for Shabbat or for the Seder. I have learned more than I can say from the lively conversations and observing the ways in which they su'ive to lead lives of integrity in fidelity to Torah. Without idealizing the tradition, I find much cause for "holy envy": its depth of prayer mirrored in the Siddur and in the cycle of festivals, the intellectual vitality (especially the value placed on study), the prizing of family, and home-based religious practices. My relationships leave me no doubt that Judaism fosters a holy way of life and that the ways of Torah are salvific for those committed to walking in its ways. The privilege accorded me in coming to know the power of another religious tradition finds little reflection in the recent Vatican declaration Dominus Iesus (D1).16 My experience provides a different vantage point from which to view other religious traditions. Even as DI recognizes that the dialogue between Christianity and other religions raises new questions that should be "addressed through pursuing new paths of research, advancing proposals, and Review for Religious suggesting ways of acting that call for attentive discernment" (§3), it reiterates traditional formulations of faith in arguing against pluralism. It condemns the mentality of indifferentism "characterized by a religious relativism which leads to the belief that 'one religion is as good as another'" (§22). The declaration refutes those who regard the Catholic Church as merely "one way of salvation alongside those constituted by the other religions" (§21). Rather, "Jesus Christ is the mediator and universal redeemer" (§11). Further, "one can and must say that Jesus Christ has a significance and a value for the human race and its history which are unique and singular, proper to him alone, exclusive, universal, and absolute. Jesus is, in fact, the Word of God made man for the salvation of all" (§15). According to the Congre-gation for the Doctrine of the Faith (CDF), one may still speak of equality in interreligious dialogue, but only in reference to the "equal personal dignity of the parties in dialogue, not to doctrinal content nor even less to the position of Jesus Christ . Thus, the certainty of the universal salvific will of God does not diminish but rather increases the duty and urgency of the proclamation of salvation and of conversion to the Lord Jesus Christ" (§22). Without entering into detailed theological analysis of Dominus Iesus, I simply want to call attention here to one of its primary deficiencies. The declaration has no sense of the relational, no feel for human interchange. Other religions are an abstraction, a category, an it. DI pays no attention to these religions as they exist in the lives of real people; it shows no sensitivity to the "thick" texture of other traditions. The writers, rather, claim objectivity: "Objectively speaking, they [other religions] are in a gravely deficient situation." Such a judgment ignores theologies of pluralism that allow one to privilege his or her own convictions while taking account of the reasonability of others' beliefs.~7 In judging dialogue from a position of omniscience, the declaration bears no indication of what we might learn from the religious other. Facing the history of our relationship with Jews and learning Jewish ways of addressing God have provided depth and texture to my own prayer. Noventber-December 2001 Boys ¯ The Into'religious Worm On the explicit level, DI says little about the church's relationship with Judaism.~ DI refers to Jews just once (§13): "The first Christians encountered the Jewish people, showing them the fulfillment of salvation that went beyond the Law," thus implicitly porraying Judaism as legalistic. DI then falls silent about Judaism. Nonetheless, its judgment~ seem to encompass Judaism, because DI notes no exceptions. It works only with three categories: Roman Catholicism, other Christian churches (distinguishing between those with apostolic succession and a valid Eucharist and "ecclesiastical communities which have not preserved the valid episcopate and the genuine and integral substance of the eucharistic mystery [and therefore] are not churches in the proper sense" §17), and non-Christian religions. In view of such a sweeping scope, readers may reasonably infer that the CDF includes Judaism within the rubric of non-Christian religions. Jews, therefore, seem also to be subject to the claim that, because "Jesus Christ is the . . . universal mediator" (§11), "one can and must say" that his significance and value for "the human race and its history., are unique and singular, proper to him alone, exclusive, universal, and absolute., for the salvation of all" (§ 15). For Catholics this means being "committed to proclaiming tq all people the truth definitively revealed by the Lord and to announcing the necessity of conversion to Jesus Christ and of adherence to the church through baptism and the other sacraments in order to participate fully in communion with God, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit" (§22). Such a view stands in tension with my own experience.~9 As one privileged to be a frequent guest in Jewish homes, to learn from Jewish scholars, to experience something of the profundity of Jewish liturgy and prayer, and, above all, to have close Jewish friends, I have an abiding respect, even awe, for the depth of Judaism. The way of Torah certainly seems to me salvific for those who walk in it. I cannot.in conscience seek the conversion of a Jew. This is not a matter of indifferentism, but rather a glimpse of the incomprehensible God whose ways transcend our under-standing. IV. Three items: Item: "Jesus' relations with women seem to have been remarkably free, given the reserve that Jewish custom in his day required."2° Item: "At the historical moment when Jesus was born Review for Religious into the world, the stares of Jewish women had never been lower . By the time of Jesus' birth, many decades of rabbinic commentary and custom had surrounded Old Testament literature. And these rabbinic traditions considerably lowered the status of women.'m Item: "Palestinian Hebrew women were among the poorest in the world in Jesus' day. This was probably because they had no inheritance rights and could be divorced for the flimsiest of reasons. Hebrew men could divorce their wives for anything from burning the dinner (Hillel) to adultery (Shammat). Yet Hebrew women were not allowed to divorce their husbands .A. Hebrew woman had minimal to no property rights A. .child was held to be Jewish only if the mother was Jewish. Most Jewish girls were betrothed by their fathers at a young age. Jewish women were held to be unclean while menstruating. If she inadvertently touched a man while having her menses, he was obliged to undergo a week-long purification ritual before worshiping at the Temple . In early Judaism women did proclaim and prophesy, but in Jesus' day they weren't permitted to proclaim Torah at synagogue because of their periodic 'uncleanness.' As a rule, only the rabbis' wives were so educated. Women were not accepted as witnesses in Jewish law, nor could they teach the law. Women had no official religious or leadership roles in first-century Judaism. Jesus' behavior toward women, even viewed through the androcentric lens of the gospel texts, is remarkable.''2z I could multiply such examples; they seem ubiquitous in feminist writing, both scholarly (less now, though more common among feminist authors from the third world and the East) and pastoral. These perspectives are communicated widely among women's communities and beyond them. My encounter with Judaism helps me look at such claims critically, especially those related to the Second Temple period and the early church. I am sympathetic to the desire to understand Jesus as one who liberated his followers--including (perhaps especially) women--from the oppressive structures of religious authorities. (Yes, many of us consider some religious authorities oppressive in our time.) Nonetheless, I have come to agree with Mary Rose D'Angelo that portraying Jesus as the one "who saves women from Judaism" bothoversimplifies and distorts the situation of Jewish women in lst-century Palestine23 It does indeed seem that, in many feminist and liberationist circles, "no plot is complete witho.uLt a-575- November-December 2001 Boys ¯ The Interreligious Worm reference to the 'Jewish patriarchal system,' although very rare are comments on the similarly patriarchal pagan cultures of antiquity.''24 Sadly, I have come to see that many who do theology under the rubric of feminism have drunk all too deeply from the wells of anti-Judaism. Despite the rich literature on the Pharisees, most notably that of Anthony Saldarini,25 in many liberal and feminist circles they function as the symbol of precisely what is wrong with religious authorities. (For example: "[The Pharisees and their colleagues the scribes] tried to keep control over people's access to God through control of the Law. Jesus denounced this pretension and returned to the people the true means of access to God: love and com-passion." 26) In many feminist writings, moreover, the laws of ritual purity, which the Pharisees are portrayed as championing, serve as the source of the clearest contrast between oppressive Judaism and the liberating Jesus. We are instructed about the "dehumanizing situation in which the women of the time were enslaved." We learn how menstruating women were "discriminated against, degraded, and dehumanized,m7 In short, some feminist writers contrast Jewish women of the Second Temple period with New Testament narratives to support their claims that, "at its inception, pristine Christianity and Jesus himself were free of any misogyny or gender bias." Thereby they implicitly buttress the argument of Christian superiority over Judaism.28 Thus I differ with Sandra Schneiders's portrayal of Jesus vis-a-vis his Jewish contemporaries. While I appreciate--and agree wholeheartedly with--her larger argument about the way in which the prophetic character of religious life places communities in tension with ecclesiastical authorities, I disagree with claims such as "Jesus was rejected by official Judaism" and the more subtle assertion that, "like Jesus, who taught both respect for ecclesiastical leaders insofar as they legitimately hold office and resistance to ecclesiastical oppression, religious must stand with and for the disempowered in the church (cf. Mt 23:2-5 [the scathing denunciation of the scribes and Pharisees]).''z9 The Pharisees, despite their depiction in the Gospels, cannot historically be regarded as representatives of "official" Judaism (there was no such official body), and we should not use them as symbols of clericalism, however useful that might be to feminist causes. They were not the equivalent of ecclesiastical leaders. We would do well to listen to Jewish feminists--such as Paula Review for Religious Fredriksen's observations about the purity laws,3° Ross Kraemer's critique of rabbinic prooftexting,3~ and Rabbi Elyse Goldstein's wrestling with the meaning of the purity rules for her own life.32 To recognize that "Jewish hopes of a new and transformed world made the movement begun by Jesus and his companions and early Christian communities forums for participation and leadership for women" necessitates refining our argument, but in no way diminishes it.33 To acknowledge the complexity of patriarchy in antiquity as well as in early Christianity entails facing the arrogance of our own limited perspectives. In sum, my encounter with Jews and Judaism has brought deepened appreciation for the distinctiveness of religious life in the Catholic tradition. It has challenged me to face the long shadow of our history and to grapple with many questions about God in light of the Shoah. It shapes my theological vantage point on Dominus Iesus as well as various feminist writings. Above all, my encounter inspires hope. For all that lies unresolved within our church in regard to relations with Jews, what has happened between Christians and Jews in our time testifies to the power of the Spirit to bring healing and new life--a testimony that emboldens my own commitment to religious life. Notes ~ This is an edited version of a paper presented at the conference on "The Nun in the Postmodern World," sponsored by the Suenens Foundation in Leuven, Belgium, 31 May--4 June 2001. My thanks to Dr. Doris Donnelly, director of the Suenens Foundation and to Mariana Murphy SNJM, to whom I dedicated it on the occasion of her 70th anniversary of religious profession. 2 Sandra M. Schneiders, Finding the Treasure: Locating Catholic Religious Life in a New Ecclesial and Cultural Context, Vol. 1 of Religious Life in a New Millennium (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 2000), p. 348. 3 Schneiders, Finding, p. 330. 4 Celibacy seems to have been characteristic only of the Therapeutae, a lst-centuryJewish ascetic group near Alexandria, Egypt. Scholars debate whether the covenanters at Qumran were celibate and, if so, whether that was a permanent or temporary state. See Lawrence Schiffman, Reclaiming the Dead Sea Scrolls (New York: Doubleday, 1994), pp. 127-143, and Joseph Fitzmyer, Responses to 101 Questions on the Dead Sea Scrolls (New York: Paulist Press, 1992), p. 66. s Schneiders speaks of religious life as "nonnatural" insofar as it involves bypassing the most fundamental natural mediations of the God- November-December 2001 Boys ¯ The Interreligious World human engagement. She distinguishes "nonnatural" from unnatural or antinatural "because nothing is mote fundamental to our humanity than the quest for God." She also notes that this path is fraught with danger, including "ascetical extremism, rigidity, misanthropy, false mysticism, gnosticism and esotericism, elitism" (Finding, pp. 131-132). 6 For an analysis of this reticence, including its problematical character, see Steven M. Cohen and Arnold M. Eisen, The Jew 14/Tthin: Self, Family, and Community in America (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2000), esp. chap. 6, "God and the Synagogue," pp. 155-180. 7 Lewis Weinstein, The Heretic (New York: goodnewfiction.com, 2000), p. 158. Later Weinstein has Perez use Chrysostom in a sermon at the cathedral (see pp. 242-244). s Quoted in Secretariat for Ecumenical and Interreligious Affairs, Catholics Remember the Holocaust (Washington, D.C.: United States Catholic Conference, 1998), p. 32. 9 Finding, p. 336. 10 This is the conclusion of the 1998 Vatican document We Remember: A Reflection on the Shoab; see Catholics Remember the Holocaust. The United States Conference of Catholi~ Bishops (USCCB) has now published a companion volume, Catholic Teaching on the Shoah: Implementing the Holy See's "We Remember" (2001). II Schneiders, Finding, p. 195. 12 I take the phrase "abusing God" from the work of David R. Blumenthal, Facing the Abusing God: A Theology of Protest (Louisville: Westminster/John Knox, 1993). 13 On the Sisters of Sion, see my Has God Only One Blessing?Judaimt as a Source of Christian Self-Understanding (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 2000), pp. 17-22. 14 "The questions man poses to God may be the same God poses to man. Nevertheless, it is man who must live--and formulate--it. In so doing, he challenges God, which is perm. issible, indeed required. He who says no to God is not necessarily a renegade. Everything depends on the way he says it, and why. One can say anything as long as it is for man, not against him, as long as one remains inside the covenant; only if you repudiate and judge your people from the outside will you become a renegade." Elie Wiesel, One Generation AJ~er (New York: Avon, 1972), p. 216. ,s Blumenthal, Facing the Abusing God, pp. 284-285. 16 "'Dominus Iesus': On the Unicity and. Salvific Universality of Jesus Christ and the Church," Origins 30, no. 14 (14 September 2000). It is dated 6 August 2000 and was issued on 5 September 2001--ironically, the same week as Jewish scholars released Dabru Emet, an eight-point statement responding to Christian attempts to come to terms with anti- Judaism. (For Dabru Emet, see www.jcrelations.net or www.icjs.org; also Tikva Frymer-Kensky, David Novak, Peter Ochs, David Fox Sandmel, ReviewforReligious and Michael Signer, Christianity in Jewish Terms (Boulder: Westview Press, 2000). ,7 See, e.g., Michael Barnes, Christian Identity and Religious Pluralism: Religions in Conversation (Nashville: Abingdon, 1989), and S. Mark Heim, Salvations: Truth and Difference in Religion (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1995). ~8 See my "Dominus Iesus and Judaism," forthcoming in Richard Sparks, ed., Proceedings of the Fi~h-sixth Annual Convention of the Catholic Theological Society of America. 19 For an account of something of what I have learned from Jews, see my Jewish Christian Dialogue: One Woman's Experience (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1997). 20 Monique Alexandre, "Early Christian Women," in/t History of Women in the West, Vol. 1, From Ancient Goddesses to Christian Saints, ed. Pauline Schmitt Pantel (Cambridge: Belknap Press, 1992), pp. 407-444 (citation, p. 420). 21 Cited in Judith Plaskow, "Feminist Anti-Judaism and the Christian God," Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion 7, no. 2 (Fall 1991): 104-107; in Helen P. Fry, Christian-Jewish Dialogue: A Reader (Exeter, U.K.: University of Exeter Press, 1996), p. 233. 22 Christine Schenk CSJ, "Celebrating the Inclusive Jesus," Celebration: An Ecumenical Worship Resource (February 2000): 80-84 (citation, 81-82). 23 Mary Rose D'Angelo, "Gender in the Origins of Christianity: Jewish Hopes and Imperial Exigencies," in Joseph Martos and Pierre Hegy, eds., Equal at the Creation: Sexism, Society, and Christian Thought (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1998), pp. 25-48 (citation, p. 25). 24 Amy-Jill Levine, "Lilies of the Field and Wandering Jews: Biblical Scholarship, Women's Roles, and Social Location," in Ingrid Rosa Kitzberger, ed., Transformative Encounters: Jesus and Women Re-Viewed (Leiden: Brill, 1999): pp. 330-352 (citation, p. 332). 2s See Anthony J. Saldarini, Pharisees, Scribes, and Sadducees in Palestinian Society (Wilmington: Michael Glazier, 1988); also his "Pharisees," in David Noel Freedman et al., eds., The Anchor Bible Dictionary, Vol. 5 (New York: Doubleday, 1992), pp. 289-303. 26 Tereza Cavalcanti, "Jesus, the Penitent Woman, and the Pharisee," Journal of Hispanic/Latino Theology 2, no. 1 (1994): 28-40 (citation, 40). 27 H. Kinukawa, Women and Jesus in Mark: A Japanese Feminist Perspective (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1994), pp. 12, 27. 28 See Ross S. Kraemer, "Jewish Women and Christian Women: Some Caveats," in Kraemer and Mary Rose D'Angelo, eds., Women and Christian Origins (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), pp. 35-49 (citation, p. 36). 29 Schneiders, Finding, pp. 334 and 255, respectively. I am also uncomfortable with her section on Jesus as a prophetic model in her otherwise superb 2000 Madeleva Lecture, With Oil in Their Lamps: Faith, Feminism, and the Future (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 2000), pp. 97-108. In my November-December 2001 Boys ¯ Tbe lnterreligious Worm judgment, greater sensitivity to the heterogeneity of lst-century Judaism (arguments about Sabbath observance and the Temple [see pp. 100-101] were part of this heterogeneity), recognition that the Roman prefect controlled appointment of the high priest ("Nevertheless Jesus was executed by the Romans on the charge brought against him by the official of Judaism," p. 100), and contextualizing of phrases such as the "narrowness that had marred religion from long before his birth in the exclusivity of the Jews" would provide a more nuanced context for her claims. 30 Paula Fredriksen, Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews: A Jewish Life and the Emergence of Christianity (New York: Alfred Knopf, 1999), esp. pp. 197-207. 3, Kraemer, "Jewish Women and Chrisfan Origins, pp. 37-39. 32 Elyse Goldstein, ReVisions: Seeing Torah through a Feminist Lens (Woodstock, Vermont: Jewish Lights Publishing, 1998), esp. pp. 94-114. 33 D'Angelo, "Gender Hopes," p. 25. Mary at the Window Tawdry as any plastic trinket outshopped To some Asian source, and mass-produced In garish glass-like gold and blue To catch the sun, Mary Most Holy is reduced To a window ornament, turning to face out, Turning on filaments again for facing in On household disorder, dissension, kitchenwork, Children at play on the floor, where a thin Shaft of shining blue light circles one Dazzled child looking up: Mary catches a son. Nancy G. Westerfield R~vie~v for Religious A. PAUL DOMINIC Unsuspected Mission MeisSion, which is much more talked about than put into xecution by talkers, is at bottom a very simple human experience of sharing with others our living faith in God. As such it is accessible to all of us anywhere, if only we are interested in it. It can begin whenever we meet others and spontaneously converse with them. It seems that not enough has been said or even thought about these ordinary human encounters, without which no mission can be started or sustained, whereas perhaps too much has been said about progressive modes of mission. Genesis of a New Mission With the founding of the Society of Jesus, St. Ignatius Loyola surely initiated a whole new saga of mission in the world of his time. The saga, however, may not be or even seem new any more. In fact, since Vatican Council II, there has been quite a legitimate revision of his ideas about promoting and defending the faith. But one exercise of that old mission has still not lost its newness; it is relevant today, but without making a splash. That exercise is simply, to quote St. Ignatius's own words, "to be profitable to individuals by spiritual conversation.''~ Accordingly, unlike the monasteries in mountain solitudes from the time of St. Benedict in the 6th century or the hermitages erected in earlier times in the desert far away from the evil world, the Jesuit residences came to be situated near the centers of towns and cities, where people would gather and A. Paul Dominic sJ writes again from Satyodayam; 12-5-33 S. Lallaguda; Secunderabad 500 017; India. November-December 2001 Dominic ¯ Unsuspected Mission Different from preaching, the mission of spiritual conversation is best characterized and distinguished as pure and simple conversation. intermingle. Only then would the Jesuits be able to meet the people naturally enough, have normal dealings with them, and, as occasions arose, converse with them spiritually. That was an unassuming exercise of mission with an enduring validity, for there can be no time when personal mission, that is, reaching out to specific individuals wherever we are and keeping them company, will be out of tune with the times. The movement of new mission, which in God's providence the Society of Jesus came to be and even stand for, was itself a product of person-to-person missions that Ignatius himself exercised. Having sensed the working of God in himself, he could not keep the experience to himself, but felt an urge to share it with others. He would have certainly loved the angel Raphael's words: "It is good to conceal the secret of a king, but to acknowledge and reveal the works of God, and with fitting honor to acknowledge him" (Tb 12:7, NRSV unless otherwise indicated), Sharing with others his treasured experience of God gradually became a mode of life for him. He came to see it as a matter of course for him: to glorify God and at the same time be of help to others within his reach. Whereas his first contacts were the women whom he chanced upon at his usual haunts of the chapel or hospital, his fame)us beneficiaries were Pierre Favre (now a blessed) and Francis Xavier (now a saint) and a few others at the University in Paris, who with him came to form the Society of Jesus. It is no wonder that people who experienced the charm of his spiritual conversation tried to. be like him. It seems that the early Jesuits' fecundity in mission was in no small way owing to their exercise of spiritual conversation. Xavier, who blazed the trail of mission for the nascent Jesuit order and for the church of his day, was known for his extraordinary expertise in spiritual conversation. Not only companions of his like Peter Canisius (now a saint) witnessed to itfl but also the people of Bologna, who could say twenty years after his short stay with them: "He spoke little, but with great persuasivene.ss. He talked of divine things with great Review for Religious ¯ devotion, and his words penetrated into the hearts of his hearers and held them fast.''3 Itis a pity that those who have criticized Xavier's mission outreach with their post-Vatican II historical hindsight have failed woefully the postmodern mission by their ignorance of the practical skill in which Xavier excelled, namely, conversational mission--which, to be sure, will be out of date when humans cease speaking and being sociable. The Makeup of Conversational Mission Though the expression "conversational mission" used just now, and the equivalent expressions used earlier, are self-explanatory enough, there is nothing like getting full information straight from the horse's mouth. What did Ignatius himself say when he spoke to his little band of friends regarding their kind of preaching. We get some idea from his answer to a Dominican authority's peremptory question "Whatever do you preach?" Ignatius answered: "We do not preach but do speak familiarly of spiritual things with people, as one does after dinner, with those who invite us." In this brief and frank response--which, however, his interlocutor considered equivocal--one may discern and recognize three elements of the conversational mission: (1) conversation itself, (2) a veering to spiritual matters, and (3) a pleasant, familiar tone of voice. Notice that this Ignatian anecdote itself demonstrates spiritual conversation. A contrasting example may clarify the matter. Gregory of Nyssa had observed Christians in the marketplace of Constantinople. He reported: Constantinople is full of mechanics and slaves, who are all of them profound theologians, preaching in the shops and the streets. If you want a man to change a piece of silver, he informs you wherein the Son differs from the Father; if you ask the price of a loaf, you are told by way of reply that the Son is inferior to the Father; and, if you inquire whether the bath is ready, the answer is that the Son is made out of nothing,s This is certainly not true spiritual conversation, having only a specious similarity to it. Different from preaching, the mission of spiritual conversation is best characterized and distinguished as pure and simple conversation. It is that first and foremost, with no agenda except being present to others and getting acquainted.6 One talks with a November-December 2001 Dominic * Unsuspected Mission single individual or a small cluster, not a crowd. Such a conversation happens when we adopt towards people a welcoming attitude, perhaps forgoing for the time being our own business or preoccupation. It unfolds when we are truly ourselves, without putting on airs or having an ax to grind. It is engaging by its very nature, as we respond sensitively to the personal and situational stimuli around, now by word, now by silence, and all through by our bearing. Such a conversation does not follow any pattern except that of people letting one another's personalities freely rise to the occasion according to the twists and turns of the talk and the topics. If there is any way of programming it from beginning to end, it is by eager and attentive listening. Such conversing is like the breath of wind whose coming and going is beyond our reckoning, but which refreshes us and gives us pleasure. It is as natural and spirited as that. Engaging in it, we take others' measure and strive to bring out the best in them, thereby improving and testing ourselves (Si 9:14; 27:5). When people open the homes of their hearts in this hospitable way, Abha-God cannot be far away (1 Jn 4:12). If the art of dealing and conversing with people is, obviously enough, a natural human talent or acquirement, it is also, according to the mind of Ignatius, a grace.7 Perhaps such an understanding may be read between the lines of Paul's "Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone" (Col 4:6, NIV). Surely any conversation done ¯ in the reverent awareness of the Lord Jesus (Col 3:17; 1 P 3:15) will enable us to be at our best, natural or supernatural. Thinking along this line, perhaps, Kahlil Gibran could counsel: "When you meet your friend on the roadside or in the marketplace, let the spirit in you move your lips and direct your tongue.''8 Those who make sense of this and make spa~e for the Spirit will come to know how the~ are led, even in the face of the unfriendly, to talk without anxious forethought and yet reveal a truth that they themselves are not directly aware of (Mr 10:17-20). Besides such inspired moments, however, there are bound to be routine occasions or chance meetings when they will have to exercise their grace of conversation on a more deliberate, reflective level. At the appropriate time they will speak on spiritual affairs, as Sirach counseled long ago: "Let your conversation be with intelligent people, and let all your discussion be about the law of the Most High. Let the. righteous be your dinner companions, and let your glory be in the fear of the Lord" (Si 9:15-16). And the more Review for Religious they speak from the abundance of their heart, the better (Mt 12:34), following Paul's declaration "we believe, and so we speak" (2 Co 4:13). They will not resort to spiritual generalities, but will offer a specifically personal spiritual word of witness arising from whatever God has produced in the recesses of their heart and the externals of their life, as St. Paul does often (2 Co 1:4). In general, such conversational talk of God will be directed to what the partners in conversation require (Col 4:6). Far from anything bordering on evil, it will be "only what is useful for building up, as there is need, so that [our] words may give grace to those who hear" (Ep 4:29), furthering their interior progress and stimulating their power for good in a society that hungers for more than small mercies: namely, justice, freedom, good faith, neighborliness, equality, and, not least, economic sufficiency, the proof of all the above? This conversational mission is to be carried on, for all its spiritual vision, in pleasant, discreet, and wholesome familiarity, the kind that may be witnessed (as Ignatius remarks) between the glad host and the happy guest who take time after a good meal to share what is in their hearts. Familiarity is the climate in which the conversational seeds of the spirit are best sown and harvested. Familiarity, however, is of different levels. The greater the familiarity, the better the opportunity for spiritual conversation. And so it is worthwhile to work discreedy towards deepening the familiarity. Familiarity or intimacy being the opposite of imposition, no conversational mission can be attempted if people make us aware that they would rather be left alone. Avoiding the least intrusion into their privacy, then, we must gendy gain their favor by our genuine respect for them, our interest in them as individuals with unique endowments, and our concern for any particular needs they may have. It is a matter of sincere accommodation, becoming all things to all people (I Co 9:22), all the while being sensitive to their ideals, their finer spiritual instincts. This is neighborliness towards them, without which no mission for their spiritual welfare can ever be thought of. So, even if they are not well disposed towards us, we deal with them pro-actively and seek to win them over, as God does. It is our familiarity with God that should overflow in our relation with others and make them feel at home with us. If we ever succeeded in this way of living, we would perhaps never meet anyone, however far gone in error, without effecting a change for the better. Blessed Pierre Favre was known precisely for such surprisingly wonderful encounters as November-December 2001 Dominic ¯ Unsus~ected Mission he spoke about God without boring or annoying anyone, and so was lauded by Ignatius himself as one who could draw the water of grace from hardened souls. For those who would learn from him, here is a little precious lesson that he confided in a letter to a friend: In the first place., anyone who desires to be serviceable to heretics of the present age should hold them in great affection, . . . putting out of his heart all thoughts and feelings that tend to their discredit. The next thing he must do is win their goodwill and love by friendly dealings and converse on matters about which there is no difference between us, taking care to avoid all controversial subjects that lead to bickering and mutual recriminations. The things that unite us ought to be the first ground of our approach, not the things that keep us apart?~ Scriptural Suggestiveness Speaking about his spiritual discipleship, Ignatius confided that he was taught by God as a child by his master. In sharing his spiritual knowledge with others, however, he used theological and scriptural ideas and language, as in evident in his Spiritual Exercises. The question arises, then, whether there are scriptural indications behind his idea of conversational mission? Rescued by Jesus for Abba-God, Ignatius bums with desire to follow suit: looking for ways to edify and help his neighbors, he discovers that spiritual conversation significantly serves that purpose. Advocating this practice expressly and officially in the Jesuit Constitutions, he advances this reason: "The Lord has given care of his neighbor to everyone."~2 There seems to be reference to Sirach 17:12 or 17:14b and Luke 10:25-37, and certain other passages have a bearing on his divinely favored understanding of the mission of conversation. One is: "Proclaim the message; be persistent when the time is favorable or unfavorable; convince, rebuke, and encourage, with the utmost patience in teaching" (2 Tm 4:2). Is there much in common between proclaiming and conversing? Proclaiming is the activity which is described by the Greek verb kerussein here in 2 Timothy. Elsewhere in the New Testament, the " leprous man and the demoniac who were healed by Jesus, and the friends who witnessed Jesus' healing of the deaf and dumb man, are later "proclaiming" the blessing they received. Obviously, their proclaiming cannot be anything other than simply and Review for Religious enthusiastically telling people everywhere about their good fortune (Mk 1:45; 5:20; 7:36). This would have been conversation, involving relatively few people here and there--particularly impressive ahd contagious conversation, to be sure, but conversation nonetheless. Does the same sense hold when kerussein is used to denote the proclaiming activity of Jesus?13 Does kerussein have the same connotation of conversation here too? It does, for the following reason. Jesus himself presents his characteristic way of mission in terms of eating and drinking, while contrasting himself with his predecessor (Mt 11:19). In so doing he does not simply distinguish his way as the path of enjoyment or pleasure as opposed to the other's ascetical approach; but rather reveals himself in his mission as one who welcomes and enjoys and also extends fellowship with people, not of a class, but of all classes, brushing aside all prevalent social and religious taboos. So as he honors meal invitations--whether from Pharisees like Simon, tax collectors like Levi, friends like Martha, Mary, and Lazarus, or the hosts of wedding celebrations as at Cana, he in ~rn welcomes and plays host not only to his disciples but also--something that escapes people's attention--to public sinners and to social outcasts like the poor, the crippled, and the blind. If table companionship, being a guest or a kind of host, is characteristic of his ministry, it is not, as the Pharisees judge, by way of being a glutton and a drunkard, but of doing what goes with moderate eating and drinking, that is, having a conversation. C.S. Lewis remark, "The table is from time immemorial the place for talk." 14 This was particularly the case at feasts or parties that Jesus went to, with people reclining at table and engaging in prolonged conversation, valuing it more than food and drink.Is And, if a rabbi like Jesus is the chief guest, he has an excellent opportunity to cast his pearls26 Jesus makes use of such occasions to meet and converse with people at leisure and at length about what they miss and long for in life.17 When Jesus sends his disciples on their mission, he wants them to do no more than what they have seen him doing (Mk 3:14; 6:12). He bids them stay in the houses where they are welcome, in accordance with the sacred duty of hospitality in the East; there, during mealtime and at other times, they are sure to find Is there much in common between proclaiming and conversing? November-December 2001 Dominic ¯ Unsuspected Mission opportunities for spiritual conversation. No matter how variously mission was carried on in the early church, kerussein in the sense explained above was surely part of the picture. It is interesting and revealing that, like his Master, Peter was accused of eating with those outside his Jewish fold. He was doing what he had seen Jesus doing, namely, conversing with those at table, sharing with them the word of God, and bringing them graces of the kingdom of Abba-God. And Paul too, despite the popular impression of him as addressing small and large crowds, no doubt employed the conversational mode of mission, especially towards the end during his two years of semicaptivity at Rome, as Luke's use of the word kerussein at the conclusion of Acts seems to suggest. The Practice of Unobtrusive Missioners The conversational mission, as traced above, is not something apart from life, but is very much part of it. One may find this confirmed in St. Paul's general exhortation: "Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly; teach and admonish one another in all wisdom" (Col 3:16). Though Ignatius specialized in the art of the conversational word and trained his Jesuit companions in it, one should not consider it something only for initiates.~s There can be no doubt that ordinary Christians in all times and climes have, like Ignatius in the first flush of his conversion, taken spontaneously to the conversational mission, and with tangible results. Their names have not come down to us, but they are in the company of the little Hebrew servant girl whose brief remark led Naaman the Syrian to find the true, unseen God (2 K 5:1-19). Describing the (Protestant Christian) mission that flourished in the mid 19th century among the Telugus in Andhra, South India, Rajaiah D. Paul can say: "From the very beginning of the movement., the work of evangelization was carried on by the infant native church itself, commencing with one individual and then extending, by natural and inevitable growth, like that of a living tree . The people followed much their own impulses . The quiet conversation when visiting friends and relations, the zealous defense of the truth when Christianity was assailed by others, the simple enunciation of belief when a reason for the hope that is in them was demanded; these, accompanied by a life consistent with the demands of the new religion, were what Review for Religious produced fruit in fresh accessions to Christianity." ~9 Reflecting on such experience of mission, which is perhaps more common than many suspect, one may discern an interplay of Christian fecundity and mission. The word fecundity, incidentally, may not be in common parlance now; but, as Henri Nouwen said, "it is a word worth reclaiming, for it can put us in touch with our deepest human potential to bring forth life"2° even in the ordinary circumstances of life. He tells a story of a bereaved South American mother. After celebrating Mass in memory of her young son killed in a tragic accident, he tried to condole with her. Caught up, however, with his own sorrow for her, he was not looking at her and not listening to her invitation to come home and have a meal with the family. Sensing this, the woman went closer to him and spoke to him gently, looking into his eyes: "Don't be so depressed, Father. Don't you know that God loves our Antonio, that God gave him to us for a few years and now wants to bring him to heaven? We are grateful that he was with us and we are grateful too that he can now be with God forever. We are grateful to you also. God loves us all and cares for us all.''21 One of the most dramatic and recent exponents of spiritual conversation is the North American woman named Peace Pilgrim. The Wise Choice of Celebrated Missioners Besides these anonymous but locally fecund missioners, there are celebrities in the international scene, like Frank Buchman (1879-1961), who made the most of spiritual conversation. For instance, along with swaying groups and governments by his moral authority as founder of the then quite active movement called Moral Re-Armament, Buchman also converted and gave life to all sorts of religious or secular-minded people by his individual conversations and dealings with them, and he inspired them to do likewise. A story is told of his stay at a hotel in Milan a few months before he died: "There were three barmen at the hotel. Frank Buchman did not buy drink from them. He went into their bar and gave them the bread of life. They and their families all found November-December 2001 Dominic ¯ Unsuspected Mission something new from their friendship with him. One of then said of him, 'Dr. Buchman is different from most of the people I see. We have cleaned things up here since he came. Most of the leaders of Italy come to this bar sooner or later. The Foreign Minister was here the other day. He was so interested in what we told him about Buchman that he almost forgot his drink.'''22 One of the most dramatic and recent exponents of spiritual conversation is the North American woman named Peace Pilgrim (1908-1981). Not a Christian, she described herself as a religions woman with a vision of peace for the world. Keeping to her self-chosen double-barreled name, she committed herself to walking prayerfully as a pilgrim among people, eager to meet them and talk to them about the chances for peace. For this purpose she sported a short tunic with "Peace Pilgrim" in front and "25,000 Miles on Foot for Peace" on the back; she succeeded in drawing people into engaging conversations on the possibilities of peace in the modern world. To her pleasant surprise, she found the general response positive, with either a lively curiosity or a genuine interest in peace efforts. Her humble mission, basically human and Christian, touched people's hearts and even became a media phenomenon. This is how she recalls its beginning: "The birthplace of the pilgrimage was at the Tournament of Roses parade in Pasadena, California. I walked ahead along the line of the march, talking to people and handing out peace messages, and noticing that the holiday spirit did not lessen the genuine interest in peace. When I had gone about halfway, a policeman put his hand on my shoulder and I thought he was going to tell me to get off the line of the march. Instead he said, 'What we need is thousands like you.'''23 Her personal encounters soon became media events spreading her message of peace. What began fruitfully on 1 January 1953 continued with greater and greater effectiveness till her death in 1981 during her seventh talking pilgrimage. The Like Choice in India Ignatius, too, began his mission as an obscure pilgrim on the move. Thinking, as an Indian, of the pilgrim Ignatius and others before and after him in the Christian world, I cannot but admire the sureness of their spiritual instinct, which many Indians have as well. India, too, is an ancient land of pilgrims going on regular Review for Religious pilgrimages, besides, of course, the lifelong pilgrims who keep moving across the length and breadth of the country or stay put in a monastery (math) or in a forest area. It is pleasant to recall that, as Peace Pilgrim was exercising her newfound permanent mission in the American world, two (Catholic) Christians--Joseph Thambi in Andhra Pradesh and Peter Reddy (a convert from Hinduism through Lutheranism) ir~ Tamil Nadu--were living in India a life much like that of the sannyasis, going about and sharing their spiritual pleasure and treasure with others who came their way. Even before them Sadhu Sunder Singh of Punjab, a Sikh-turned-(Anglican) Christian, had blazed a sannyasi kind of mission trail as early as 1908.24 Part of "Vie Voyag~re" However unusual and surprising their vocation may have been, the personalities mentioned above knew how to exercise their mission in ways not only unusual but most ordinary. They used the ordinary human capacity of conversation to excite and evoke spiritual awareness in people. Such spiritual talk, being part of normal sofiial intercourse, can and ought to thrive among Christians anywhere; all they need is a good measure of the Christian spirit of people on pilgrimage (Heb 3:12-4:11; 11:8-16). This was the sure but unforeseen way by which even the risen Jesus, making his return pilgrimage to his Abba-Father, reached out to his lost or fallen disciples and sent them on their new mission. Who has not enjoyed the narratives of his accosting them, drawing them to speak to him from their heart, and then with inspiriting w~rds arousing their drooping spirits for mission? It is up to us, partners in a holy heavenly calling, to keep our eyes on Jesus and, thus encouraged, to encourage one another day after day on our mission journey, a journey at once inward and heavenward (Heb 3:1, 13). Such was characteristically the vie voyagkre or missionary life of Mary, too, whom Marguerite Bourgeoys (1620-1700), the foundress of the Congregation de Notre-Dame de Montreal, contemplated as the model of conversation with others. After composing my own article, I learned this from Mary Anne Foley's recent article.25 Because of the reported affinity of her spirituality with the lgnatian variety, I suspect that the Sisters of Notre-Dame may well have more to say about Marguerite's conversational mission, adding to what I, have said about Ignatius's. November-December 2001 Dominic ¯ Unsuspected Mission Notes t St. Ignatius of Loyola, The Constitutions of the Society of Jesns, trans. George E. Ganss SJ (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1970), p. 283, no. [648]. 2 See Thomas H. Clancy SJ, The Conversational Word of God (Anand, India: Gujarat Sahitya Prakash, 1978), pp. 59, 63. 3 So Schurhammer, Francis Xavier, Vol. 1, as in Clancy, The Conversational Word of God, p. 11. ~ See Clancy, Conversational Word, p. 9. 5 William Barclay, The Letters to Timothy, Titus, and Philemon (Bangalore: Theological Publications in India, 1990), p. 127. 6 In an exhortation Jer6nimo Nadal shares what he has learned about this from Ignatius. See Clancy, Conversational Word,~pp. 53-54. 7 St. Ignatius, Constitutions, pp. 277, 332-333, nos. [624d] and [814]. s Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet (New Delhi: Allied Publishers, 1976), p. 72. 9 See St. Ignatius, Constitutions, pp. 113,283, nos. [115] and [650]. l0 See Clancy, Conversational Word, pp. 53, 65. I I See Clancy, Conversational Word, pp. 20-21. 12 St. Ignatius, Constitutions, p. 113, no. [115]. ~3 See Lucien Legrand, Mission in the Bible (Pune, India: Ishvani Publication, 1992), p. 60. ~4 C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves (Glasgow: Collins Fount Paperbacks, 1977), p. 91. t5 See Albert Nolan, Jesus before Christianity (London: Darton, LongTnan, and Todd, 1977), p. 38. t6 See William Barclay, The Gospel of Luke (Bangalore, India: Theological Publications in India, 1975), p. 94. ~7 The objection that Jesus' table talk does not qualify to be kerussein since it lacks the usual fanfare of publicity of the kerux or royal herald can be met by remarking that Jesus, being the herald of the compassionate God, does not carry himself like the heralds of proud earthly rulers. 's See William Barclay, The Letters to Pbilippians. Colossians, and Thessalonians (Bangalore: Theological Publications in India, 1975), p. 126. ~9 Cecil Hargreaves, Asian Christian Thinking (Delhi: ISPCK, 1979), p. 97. 20 Henri J.M. Nouwen, In the House of the Lord (London: Darton, Longrnan, and Todd, 1986), p. 33. 2~ Nouwen, House, p. 49. 22 Peter Howard, Frank Buchman's Secret (Bombay: Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan, 1962), p. 2. Review for Religious 23 Peace Pilgrim, compiled by some of her friends (Santa Fe, New Mexico: Ocean Tree Books, 1994), p. 27. 24 See P.A. Augustine, "On a Pilgrimage to Rampur," Vidyajyoti Journal, March 2001, pp. 205-213. ~s See Mary Anne Foley CND, "Spirituality for Mission: Marguerite Bourgeoys and the Ignatian Tradition," Review for Religious 60, no. 1 (lanuary-February 2001): 53-57. Straggler Because he was youngest, his gift ranked least among the others, last of the lambing. But somewhere between the start of his journey and its final stretch he'd lost the creature, himself lost as well. Then he followed the star, as told, so stumbled upon the stable by accident, or design, call it what you will. Afraid, empty-handed, embarrassed, yet drawn to the manger, he knelt, close as a whisper. "I lost my gift." The Babe's mother, softly, "No, child, yours is best of all." Leonard Cochran OP November-December 2001 MARIE BEHA On the Seventh Day God Rested spiritual directions Maybe God rested (Gn 2:3), but we cannot. God could afford to rest; after all, creation was finished and "it was very good," but we rarely experience the luxury of seeing our work completed or of feeling satisfied with it. So we find Sabbath observance hard, whether it is the day of rest at the end of our work week or those mini- Sabbaths that occur naturally in our lives. Our tendency to fill all these times makes them anything but restful, even though it seems that resting should be at the heart of Sabbath observance, our own as well as God's. Sabbath Fillers Mmost any "thing" will do to fill up Sabbath time and minimize rest: work left over from the previous week, or getting ahead on the week to come. Fun and games can keep us busy. "Good works," everything from returning phone calls (or catching up with email, as though that were possible) to a frantic round of visiting sick relatives or neighbors, fill in the hours. Even an overload of required worship can make Sabbath more a burden than a rest. Marie Beha OSC writes from the Monastery of St. Clare; 1916 North Pleasantburg Drive; Greenville, South Carolina 29609. Revie'w for Religious So, you ask, what is a person to do? The problem with all of the above is not with the what but with the why and bow of our doing. The need for accomplishment that motivates us is revealed in the satisfied but weary sigh that accompanies our Sunday evening summation: "I really got a lot done this weekend" or the equally tired but dissatisfied confession "My to-do list is as long as ever." Why are we so driven to do? Too often we fill our days, including our Sundays, to fill ourselves. No wonder there are never enough hours in the week. "Resting" risks having to face the reveal-ing silence, the emptiness inside. So we hurry on, stuffing every day, including the Sabbath, with self-satisfying work. Even our worship can be performance oriented. What does "We had such a good liturgy this morning!" really mean? Are our criteria the spirited music, the well-delivered homily, and the smooth flow of the service--or being moved to heartfelt prayer and challenged to genuine interior conversion? Hopefully, the music and the homily prepare the way for "worship in spirit and truth" On 4:24), but they may simply leave us entertained and content. Worship can become crowded as though more equals better. When that is the case, we can hardly expect to "rest secure" (Ps 16:9). Nor can we if haste to have it finished clocks our obser-vance. Shortening periods of silence in order to get through our quota of prayers is anything but worshipful. The pace of our performance, in liturgy or elsewhere, may also keep us "worried and distracted by many things" (Lk 10:41). We are still meeting deadlines, even when being together is itself the goal. Family time has to be scheduled with the precision of airport takeoffs and land-ings, surface activity substituting for person.al relationships. Though we are together, we do not allow ourselves opportunity to really enjoy each other, much less become intimate. Scheduling every moment, hurrying through one activity to begin the next before the first is really completed, all adds up to workday pressure. Though we are weary, it seems we cannot stop or slow down. Our attempts at relaxation only add more stress. Even our sleeping late is restless. So we come to the end of our Sabbath lacking any sense of re-creation. The motivation for such crowding and overscheduling of even leisure time has a lot to do with our self-image, Which stems from our deeply felt need to see ourselves as creative achievers. God has no such need and so can rest, and asks us to begin to do the same. November-December 2001 Beha ¯ On the Seventh Day God Rested Becoming a Sabbath People But you say, "I know all this, know it too well. What I don't understand is howto keep the Sabbath holy" (Dr 5:12). Rather than insisting on utterly severe limitations of activity on the Sabbath, as some Pharisees in the Gospels seem to have done, our recent Catechism (§2185) says nothing about "servile work"; it simply says we should "refrain from . . . work or activities that hinder the worship owed to God, the joy proper to the Lord's Day, the performance of the works of mercy, and the appropriate relax-ation of mind and body." Especially for the many of us who do almost no manual (or "servile") work on weekdays, spading in the garden may be a wonderful thing to do on Sundays. Churchgoing is not supposed to be the only activity that makes the seventh day special, though some neglect even this. For those who do partic-ipate in Sunday worship, however, it may become just one more item packed into a hectic weekend schedule. After it, we may feel permitted to spend the remainder of the day on ourselves--and then squander it on hecticness that neither praises God nor refreshes us. And that is precisely the problem with much of our Sabbath observance. This is God's day. Like God, we are to work most days at cre-ating this world, making a garden of it, if you will. But also, like God, we are to rest from our labor one day and so gain something of the divine perspective. Work is meant to predominate since this is the way our world takes form and shape--and we ourselves are likewise formed by that very shaping. Through work we become what we are meant to be: responsible cocreators of this beautiful world of ours. Made from this earth, we are called to care for it, to be nourished by it, and in the end to return to it. But there is more to our human vocation than this. Though made from the earth, of the earth, we are ultimately from and for God. Sabbath observance rhythmically registers this reality of human existence in our lives. Between this week's labor and the next, we stop and look up. Like God, we rest. Although our Sabbath observance is brief and limited, it is there to prevent our being worn down by the activity needed to work out our salvation. Sabbath prepares us for an eternal rest when our work will be complete and our being-with-God just begun. The original commandment, "Keep holy the Sabbath," is the third commandment, after those forbidding worship of false gods and taking God's name in vain, All three put us in the context of Review for Religious God's original covenant with his chosen people. Observing these commandments is our covenantal response. More than moral law, the Sabbath describes a relationship. Since we are God's people, we need to be holy as God is holy, working and resting as God does. Observing the Sabbath forms us into the divine image, helping us realize our identity as individuals and as a people. Why did God rest on the seventh day? To enjoy the goodness of that wondrous creation. We do the same. Enjoyment, part of our human capacity for contemplation, moves us beyond the every-day criteria of use and usefulness. All too often, when we experience something new, our question "What's this?" is followed at once by "What's it good for?" Sabbath offers us a respite from such a utilitarian viewpoint; it gives us an opportunity to affirm reality as good in itself. We receive it as a divine gift, even before we discover whether if fits into our schema of things. We appreciate its beauty, even if it is not to our taste. We accept its truth without need to compre-hend, much less control, its mystery. Besides deepening our capacity for appreciation, Sabbath leisure forms us into a free people. Originally a way for the Jewish people to celebrate their liberation from Egypt's oppres-sion, it can open us to similar possibilities. We are not meant to be slave laborers, nor to enslave others to relentless productivity. Stepping back from what we do six days a week enables us to see where we are oppressed, where we may be oppressors. In the leisure that this seventh day provides, we are free to ask ourselves what we would like to do if we had the time. What would re-create us? No matter if our answers would require more demanding activity than our everyday work; perhaps that is what we would find renewing. After being tied all week to a desk, we may really enjoy discovering and using our bodies at least one day a week. Professionals may relax in an activity that allows them the leisure to be rank amateurs, while people whose everyday is dull or dreary discover their potential as "professional" chefs or musicians. Seeing each other in more creative ways keeps us open to the surprises that lie untapped in the hearts of us all. Someone who lacks both time and talent for learning to play music well can still More than moral law, the Sabbath describes a relationship. November-December 2001 Beha ¯ On the Seventh Day God Re, ted enjoy the creativity of a less-than-professional performance. Attempting portrait painting may not produce a recognizable like-ness, much less something that can be sold, yet it can fill someone's need for self-expression. Sabbath Free Time The Sabbath also provides us with "free time," allowing us to "waste" some of it. For productive Americans the mere phrase "wasting time" sounds vaguely immoral, even though time is a giJ~. We cannot earn even a single additional day of life, nor are we billed for the ones we have received. Sabbath observance opens us to the possibility of"doing nothing." Even a brief period given over to deliberate inactivity can, if nothing else, show us how enslaved we have become to filling time. When not doing some-thing useful, we feel threatened by nonexistence: what are we good for? Doing nothing translates readily into being nothing; that is why it is painful, at least at first. But, with patient practice and a willingness to go below surface unease, we can discover a deepening quiet underneath all our activity. As with a swiftly moving river, there is a silence inside that is full of life and awaits the exploration of our doing nothing. Enjoying what is, being free to do something nonproductive that in fact re-creates us, can be forms of Sabbath worship for us creatures as we learn who we are and why we were made. Personal relationships require a certain spaciousness, and this is true of our friendship with God. On the Sabbath we and God spend time together. Sometimes we talk or argue, sometimes we are simply together in comfortable or uncomfortable silence, but we are together. That is what matters. That is the heart of any obser-vance of the Sabbath. And those observances are multiple. Seventh-day observance is paradigmatic but not exhaustive. We can expand one day to a week of R and R: rest, recuperation, or retreat. Or, and this is more common, we can compress Sabbath-like observances to take advantage of moments of free time that open up in any day or that we build into it. The former include snippets of time we often vainly fret away: when the elevator takes forever to arrive, when the answering machine advises us to "hold" until the "next available operator" responds, or when the receptionist explains that "the doctor is running l~te today." Also, we can choose to sit quietly Review for Religious on the side of our bed when we first awaken, we can stretch quietly during a long morning at the computer, we can take a breath of morning air as we walk to the car. All of these can be pieces of Sabbath rest. They can break into our everydayness, much as seventh days interrupt the steady pace of work weeks. They can refresh us. Or they can be uneasy gaps we hasten to fill with nervous activity. How else explain doodling on telephone pads, tapping our feet, consulting our watch at fifteen-second intervals, or rushing our moments of transition. Using Sabbath Leisure Well Taking advantage of all the Sabbath times in our lives requires creative discipline. One suggestion: that we follow the traffic direc-tive "Be prepared to stop." Be ready to allow the seventh day--and the small intervals that force themselves into our best-planned days-- to evoke in us a willingness to surrender to something, to Someone, beyond our own self-interest. Willingness to set our own interests aside opens us to the more of mystery. The capacity for such transcendence demands life-long discipline, a way of living that includes. Sabbath observance. Preparation for Sunday's resting in the Lord begins when Saturday makes some change in our everyday routine. Though the day itself may well be packed full, it can hold its own refreshment, the peace and joy of taking care of things we had to put off earlier in the week. The danger is that "things to do" can take on a life of their own and invade our Sabbath time. Setting some time limits and then prioritizing what most needs to be done is one way of extending Sabbath observance to the vigil. Another is to include in this day of preparation something we like to do, something we look forward to doing: perhaps a special supper menu, a phone visit with a friend, a more leisurely bath, some quiet time before going to bed. The endless possibilities need only be tailored to our own preference. Fruitful observance of the Sabbath itself, like the great com-mandments of loving God, neighbor, and self, revolves around worship, reaching out to others, and re-creative leisure. As we Wil,tingness to set our own interests aside opens us to the more of mystery. November-December 2001 Beba * On the Seventh Da~ God Rested know only too well, these will not happen unless we are prepared to make them happen. Time for worship is probably the easiest of these to schedule, but we still need careful planning lest we end up in such a rush that we spend most of the service becoming quiet enough to worship. Of course, if some truly unforeseen great need comes into our life, we worship by responding to that need. But on most weekends we can prepare for worship at least as carefully as we would for any other important appointment. If a scheduled meeting with an employer requires some attention to appearance and promptness and some thought preparation, worship of our God surely merits the same. Once the time for communal worship has been determined, the rest of the day can revolve around it. How begin our Sabbath day in such a way as to open our heart more fully to God? A slower start, a long shower, a more leisurely breakfast, not only make this day special but also quiet our restlessness, enabling us to be more present in worship. Getting outside for some early morning exercise can do the same, while some silent reflection may help others to change pace and be ready for prayer. Getting to church in ample time seems a necessity if weekday patterns are to be converted into Sabbath stillness. Letting the drivenness, competition, and workday worry fall away prepares our heads as well as our hearts to "hear the word of the Lord" (Is 1:10). Even an unsuccessful effort to attain inner peace and quiet is a form of worship. We are trying to give God's time back to God. Coming into God's presence along with others reminds us that all our worship is communal. We join with others, not only those with whom we immediately share sacred space this week, but all the people of God gathered for worship, observing their Sabbaths on Friday, Saturday, Sunday. Sons and daughters of God, we are all children of Abraham as well, our core unity greater than our all too apparent diversity. Gathering in a common worship space lets us take these theological realities and translate them into practical charity. What begins with the community of worship can flow out to a much wider world or can be focused on care of a family member or a needy neighbor next door. Because we do this together, our charity becomes expansive and yet not abstract. We are reminded of needs that we ourselves may never have experienced or been exposed to, and we are challenged not to forget the small service Review for Religious that has no glamour and wins no notice. In both cases we are stretched beyond ourselves, an attitude basic to any true worship. A third element in our Sabbath observance is leisure, some rest, an opportunity to be made new in re-creation. Unless given some thought, all our Sabbath time can disappear in the more evi-dent good works of prayer and care for others. But a leisure that renews us is basic to true love of God and of others. Something we really enjoy needs to be included in our Sabbath observance if we are to be faithful to a Creator God who first saw that everything was good and then rested in that joy. So Sabbath observance includes time to just be, to play in the world, to enjoy the good-ness that God has made. Our rest is worshipful because it is filled with the truth that this is God's world wrapped in God's care. Sabbath beyond the Sabbath Other Sabbaths beyond seventh-day observance are three-day weekends, full weeks of retreat, and full sabbaticals every seventh year. Smaller Sabbaths can occur at intervals on ordinary days. All of these can contribute to forming us into people of the Sabbath, people who are free and not slaves to what we do. We are wor-shipers in what we do for God, for others, and even for ourselves. Our day can begin with a personal offering of our day to God along with our getting out of bed. It can end with a night prayer that is part of our stretching out in bed and getting comfortable for sleep. What is important is a habit of praying that, over time, becomes worshipful living. Willingness to expose ourselves to worldwide concerns is part of our everyday Sabbath observance. Ordinary caring for others on ordinary days opens our hearts, making more room for God in our life as we do on our Sundays. Sabbath observance is not a narrowing of our lives. It is a grand and glorious expansion that is an image of eternity. -50! November-December 2001 DONALD MACDONALD Where Your Heart Is Adrug pusher in prison said that he well understood the evil effects of drugs, but if he left prison tomorrow the temptation to go back to drugs would be irresistible. He knew of no other way where so much money could be made so easily. He had neith'er the skills nor the connections to obtain a similar lifestyle any other way. A young merchant seaman on shore leave in his home port said that, each rime he d6cked and met his friends, he noticed that their lifestyles had progressed to levels.he could never hope to reach, no matter how hard he worked. They too dealt in drugs. For these and others, the attraction of a lifestyle for self and family funded by illicit drugs almost overwhelmed the power of reason, community feeling, or the gospel to offer something better. Famine of God's Word Many people growing up in our postmodern climate assume that there is no such thing as objective truth; that, even if there is, it is beyond our reach. There was a time when people assumed that reason ruled, or at least could provide us with a guide to life for the benefit of all. Two world wars later, the cruelty of various civil wars and the unavoidable evidence of global human suffering have shown that confidence in reason alone is misplaced. Even the rocketing progress of technology, with its potential for Donald Macdonald SMM writes again from Montfort House; Darnley Road; Barrhead, Glasgow; G78 1TA Scotland, U.K. Review for Religious good, has a number of self-destruct buttons, one or other of which someone is sure to press. The many forms of the media offer access to much that is good, but may also expose us to what is bad or sadly deficient. Western Christians, for example, are aware that a good many writers and producers of television seem to hold that any reverent mention of God is nonsense, and that it is open season for attack-ing the Catholic Church. There are many occasions for people, especially young people, to be misled or bewildered. If this assess-ment is accurate, that does not mean that people cannot avoid being hypnotized or depressed by it all. There is a blunt alterna-tive in the invitation to accept the challenge to "repent and to believe in the gospel" (Mk 1:15). It is crucial that those blessed with the gift of faith understand this as a viable alternative or, better, that, with the confidence of the early church, they give themselves to it as "The Way." ¯ Otherwise, time and energy will be wasted in a possibly dispirited response to what are judged to be the ills of society. To react forever and not initiate risks clouding Ourselves in perpetual negativity. The seemingly omnipotent secular battalions set the agenda, and Christians hurry to set some defenses up, almost breathless in a sadly polluted atmosphere. "Repent".has a 19th-century ring to it and, on that assump-tion, may be dismissed by those who thoroughly accept contem-porary culture. It is, in fact, a call to change our minds, to turn from being self-centered, to open ourselves to the will and guidance of God. It is a dynamic challenge, not a static ruefulness, and it offers a new perspective on life. It may so take hold of us that we become "a living sacrifice," giving ourselves completely to God in response to the wonder of God giving himself to us in Christ (see Rm 12:1-2). Whether it be "us" or "them," Christian tradition recognizes the seed of sin in everyone. It is not the whole picture, but it has its effect on human behavior. Cardinal Newman found "the being of God [to be] as certain to me as the certainty of my own existence." Regarding the society of his day, he said, "There I see a sight which fills me with unspeakable distress., the defeat of good, the success of evil, physical pain, mental anguish, the preva-lence and intensity of sin, the pervading idolatries, the corrup-tions, the dreary hopeless irreligion . [All of this] inflicts upon the mind the sense of a profound mystery, which is absolutely November-December 2001 Macdonald ¯ Where Your Heart Is beyond human solution . Either there is no Creator, or this living society., is in a true sense discarded from his presence." 1 Each category he mentions can be documented today--and perhaps the personal distress, too. Newman famously concluded that, "if there be a God, since there is a God, the human race is implicated in some terrible aboriginal calamity. It is out of joint with the purposes of its Creator.''2 The call to "repent and to believe" is the way out of this morass. "Bad religion" will not do it, and numbers of people have been hurt by it. But before so much hurt and "the dreary hopeless irreligion," with its miasmic presence stunting so much growth, the authentic way of Jesus Christ can guide us. This is the path religious walk on the jour-ney to God. The challenge is as insistent today as it was for the 1st or the 19th century; our century, like earlier ones, needs to hear the Good News. Pope John Paul said recently: "Even in countries evan-gelized many centuries ago, the reality of a 'Christian society' which . . . measured itself explicitly on gospel values is now gone. Today we must courageously face a situation which is becoming increasingly diversified and demanding" (§40).3 The church und.erstandably tries to come to terms with chang-ing structures in the contemporary world. Religious are often sad-dled with plant and too few personnel. Time and energy go into dismantling the structures, with pain to people and religious who have grown up seeing them as part of themselves. For many, this appears a sunset with nothing but darkness ahead to bury a once lively hope. But what if it indicates sunrise and the possibility of a graced opportunity to walk in newness of life, alive to God in Christ Jesus? Approach the Word To be open to thatl "we must rekindle in ourselves the impetus of the beginnings and allow ourselves to be filled with the ardor of the apostolic preaching" (§40). The zeal forming the church in the beginning came from the experienced presence of the Spirit of our risen Loi-d. To view the contemporary from within that perspective is to find ourselves with Someone who faced all that life could do to him, including crucifixion in his mother's presence, and who is alive with us today. Faced by contemporary relativism in a consequently fragmented society, Christians and Review for Religious especially religious would have so much more to offer, and so much more for themselves to believe in, if they realized that "holiness, a message that convinces without need for words, is the living reflection of the face of Christ" (§7). Familiarity with the authen-tic Jesus allows us to reflect him almost intuitively, as our faith is rekindled by who we see in the Gospel. It may then be impossible not to want to share what we have seen and heard. A glance at the Lukan Jerusalem journey (Lk 9:51-19:28) may help us glimpse something of the world of the early church, where the odds against Christians con-tin- uing to exist and influence society were immeasurably greater than anything we face. St. Luke's account begins with a thrice-repeated warning to consider where accompa-nying Jesus may lead, since "[Jesus] set his face to go to Jerusalem" and Samaritan villagers refused him hospitality "because his face was set toward Jerusalem" (9:51, 53). This is serious, not a day trip to the beach. The ostensibly encouraging "I will follow you wherever you go" (9:57) was not met with open arms by Jesus, but by a sharp warning to the individual to examine every syllable and consider what he meant. Does he really intend to volunteer for the same insecurity as his Leader, "the Son of Man [with] nowhere to lay his head" (9:58)? To come with Jesus may mean finding himself left like a leaf in a gutter--does he really want that? Another was bluntly told that commitment to Jesus comes before all family obligations: "Let the dead bury their own dead. ¯ . . You go and proclaim the kingdom of God" (9:60). Another would-be follower said he Would come, "but let me first say farewell to those at my home" (9:61). Jesus would leave by the time he came back, he was told; come now or not at all. The call is for mature persons who, once they have put hand to the 'plow, never look back. The humane pastoral concern of the Lukan Gospel is evident here in view of what happened at journey's end. No doubt this pattern was repeated time and again in the early years of the church. St. Luke's experience led him to believe that, while attrac-tion to Jesus is wonderful, it must include a realistic appraisal of what this means. We need to face ourselves as we face Christ; we Fami!iarity with the authentic Jesus allows us to reflect him almost intuitively. November-December 2001 Macdonald ¯ Where Your Heart Is must engage in true discernment. If Jesus himself "set his face," steeling himself to stay at one with his Father's will, would-be fol- ¯ lowers can do no less on the journey, unless they come as specta-tors and not companions. Fidelity to God's will as the guide to life is a daily and life-long challenge: "I must go on my way today and tomorrow and the day following, for it cannot be that a prophet should perish outside Jerusalem" (13:33). Jesus had to face his greatest challenge, one that would cost him his life. He did so after thoughtful reflec-tion, not as a witless victim. In the light of experience, he honestly asks no less of us. Later on the journey, at a time when "large crowds were traveling with him" (14:25), the message is reinforced as Jesus asks them why they are there: "Whoever comes to me and does not hate father arid mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple" (14:25-26). Even while noting that Hebrew has no word for prefer, we get the point. Every natural and rational tie must take second place to the gift of myself to Christ. This is not meant to put people off. It asks us to consider seriously what we undertake if we accompany Jesus. We will always have Jesus, but perhaps at the cost of losing much else and, as it may appear, Jesus as we would want him to be. How much are we prepared to pay for that? We are asked to really consider this as we look to give ourselves to the gospel challenge. Our attraction to Jesus has to be constant and compelling if we are to genuinely repent and believe in him. Realistic Lukan pastoral care has Jesus ask yet again for mature thought about what it means to accompany him through life: "Which of you, intending to build a tower, does not first sit down and estimate the cost, to see whether he has enough to complete it? Otherwise . . . not able to finish, all who see it will begin to ridicule him" (14:28-29). A second parable suggests pondering the consequences of going to war with ten thousand against an oppo-nent who has twenty thousand (14:3 i). This reflects the almost unbearable concern of Jesus and the evangelist, who have journeyed together and know the implica-tions of accepting the invitation to come with them. The verses . immediately before and after these challenging parables tell us why: "whoever does not bear his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple . . . so, therefore, none of you can be my Review for Religious disciple if you do not give up all your possessions" (14:27, 33). The rest is surely silence, with mature prayer, reflection, and advice to help us see where we go from here.4 The Power of the Word Bearing one's cross is both a superb challenge and practical advice in view of the implications of accompanying Jesus. Even at first reading, we pick up the implied heroism, the need for great courage and strength. Yet, on gospel evidence, Jesus' closest disciples display a humanity that we can recognize in ourselves. There is, then, something attainable here. We should not put the challenge on the shelf as an impossible ideal. There is never a suggestion that it is a mistake to accompany Jesus. There must be something superlatively attractive in the per-son of Jesus that enables his disciples to hear such a challenge and actually take it up. The desire to understand how that enablement works is reason for opening our-selves to God's Word in Scripture. This is what was done at the beginning of monastic and reli-gious life. The desert fathers and mothers wanted to know from experience what it meant to leave all for Jesus, to accept the Sermon on the Mount's challenge to live without cares in the freedom promised by the gospel. Scripture helped them make the attempt and persevere. They and their contemporaries saw how Scripture's power could form them into people who have nothing as the world would understand it, yet were themselves rich in the currency of the gospel and able to make others similarly rich. They were truly influential people. The gospel, finding lodging in individual hearts, made for intimacy with God and love for others. As subsequent centuries learned, time given to Scripture, and to the Spirit of our risen Lord found therein, can make abounding love for others available to us too. Disciplined daily reading--allowing the words to register with us, and gently persuading us that we are hearing them for the first time--can transfigure us too. We need such transfiguring to approach a Lukan conclusion: "So, therefore, whoever of you does not renounce all that he has cannot be my disciple" (14:33). Jesus" closest disciples display a humanity that we can recognize in ourselves. November-December 2001 Macdonald ¯ [~here Your Heart Is Nearer our time, that challenge was taken up by Charles de Foucauld, and his life is yet another proof of the transforming power of the word. He took the challenge of the Jerusalem jour-ney to heart. A religious, photocopying his "self-offering," offered me copies to send to friends. The gothic lettering was beautiful, but as I read it I wondered whether I had the courage to keep a copy beside me, much less send one to others. It reads in part: "Father, I abandon myself into your hands. Do with me what-you will. Whatever you may do, I thank you. I am ready for all. I accept all. Let only your will be done in me and in all your creatures. I wish no more than this, O Lord. to surrender myself into your hands without reserve, and with confidence beyond all question-ing, because you are my Father." Here are the terms of acceptance for accompanying Jesus on the journey through life. To invoke the prayer and patronage of such a man in Christ and, if I dare, to keep his self-dedication where I can see it--these things can help me join others on the Jerusalem journey. They can lead me to the sources that fed him. They are necessary in a world where so much competes for my self. Jesus on the Jerusalem journey points out that the heart may not be left empty. Even when all that is evil is forced from the heart, evil may return with immense power and bring "seven other spirits more evil than itself.and the last state of that person is worse thanthe first" (11:26). The evangelists, ~e fathers, Charles de Foucauld, and others can only encourage us to open our hearts to the power that made them mirrors of the gospel. With this shared enthusiasm for God in Christ continually fed by what we see in them, we in turn become faithful members of the company of Jesus. This is not for everyone, but it may be for us. Among the obstacles to accompanying Jesus as sketched in the Jerusalem journey is the risk of having a divided heart. Pressure to back away, to be close but not too close to Jesus, is always .there in one form or another. While it helps to steep ourselves in the gospel and invite the influence of those who clearly live for God alone in Christ, we must also try to live simply and so nourish detachment from everything but God's will. The less clutter around us, the freer are we to give ourselves to what w~ are asked. Often, tO want something is to get it. We get into a car, pick up a phone, write a check, press a key, or ask for it--and presently we have it. This is not true for vast tracts of the world, but it is true for much of it; and, given the chance, most people on every con- Review for Religious tinent seem to want to live like that. Religious professedly "poor in fact and spirit" share that same humanity. Because of this human tendency to acquire, they need constant vigilance, personal disci-pline, and continually renewed motivation in order to accompany Jesus on his gospel journey. Our circumstances need to reflect the authentic gospel challenge. Otherwise, despite our intent the cri-teria offered by the Lukan Jerusalem journey will seem an impos-sible ideal--the sort of ideal someone had in mind when saying archly that, with the Ten Commandments, "as in any examina-tion, only five need be attempted." Without the insight of faith, our postmodern environmental circumstances are likely to keep sug-gesting a "more reasonable" way of life, and we are likely to accept it unthinkingly. The chapel of a religious community, open on Sunday for Mass to a hundred or so people, presented a stark picture during Lent. The crucifix and statues were covered. A large swathe of purple material across the front of the altar ended in a symbolically overturned chalice. The lecterns from where Scripture was read and the gospel preached were engulfed in purple. The branches of a leafless tree reached up and out from its purpled-wrapped trunk. To the visitor it said that for this community Lent really meant something. Something has happened here. For the people wor-shiping here on Sunday, if the words spoken were at one with the setting, they could scarcely be less than disturbing. If, however, the religious community's life were at one with those words and those symbols, people attending would receive sufficient support and encouragement. The chapel inside the house, however, where the community prayed and worshiped with a few people during the week, was rather differe.nt. There was no suggestion of purple, aridity, or stark challenge in the folksy, chatty chapel. It was, in a word, domestic. There was no provision, no place, for a moment of pri-vacy in which individuals might face themselves before God; the chairs around the orange carpet formed a square with the altar, and people spoke and laughed easily across the space. A visitor asked how the community could issue so sharp a statement to people coming on Sunday from the pressures of their postmodern environment, and yet offer so little challenge in the chapel where they themselves were at home. They may have spent the night in prayer, dined on bread and water, and been selfless in serving the poor, but the climate they chose for themselves for November-December 2001 Macdonald * Where Your Heart Is addressed and told to consider whether we can leave everything, even life itself, to accompany Jesus. worship and prayer did not suggest that. The Sunday chapel may have been a liturgical or catechetical visual-aid for others; but, if they were to accompany their Lord to Jerusalem's summit, much more than a public gesture was necessary. It might be a good idea to have a framed copy of Charles de Foucauld's "dedication" in both chapels, but, for us and others to glimpse the simplicity of what he saw, we need to recognize that environment and appro-priate symbols matter, that we must make special efforts to free ourselves from many assumptions of contemporary society. Unless we do this, an easy acceptance of what we see around us in matters of lifestyle, furnishings, and aspirations will inevitably lead us into a certain secularity. Earlier history and the evidence of the last thirty years surely make that point incontrovertible. There can be no objective and globally acceptable standard here, but, for people who think of accepting the blunt challenge of the Jerusalem journey, surroundings do matter. One by one we are addressed and told to consider whether we can leave every-thing, even life itself, to accompany OFle by oFle we are Jesus. As ever, the situation is made plain in the Lukan approach: "Go on your way. I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves. Carry no. purse, no bag, no sandals, and greet no one on the road. What-ever house you enter, first say, 'Peace to this house'" (10:3-5). Our sole security lies in being with Jesus, but, for such security to be ours, we must leave much else on which people around us reasonably rely. To behave differently we must see other than they do. In our dedication to the gospel, we scarcely have time for normal civilities, and yet we frequently offer the gift of peace and expect our words to have effect. We must accompany our risen Lord closely to function like that. Even if we sometimes see bringing some peace as a short-term mission, the effort may still be a weighty burden, and one that is clearly related to the rest of the Jerusalem journey. If our following of Jesus occurs in "the real world" (where being a lamb among wolves argues no future and scarcely any pre-sent), temptations to go through a gap in the hedge for a respite from the effort of keeping close to Jesus will inevitably occur. Lukan pastoral care admits as much: "Whoever denies me before others will be denied before the angels of God" (12:8-9). On arriv-ing in Jerusalem, the disciples collapsed under the pressure and did deny Jesus. In a postmodern world, we too are frail human beings, and the pressure to distance ourselves from him, not least by a more "reasonable" lifestyle, will always be there. To prevent this, we need to know where our real wealth is. "Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also" (12:34). Jesus' answer to the rich young man's question, "What shall I do to inherit eternal life?" left him sad, "for he had great possessions" (18:18, 22) and his heart was not as close to Jesus as he had sup-posed. "Jesus looking at him said, 'How hard it is for those who have riches to enter the kingdom of God. For it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle" (18:24-25). Money and the power it brings opens most doors here on earth, but Jesus makes it unmistakably plain that it cannot buy anyone's way into his company. But for the grace of God, it would perhaps be an insuperable obstacle. Delight in the Word Inviting and challenging, Jesus looks at us too. He wants our company so much that he has risen from a grave to enable us to enter into his kingdom. There is a personal.relationship here. Intimacy with God and living at one with God's will, these are what living life to the full means. Here is human purpose, and our purpose. "Jesus rejoiced in the Holy Spirit and said, 'I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and intelligent and have revealed them to infants . All things have been handed over to me by my .Father" (10:21-22). These words are spoken after the disciples' excited return from venturing out among the people supported only by trust in Jesus' word. Now they know from experience something of the possibilities and power of his message. Many others who seem better placed than they to understand do not know what the disciples know. Jesus is ecstatic. "Thrilled with joy in the Holy Spirit," he looks in wonder at these "infants" who were coming to know him and his Father. On our journey you and I ake in the company of our risen Lord; we. are not isolated strangers at a bus stop waiting for something to turn up. We should be full of wonder at who we are November-December 2001 Macdonald ¯ Where Your Heart Is and what we have in Christ, and never take our identity primarily from people lacking the insight of faith. In Christ, who has "given you authority., over all the power of the enemy, and nothing will hurt you" (10:19), Satanic power can be successfully challenged. "Then, turning to the disciples, Jesus said to them privately, 'Blessed are the eyes that see what you see! . . . many prophets and kings desired to see what you see, and did not see it, and to hear what you hear, and did not hear it'" (10:2,3-24). Like John the Baptist, these people, for all their insight, could only prepare for or point to what the disciples were enjoying from within the company of Jesus. To those outside that company, his parables and teaching might be helpful stories to take or leave; but, for the "infants" around Jesus; these words reached both mind and heart and helped form their consciences as guides to life. There is much more for us to see if we "infants" develop genuine receptivity to and then realization of the gift of God in the risen Christ. Insofar as the wonder of that gift is ours, we will have the "stick-to-itive-ness," courage, and conviction to share .it with others on the jour-ney. We know that We are treasured by our risen Lord, and so we come to treasure him. He is where our heart is! For perhaps significant numbers of religious and would-be religious, it is asking too much to make more that a notional con-nection between words then and work now. The biblical word is respected, but even in generally literate societies words do not always communicate in depth, often because there are just too many of them to hold our attention. Yet, to this day in the his-tory of the church and consecrated life, Scripture has had an intrin-sic power which people have felt and which has energized for God some of the greatest evangelical witnesses. A contemporary vade mecum of consecrated life--P~'ta conse-crata-- points to Scripture as "the first source of all Christian spir-ituality." There is undoubtedly a wider awareness of this in recent .decades, but we may have some way to go before all of us have the view that "the primacy of holiness and prayer is inconceivable without a renewed listening to the word of God, . . . a life-giving encounter., which draws from the biblical text the living word which questions, directs, and shapes our lives" (§39). Only some-one like the Holy Father, speaking from experience of that back-ground and also very aware of the contemporary challenge to the gospel, could be convinced that, while "we do not know what the new millennium has in store for us,., we are certain that it is safe Revie't.v for Religious in the hands of Christ." (§35). The Lukan Jerusalem journey, approached from within that mindset, would produce a like conviction. Pope John Paul saw the pilgrims in Rome for Jubilee 2000 as representative of so many others, each individual reflecting "the story of someone whom Christ had met, and who in dialogue with him was setting out again on a journey of hope" (§8). As an older brother, perhaps, on the journey, he has learned from experience that, "if Christ is presented to young people as he really is, they experience him as an answer that is convincing and they can accept his message, even when it is demanding and bears the mark of the cross" (§9). This is why he does not hesitate to challenge and call on them "to make a radical choice of faith and life., a stupen-dous task; to become 'morning watchmen' (Is 21:11-12) at the dawn of the new millennium" (§9). Consecrated people, glimpsing Christ "as he really is" from the Gospel pages, might feel called to respond to that same challenge as they journey together, eager to share their delight in their risen Lord. "Remaining firmly anchored in Scripture, we open ourselves to the action of the Spirit" (§17), and who can say where that may lead us? Notes t John Henry Newman, Apologia pro Vita Sua (Longmans Green, 1890), p. 241. 2 Newman, Apologia, p. 242. 3 John Paul II, Apostolic Letter, Novo Millennio Ineunte, Rome, 6 January 2001. Numbers here and subsequently refer to paragraphs. 4 Walter J. Ciszek sJ, He Leadeth Me, repays rereading for an appre-ciation of faith today. through/be ~do~n! ~nd Cbri~tmo~ t~ b/~6~ing~ of ~oat'~ ~nt~dng into $ia creation in November-December 2001 church and MARIE BRINKMAN Criteria for Change: Women's Ministering to the Body of Christ ministry To search in the past for signs of a viable future for reli-gious women's communities is to reverse the usual order of things, but that is what I intend. I offer a rationale for searching there. I seek, however, not criteria for esti-mating outcomes of change, but rather the foundation made up of sisters' lives which itself takes the measure of other criteria and thus provides the framework for wise discernment. The dawn of a new millennium suggests radical change, much of it underway, yet brings from some quarters hints of probable demise. We know that, for the authors of the many articles and books on the present situation of religious men and women, the good of God's people is the primary concern. And we well know that, if religious communities are to survive, they will do so in response to that people's need and in fidelity to the gospel, particularly its radical counsels. These are any century's religious foundations and the basis for all reform and renewal. But, in the life of religious communities of women, what in particular urges their Marie Brinkman SCL presented this paper at the History of Women Religious Conference at Marquette University in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, in June 2001. She is a professor at Saint Mary College; 4100 South Fourth Street; Leavenworth, Kansas 6604-8. Review for Religious continuance? What characteristics should serve as norms for appropriate change, in the face of diminishing numbers, advancing median ages, and increasing opportunities for minis-tering to God's people in lay and secular life? In her hopeful assessment of a third-millennial future for women religious, Jo Ann Kay McNamara observes that sisters from the "young" African and Asian churches "are already in the process of changing their worlds as their foremothers in the West did for so many centuries." And she foresees "a larger global sisterhood" in which religious women of the West will revise their institutions and women of all cultures will devise new forms of rule, commu-nity, and ministry (pp. 643-644). Ways of envisioning and shaping such inevitabilities are what we must seek. In this regard Joel Giallanza csc asserts that "the quality and integrity of religious life as a sign of unity in the church for the future is direcdy related to the quality and integrity which religious life embodies today" (pp. 468-469). That quality and integrity must inform any criteria for discerning constructive change in community and ministry. When communities, particularly apostolic ones, revisit their charism (as Vatican documents on religious life have urged) and when they engage laypersons as associates (communal or profes-sional) in the realization of that charism, even in these charted waters they run risks described by Francis W. Danella OSFS. While believing that "efforts to recapture the spirit of the foundation have been the singularly most hopeful development in religious life since the council" (p. 266), Danella cites a major risk, that of failure to integrate individual needs and community priorities, personal growth and the common good. We might well add that it is a risk rooted in human nature that has become greater in the last three decades. It takes subtle forms that only habitual and rigorous spiritual discernment at every level of decision making and leadership can recognize. Mary Anne Foley CND, in her careful critique of two widely read works of the past decade, Ann Carey's Sisters in Crisis and Quifionez and Turner's Transformation of ,4merican Catholic Sisters, asks for continuing dialogue between the polarized constituencies studied by these authors (pp. 342-357). She acknowledges serious inadequacies attending the documentation of their views, but is convinced that nonetheless the Spirit speaks to us through one another, within our diverse limitations. Her most significant obser- November-December 2001 Brinkman ¯ Criteria for Chan~e The fundamental question before us, I think, is whether personal relationship to God, in its rhythm of continuing call and free response, has taken directions in the lives of religious women so concrete as to be guidelines for the future. vation, I think, follows a statement that Christian men and women have for centuries linked their lives to God by means of vows. She adds: "They have done this not., primarily as a witness to oth-ers, but because God has somehow reached into their lives, and so, in being true to themselves, they structure their lives around their rela-tionship to God" (my emphasis; pp. 351,356). She credits Edward Vacek sJ for the latter concept. Here we draw close to the source of continuity over two thousand years of religious commu-nity life, regardless of what reforms or renewals have attended it. The same source or cause will guarantee its contin-uance throughout another millennium. Michael Himes would call the source a radical poverty, an ultimate dependency that he says is "the key value in the vows" (p. 21). Joan Chittister would call it the ultimate commitment and radical atten-tiveness to the presence of God in every aspect of a vowed life. It is my contention, hardly'unique, that this centrality of God, this fact of personal relationship to God, realized and grasped as the origin and end of all resolve and purpose, and of all consequent rela-tionship and mission, is the efficacious cause of continuing life in religious com-munity. All change and adaptation, all forms of communal living and ministry that may develop, will be tested and must be evaluated by this criterion. But spiritual reality must take sensible form if it is to become a human measure of worth. As adaptations and innovations multiply, so do reports and projections. More significant are potentially prophetic voices that try to discern the Spirit in radical change and the reactions it pro-vokes. Few--scholars and prophets included--would presume to forecast the future with confidence. Some contemplate the end of our life as we have known it, or its evolution into confederations, syneisactic (Greek syneisdgein, to. bring in together) communities of mixed genders and terms of commitment, new monastic/apos- Review for Religious tolic arrangements, or vowed ministry within a church defined in nonhierarchical terms. The fundamental question before us, I think, is whether per-sonal relationship to God, in its rhythm of continuing call and free response, has taken directions in the lives of religious women so concrete as to be guidelines for the future--directions, in fact, so clear as to suggest qualities essential to the continuance and integrity of these women's communities. The limitation of aca-d

Issue 38.6 of the Review for Religious, 1979. ; I Will Be--Who I Am Traveling Light in Community: The Oratory St, Teresa, Contemplation and the Humanity of Christ Volume 38 Number 6 November 1979 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published bi-monthly (every two months), is edited in collaboration with faculty members of the Department of Theology of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at Room 428:3601 Lindell Blvd.: St. Louis, MO 63108. It is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute: St. Louis, Missouri. © 1979 By REVIEW FOR REI.IGIOUS. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri. Single copies: $2.00. Subscription U.S.A.: $8.00 a year: $15.00 for two years. Other countries: $9.00 a year, $17.00 for two years. For subscription orders or change of address, write REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS: P.O. Box 6070: Duluth, Minnesota 55802. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Robert Williams, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Associate Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor November, 1979 Volume 38 Number 6 Correspondence with the editor and the associate editors, manuscripts and books for review should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. 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. Liturgical Spirituality Of Poets, Prophets and the Word Janet Schlichting, O.P. Sister Janet resides at 1314 West Market Street, Akron, OH 44313. The poet Rilke writes, "'For the sake of a few lines, one must see many cities, men and things." He then sets forth a long list of life experiences that will enrich Our treasury of memories, concluding, "Not until they have turned to blood within us, to glance, to gesture, nameless and no longer to be distinguished from ourselves--not until then can it happen that in a most rare hour the first word of a verse arises in their midst and goes forth from them."' Essential to the poet is the perceiving and savoring of life experience. So also is the turning to blood of what is perceived, and the "rare hour" when from that lifeblood springs forth a new word. The life experiences, the turn-ing to blood, the arising and going fortfi--these realities give to poetry its heart. It might also be suggested that these same three realities intertwine to give to prophecy its power and to ChristianitY, its truth. Whether we be poets or prophets or Christians, our call is to communicate. Those moments in which we express our identity are initiated, carried and concluded by the power of word. To all of us are entrusted words. To be human is to have words. Words are the creators and determiners and definers of our life situations. We have words to tell about ourselves, t6 build relationships, to express the meanings ' The Notebooks ofMalte Laurids Brigge (New York: W. W. Norton and Company, Inc., 1949). 801 802 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/6 and memories and hopes of our lives. Words are human but they are not to be taken for granted. Words are sacred because they are the means by which we grow, and by which we, in turn, nurture growth in others. Sharing with one another our feelings and understandings, we tell one another of new possibilities. Words are tools for building the human community, for forging our future. Words are as resilient as the human spirit that calls them to be. Thus, to have words is to have immense power. To have words is to bear a sacred trust. The most life-giving words are, in Karl Rahner's terms, "primordial words.''~ When a word breaks open reality for us, giving us new understand-ing and new vision, it is a primordial word. When it springs from the heart, when it whispers something of everything, and renders the pulse of infinity somehow available to us, its speaker is apoet--a poet made when the word is spoken. When the word comes howling out of the wilderness, cracking the veneer of our lives, illumining in the suddenness of lightning a raw and throb-bing truth, we have heard a prophet--a prophet made when the word is" spoken. Both poetry and prophecy are entrusted to Christians. They are two edges of the same sword, cutting through to reality. The one comes to birth in the blood within, arising and going forth. The other takes by storm, a power from where the person does not know, only that to speak is a necessity and not to speak is a torment: Woe to me if 1 do not preach the Gospel! (1 Co 9:16). Both poetry and prophecy are entrusted to Christians because a Word has been addressed to them: the Word of redeeming love spoken by the Father in Christ Jesus. We gather to hear and to celebrate this word in liturgical prayer. It is made known to us in and for our particular situation and now. The words 1 have spoken to you are spirit and they are life. (Jn 6:63). If you make my word your home., you will learn the truth and the truth shall make you free (Jn 8:32). When we speak of liturgical spirituality, we speak of three things: the grasping of life, the forging of identity and the going forth--the tasks of poets, prophets and every Christian. One task comes with us to worship; one occurs at worship; one follows worship. The primary truth that these activ-ities together express is the intimate welding of liturgy and life. The first concern of a liturgical spirituality is the way in which we take hold of life, the way we are disposed to our world. For, as the parable 2"Priest and Poet," Theologicallnvestigations HI (Baltimore: Helicon Press, 1967), p. 294. Liturgical Spirituality: of Poets, Prophets and the Word / 803 reminds us, the Word is like a seed. It must find a home. It must fall on good ground, that "good ground" of our lives which we bring with us to worship. And so we are called to question ourselves. Do we bring eyes to see and ears to hear? Do we bring our nights and days, our hungerings and thirstings, our growings, our rejoicings, our failings? Do we bring our brothers and sisters? Do we bring tax collectors and sinners? Do we bring hearts willing to be converted? Liturgy concerns itself with appropriating all of these: the gleaming and the tarnished; the cabbages and the kings; taking it all in--as the poet must do "for the sake of a few lines"--and affirming it. We do not affirm lightly or passively. A.ffirmation goes far beyond acceptance and is more than approval. To affirm, I must grasp hold of and ponder, and thereby allow my life experiences to turn to "blood within." The ability to affirm depends upon a sacramental understanding of human life. To view life sacramentally is to find holiness present in the everyday world of creation and human relationships, in the joys and sorrows and in the decisions placed before us, to realize our relatedness to one another and to the whole groaning creation. To view life sacramentally is to be able to find the glory of the Lord glim-mering, the Kingdom of God bubbling up in the goodness of a Samaritan to a beaten traveler and in the love of the father for his errant son. It is to have a care for mustard seeds and widows' mites, and to know the importance of yeast. '~ To view life sacramentally is not to deny pain and darkness, nor the con-tradictions we find within ourselves, nor our relentless pattern of fail-ure- nor the subtle weaving of sin into our social structures. These, too, are to be taken hold of in the sure hope that amid the terror of the storm at sea, and under the shadow of the cross, we can yet proclaim the triumph of life-over- death and love-over-hatred in the reign of God begun in Christ Jesus. What is this event called worship? The event called worship is the moment when Christians are made and ¢vhen they are made again into prophets and poets. It is a moment when we gather in response to the Word that calls us together, when we bring the ground we have prepared that the seed of the Word m.ay fall upon it; when, in the simple sharing of common things--the gifts of creation, we praise and we thank and we make memorial of the saving action of the Lord Jesus; when our eyes and ears and minds and hearts are again opened to the memory and presence and hope that undergird our lives. It is a moment--a "most rare hour"--when the Kingdom of God breaks in upon us and comforts and confronts us, consoles us and disturbs us, strengthens us, energizes us, and forges in and among usa new identity. It is a moment when we hear and see and taste what we are, and, when reaffirmed in our identity, given again a memory and a hope, we together become again --and more--the Body of Christ. It is a time, a "most rare hour" when, with the Word in our hearts and in ~104 / Review for Religious, l/olume 38, 1979/6 our mouths, we are sent forth to share what we have seen and heard and tasted. My word is not my own: it is the word of the one who sent me (Jn 14:24). Commissioned again as prophets and poets, Christians are entrusted with the Word. It is the nature of the Word to arise and go forth. There is no being called together without the being sent forth. Liturgy is inseparable from life. For the lot of us, the existential experience of worship is somewhat less than that described here. The way we have taken hold of our lives is not wholly affirming, the view we have of life is not always that it is "gift." The ground we present for the seed of the Word is not always too well prepared. In these and in other small ways the quality of our worship is compromised. Oh, we sing our "alleluias"; we say our "amens"; and yet we know well that it would be'a rare moment indeed for us to come bursting forth from worship proclaiming "The Kingdom of God is breaking in upon us!" And yet, that is precisely our commission: to proclaim to the world, "Behold your God!" It is a hard thing, this call. We find here the truth of our Christianity. It is not about privilege but about service and responsibility. And, faced with the utter ordinariness of people and problems, we drag our feet. On-again, off-again poets, part-time prophets. It is hard, preaching this Word entrusted to us, We have not just met the Risen Lord in the garden, so quite possibly we do not come running with his smile still warm upon us. We do not come pounding down the stairs from some upper room with the roar of wind still in our ears. And yet--our God has touched us. Still, in less dramatic ways we are called and sent, in less dramatic ways we can and do speak words of conversion and reconciliation. When the power behind our words is love, when the center from which our words come is a repentant heart, then our words can be a call to faith for others. So daily we arise and go forth: to love and to serve and to forgive; to wit-ness to the Kingdom; to confront our worl~ with its need of salvation; to reach out around us; to build Christ's Body; to strain forward to the fulfill-ment of God's promises. Liturgical spirituality is about becoming poets and prophets. It is about daily living with openness to the Lord's action in our lives. It is about the "turning to blood within us," the affirming of experiences and the forging of our identity in worship, where we gather to meet the Lord in word and sacra-ment. And it is about our going forth, entrusted with the Word. We are ordinary people with ordinary words. Yet, as erratic and clumsy as our speakings may be, we know this: God himself chose the.way of ordi-nary human flesh to make himself known to us. He is accessible to us in our sharings of faith with one another. This is what we proclaim to you: What was from the beginning, what we have heard, what we have looked upon and our hands have touched--we speak of the Word of Life. Liturgical Spiritut What we have seen and heard we (1 Jn 1:1,3). And with the apostle Paul (ity: of Poets, Prophets and the Word / 805 ~roclaim to you, so that you may share life with us ve give him glory, ¯ . . whose power working in us can do infinitely more than we can ask or imagine. (Ep 3:20). whose power at work in us can make us, in a "most rare hour," poets and prophets one for another. Morning Pra$,er 1 turn the corner of driest prayer to find you smiling amo.ng' the shining children in this raggdd, dusty land and crying with the weary women who carry albaby's body to its stones end, Bitter black~ against a sun-spoked sky. Five strong Icane cutters trudge the dirt sweat-stained sombreros, worn mache es. You'll be tl~ere, arms around them all the way ~o the burnt-black fields, while the silent Senora pleads for p~ennies, and you, a moment's caring¯ In the pla~.~, the youth are dancing. You are~young, Lord, you know the tune . Tonight weIhear a tragic story-- Husband g~ne and children hungry. Tears fall o~ the table-top. Jesus Lord! L~ke Bartimaeus, bhnd and begging, When will ~e truly see our land, Hear your ,footsteps, run to meet you, Find our Treasure, You in all,land all? Sister Wendy Cotter Apartado 460, Chiclayo, Peru Novitiate Formation Agostin Lovatin, C.S. In the course of his studies at St. Louis University's Institute of Religious Formation, Father Lovatin prepared a paper of reflection on novice-formation. He is presently Novice Director and a member of the formation team, residing at Sacred Heart Seminary; 3800 West Division Street.; Stone Park. IL 60165. The central message of the Gospel is a call to repentance and belief (Mk 1:15); it was addressed by Jesus to all those the Father was drawing to Christ. In a radical way it was meant for those whom Jesus chose to be his compan-ions, whom he would send to preach (Mk 3:14). The same call echoes still today in the lives of those the Lord chooses for the continuation of his mis-sion. It is a call to conversion. A radical conversion to God in our case is that process of the transforma-tion that our lives undergo in order to become the best instruments to serve our mission. This process comprises all the elements of what we call formation: prayer, vocation, religious life, priesthood, sending, aposto-late . These elements are harmoniously united together and interdepen-dent upon one another. They develop in due time under the direction of God who alone invites and fosters the new life when the person gives him full co-operation. Because the call and the action'are absolutely of God and depend on the cooperation of the person, the rate and the modality of growth are different from person to person because God in his infinite providence and creativity works through.the most unthinkable circumstances, even through the indi-vidual's unfaithfulness. There is no set order of steps through which this pro-cess takes place nor is there any way of telling beforehand which will influ-ence or provoke what. There isn't either any prefixed length of time that can 806 Novitiate Formation / 807 be made normative for the duration of formation. God's choice hnd man's response make up every time an unrepeatable and unique story. Reflection on the experience and charism of the Scalabrinian community, it seemed to me, could be fruitful in helping others to formulate for their own communities novitiate programs which would nurture and promote the nov-ices' identity with their own community charism and apostolate. Our novitiate program serves only a limited scope. It is normative in a very restricted sense: that is in the choice and updating of general principles and methods, according to the experience and the choices of the community. It is descriptive onlyin the sense that a stated program illustrates some of the stages of growth regardless of the real order in which they take place in the in-dividual because this will depend on the creative action of God and the re-sponse of the individual. Conditions for Entering the Novitiate Novitiate (noviceship) in its real meaning is the beginning of a journey, the first "yes" to God in one's heart; the beginning of a process of intimacy with the Lord that will end at the moment of death. Accordingly, there are conditions presupposed for admission to noviceship. Human Psychological Maturity. Grace presupposes nature. Before an in-dividual can tackle the vital questions that will radically affect the rest of his life, he must possess a psychological, intellectual, affective-sexual maturity that gives him a hold on his life and relieves him from the anxieties this de-velopment br.ings about. Only then can he give himself wholly to spiritual de-velopment. On this condition only can he and the community be safely assured so as to make the formal, mutual religious commitments to his following of the evangelical life in their company. In case the actual development of the personality by the time of noviceship leaves unexplored any significant portion of the major areas of development (intellectual, psychological, affective-sexual), the amount of self-knowledge required for a life-decision would be dangerously reduced and the value of the ensuing commitments would be certainly limited. Maturity means also having acqui~red a sense of independence that means a capability to run one's life in an adult manner. Responsible religious life ought not tend to create dependent people, but should take mature people and make them interdependent. Religious experience. The individual's determination of asking to start the period of noviceship should be understood only as a response to the God-who- calls. Consequently the candidate must have come in contact with the living God and felt his drawing. No matter how simple and unsophisticated this experience might have been, the candidate must have felt in some way the vanity of the world, its principles and values, and an initial attraction to a life of union with God. He must have seen himself as a creature and son of the Father who alone can satisfy all the longings of the human heart. There is no I~011 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/6 hope of success in the work of the novitiate if the candidate does not know experientially who God is, and does not believe that God can be taken as the absolute partner of his life. The encounter with the living God one way or other, must have generated some willingness to serve him. The individual must possess some concrete ideas about priesthood, religious life and what they entail. Along with this, there must be a sufficient knowledge of the special call to each congregation's particular apostolate: for us this would be the care of migrants. Part of the "yes" to God is the still-vague willingness to leave, to give up one's land and culture, the security of an earthly fatherland, so as to follow the call of those who are homeless and lost in a new country and culture. Goals of Novitiate. Learning how to pray, and prayer itself, is going to be the main goal of novitiate because prayer expresses and fosters the union with God which is going to be the primary reality in the future life of anyone called to an inti-mate cooperation with God. It is in prayer that a religious and priest finds his identity. It is in prayer God manifests and renews his call to him; it is in prayer that God reveals his action in the present and reveals concretely the ways and the means of the still-future apostolate. The apostolate is the salvific action of God in the world, an action that he chose to continue through the cooperation of those who respond to his call. The novice will express and deepen his prayerfulness through the various forms that enrich the Christian tradition. Most of all, he will be introduced to mental prayer, making acquaintance with different methods of meditation. He will experience various forms and, under the guidance of the director, he will search for that particular type which better corresponds to his needs and his character. Scripture will be opened to the novice. It will not be a study of the Bible, but the Bible as the source of the living word of God who revealed himself, and continues to reveal himself to anyone who listens with humility to his voice. Scripture will reveal a new dimension to prayer, and tune the novice into that highest form of prayer which is the prayer the Spirit offers unceasingly in the soul of the believer (Rm 8:26), The liturgy takes the novice into the core of the living Church that, united with her head, offers praise, intercession, pleas and thanks to the Father. The novice will thus share in the eternal priesthood of Christ who alone brings about the salvation of mankind. All apostolate, all building of the Church flows from and to the Eucharist; our apostolic action is the continuation, concretization and development of the action of Christ as.it takes place in the liturgy. Spiritual Direction. All spiritual growth is the action of the Spirit who moves and sanctifies. This action of God is always effective by its nature, However God chose not to force the response of man because he wanted a re- Novitiate Formation / 809 sponse of freedom aided by his grace. As a consequence, the action of God becomes efficacious only when received and accepted by an open heart. In formation, the most important person is the one being formed. He alone is solely responsible for his life. However it is a basic experience in the history of Christianity since its very beginning that this cannot be accomplished by the novice alone. Because of our nature, blinded and weighed down by sin, because of the novelty of the process, it is absolutely necessary to have a guide--one who has experienced the action of God and can direct the soul in its journey. When God moves in with his own light, and the soul is laid bare in its past and present poverty and sinfulness, the experience can be quite shattering. Only an experienced guide can lead the soul through this deep darkness, pointing out the enfolding grace that purifies, through desert and pain, the commitment to love God. God speaks to the soul but his ways are mysterious. The role of the director can be compared, at times, with that of the prophets of the O.T., or with that of John the Baptist: to point to the Lord, convey his message. He will never take the place of God, nor can he respond in the name of the direc-tor. He must keep faithful to his mission by staying out of the way in this inti-mate exchange between the Lord and the novice~ The spiritual director, be-cause of his own life of prayer and careful heeding sensitivity to the action of God in his own life, will help the novice to recognize the action of God in his soul, and help him to respond adequately. He will be in a better position to detect the Word of the Lord, as distinct from those other voices that will speak quite strongly; he will be able to show the novice when he is avoiding, or putting obstacles, to the word. He will encourage, console, advise, chal-lenge- according to the circumstances. He will be a witness and a proof of the everlasting love of God towards the novice. The ,novitiate will provide also other moments of intense prayer and re-flection, such as days of recollection, shared prayer, communal prayer, and other forms current today. Silence. To help set the climate for a gradual focus from the exterior to the interior, from self-centeredness to God-centeredness, it is necessary that there be a constant attitude of recollection and silence. The novitiate will not succeed in its goal if it does not provide an atmosphere of solitude and quiet. The novice has to be free from pressure from the outside to be able to come in contact with his self and find there the privileged place of his encounter with God. He must avoid all distractions that keep him from facing his interiority. Even the necessary amount of leisure and work have to be chosen in a measure that help him to re-create his spirit, not upset and disturb it. At this point he will be invited to a revision of values and priorities in his own life. The society and culture we live in are spasmodically craving for ex-terior action, motion, productivity, noise . There is deeply ingrained a dreadful fear of facing oneself and coming in touch with the core of the per-son. Solitude, peace, interiority, inner motivations are not appreciated. 810 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/6 Maybe the reason is to be found in the great deal of pain, loss, and confusion caused by the discovery of the dark side of our being. Fear of pain and run-ning away from our self become an excuse and a protective shield that impede going a further step. Silence and solitude will break the circle that keeps peo-ple stuck in this withering rut. Once that we find the courage to risk the loss of superficial well-being and face ourselves, a healing process can take place, and release the vital forces that we constrict in the recesses. A spiritual life be-comes possible. Then the real self emerges in all its riches and creativity from within. Our basic poverty of spirit and incapability of being and doing will open to an encounter with God. Sl~eeit'ic Formation. God revealing and recognized in prayer will start supplying a deeper awareness of a mission to which he will prepare those whom he calls to his in-timacy and service. He will let the novice know that while he calls him to serve and build the universal Church, he wants him to do so in a very specific manner by being the universal Church to migrants. Consequently God is going to renew the call he gave to our founder presenting once more the field of migration as the portion of the Church to which he will send him to har-vest the flock that needs to be gathered and tended. This. is going to be his mission and his name in the Body of Christ (I Co 12:12-26). At this point the novice is ready and willing to receive more formal input about the specific vo-cation and the specific religious family which he is about to enter. The biography of the founder and his writings will provide a model of the call and how to respond to it. The priestly and episcopal ministry of Bishop John Baptist Scalabrini, a man of great union with God, was consequently a man of great dedication and compassion; his work to establish the congrega-tion', his apostolic ideas, his ecclesial openness, his hatred for compromises, his charity that knew no limits, his love for the Church and loyalty to the pope, were to become the prime inspiration and rule in the lives of his fol-lowers. The unfolding of salvation history is mediated through the free response of individual persons (Adam, Abraham, Moses, Mary.) whom God chose as representatives of the whole people and instruments of his blessings. Even in the present time the Church is thus enriched with new charisms by the same Spirit. John Baptist Scalabrini is one of those "whom the Lord calls to be the unique and fitting instruments of his deep, mysterious and providential plans in the world" (G. Toniolo). During his pastoral visits to his diocese he was met with the tragic reality that follows upon migration. By the thousands, his people, because of extreme poverty and a time of political turmoil, were forced to leave their homes and land if they wanted to survive and have a bet-ter future for themselves and for their families. The pain of separation was not the hardest. From the moment they left their towns and villages, their Novitiate Formation / 811 journey was a nightmare, not only given the conditions of the day and their inexperience, but mostly because they were without protection, becoming the easy victims of agents of immigration, lodging owners and travel companies. The crossing of the ocean itself very often became a bad adventure. The new land, once reached, became very soon much less than the place they were foreseeing in their dreams. They found, all too often: --inhuman working conditions --unscrupulous bosses --abominable living conditions --discrimination, loneliness --abandonment by the government of their own country Even when their financial situation was more adequate, their isolation, caused by their ignorance of the language, lack of education, the difficulty of adjusting to different customs and mentality, all these would produce a profound and shocking disorientation. What primarily touched the sensitivity of Bishop Scalabrini was the al-most absolute absence of the Church at the side of the immigrants. He knew that this was hurting them the most. Some even let him know directly. "Tell our Bishop that we are always mindful of his counsels, tell him to pray for us and to send us a priest, because here we live and die like animals. !" (Scalabrini, L'Emigrazione Italiana in America, Piacenze 1887). "That mes-sage," reflected Scalabrini, "from my faraway children struck me as a re-buke." It found a response in his heart: "Faced with this lamentable situa-tion . . . I confess that I blush with shame, I feel humiliated, as a priest and as an Italian, and I ask myself again: What can be done to help them?" (ibid.) His plan of action, and his dreams, were as wide as his vision of faith. He devised a society, the Saint Raphael Society, composed of lay people who would take care mostly of the social and material welfare of the migrants. They were to assist them at the ports of departure and arrival. His mission-aries would assist the migrants not only religiously but also by founding schools and other centers of education and culture. Once this assistance would be established, he saw a new society being born. Emigration, for him, was not to be the mere flux of indigent working forces to more affluent countries to be absorbed in them, but an exchange of cultures to form a new civilization made rich by the best that the world could offer. He saw the world being united by ties of friendship. He also envisioned a missionary expansion of the Catholic faith, given the reality that most of the well-to-do countries were Protestant. It is a fact that national affinity was one of the driving forces that was moving him to action. However, especially after having visited his first 812 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/6 missions in the United States and Brazil, his vision took the dimension of the universal Church. Besides having accepted a Polish priest to be sent to assist the Polish community in Boston, he began negotiations with the Holy See to start a new Roman Congregation (Congregatio Pro Emigratis Catholicis) and he wrote the draft of the document that would establish it. In the history of our congregation, the novice sees how the action and providence of God has worked in the concrete through the cooperation--and even the weakness--of its members. Both the glorious pages and the dark ones will equally show that our work is the work of God, that he and he alone is the bestower of the good gifts. He had led us through a period of purification and confusion to a clarification of his will in our regard. The present history of our religious family studied under the light of faith should reveal the same traits in its constant effort for continuation, renewal and purification. The place where we find the plan of God for us today is our Constitu-tions. The novice will study and interiorize them with veneration and humil-ity. They contain the spirit of the founder made concrete, and translated into the language of our time to fit our present situation. The constitutions be-come the ~erm of comparison, renewal and challenge for each member of the congregation. From what has been said above, it follows that right at the core and source of our vocation and consecration there exists a tension between two poles. God calls each one to himself, with the absolute exclusivity of any oth-er creature. However he calls to service and witness. The call itself is basically bifocused. Because love of God is genuine only when it becomes love of neighbor, and love of neighbor is charity only if it is love of God, we will have to be balanced between contemplation, and the apostolate, solitude, and being with people, God-centeredness, and people-centeredness, being in the world, yet not of the world. Any attempt to simplify and resolve these tensions destroys the uniqueness of the divine call and makes the person a pure social activist, or a sterile misanthrope. Since the beginning of the process of formation, the novices have to be made aware of, and begin to realize in their lives a balance between the two poles of tension. One feeds the other, influences the other, and makes the other effective. Any apt way to practice this difficult exercise is to expose the novice to the genuine apostolate of the congregation. The purpose is not to learn the ropes or to acquire professional skills but precisely to test oneself on how to do God's work. The exercise of the apostolate does not depend on personal resources but on the grace of God and discovering how to pray, not as a solitary exercise, but in order to continue and carry out the work of crea-tion and redemption. Evangelical Life. Our founder, at the time of establishing the character and distinctive traits of our community, wanted us to become a full-fledged religious congregation. However it does not seem that he handed down to us Novitiate Formation / 813 religious life as some standardized form. Rather, looking at the apostolate, he understood that to perform it there was only one way possible: the Gospel. We understand it more clearly today when we identify religious life as a call to discipleship. Bishop Scalabrini, for his part, never found a better qualifi-cation for his missionaries than to call them "apostles" in his letters and in his conferences. He understood chastity as a condition that made the priest totally available in his ministry to his people, because he has dedicated himself to God with an undivided heart. So great was his conviction on this point that he hardly mentioned chastity in his writings to the missionaries. It was an in-dispensable, undiscussed principle. Most of all, the genuine charism of chastity was eminently present in his own heart. His soul bears the fruits of his life-bearing love. As a young priest he wanted to become a missionary to India. He was sensitive and available to the needs of every sort of people: deaf-mutes, rice pickers, those stricken by famine and cholera. Most of all his fre~edom and wholeness were witnessed by his episcopal ministry: the Chris-tian love he showed his people up to the summons to provide for migrants. Being himself poor and detached from possessions to the point of sacrific-ing readily what could be considered necessary to his position, and even what was most significant and dear to him, he saw poverty as a basic condition for the efficacy of a ministry among migrants. Unless the missionary were de-tached from riches, he could hardly dedicate himself to his ministry, and he could hardly preach among the poor about the poor Christ. One of the main traits of Scalabrini's life was his obedience and loyalty to the pope and to the Church. The practice of this virtue caused him the most bitter sufferings during his life. However he professed that, without intimate union with the Church, there was no way to carry oiat the will of God that is the plan of salvation. To this purpose his writings to his missionary excur-sions contain numerous exhortations to obedience, obedience to Bishops as heads of the local Church. Evangelical virtues. From his biography we learn that, besides these three virtues and vows, his union with God made the bishop rich in evangelical qualities that made of him a true follower of Christ: humility, prudence, meekness, availability, compassion, tender love, loyal friendship, firmness, courage, sacrifice, patience, zeal for the house and honor of God, self-sur-render, love for beauty, peace. Most of all he was ready to lay down. his life for his people. In fact it is known that it was because of his strenuous work in his diocese and through the visits he paid to his missionaries and migrants to America that his life was considerably shortened. Community living. In the writings of our founder to his missionaries he stressed the point of community life as a necessity. He saw it flowing from the call to unity with Christ and the Church that makes every apostolate pos-sible. He saw in it the means to provide the mutual encouragement and sup-port that the hardships and the dedication to. the apostolate would require. I~14 / Review for Religious, l/olume 38, 1979/6 Our evangelical life. When the Lord calls a person to perform a mission, he measures his gifts and charisms to the same mission. Those who are called to continue in Christ the work of salvation are called to a life of identification with Christ, to reproduce his life and ministry as we find it in the Gospel. We saw this happening in the call of our founder who was reading the quality of life-style for himself and his missionaries into the plan of salvation for that particular portion of the Church in which he was called to be active. Our way of reproducing the evangelical life is determined by our mission and dedica-tion to migrants. As we have a special charism of service, so we have a special charism of witness to the life of Christ. Chastity. Our dedication to God with undivided heart in chastity opens our lives to love and to service making it possible for us to leave our family, friends and even our land in order to be completely available at all times. In this condition, we are free to love and to give ourselves to those whom we are called to serve. Our dedication to them. in the Lord will be radical enough for us to dare to spend all our life and energy in serving them. Our love is a free gift, selfless and self-sacrificing. We discover the beauty that is in every per-son. Our Christ-like love will blossom in friendship which is one of the best gifts God grants to a person. Our friendship will not be the satisfying of a craving, the filling of a gap inside our heart, but an overflow of grace from the abundance:of God's love for us. However the novice will learn, even from experience, that his call invites him to purify his heart, at all times, of every human attachment, and to put his trust in the Lord alone: "Cursed the man who trusts in human beings, who seeks his strength in the flesh, whose heart turns away from the Lord" (Jr 17:5). Poverty. The poverty that we profess is a sign and a means to achieve that poverty of spirit that is our human powerlessness and weakness of creatures before the Lord. It makes humility and truth the necessary starting point to recognize the absolute power of God in our life, and to make us docile instru-ments in his hands. When we are poor in spirit we recognize that everything that we are and have is a gift of God, not to be grasped at, but to'build the Church with. The idea that God is the "owner" of everything will also teach us to share among all the children of God. By contrast, we understand that human sinfulness tends strongly to appropriate jealously the gifts of God and use them as a weapon of division and exclusion. Even higher gifts like educa-tion and culture become instruments of oppression and division. The introduction of the novice to poverty will start from the appreciation of material thihgs, their purposes and value, in order to lead him to see all things as gifts, discovering their native tendency to lead back to their creator and giver. Learning the difference between grateful use and possession, he will relish everything with gratefulness. This exercise will soon reveal to him how easy it is to become attached and to accumulate; this difficulty will open him to the idea of necessary renunciation, purification, self-examination. .Novitiate Formation / 815 Poverty is not to become a game or a reason for a more subtle buildup of pride and superiority, but a means of liberation and fraternity. A real appre-ciation of poverty will be shown in the simplicity of life-style. Our call to serve the migrants, to welcome the stranger, requires a deep faith in the na-tive dignity of man even when he is deprived of goods and education. The novice will be ready to dispossess himself of all the prejudices and false priv-ileges that accompany his own culture. To become migrant with the migrants means to participate in their struggles, appreciate the true values of their cul-ture from the depth of one's heart and share their homelessness and rejec-tion. Obedience. In his prayer, the novice will be drawn to know and to value the will of God as the only lead in his life, the will of God that is to bring ev-eryone to salvation in Christ. The life of union that he is called to realize will enkindle in him the strong desire to conform himself deeply to this will of God. Our community and the Church are both committed to this will of sal-vation that constitute them. He will learn that God speaks and reveals himself to everyone if each would put himself in a humble, listening attitude before him. However God never prescinds from the mystery of his will to bring everything under Christ's headship (Ep l:9-10) so that his plans for an individual is always in harmony with the building of the body. The novice will gradually learn that God speaks also through the Church and the com-munity. As a consequence he will make every effort to keep alive and oper-ative the bond that ties him to the Church and to the community in order to become a living branch (Jn 15). Union with God and the Church should blossom in unity among the members of our community. Not any type of community corresponds to our needs. Our community is found in the Word, and gathered by the Word. Its members feed on prayer that they share, renewing themselves constantly in it. Our community is the center of irradiation for our mission. The quality of life that enlivens our communities is the fraternity in Christ that will show the migrants that Christ was born and is risen through being mindful of one an-other, carrying each other's burdens, encouraging, challenging and correct-ing one another; through exercising our welcome among ourselves we will be able to welcome the stranger. By the lives of our members, our communities should give the same corporate witness that our individual lives are called to give. Besides these three headings, our religious life, as a call to discipleship, covers all the virtues that characterize the life and the teachings of Christ. The Scalabrinian in particular cultivates humility, the fruit of his poverty; availability, his openness to people and cultures that are different; patience with those who are ignorant, understanding and appreciation of diff6rent ways, customs and practices; gentleness, a welcoming spirit, simplicity of life, love and respect for those who are poor and simple, the spirit of sacri-fice, and a readiness to move on when our charism calls for it. Religion Can Be a Bad Trip The Psychology of Evangelization Gillian Straker Dr. Straker's last article, "Psychotheraphy: Its Potential and Limit," appeared in the March, 1979, issue. She is a senior lecturer in the School of Psychology, University of the Witwater-srand; 1 Jan Smuts Ave.; Johannesburg; 2000 Republic of South Africa. n the February 1979 issue of HIS' the~'e appeared an article entitled "Reli-gion Can Be A Bad Trip." The article dealt with the high rate of student dropout from evangelization campaigns. It went far beyond statistics to quote what students had actually felt about their experiences. One of the rea-sons students gave most frequently to explain their negative feelings toward religion was that they had become disillusioned with the very people who had first introduced them to it. The article went on to encourage these "religious casualties" to give it another try. In offering this encouragement the follow-ing suggestions were made: Evaluate: has the Bible itself molded your experience or have you been the product of family, school or other people? Make your own decisions. Grow up. They (whoever they be, false Christians or true--a human authority) have been telling you what to do. Now start deciding for yourself. Don't let your encounter with a weak or sickly Christian (or group) cheat you of finding the Truth that can set you free:. 'An inter-varsity Christian Fellowship magazine. -'Stephen Board, "Religion Can Be a Bad Trip," HIS, Feb., 1979, Vol. 30, No. 5, p. 5. 816 Religion Can Be a Bad Trip: The Psychology of Evangelization / ~117' At one level these admonitions seemed to make sense. In essence they di-rect the individual back to examining his relationship with God which is the obvious source of true spirituality. Further, they point out that if one turns away from God one cannot blame others; one has to assume responsibility for one's own actions. At another level it struck me as sad that these admonitions were necessary at all. The advice given that disillusionment with the representatives of reli-gion should not be generalized to include God, or all his representatives for that matter, is sound. However, the painful question that is left unanswered is why the level of disillusionment among erstwhile converts is so high. To search for an answer to this question would seem to be imperative. As Christians, we acknowledge that successful evangelization has its source in God, but we also a_ccept that conversion can be and often is medi-ated through human means. In this regard if the reports of the "religious casualties" are to be taken seriously, it would seem that we who are supposed to be mediators are failing, at least partially, in our roles. Furthermore, the indications are that we are failing, not because we make no impact, but be-cause having made an impact, we do not follow it up in a meaningful way. It is important to question the reasons for this. Naturally there are practical considerations to be taken into account. It would be very time-consuming to follow up every individual who merely indi-cated that he had been reached in some way. This perhaps could be used validly to excuse some degree of the neglect of which we stand accused. How-ever, perhaps the major factor involved in our failure to follow up individ-uals whom we have invited to respond to God rests rather on an oversight on our part regarding the process that is involved in conversion. An invitation to conversion is, of course, an invitation to something that has ultimate value and lasting meaning. It is on this that we usually focus, and, in so doing, we may often see little need to give ongoing support to a person to whom we have offered such a splendid gift. However, by focusing on this end point we may well have lost sight of the whole process that is involved in conversion. Conversion is a process not an event, and therefore evangelization itself should also be conceptualized in terms of process and not event. Doubtless most people involved in evangelization do know this. However, it is easy, in one's enthusiasm to impart the good news or to get others to see one's point of view, to lose sight of the fact. There might well be point, then, to restate some of the known facti~al and experiential aspects of the process of conversion. Carolyn Osiek, R.S.C.J., writing'about what must be the most famous of all conversion experiences, that of St. Paul, draws attention to several issues prominent in the process of conversion.3 One such important issue is that 'Osiek, C., "The First Week of the Spiritual Exercises and the Conversion of St. Paul," RfR, Sept., 1977, Vol. 36, No. 5. 818 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/6 Paul's transformation did not happen overnight. She points out that Paul himself spoke of a lapse of three years before he began to preach Christ (Ga 1 : 18). Thus Osiek emphasizes one essential element of the conversion experi-ence: it takes a long time. This is a vital fact to remember. Clearly, then, evangelization is not successfully completed when the indi-vidual first repents, requests baptism or initiation into the Church, or indi-cates by some other means that his heart has been touched. Rather this should be regarded as only the starting point. Thus, if evangelization is to be meaningfully completed or brought to full fruition in regard to. this indi-vidual, the need for ongoing support is clear. This is especially true if the evangelization process has netted people who are particularly vulnerable. Eric Hoffer, in his book, The True Believer,4 points out that people who have weak egos or are under stress to begin with are often those most likely to respond to high-pressure political or religious movements. These people, in their search for answers, are usually extremely willing to believe authorized "representa.tives" of the faith. They are keen to join any group which holds out hope of providing answei's to the pressing problems of their lives. This fact, viz., that they have embarked on a religious excursion more out of a need for answers or for a group affiliation than out of a true understanding or personal calling, does not make the evangelizer less responsible for them.Rather, it makes his responsibility even greater, since their very vulnerability and need make him even more responsible by virtue of his original choice to hold out to them the hope of a solution to their problems. The evangelist cannot withdraw simply because his converts did not turn out to be the kind of persons he hoped them to be. Withdrawal would indicate a greater concern with getting the convert to conform to the evangelist's expectations rather than with helping him, within his own limits, to respond freely to God. The difficulties in helping another respond to God without having one's own ego invested in the process are manifold. A close look at church history amply illustrates the extent to which power motives can underpin the determination to evangelize others. Of course, not all individuals who respond to evangelization campaigns do so out of some affiliation need or some need for instant answers. There are individuals for whom evangelization merely clears the path, so that God's call can be more deeply and clearly felt. In instances such as these, where the individual is primarily responding to a personal call from God, it is much more likely that he will survive with or without human support. In fact, he may ultimately be stronger for not having received such support. This, how-ever, should never be used as an excuse for not offering it. The emotional and psychological cost involved in sustaining a conversion experience is not to be underestimated. Osiek, in her articleon Paul makes this explicit. She. points out that Luke's image of blindness approximates in ~Ciled in HIS, op. oil. Religion Can Be a Bad Trip: The Psychology of Evangelization / 1~19 physical terms what must have been Paul's psychic state for some time. She discusses the fact that he must have experienced "confusion, loss, fear, inner chaos, spiritual paralysis, the terrifying feeling that his whole world was com-ing apart. "~. When one considers this description and realizes that it is part and parcel of the process which one is inviting another to undergo, the enormous re-sponsibility involved in extending such an invitation becomes self-evident. That conversion involves psychic trauma is further indicated by the psy-chologist, William James, in his book The Varieties of Religious Experience.6 James, in discussing the psychological component in conversion, acknowl-edges that positive emotions, like love and security, may be involved. But he also points out that the explosive nature of these emotions, experienced as in-tensely as they are in conversion, seldom leave psychic structures as they had been. A fundamental reorientation of psychic structures is a common occur-rence attendant on conversion. That the reorientation of psychic structures can be an excruciatingly painful experience has long been recognized by psychotherapists, who, like evangelists, also work for personal change, albeit of a different nature. In recogniton of the pain involved in change, psychoanalytically oriented psychotherapists prepare to commit themselves to patients they take into therapy for an average length of three-to-five years. During this time the patient is very often seen, at the very least, once a week. This is not meant tO imply that evangelists should be prepared to do the same thing. It is fully recognized that while therapy has only human resources to rely on, conversion relies on God and has its ultimate source in him. How-ever, the point being made is that on a psychological level, therapists recog-nize that the shedding of one's old self is always a painful process, even when one is moving toward a higher level of integration and functioning. If this is the case when one in therapy is changing in a fairly limited way, how much more so should it be true in the case of a person undergoing a radical trans-formation, such as is demanded by conversion. St. John of the Cross was well aware of what was involved, and of the delicacy with which such situations need to be handled. Although the follow-ing was written in the context of spiritual direction and the progressive conversion involved in contemplative prayer, it has great relevance to the present discussion. St. Johrl of the Cross wrote as follows:7 The affairs of God must be handled with great tact and open eyes, especially in so vital and sublime a matter as is that of these souls, where there is at stake almost an infinite ~Osiek, C., op. cir., p. 63. ~James, W., The Varieties of Religious Experience (Fontana Library: Glasgow., 1960L 'St. John of the Cross, Living ~-'lanle of Love in Kavanaugh, K., Rodriguez, D. (trs.). The Collected Works of St. John of the Cross ( W~ishingt on, 1973). 820 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/6 gain in being right and almost an infinite loss in being wrong. This statement eloquently summarizes the whole point of this article. If the affairs of God were handled with the great tact and open eyes suggested by John, there would certainly be fewer religious casualties and less need for articles such as that in HIS. As it is impossible to add to St. John's statement in this matter, perhaps this article should conclude on that note. However, having stressed human responsibility to the full, lest we should err at the other extreme and see the conversion of another as being wholly within our own power, perhaps it would be better to conclude by reacknowledging that, in all things, "the overflowing power comes from God and not from us" (2 Co 4:7). Now Available As A Reprint Psychosexual Maturity in Celibate Development b\' Philip D. Cristantiello Price: S.60 per copy. plus postage. Address' Review for Religious Room 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 Religious Formation and Social Justice Stephen Tutas, S.M. Very Rev. Father Tutas is Superior General of the Society of Mary (Marianists), an office which he has held since 1971. Since 1975, he has also been President of the USG Commission Justice and Peace. He resides at the Curia Generalizia Marianisti; Via Latina 22; 00179 Rome, Italy. We have all witnessed the steady development of the movement to pro-mote justice and peace. For myself, shortly after I came to Rome in 1971, one of the first meetings I attended was organized by the Pontifical Commis-sion Justice and Peace at which the Presidents of the Unions of Superiors General, Father Pedro Arrupe and Sister Mary Linscott, asked the Superiors General to urge their religious to follow up the 1971 Synod document on Justice in the World by active participation in the various justice and peace groups that were being organized on national and diocesan levels. We know that since then religious men and women have distinguished themselves not only by their invaluable collaboration with the local Church but also by their own initiatives and expressions of religious leadership in this field. We know, too, that not all these initiatives were always looked on favorably by others, both within the communities and beyond. But we als6 know that there was a gradual purification of motives and clarification of strategies leading to an ever increasing official endorsement of these movements both by the religious communities in their general chapters and also by the local ordinaries and national conferences of bishops. Today we find ourselves in the mainstream of one of the most important movements in the history of the Church. The promotion of justice is now seen to be an integral part of evangelization and has even been called by some a constitutive element of contemporary religious life, If ever it were, the pro-motion of justice is simply no longer an option for religious--as though it 821 822 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/6 were merely an added feature to the preaching of the gospel. We now see that the promotion of justice is part of the Good News we are called to announce to the world today. We are living in an important period in the history of the Church, one in which the commitment of religious takes on special significance in an-nouncing the gospel to the world in a way that touches the lives of all men and women. The message that we bring to the world is not new, but we are finding a new way to respond to the needs of the world. The whole movement of justice and peace is simply the consequence of the truth that the Church is in the world, and is concerned about the total life of all men and women. In this article I want to comment on some trends that refer especially to this comparatively new dimension of religious formation, the preparation of religious for a greater commitment to social justice: I. Formation is a lifelong process. 2. Prayerful reflection on the gospel inspires social action. 3. Formation at all levels implies serious and systematic study. 4. Reflection on one's personal experience of justice and injustice neces-sarily complements the study of the social doctrine of the Church. 5. The integration of prayer, study and discernment leads to action. 6. Formation prepares for collaboration with others. Formation is a Lifelong Process There was a time when we identified the term "formation" with "initi-ation." Today we understand that the quality that needs to be developed in our life is the capacity for continued growth. Everyone has a built-in tendency to stop growing. Part of our work with others is to assure the conditions for continued growth and to stimulate the desire for this. The goal of a good formation program is not a finalized position but openness to change. The application of this trend to the issue of social justice is evident. We are all learning. Here, more than anywhere else, initial formation is a preparation for ongoing formation. The most important skill to be acquired is learning how to continue learning and to develop that wonderful capacity for continued growth in our lives. Prayerful Reflection on the Gospel Inspires Social Action The most controversial element in the promotion of justice is the discern-ment of motive. Many men and women, including religious, are committed to justice primarily as a humanitarian reaction to injustice. This is certainly a good motive, but Christians should find their fundamental motive in the gospel itself. It is this quality of our motivation, this faith dimension, that must distinquish our commitment to justice. We must never lose sight of the fac~ that the promotion of the integral development of man is related to Religious Formation and Social Justice / 823 evangelization. The ultimate goal of all our activity in building one world must be the explicit proclamation of Jesus Christ. What this means is that we must become more and more men and women of prayer. It is in our personal union with God that we sense the call to go to others with the message of Good News and with a helping hand. Nor must we take refuge in a kind of prayer that is divorced from action simply because the challenge is overwhelming. An important biblical orientation is given to us in the narrative of the multiplication of loaves. The disciples felt that their resources were ridiculously limited in the face of the great need of the people, but Jesus simply asked them to begin and to do what they could. The miracle of multiplication followed upon this act of courageous good will and unquestioning faith. In our programs of formation we must continually refer to faith as the motive for justice and show how this faith is translated into action. Formation at All Levels Implies Serious and Systematic Study Although study is not a new trend in formation, it takes on special mean-ing today when programs of formation are necessarily individualized and geared to the development of personal responsibility. With regard to prepari,ng our religious for a greater commitment to justice, we find that the gospel motive for this is developed further in the documents of the Church. The Catholic social teaching of our time is remarkable. There is "nothing comparable to this in the world today. It is a special gift the Church can offer to all men and women of good will. But we have to study this doctrine. And the habit of serious and systematic study must be inculcated from the very beginning. I do not want to suggest an impossible !ist of documents but I do find the following to be absolutely necessary elements in a basic ,program of formation: 1. Gaudium et Spes 2. Populorum Progressio 3. Evangelii Nuntiandi 4. Redemptor Hominis To these must be added the 1971 Synod document Justice in the World simply because of its timeliness.' To the study of these documents of the Universal Church must be added 'If a textbook presentation is desired, there is in English Monsignor Joseph Gremillion's master-ful study, The Gospel of Peace and Justice, which presents Catholic social teaching since Pope John. Incidentally, Msgr. Gremillion deserves the gratitude of all religious for recognizing the strategic importance of religious communities in the movement to promote justice and peace throughout the world. During his period of service as Secretary of the Pontifical Commission Justice and Peace, Msgr. Gremillion made, through the Unions of Superiors General, special efforts to sensitize religious to the importance of this movement. 824 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/6 the study of the documents of the local Church-- statements by national con-ferences of bishops or by local ordinaries, as well as statements by national conferences of religious men and women. ~ Another source of guidance and inspiration is to be found in the state-ments of the various general chapters. Since i971 the theme of justice and peace has been one of the principal issues acted upon by most general chapters of active religious societies. What is particularly helpful in these statements is the relation of the founding charism to the promotion of justice. In addition to these statements by the Church and by religious in the Church there exists a huge documentation coming from various centers for justice and peace. Articles about social justice are published continually. It is important to develop a certain familiarity with all this and to develop habits of study that will carry over into a life of the most intense activity. There can be no real commitment to social justice without serious and systematic study. Reflection on One's Personal Experience Complements the Study of the Social Doctrine of the Church The conciliar and papal documents of our time concerning social justice are inspiring calls to action--if they are studied in conjunction with each one's personal experience of the reality of which they speak. The most urgent call to a~:tion comes when we reflect on our personal experience of justice and injustice. Contact with the underprivileged necessarily prods us to do something for the betterment of others. Study of the documents themselves, no matter how inspiring we find the message, is not enough. It is very difficult, if not impossible, to develop a genuine social awareness without actual contact with the underprivileged. A feature of some programs of formation is the experience of another cul-ture. Generally this means the experience of the needs of the Church in other parts of the world, as when religious from Europe and North America come into personal contact with the reality of the Church in Latin America and Africa. The experience of the underprivileged prompts us to ask in what way we are responsible for their condition and what we can do about improving the situation. However, this experience of the life of the underprivileged must always include an openness to recognize special values in them that one lacks in his or her own culture. We must learn from each other. If there is an economic gap between the rich and poor nations, there are also values in the peoples of the so-called Third World to which peoples of the First World would do well to aspire. Such reflection on personal experience is related to the discernment of the signs of the times. This is another way of saying that the faith dimension must take precedence over purely humanitarian and sectarian considerations. What is God saying to us through the events of history? This is one of the Religious Formation and Social Justice / 1125 exciting questions that individual religious and religious communities need to ask themselves. One of the most practical elements in programs of social action is this personal and especially communitarian discernment. Personal discernment is related to study and personal reflection and consultation with others. Communitarian discernment goes on from there. It is an act of faith in the active presence of the Spirit among us and a genuine openness to what the Spirit says to us through the community. "Community discernment" is not limited to reflection among ourselves in community, but also includes consultation with the larger community. On the one hand this refers to the province and, ultimately, to the whole Society; on the other hand, it also refers to the local Church and, ultimately, to the universal Church. Action for justice undertaken as a consequence of such discernment .is well-founded. It is to this kind of social action that our formation programs must be directed. The Integration of Prayer, Study and Discernment Leads to Action We now come to the most difficult point in formation, especially in programs of initial formation: how to translate ideas into action. Yet one of the most heartening features of formation today is precisely that it is action-oriented. We are living at a very privileged time in the history of the Church. We have the documents of the Second Vatican Council, and a rich collection of statements flowing from the Council. We do not lack clear and challenging orientations. And our emphasis on prayer, reflection and personal experience gives us an understanding both of the world around us and also of our mission as religious, so that we hear clearly the call to action. I believe the key element needed to respond well to this call to translate ideas into action is the gift of sharing in the zeal of our founders. I say this because I was struck very much by a remark recently made in one of the meetings of the superiors general in Rome, that our founders were far more prophetic than their successors. Our founders were men and women of vision, gifted to discern the signs of the times in their day and to respond to the needs of the Church in very specific and important ways. It seems to me that today we are giving a renewed value to the specific charisms of religious communities. This involves not only looking back to our roots but also includes the exciting process of discerning what the application of our charism means in our day. Moreover, in international religious communities, the charism of the foundation is continually being enriched as it is made incarnate in different cultures, ' thus enabling us to share new dimensions of our charism throughout the community. Having said this, however, the question remains: "How do we translate ideas into action? It is comparatively easy to instruct others in what must be done but far more difficult to suggest ways and means of how to do it. Of course opportunities for direct action are necessarily limited during the periods of formation, whether this be seen as initial or ongoing, The chal- 896 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/6 lenge is all the greater with regard to the issue of social justice. There is probably no dimension of formation that must be as action-oriented, in order to be effective, as formation for social justice. Therefore, difficult as it is, we must attempt to suggest how to promote the integral development of a man rather than content ourselves with simply calling for some kind of commitment to human development and letting it go at that. The knowledge of theory must be applied to reality. And for this, there must be a real commitment of time, creativity and energy. There is still another qualification that must be noted. In our commitment to social justice we must always be conscious of our identity as religious. We must find our way, as religious, of committing ourselves to the promotion of justice. At one time in the history of the movement of justice and peace it was believed that the key agents in this movement were the laity. In one sense, the key agents are the laity, but certainly not to the exclusion of priests and religious men and women. In fact, there is a specific role of religious leadership and witness that can be provided only by priests and religious. It is on this specific role that we must concentrate our formation of religious for social justice~ Another mark I want to make about action for justice is the importance of taking a positive approach rather than a negative one. Most calls for social action seem to be phrased in terms of protests. Such reactions to injustice are undoubtedly necessary, but it is far more important to take the initiative, to act for social justice rather than simply react against cases of injustice. This promotion of justice is necessarily determined by the distinctive situation of each culture. But some general examples of social action are the following~. --The use of the material resources of the community for the integral development of men and women. --The updating of guidelines for general and province investments, and decisions taken in consequence of these guidelines. --The use of investments to influence action for the integral development of all men. A religious society, especially in collaboration with others, can, for example, influence justice through the use of rights at-tached to shares in company stocks. --Giving witness of a simplicity of life-style. --Service of the underprivileged in general, and in the Third World in particular, keeping in mind the importance of helping people to help themselves rather than by means of any form of a patronizing "doing for others." --Programs of action-oriented education for justice in our schools and universities. In this regard, it is important to find ways and means of influencing the civic and business worlds to a greater commitment to social justice. Religious Formation and Social Justice / 827 --Participation in programs to help form the social conscience of the laity. At the same time, as we work at those programs which reach beyond the community, we must recognize that, to be authentic and effective, we must also work to promote justice within our own religious communities. As long as someone believes he or she has been treated unjustly there cannot be peace. It is our mission to promote that internal freedom of the human person which permits true openness to God's action in his or her life. To the extent that our religious are really free and open to the action 9f the Spirit, to that extent can they be effective instruments in God's hands for the good of his people. In working to correct unjust structures or practices in our own communities we must be careful not to become aggressive or belligerent ourselves. Many of these injustices come about simply because there is a lack of awareness. Formation Prepares for Collaboration With Others Although formation is necessarily personalized, calling for the develop-ment of a great sense of personal responsibility, formation today is oriented to the building of community among ourselves and with others in pursuit of a common mission, Our own religious communities must be seen as centers of ongoing formation, and care must be taken to try to make our communities favorable to this continued growth in the life of every religious, Efforts must be made, too, to have the local community have a sharper sense of the larger community to which it belongs, whether of the same religious family extended throughout the world or of the local Church in which the community is inserted. The development of a transnational mentality, and at the same time a more effective insertion in the local Church, are important thrusts in religious life today. And one of the features of "insertion in the local Church" is collaboration with other religious societies in the same area. From the moment of each one's entry into religious life, we must em-phasize the importance of collaboration with others: with the local Church; with other religious societies in the local Church; with other communities of our own society locally, in the Province, and throughout the society; with national and local conferences of religious; with national and diocesan commissions of justice and peace; with other men and women of goodwill. As religious communities, in all that we do, but especially in the promotion of justice and peace, we must strive to work with others rather than establish parallel structures. Conclusion Today's call for social action has profound implications for the Church and for religious life within the Church. The insertion of the Church in the world to meet the real needs of men and women today--their integral development and the integral development of the entire human race--is 828 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/6 part of the Good News we are commissioned to announce. Within our own religious communities, this commitment to social action brings with it one of the most important elements for the radical renewal of religious life. Our commitment to social justice will necessarily stimulate us to greater holiness of life, both individually and as communities. In this question of social justice we must be very patient with one another. There are some religious who are uneasy with the call to social action. Their entire formation and personal experience of the apostolate directed them to a different kind of commitment. The changing of attitudes called for by the Second Vatican Council is not accomplished easily and quickly. While working for the ongoing formation of all our religious we must accept the fact that some will not be able to commit themselves to the promotion of justice in the way that the documents of the Church call for. We must not be aggressive with such religious on this point. But we must he firm in not permitting them to impede the commitment of others who are responding in goodwill to the call of the Church, as is often made specific in general chapter orientations. Not everybody in religious life believes that social action is compatible with religious life; but it is certainly important that everyone in formation believe that this is the case and act accordingly. It is simply a question of recognizing that the commitment to justice is an integral part of religious life today. Annunciation 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 McMillan Street Cincinnati, OH 45206 I Will Be.Who I Am Reflections Culled By M. Geraldine, O.P. Sister Geraldine is a member of the community of Oakford Priory; P.O. Box, Verulan; North Coast; Natal; South Africa. The reflections which follow are writings sent in letters sent at various times by a young doctor working in a very large and busy African hospital. I asked her. permission to publish these, simply because they come from someone--not a religious--who is living in the world, being involved in life, with all its primitive and brutal aspects, and yet remaining gentle, with her inner eye fixed on God--a contemplative in the world. Most of these passages were written over the past two years, during which time she was overworked to a degree beyond comprehension. Her one request in giving her permission was that only her first name be used: "Bobby." I added headings because, in their original form, the pieces did not bear headings, falling rather into the context of letters. Sister Geraldine Me Today This morning It is good to share in the Presence of my Lord. Today, Christ is in the touchables. He is in all that matters 829 830 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/6 --and doesn't matter. He is Lord of even the mediocre. Today, all I have is mediocrity, And the Lord is here--within all. He promised my coming and my going --my feeling and my unfeeling. I will not leave myself today. I will be--who I am, What I am--with Him. He will have--what I am He will love--what I am He will see--what I cannot see, Unable to see--but quiet In the truth--in Him Who is me. Me I wake in the mornings, and life, apart from the need, The great and unfulfilled need, to find silence, Comes like a great abyss of emptiness over me, Conflicts--tightening and exposing. But today--I felt my own fingers And knew that I was apart from them. I no longer felt my fingers as mine-- I was apart--and I will become Believe, hoping--knowing That God and I will grow together. That God will remove himself from my becoming And become one with my being. And all is more than knowing--this is all! The end of why I am. He has returnedwand I live again A tiny flame of love burns-- And I will be of God. Annunciation Salutation breaks the silence. Words, like rain, drop softly Yet thunder in her ears--as Mary I Will Be-- Who I A m: Reflections Culled By / ~3~ Mother--bends to gather words Which fell on desert earth On drought and burnt horizons. And Mary--Mary speaks her word, And waters flow as streams Through valleys--leveledbhills--brought low. "Do unto me" is a gentle breeze Which sweeps Him into life--through Mary. Contemplation Placid wilderness, You are the cold place--the quiet place and I, shivering in the coldness of your night, I do not mind you. For you have beauty in your wildness And comfort in your darkness And I hold you to me As a singer holds her song Awaiting her final note. Contemplation And I still wait upon His word Though He has laid waste my fields And cast me beyond my knowledge. He has dazzled me in splendor, He has made me sick with love. And though His ways are hard, And tears in solitude have blinded and drenched my roots I wait--humbled--in patience For He calls me by my name And His gracious ways Are beyond my knowledge. Autumn Snow is falling today--not crystals Multi-fashioned of cosmic force-- But life-sprung, from seed and fruit. Our early autumn snow--crisp and dry 839 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/6 Gentle leaves, slipping on windgusts In their own wafting way Assimilate cold-country snow. Nature Wind, I have rushed like you and blown before me fallen leaves. Clouds, I have touched like you The tips of hills--scudded mountains. Today a man will trample you, Grass, And I, too, will feel your pain. Winter fare It is raining today! Deep inside, water is falling-- And a heart, drenched From constant deluge, ' Hopes for dryness--desert warmth It is raining today, in my heart. Faith To sing relentlessly all my day-- Whether hearing the song, or merely listening for it-- I will sing, I believe-- In heart open, breaking forth-- My song will herald the quiet and the splendor Of the Lord I sing to, Whose music I step to A sound of gentle movement--a manner of being A manner of becoming--movement, Life and splendor. Bobby Progress in Centering Prayer M. Basil Pennington, O.C.S.O. Father Pennington's last article, "The Vocation of the 'Vocation Father,' " appeared in the May, 1979, issue. He continues to reside in St. Joseph's Abbey, Spencer, MA 01562. ~ would like to share with you three reactions to Centering Prayer. Recently I led a workshop on Centering Prayer for the Eastern Asso-ciation of Seminary Spiritual Directors. After an initial presentation, one of the spiritual directors asked; "Is this the kind of prayer we should move our directees toward, with the idea that, when they get there, they will stay there?" On another occasion a young religious was shirring with me his experience in prayer. After his first few experiences of transcending, he said, he asked himself: "Is this a!l there is to it?" Finally, a priest who had been centering regularly for several years wrote to me from Rome shortly after his election as superior general of his congre-gation: "As for the prayer, all I can say is that when I miss it, I miss it." Itseems to me that that spiritual director, who was not yet well acquaint-ed with or practiced in experiential prayer, was still approaching prayer as a project. This is most common. In our accomplishment-orientated society we tend to approach everything as a project--something to be done, accom-plished. There is a determined, measurable, finished'product in view. In prayer the program or project is lined up according to some traditional teach-ing. If a more ancient teaching, we might think in terms of lectio, meditatio, oratio, contemplatio--receiving the Word of faith through listening or read-ing, internalizing it by a faith-response in discursive or imaginative medita-tion, responding to it in living, affective power, and finally enjoying it in 833 834 / Review for Religious, Volume38, 1979/6 ¯ quiet contemplation. We may be sophisticated enough to know that no one of these four will ordinarily occur as a pure state or way of prayer. There will usually be an admixture. As, for example, in Centering Prayer: we begin with a moment of recall, bringing forth from our memory the Word of Faith. Then we briefly reflect on it and respond to the reality it bespeaks. We then move to the center, the Presence, in affective love. And finally, there abide in contemplation. The four stages are present, and one predominates: contem-plation. It is this latter that is seen as the "goal" when prayer is conceived as a project; we want to get to the stage where contemplation predominates. Or, to express this using another, perhaps more common terminology: our aim is conceived as getting through the purgative and illuminative stages to the unitive, where we can, in our prayer--and more and more, outside of it also --retain a sense of our oneness with God, abide in his presence, touch and enjoy him in all persons and things. Certainly this is a state we do want to enjoy in our lives. And we are real-istic in thinking that it is something that will in its full realization come about gradually, something that we can foster by our spiritual practices and espe-cially by serious, prayer. But the fallacy I detect here is the tendency to identify particular expe-riences with certain stages of growth, and in particular to identify a certain kind of prayer, a contemplative type of prayer such as Centering Prayer, with a certain advanced stage of progress, and to make a project of its,attainment. All Christian prayer does imply a certain turning from self to God, some acceptan,~ce, h6wever implicit, of his personal revelation o~f himself, and a re-sponse to that'. This, therefore, does imply some "progress."~But apart from this basic conversion or turning to God with mind and ~eart, I do not think we can bind any form of prayer to a particular stage of progress in the Chris-tian or godly life. William of Saint Thierry, one of the great spiritual fathers of the twelfth century; and of all time, wrote a beautiful little treatise, On the Nature and Dignity of Love. In it he depicts the growth of the Christiafi, using as his analogue man's natural growth from infancy through childhood, youth, and maturity° to the wisdom of old age. At the conclusion of his very~rich and beautiful description, which includes some deeply insightful and loving re. flections on our Lord Jesus Christ, William says: It must be remembered, .however, that the stages of love [we can substitute the word prayer, in each case, as it is but an expression~of love] are not like the rungs of a ladder. The soul does not leave,the lesser love behind it as it moves onward to the more perfecL All the degrees of love~work together as one, and for this reason another soul's experi-ence of the scale of love may well follow an order which differs from the one 1 have described. ' ~ In .other words, if we want to think in terms of a ladder, then we should Progress in Centering Prayer / 835 see the ladder lying flat on the ground, so that we can be on all the rungs at the same time. Growth in the Christian life is a matter of intensification, of growing toward loving God in Christ with one's whole mind, whole soul and whole strength. At any moment, mind, heart, soul and strength should be at play, each in its own inte.nsity. At a particular time one may be enjoying a deep ex-perience of union with' ,God on one level, thanks to the touch of his grace, while on another level still be strugglingwith quite naked passions. In a word, one might beenjoying a contemplative type of prayer, true prayer, authentic prayer, while still needing and undergoing a process of purgation and purifi-cation in regard to certain deviant tendencies, and a process of growth in understanding in regard to some Of the basic facets of the divine revelation. It is false to relegate contemplative prayer to a marked' state Of Christian perfection or to consider its practitioner as one who "has arrived" there. A contemplative type of prayer is a way of prayer open to anyone who truly seeks God.' And it is the type of 16rayer experieffce that frill ordinarily best help one to make progress in 'the Christian life, to be purified and illumined, and to abide more integrally in union with God in and through all. It is, therefore, not something to be worked toward, a project to I~e undertaken, a goal, but simply a way to b~ entered into, an experience that can be enjoyed --and struggled with--by all who seek GOd'. But this means that the experience of contemplative prayer is open to de-velopment. The initial experien~ce of transcendent union with God is not an ultimate experience. The young religious was right to question,after his first experiences: "Is this all there is to it?" And at the same moment he was shar-ing with me, he.well knew the answer, for he had been faithful to contempla-tive prayer through several years and therefore knew !t was an evolving ex-perience. But it is an experience, and an ,experience that is beyond thought.or feel-ing or emotion. Therefore, we are not really able to capture it in words. It is good; in fact, it is of the substance of our lives. Once we have begun to be really in touch with it; to know it actually, we will say with that superior general, "When I miss it, I miss it." While most of the "official" pray-ers in the Church are celibates, the analogy of married love, it seems to me, can best help towards understanding and appreciating ~the contemplative experience. God himself, in'~the Old Testament, when he wanted to convey to his~peop!e the fullness and intensity of his personal love for them, again and again had recourse to the analogy,of human lovers. We, following perhaps not a few of the Fathers, tend to shy away from taking this portrayal of God's love for us with any literalness and are quick to spiritualize it, to reduce it to mere imagery. But it is precisely its integralness on an experiential level that makes human love such an apt image and ultimately makes it worthy of being, in the New, Testament, elevated to the sacramental order as the sign of Christ's love for us, his Church. 836 / Review for Religious, l~olume 38, 1979/6 The analogy has a good bit to say to us in regard to experiential prayer. Those who use the sex act seeking only gratifying experiences rather than holding it as the most integral way of expressing truly human love find it to be but an experience which quickly plateaus. New techniques, positions, ap-proaches are sought to increase and vary the stimulation, but the long-term result is inevitably frustration, or at best something far short of,. full human satisfaction. So, too, the one who uses methods of meditation or prayer to "have" experiences will soon ask, as did the young religious: "Is this all there is to contemplation?" And soon one will be trying other methods, looking to diverse traditions and teachers. But if one is truly seeking God, if.the use of a method of prayer such as Centering Prayer is undertaken to find a way to express one's love and desire for God in a fuller, more integral, freer way, then the method opens not only to a gratifying experience, but allows the fuller experience gradually, and sometimes quickly, to unfold. Newlyweds would greatly deceive themselves and be much disillusioned if they thought their first bungling attempts at making love were all that sex in marriage could be. Rather, as they attain a greater ease and facility with the bodily ex-pression, it should take its proper role as the vehicle for the fullness of their human and sacramental, grace-enlivened love. Then, free from false and exorbitant expectation, the physical experience will reveal its potential' to be part of an endlessly fuller realization of the union of love and life. So, too, the contemplative experience of God, in :harmony with the whole growth of Christian life which it especially fosters and matures, will daily become a fuller, richer experience. But the qualitative growth of the inexpressible is itself no less inex-pressible. One will only know by the very experience itself and, to some ex-tent, by its overflow into one's life, that this experience is an ever more mean-ingful and fulfilling expression of one's being. As a little boy I used to enjoy, of a summer's evening, to sit on the top step of-the porch and just be there. There was something indescribably good about being there. In the background my grandparents sat, silently, on the porch swing, rarely exchanging a word. I realize now that that something that made this an especially good and memorable experience was the currents of love that flowed between these two whose understanding and communion had matured through m~any decades. And these currents reached ou.t to enfold me. The man or woman whose love of God has matured through years of intimacy is the one whose presence brings enfolding love. We usually call such a person a saint. But the person himself is usually too much in ttie current of love and its outreach to notice anything special going on on the outside. In regard to the inner reality he is apt to say with the Prophet, "My secret is mine. My secret is mine." Many, though, will still be inclined to ask: "As we go on in Centering Prayer, won't we be aware of some progress? Won't we have a greater fa-cility? Won't there be fewer thoughts, greater peace, etc.?" I think in actual Progress in Centering Prayer / 837 fact we say "yes" to such questions. Yet I say that with some hesitancy and fear, for as soon as we begin to approach theprayer with any expectations, in any way seeking something for ourselves, instead of purely and simply seeking God, we undermine the purity of the prayer and thereby impede our" progress. Undoubtedly, as we repeatedly settle:into the prayer, we gain a greater fa-cility to do so. As the prayer grows in meaningfulness for us, a certain eager-ness aids our entry into it. As a greater love compels us to seek the Lord more wholeheartedly, we will more readily let go of lesser concerns so as to turn ourselves to the presence in our depths. Our chosen "word" will grow in its facility to take us to the depths. In fact, at quiet moments when we are initially not thinking of prayer, the word will arise spontaneously, beckoning us to enjoy a moment's repose in the center. With regard to thoughts: Yes, in general we might expect that after a time they will be less.interfering. The basic surface flow of thoughts and images will depend largely on our own particular make-up. Some of us will always be more given to thoughts and feelings than others. But as we grow in love and detachment--two of the many fruits of this prayer--a particular thought will be less apt to get a hold on us and pull us away from the presence at the center. Experience will teach us more and more to ignore the apparent or real inspirations and brilliant ideas. We will know that they are actually usually half-baked, that they will usually emerge again at some free moment when we will have the leisure to evaluate and use them. As for our little friend, the monitor of self-reflection, with the growth of God-centered love and detachment from self and with his simply being ignored he will gradually give up--at least to some extent. As the author of The Cloud of Unknowing assures us: Should some thought go on annoying you, demanding to know what you are doing, answer with this one word alone, if your mind begins to intellectualize over the meaning and connotations of this little word, remind yourself that its value lies' in its simplicity. Do this and I assure you these thoughts will vanish. Why.'? Because you have refused to develop them with arguing (c.7). Increasing peace will let us move through life with less stress, and re-peated soakings in Centering Prayer will release the built-up stresses of the past, so there will be less need of thoughts on that score. So, all in all, we should ordinarily, as time goes on, be freer and freer from thoughts, left more to enjoy uninterruptedly the presence. All of this is apart from an increased activity on the part of God to draw us into a deeper experience of himself through the graces of what some authors have called "passive contemplation." The Lord, of course, is always free to take special intiative and, if he wants, to take us so beyond our own center into himself to the extent that we can only speak of ecstasy. But until he so takes a hand in things there will always be some mental activity. And we should expect recurring difficult periods as he leads us into deeper and deeper freedom through a more thoroughgoing purification. 838 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/6 At every stage the rule remains the same: Whenever we become aware of anything we simply let it go by, gently returning to the center by the use of our prayer word. Becausb the development we are concerned with herb is essentially a ques-tion of experience, it can, to put it simply, be known only by experience. The Fathers, when speaking of this, repeatedly say--and I must admit it sounds at first hearing a bit snobbish: Those who have experienced this know what I am talking about. And those who have not, pray that you may have the experi-ence, and then you will know. I have often told people that if, before I entered thee monastery, anyone had ever given me an idea of the pain and sorrow I would encounter in my years as a monk, 1 would have run fast in the opposite direction, because they could never have conveyed to me the experience of love that I would find. Such experience can be gained only in the living. Having that experience, l have never for a day,'an hour or even for a moment regretted having re-sponded to the Lord's most merciful and gracious invitation. We have to enter into the experience of Centering Prayer and let it reveal itself to us day by day. I entered the monastery and stayed long enough to "taste and see how sweet is the Lord" because I heard and saw the witness of those who were willing to share this way with me. So too, we need to hear the witness and see in the lives of others the fruit of Centering Prayer to induce us to practice it faithfully until itself can reveal to us its own meaning. And we, in turn, need to share.what we receive and let the beauty of the Lord's work in our live~ shine forth so that others will be attracted to begin and persevere in the practice till they, too, know and can share. "Freely have you received, freely give." One can then rightly expect to. make progress in Centering Prayer. But one should not see that progress primarily, or try to evaluate it, by what hap-pens on the level of thought or feelings during the prayer. The reduction of thoughts, the feeling of peace and so forth are truly accidental' and no true norm of what is going on. Above all we need to avoid coming to this prayer with expectations. For expectations involve seeking something for ourselves --seeking in some way ourselves--and this undermines the very essence of this prayer which is essentially a total, pure seeking of God, a total giving over of ourselves to him. Only I~y a repeated abiding in this will we, bit by bit, die to our false selves and live more freely unto God so that we come to know more and more fully the expbrience of being, through a union of love, one with our V~ery God. Sisters and Nurses Joseph H. Fichter, S.J. This article is part of a larger study being prepared in regard to religion and pain, focusing on the hospital personnel who bring the consolations of religion to the sick. Father Fichter, of Loyola University (New Orleans) is presently on sabbatical leave. He is residing at Corby Hall; Univer-sity of Notre Dame; Notre Dame, IN 46556. he occupational role of women has been Changing rapidly in the recent past of American society. Women are given assurances by affirmative-action emPloyers that they will have job opportunities equal to those of males in the work force. Nevertheless there is still the stereotype and the actuality of certain kinds of "women's work" as exemplified in some areas of the helping professions: social work, school teaching and.nursing. Even in these areas, both in the Church and in the larger society, the manggerial positions are.still largely in the hands of males. The statement of Vatican II, that "wpmen claim for themselves an equitywith men before the law and in fact," is still short of achievement.' Our specific quest for the spiritual ,dimensions of health care focuses here on the women who are engaged in the personal service to the sick in Catholic hospitals. Many religious women hold responsible~positi~ons in administra-tion in the hospital system, just as they do in the field of Catholic education. If spirituality is exemplified anywhere in the Catholic hospital system it ought to be found among the women who have dedicated their lives to God in the service of sick and needy people. Historically, there gradually developed groups of Christian women who formed religious communities specifically 'Gaudium et Spes, n. 9.The first papal statement on equal rights of women came from John XXIII in Pacem in Terris (1963), n. 41. 839 840 /Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/6 dedicated to health care. In later years they have been joined by more and more trained and dedicated lay women in the nursing care of people in pain, The Helping Professions Vocational opportunities for women within the American Catholic Church have been in traditional female occupational roles, with the largest number in the Catholic school system. A survey of female religious person-nel, made about two decades ago, showed that 81o70 were teaching, 120707 were in hospital work, and the rest in several forms of social work.2 About nine out of ten of all fulltime teachers in the Catholic school system were female (61 o70 sisters and 28o70 lay women). Teaching is still the Catholic occu-pation that employs the largest number of women, but the proportion of lay women teachers has increased significantly while the number of elementary parochial schools has declined. Women continue to dominate in the Church's institutions of education and social service but numerous factors account for the shift of emphasis indicated in the following table. We have already seen that the number of Catholic hospitals and schools of nursing have dramatically declined. With the lower birthrate, the numbers of orphanages and infant asylums have also gone down. On the other hand, the growing proportion oi~ the elderly in our society has resulted in the establishment of more homes for the aged. Every large diocese in the country has a variety of institutions to carry on the works of mercy, and they hire professional social workers, most of whom are women. These organizations have different labels while covering approx-imately the same~kind of services to the needs of the people~ Most of them had been under the title of Catholic Charities, but are also known as the Department of Christian Service, Family Life Bureau, Program for Refugees and Migrants, and often there are special committees for types of handi-capped persons, the lame, the blind and the deaf. None of these apostoli( ministries could continue to function ~successfully if there were not large numbers of conscientious and trained women available. Table l--Distribution of Establishments in Which Catholic Women Religious Are Employed, 1963 and 1978 1963 1978 Parochial,Elementary Schools 10,322 7,959 Hospitals and Sanatoria 946 728 Schools of Nursing 342 124 Homes for the Aged 357 486 Orphanages and Infant Asylums 258 204 Protective Institutions 134 122 When these diocesan bureaus and committees first began they were 2See Jospeh H. Fichter, Religion as an Occupation (Notre Dame, University of Notre Dame Press, 1961), pp. 145-148. Sisters and Nurses / 841 almost always headed by a clergyman--a monsignor if the post was pres-tigious enough--and may have included one or two professionally trained religious sisters. As the social needs became more apparent and as these insti-tutions increased in size, they employed more and more lay women social workers. The helping professions also grew more demanding for further and more complicated education and training. The criterion for employment began to place almost as much emphasis on the fact that a woman was trained for the work as on the fact that she was of the Catholic faith. The feminist movement has brought forth many legitimate complaints about discriminatory sexism in organized religion, and particularly in the Roman Catholic Church.~ There is, however, one positive aspect that is fre-quently overlooked. It is only within the Catholic Church that large numbers of women, religious sisters, hold important positions in the faculty and ad-ministration of women's colleges. This is true also of the other establishments listed in the above table, where nuns held responsibility for hospitals and orphanages and old folks' homes, and other facilities in Catholic charities. Before the Second Vatican Council there was occupational upward mobility for Catholic women, but it was almost exclusively for the members of relig-ious congregations.' While the sex distribution of the respondents to this study is not meant to reflect the actual proportions of men and women in these Catholic hospitals, we find that almost two-thirds of them (64%) are female. The listing of hos-pitals in the Catholic Directory usually provides the names of the administra= tot and the priest chaplain, and the number of religious sisters and nurses. It does not reveal how many males are employed at the hospital, but simple observation and experience in these hospitals demonstrate that females far outnumber males. The number of women physicians is gradually increasing, but there continues to be a predominance of males in the medical staff of these hospitals. Fewer Women Religious When Cardinal Suenens published his popular book, Nun in the World, in 1963,~ the American religious women were busy about improved profes-sional training and an expanded apostolate. Various options were earnestly discussed and we were reminded that "the hospital apostolate is almost unlimited: contact with patients in apostolic follow-up in their homes; con-tact with the families of patients, often themselves spiritual patients for our ministrations; home visiting of the sick and aged in the parish; organizing ~See Mary Daly, The Church and the Second Sex (New York, Harper and Row, 1968), Chapter I, "The Case Against the Church." 'See Sally Cunneen, Sex: Female; Religion: Catholic (New York, Holi, Rinehart and Winston, 1968), Chapter 7, "Nuns in Evolution. " 'Leon-Josef Cardinal Suenens, Nun in the Worm (Philadelphia, Westminster, 1963). 842 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/6 retreats and recollection-days for different categories of patients, for doc-tors, nurses, personnel; organizing action groups of the same categories ~for training in the apostolate and in their roles in. the Church.''6 It was a time of great aspirations when almost unlimited opportunities for development lay before the American congregations of religious women. In 1966, the year after the,close of the Second Vatican Council the number of religious Sisters reached its,peak, 181;421. By 1978 this number had shrunk to 129,391, and the repercussions of this .shrinkage were felt in all the Church apostolates where the nuns had been making their greatest occupational con-tribution. Fewer young women were entering the novitiates of religious con-gregations to replace those who had died and especially to fill the roles of the large numbers who resigned from the sisterhoods.7 There is no need to dis-cuss here the reasons for this decline in the numbers of vocations among women :religious, a decline:which is apparent also in all Catholic male church professionals: priests, brothers, seminarians. Meanwhile the American Catholic population continued to grow; new dioceses were established and new parishes were opened. Because of the shortage of sisters to staff the elementary and secondary schools many of them had to close down and others had to employ a growing echelon of lay teachers. The lack of religious women to staff and administer Catholic schools of nursing was one of the reasons, why so many of.them went out of existence. Many changes of personnel occurred also in the Catholic hospital system. ~ With the exception of three institutions operated by congregations of religious brothers, all of the hospitals of this study are under the auspices of religious congregations of women. Some of the largest of these hospitals have more than twenty-five nuns on the staff,8 but the average number for all of them is 11.1 religious sisters. In otherwords, the 297 sisters' hospitals of this survey had 3,300 religious women serving the patients in various capacities. The following table reveals their distribution in the several categories of hospital work. ~ ; Table 2--Occupational Distribution of 3,300 Religious Sisters in 297 Catholic Hospitals Number Percent Bedside Nurses 556 16.9 Pastoral Care 657 19.9. Supervisors 905 27~4 Other Positions ~ 1,182 35.8 °Sister,Gertrude Donnelly, The Sister Apostle (Notre Dame, Fides, 1964), p. 21. 'For a sociolological analysis of this phenomenon see Helen Ebaugh, Out of the Cloister (Aus-tin, University of Texas Press, 1977). For an earlier study see Joseph H. Ficter, Religion as an Occupation, Chapter 8, "Giving Up the Vocation." 'For the correct definition of sisters and nun's see W. B. Ryan, New Catholic Encyclopedia, vol. 10, p. 575 for "nun," and vol. 13~ p. 261, for "sister." Sisters and Nurses Most of the religious sisters who took hospital training and became reg-istered nurses say that they had originally intended to exercise their apostolic ministry as bedside nurses. Indeed, when the oldest of these' hospitals was first established practically all of the bedside nursing was done by religious sisters. This was the direction in which their vocation lay, I~ut circumstances decreed otherwise. Over the decades, as the hospitals expanded and the num-ber of patients multiplied, many lay women were trained in nursing while many of the sisters became head nurses and supervisors or moved into admin-istrative positions. At the present time, and among the hospitals answering this survey, almost three out of ten (28~/0) do not have any sisters at all in the role of bedside nursing. A'young lay nurse in a Catholic hospital of over 350 beds told us that she knew of only three bedside nursing sisters out of the 238 nurses in the hos-pital. She felt that the sisters have certain educational ~iiad [9rofessional ad-vantages in belonging to religious congregations, '~They"don't have to pay for their own training and education, and they are able to get bachelor's and master's degrees in nursing. They get to be supervisors on the different floors and wardSof the hospital. The sisters, of course, are the administrators of.th6 hospital.''It is true that the sister nurses answering our questionnaire are twice as likely as the non-sisters to have attained an acad6mic degree. Many of the hospitals conducted by religious congregations of women continue to have a sister as president, chief executive or administrator, but there is a gradually increasing proportion that now employ trained lay per-sons in positions of top management. From the point of view of personal and spiritual contact with sick people, however, the most significant switch for sisters has been away from the immediate beds.ide care of the sick. It is inter-esting that the largest single category of sisters iri Table 2 is made up of women iff"'other'' positions which constitute an interminable listing in the financ( office, the cafeteria, the laundry, the laboratory, and elsewhere in the hospital.9 This does not mean that all of these positions are filled by sisters who-were formerly involved in nursing. As a matter of fact; most of them were trained and educated for non-medical occupations. '~ Non,Sister Nurses As the numbers of religious women decline, and as they move from bed-side nursing to 'Supervisory 'positions and to other hospital functions, their prayerful influence on the patients will be funneled through the nurses work-ing under their direction. Whether or not this will lessen the influenceof the consolations of religion to sick people will probably depend on the extent to which the lay women nurses fulfill the spiritual functions of the Catholic hospital s~,stem. "If a Catholic .health facility is to witness to Christian values ~The Variety of people who deal directly or indirectly with the patient is listed by Beverly Du Gas, Introduction to Patient Care (Philadelphia, Saundcrs, 1977), p. 104. ~144 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/6 today, it must do so through the services rendered and values expressed by its employees in their contacts with patients and fellow staff.'''° At the present time in these Catholic hospitals the vast majority of the nurses are lay women, and almost one-third of them (32°70) are not members of the Catholic Church. For the most part, however, they are Christian believers and have affiliation with various Protestant churches. The compar-isons we make here between the sisters and non-sisters who are nurses do not revolve around their technical and medical skills. The non-sisters are on the average two years younger than the sisters, have been in hospital work for fewer years, and fewer have academic degrees in nursing. We assume, how-ever, that all these nurses have been tested for professional competence and are retained in employment on the basis of experience and proven ability to deal with sick people. The comparative analysis then centers on questions of faith, spirituality, the consolations of religion. One of the puzzling differences between these two categories of nurses is that the lay women appear to have a higher appreciation of the hospital's efforts to bring religion to the patients. When we asked them, "In general, how is spiritual ministry to the sick rated in this hospital?" the lay nurses were much more likely (70°70) than the sister nurses (540/0) to give a high rating. We asked them also to make a general assessment of pastoral care at their hospital," and again the non-sisters were more likely (56°70 to 310/0) than the sisters to say that it is "excellent." Indeed, one-fifth of the sisters assessed it as "only fair." One may speculate that because of their religious training and professed ideals, the sisters have higher expectations of the hospital's spiritual ministry and place greater demands on the people in the pastoral care department. In other words, they are less easily satisfied with the quality of spiritual care than are the non-sisters. It is likely also that they pay closer attention and know more about the actual ministry that is being conducted for the religious benefit of the sick patients. Religious practices are more central to their whole way of life, both personal and professional, and this seems certain to sharpen their awareness of others. The proportional responses were switched when we asked the much more personal question about their own spirituality. When we asked to what extent these hospital nurses considered spiritual ministry to the sick an aspect of their own daily work, a higher percentage of sisters (~87°/0) than of non-sisters (71070) said that they consider it "essential." There was practically the same proportional difference (87°70 to 73070) of agreement to the statement that '°William Kenney and Charles Ceronsky, "Developing Christian Values in a Catholic Health Fa-cility," Hospital Prog~'ess, vol. 55, October, 1974, pp. 32, 36-37. "A similar question asked of patients in a large Catholic hospital in Minnesota elicited responses that differed according to the church affiliation of the patient. See Cashel Weiler, "Patients Evaluate Pastoral Care," Hospital Progress, vol. 56, April, 1975, pp. 34-35, 38. Sisters and Nurses / 845 "you can't be a good health professional unless you have a spiritual perspec-tive on life." We proposed also the statement that "the holistic approach in modern health care has to include spiritual ministration to patients." Here again the sisters were much more likely (8007o) than the non-sisters (57070) to say that they "strongly agree" with this statement. It is clear then that the religious conceptualization of the health care pro-fession is of greater significance to the women religious than it is to the non-sisters. Nevertheless, many of the lay women give the impression of deep spir-itual solicitude. "There is a manner about them; they are comfortable with themselves and this is reflected in the way they are with peers, with patients and families. I mean there is a love there that is radiated to others." These remarks were made by a clinical nurse specialist who has been friend and counselor of many nurses. Both types of nurses say that they pray for God's guidance in the work they do daily with sick people, and this tends to be a relatively brief petition for divine help rather than a formal meditative prayer. Practically all of the sisters, and about seven out of ten of the non-sisters report that they "reg-ularly pray" for their patients, asking God to relieve their pain and anxieties. In approximately the same comparative proportions they also say that they "sometimes pray" with patients. Aside from the pastoral care department, which now also includes women, the hospital nurses constitute the main instrument for bringing the consolations of religion to people in pain. Summary The helping pr6fessions of personal service in the Catholic Church are largely in the hands of women, mainly in school teaching, secondly in hos-pital work, and also in social work. In the early sixties there was almost unre-strained enthusiasm about the prospects for women's i'eligious orders. In spite of later charges of sexism, the Catholic Church was the only system in the country that provided opportunities of upward mobility for women in schools and colleges, hospitals, and departments of social welfare. The drastic decline of membership in the religious congregations forced some shifts in the occupational distribution of sisters. Many .parochial schools closed down. Hospitals either retrenched their work force, or hired more and more lay women. The hospital sisters themselves tended to move from bedside nursing to supervisory and administrative positions. Their contact with patients, and their opportunities for spiritual consolation, became remote and less personal. The majority of nurses now in Catholic hospitals are lay women, a signif-icant number being non-Catholics. Nevertheless, they hold the pastoral min-istry to the sick in high regard. The majority of them appreciate the need of a spiritual perspective in health care and agree that spiritual ministry to the sick is an integral aspect of their job as nurses. In personal habits of prayer, how-ever, the religious sisters have more training, experience and appreciation. On Monastic Sexuality James M. Deschene, O.S.B. Brother James' last article, "The Mystic and the Monk: Holiness and Wholeness," appeared in the issue~of July, 1979. Since then, Brother's address has changed to: Ecumenical Monks; P.O. Bo~ 462; Oakdale, NY 11769. monk, almost by definition, is an enigmatic figure. Where most men and women seek out solid niches in society, the monk remains on the fringes, a shadow-figure hard to categorize. While most people seek to make names for themselves and build families to succeed them, the monk.stands apart in a curious,.anonymity, "surrounded by an aura of solitude whidh the modern world finds fascinating, though not perhaps entirelE appealing. Yet of all the enigmatic aspects of the monk's life,°perhhps nothing is more odd to the modern mind than his permanent commitment to a celibate life. There must be moments in the frenetic busyness of life when the monk's solitude appeals to many; moments when his quiet anonymity looks like a sweet .relief from the constant checks and appraisals society makes of most men. and women; moments, too, when the odd "outlaw'.~ freedom of the monk appeals to those whom society has neatly imprisoned in its labels and categories. One can imagine much of the monk's life having at times a certain appeal and enviability for many people, But it would be the rare person, in-deed, who found himself envying the celibacy of the monk's life. ~ In our time--l~erhapS more than in any previous age--celibacy is an enigma and a mystery. But it is through this mystery, faithfully lived out from day to day, that the monk is finally led to a fulfillment and a peace the modern world so desperately seeks y~t so rarely finds. Let it be clear at once that all this is not to say that celibacy ought to be 846 On Monastic Sexuality lived by everyone--it should not. Nor that celibacy is the only path to fulfill-ment and peace--it is not. No sensible person would make such claims. Yet celibacy is~meant to bring into the monk's life a.dimension present, though usually obscured, in the life of every man and ~woman. In being faithful to his commitment to the celibate life, the monk provides an essential witness to this dimension and to its value in the life of authentically human men and women. This is the dimension of intimacy in human love. We cannot hope to understand the mystery of celibacy until we have ex-plored the mystery of intimacy in human life. I suspect, in fact, that much of the modern negative view of celibacy has arisen out of a failure to see and appreciate this deep bond between celibacy and intimacy. Much negative feel-ing- sad to say--must also be attributed to the failure of many celibate reli-gious either to be genuinely celibate or, more commonly, to live celibate lives which radiate rich and deep intimacy. So many celibate men and women have failed tQ generate and radiate the deep affection and luminous warmth that is kindled by genuine intimacy in persons who are not merely unafraid of inti-macy but embrace it joyfully and embody it in their lives. There are few sad-der and more tragic figures in the world than those monks and nuns who, after years in Christ's~,service, have not bloomed with warm human love. These are men and women whose hearts should have blazed like suns with love, yet now lie cold and dead within them. The tragedy is very much theirs, but it is everyone's tragedy too. For it was )ust through these prophetic fig-ures that Christ wanted to work in the world living signs of love. Through them, through their commitment to him, Christ hoped to work miracles of grace, to convince the world that to be human is to be gloriously loving and alive. It was to these figures that the world would come to drink living water; yet too often all the world finds there is a heart of stone. We must pray for such men and women that Christ willprotect them from the despair that daily haunts them. We must do what we can to be loving, warm and intimate human persons ourselves. Celibacy without intimacy is a dead thing. Celibacy without warmth is a deadly thing. Themedieval poet, William Langland, in his i/ision of Piers Plowman tells us that "chastity without charity will be crhained in hell. such a loveless virtue as this shall be fettered in hell.'" To really understand the mystery of celibacy then, we must explore the my~stery of intimate human love. What one discovers almost at once is that intimacy is no merely social or psychological dimension of our person, but one whose roots lie deep in the very ground of our humanness. Intimacy is a real metaphysical dimension of human life. To explore its. landscape is to,.discover whole realms of our human being, heights and depths of which we are often--perhaps sometimes deliberately--unaware. 'William Langland, Piers tire Ploughman (Baltimore: Penguin Book, 1966), p. 37. 848 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/6 It is important to know from the very start that this landscape of intimacy is not entirely or even primarily the "garden of earthly delights" purveyed by some modern psychologists. Visions of false intimacy abound in our time, luring us with promises of fulfillment no genuine intimacy would ever prom-ise to deliver. We must not confuse intimacy with some kind of utopia--a word, it helps to recall, meaning "nowhere." True intimacy will have the richness and complexity of reality about itS' Intimacy is a very real--indeed essential--element of a truly human life. Coming from the Latin intimus, meaning innermost, intimacy refers to the dimension of depth and of inwardness--the contemplativedimension in each of us, or as the ancient Fathers would call it--the heart. Insofar as a man or woman is in exile from this inner dimension of the heart, that person's life is a shallow affair, infertile and rootless. Alienated from the depths within, we cannot 'help but become dry, cold, shriveled crea-tures, thereby turning God's rich creation into a barren desert of death. Exiled from the heart, we become exiles on the earth. Our lives become sterile and meaningless, and intolerable loneliness drives us to search frantically for something--anything--to fill the aching void we feel. Yet so long as we are exiles from our true inner selves, we find no solace or comfort in any other creature. All our socializing, all our frantic sex can do nothing to bring us peace or rest or life. In this desert exile we learn that the things we so desperately seek to fill our emptiness are revealed, once we grasp them, as mirages. Where we saw water and thought our thirst about to be slaked, the cruel desert--raising our hopes only to dash them more brutally--reveals the illusion and offers us only its dry and deadly dust. Thirstier than ever we run about, sure, despite our every disappointment, that our thirst will be ~atisfied, that the desert will be kind. In this wasteland of our modern rootless lives, only a few paths lie open to us. We may go on as always, restlessly seeking, "distracted from distraction by distraction," hoping to outrun the dark, pursuing shadow that would whisper into our ears the meaninglessness of our lives; hoping perversely for death to deliver us :from bur fretful race and give us, if not peace, at least a blessed nothingness. Others of us, not so adept at fleeing dark truths, end this miserable travesty of life with the quick bullet in the brain or the slower suicide of alcohol and drugs. Still others learn to numb themselves, to deaden the fear and anxiety, to assent to their deathful existence and become living corpses devoid of warmth, liveliness, humor or love. Finally, some few learn to stop in their hectic flight, to resist the whispering voices that offer distrac-tion or tempt one to despair. They learn to become still, to halt beneath that harsh sun and send down their roots into the burning sand in search of water. How foolish these last ones must appear to the others! Yet they alone of all our exiled race stand some chance of becoming really grounded and root-ed-- creatures in touch with the vital source of life, the living water that flows On Monastic Sexuality / 849 in the desert's hidden depths. They are, in a word, contemplatives. Or if that seems too re6aote or specialized a term for modern ears, let us call them people for

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