Preliminary Material -- Introduction -- Proskýnesis in Herodotus's Histories -- An Enquiry on Alexander: Apotheosis, Multicultural Empire and Clash of Civilization -- La Dimension Manifestaire du ces. image Identitaire du Groupe -- Proskýnesis at the Centre of the Clash of Civilizations -- Proskýnesis in the Euroasiatic Continent: Unity and Diversity -- Conclusion -- Dialogue between the Old Oligarch and the Neo-illuminist -- A Short Glossary of the Main Terms and the Main Characters -- Bibliography -- Index of Names.
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In 1997, Eric Reinders was awarded a doctorate on the topic of "Buddhist Rituals of Obeisance and the Contestation of the Monk's Body in Medieval China." Any regret that might be felt in the decidedly restricted field of Anglophone studies of Buddhist China at the subsequent loss of his talents to that area of research must be outweighed by an awareness that he has chosen to move on to open up research in an area hitherto largely untouched by any scholarship at all in any language. For despite the longstanding efforts that have been put into the writing of mission history, the study of the cultural significance of the Anglophone missionary in China is a much more recent phenomenon, even though John King Fairbank pointed out the value of missionary writings in his presidential address to the American Historical Association as long ago as 1968, and now even novelists like Sid Smith (in his 2003 Picador work A House by the River) are beginning to explore the issue of cross-cultural understanding through the Chinese missionary experience.For despite the subtitle, the focus of this study is very much on missionary reactions to their physical translocation to China during the 19th and 20th centuries rather than to any reflective analysis that they subsequently produced concerning the beliefs and practices that they encountered. From the immediacy of their encounters with alarming visual cues to Chinese religion (construed as 'idolatry'), to the equally alien sounds of the Chinese language, and on to the vexed question of body posture in worship (something that Reinders, with his acute but tacit sense of the importance of history on the Chinese side, takes back on the European side to Reformation debates), and even to the olfactory assault that the missionaries experienced on arrival – all are given their due place.
Relational Power, Music, and Identity: The Emotional Efficacy of Congregational Song The power of congregational song to unify (or divide) people along various lines is well documented. Yet, how this process of uniting or dividing is accomplished has proven necessarily difficult to document. This paper examines the complex and polyvalent factors that contribute to the meaningfulness of congregational music making, seeking to offer a synthetic, conceptual framework with which to engage this often murky milieu. Employing interdisciplinary research techniques drawn from sociology, ritual studies, and ethnomusicology, I construct a conceptual framework with which to understand the profoundly formative power of regular participation in the ritual of congregational singing. Combining musical entrainment theory (Clayton et al 2005; Clayton 2013; Will and Turow 2011) and relational power dynamic/interaction ritual theory (Collins 2004; Kemper 2011), I suggest that the emotional efficacy of congregational singing is constructed and configured via the process of "Compound Ritual Entrainment" (CRE). The conceptual formula of CRE is informed and consequently grounded in ethnographic inquiry at the National Worship Leader Conference held in Dallas, Texas, from September 30—October 2, 2015. There I observed congregational bodies unified in musical worship, and conducted interviews with participants of those ritual activities, revealing the depth to which those activities informed--even as they were formed by--the emotional posture of the singers as well as their perceived communal and individual identities.
This article provides a new consideration of how Thomas Willis (1621–75) came to write the first works of 'neurology', which was in its time a novel use of cerebral and neural anatomy to defend philosophical claims about the mind. Willis's neurology was shaped by the immediate political and religious contexts of the English Civil War and Restoration. Accordingly, the majority of this paper is devoted to uncovering the political necessities Willis faced during the Restoration of the English monarchy in 1660, with particular focus on the significance of Willis's dedication of his neurology and natural philosophy to the Archbishop of Canterbury, Gilbert Sheldon. Because the Restoration of Charles II brought only a semblance of order and peace, Willis and his allies understood the need for a coherent defense of the authority of the English church and its liturgy. Of particular importance to Sheldon and Willis (and to others in Sheldon's circle) were the specific ceremonies described in the Book of Common Prayer, a manual that directed the congregation to assume various postures during public worship. This article demonstrates that Willis's neurology should be read as an intervention in these debates, that his neurology would have been read at the time as an attempt to ground orthodox worship in the structure of the brain and nerves. The political necessities that helped to shape Willis's project also help us to better understand Willis's innovative insistence that philosophical statements about the mind should be formulated only after a comprehensive anatomical investigation of the brain and nerves.
The essay highlights the role played by Cardinal Secretary of State Pietro Gasparri in Vatican decision-making processes regarding the Catholic Church in Revolutionary and Post-revolutionary Mexico. Whereas Gasparri enjoyed a good collaboration with Pope Benedict XV (1914–1922), his relationship with Pius XI (1922–1939) – for whom he served as Secretary of State until the end of 1929 – was more difficult. From this perspective the suspension of worship in the whole country ( July 1926) marked a turning point, showing the differences between the pragmatic view of Gasparri and the more intransigent posture of Pius XI, which led to a progressive estrangement of the cardinal from elaborating the guidelines of Vatican politics concerning Mexico. As regards the key elements of Gasparri's way of acting in the Mexican scenario, one can't help but notice the attention paid to the relevance of political Catholicism as well as to the defens of religious liberty as a basis for a mutual understanding between Catholics and nonCatholics.
"Political theology as a normative discourse has been controversial not only for secular political philosophers who are especially suspicious of messianic claims but also for Jewish and Christian thinkers who differ widely on its meaning. These essays mount an argument for a "Messianic Political Theology" rooted in an interpretation of biblical (especially Pauline), Augustinian, and Radical Reformation readings of messianism as a thoroughly political and theological vision that gives rise to what the author calls "Diaspora Ethics." In conversation also with Platonic, Jewish, and Continental thinkers, Kroeker argues for an exilic practice of political ethics in which the secular is built up theologically "from below" in the form of public service that flows from messianic political worship. Such a "weak messianic power" practiced by the messianic body inhabits an apocalyptic political economy in which the mystery of love and the mystery of evil are agonistically unveiled together in the power of the cross--not as an instrument of domination but in the form of the servant. This is not simply a matter of "pacifism" but of a messianic posture rooted in the renunciation of possessive desire that pertains to all aspects of everyday human life in the household (oikos), the academy, and the polis."--
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The high heterogeneity of the Tunisian cityscape raises important questions about the context of its emergence. A historical analysis of the country's last decades seems to be necessary towards understanding its origins. Since the State independence in 1956, several political, economical, and especially cultural evolutions have occurred. These have seemingly a great impact on the language of the contemporary architectural production.The present research focuses on the evolution of the references behind the Tunisian architecture from the independence until 2011. It mainly explores how an architecture was produced during the independent State establishment, and to what extent this architecture reflects the State's cultural policy.The main explored hypothesis concerns the impact of the interaction between the constructions initiated by the State and the architectural design on the current country's cityscape. Most of the project initiated by the independent State were built in the capital. Thus, Tunis is studied from a historical standpoint and buildings are analyzed in the triple process of architectural order, design, and communication, in order to understand the emergence circumstances of the current referential heterogeneity. A cross-reading of architecture publications highlights the different speeches that shape several imaginaries so to define contemporary Tunisian specificities, between modernity and tradition.Answering such a question implies a deep knowledge of the main State's projects during this period, but also the profiles of the different architects behind these projects design. A diverse corpus including graphical representations of the considered projects, general and specialized press publications, bank notes, stamps, and postcards, were selected for analysis. Besides its historical dimension, such a corpus enables observing the Architecture as a mean of communication from a cultural perspective.The cross-reading of this corpus brings out three types of speeches: a speech by, of, and on Architecture. The former, is observable on the official press, on the architectural representations of bank notes, on stamps and some postcards. Its analysis helped to determine the image that the State gives about its architectural realizations. The second type of speeches reflects the perception of the architect, as a designer of the Tunisian architecture. Research on graphical representations in public archives show the evolution of the architectural language. Moreover, the analysis of the diverse background of the architects, practicing during the period under study, shows the great impact of their architectural culture on the Tunisian cityscape. Finally, the last type of speech observed in specialized architectural magazines and private press, enables to extract receptions about the realized projects.References behind architectural realizations in Tunis seems to evolve together with the State evolution and the different definition of what is «Tunisian» at each moment. The study of the identified speeches led to three different imaginaries. The first is a progress imaginary, which characterizes the first decades of the independent State. It operates through an esthetic allusion following architectural inclination of great occidental metropolis. The second is a historical imaginary that emerges later and which mainly refers to a legacy architecture transformed into a protected heritage. Hence, the worship of the « medinal » architecture and recently the french protectorat legacy provide to some artefacts a status of reference for upcoming constructions. Finally, the third imaginary is syncretic and fluctuates between modernizing tradition and traditionalizing modernity towards a perfect fusion that eventually defines contemporary Tunisian architecture. ; Le paysage urbain contemporain de la ville de Tunis, caractérisé par une forte hétérogénéité référentielle, interroge quant aux facteurs de son émergence. L'histoire récente du pays, marquée par l'indépendance en 1956, suggère l'existence d'un rapport étroit entre ce moment de prise d'autonomie politique, économique, mais surtout culturelle, et la portée qu'il a eu sur la détermination du langage des architectures à édifier.Cette recherche soulève donc la problématique de l'évolution des références de la production architecturale savante en Tunisie indépendante entre 1956 et 2011. Il s'agit d'explorer comment, dans le cadre de la construction de l'État indépendant, une architecture est fabriquée, et dans quelles mesures elle traduit sa stratégie culturelle pour en devenir l'image même.En partant de l'hypothèse que l'interaction entre la commande officielle et la conception architecturale a induit la pluralité référentielle du paysage urbain actuel, Tunis est ainsi exploré dans une perspective historique interrogeant l'architecture édifiée dans le processus commande-conception-communication. L'hétérogénéité des architectures de la ville découlerait surtout de la disparité des postures officielles, mais aussi savantes, dans la définition d'une tunisianité contemporaine culturelle, et donc architecturale, cloisonnée dans le clivage modernité-tradition.un détour par les différents supports de communication de l'architecture entre 1956 et 2011, a été nécessaire pour mener à bien cette recherche. Un corpus diversifié a ainsi été sélectionné et analysé.La lecture croisée de ce corpus fait ressortir trois types de discours véhiculés: un discours par, de et sur l'architecture. Le premier est perceptible aussi bien dans la revue de presse officielle que dans les représentations architecturales sur les billets de banque, les timbres et quelques cartes postales depuis l'indépendance. Son exploration a permis de dégager les images que l'État fabrique d'une architecture "emblématique" comme réalisation officielle. Le discours de l'architecture reflète, quant à lui, la représentation que le concepteur propose pour définir l'architecture tunisienne. La recherche dans les fonds d'archives des documents graphiques rend compte de l'évolution du langage architectural proposé. L'analyse des profils des architectes relève l'importance de leur culture architecturale dans le modelage du paysage urbain actuel. Enfin, le discours sur l'architecture, matérialisé par l'examen des articles des périodiques d'architecture et de la revue de presse indépendante, dépeint la réception des œuvres. Il permet de voir la production architecturale au delà du discours officiel du maître d'ouvrage et de celui du maître d'oeuvre. Les représentations caricaturales d'un paysage urbain hétéroclite, ainsi que d'une architecture "moderniste" rhabillée par une enveloppe ornementale "historiciste" caractérisent essentiellement ce dernier discours.La référence architecturale des édifices paraît évoluer à l'image de la fondation de l'État et de la définition de ce qui est désormais "tunisien". L'analyse des discours relevés dans l'étude du corpus nous a permis de dégager trois imaginaires différents. Un imaginaire de développement caractérise les premières décennies de l'État indépendant. Il opère par une esthétique allusive qui s'aligne sur les tendances architecturales des grandes métropoles occidentales. Un imaginaire historique émerge par la suite. Il se construit, entre autres, à travers un héritage dont on cultive l'image et qu'on promeut au rang de patrimoine. Ainsi, la vénération du modèle "médinal" et plus récemment la revendication de l'héritage "protectorial", procurent à certains édifices un statut référentiel quant aux conceptions à venir. Enfin, un imaginaire syncrétique, oscille entre la modernisation du traditionnel et la traditionalisation du moderne en vue d'un idéal de fusion d'influences qui définirait l'architecture tunisienne contemporaine.
Issue 1.1 of the Review for Religious, 1942. This is the first issue of the publication. ; A.M.D.G.- -~ Review for ehg ous " " JANUARY 15, 1942 ,~>The Vow of P~overfy . ~The oE udta÷ O~Iotn er ¯ Hygienic M6rfificafio~ -- Exemptions from F~s+ing ~.~ ~Bellar~ine's S[gn of The:~Lmfurgy ih'Mo~ern ~r ¯ Religious Cg~secration : . By M~ffhew Germlng,-S.J. . By Adam C. Ellis, S.J. ~.By, William J. McGucken, S.J. ~' " By,'~. Augustine Ellard, S;J. '~ ~. By Gerald Kelly, ~S.J. '/ By C!pm~nt DeMufh, S.J. B~. ~rald Ellard, SfJ. .° VOLUME. NUMBER 1 Review ~:or Religious Volume I January--December 1942 Published at THE COLLEGE PRESS Topeka, Kansas Edited by THE JESUIT FATHERS SAINT MARY'S COLLEGE St. Marys, Kansas REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS VOLUME I JANUARY 15, 1942 NUMBER CONTENTS GREETINGS FROM THE BISHOP OF LEAVENWORTH Tlie Most Reverend Paul C. Schulte, D.D. 4 PLANS AND ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS~The Editors .6 RELIGIOUS CONSECRATION--Matthew Germing, S.J . 8 JOHN NEPOMUCENE NEUMANN . 14 THE VOW OF POVERTY IN THE CODE OF CANON LAW Adam C. Ellis, S.J . 15 THE EDUCATION OF SISTERS--William J. McGucken, S.J .2.7. HYGIENIC MORTIFICATION---G. Augustine Ellard. S.J .3.2 EXEMPTIONS FROM FASTING--Gerald Kelly, S.J .4.2. SAINT ROBERT BELLARMINE'S SIGN OF THE CROSS Clement DeMuth, S.J . 47 LITURGY IN THE PATTERN OF MODERN PRAYING Gerald Ellard, S.J . 51 BOOK REVIEWS .THE MASS. By the Reverend Joseph A. Dunney . 63 A CATHOLIC DICTIONARY. Edited by Donald Attwater . 63 ALL THE DAY LONG. By Daniel Sargent . 64 "FEAR NOT, I~ITTLE FLOCK.'" By the Reverend George Zimpfer 65 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 1. Period of Recollection before Perpetual Vows . . " . 68 2. Shortening the Second Year of Novitiate . 68 3. Permission of Parents for Emergency Operation .69 4. Recital of Little Office by those absent from Community Recitation 69 5. Private Vows by Professed Religious . 70 6. Curtain between Priest and Penitent in Convent Confessional 70 DECISIONS OF THE HOLY SEE OF INTEREST TO RELIGIOUS 71 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, January, 1942. Vol. I, 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. Application for second class entry pending. Editorial Board: Adam C. Ellis, S.3.,~ G. Augustine Ellard, S.3., Gerald Kelly, $.J. 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. Address all communications to: Review for Religious, St. Mary's College, St. Mar/s, Kansas. Printed in U.S.A. Greet:ings-t: 'om !:he Bishop ot: Leavenw0rt:h WE ARE reminded of the striking analogy that exists between the Mystical Body of Christ and our own physical body. As the human body is made up of mil-lions of tiny ~ells, each cell in a sense a distinct entity having its .own function, so too, the Church is made up of millions of individual members, living individual lives; yet, even as ehch cell in our body draws life from the soul, ~so also is ~ach member of the Mystical Body of Christ quickened by the spiritual life of Sanctifying Grace. Carrying the analog~r further, we are reminded that, as the tiny individual cells are grouped so as to form individu.al organs and members of ~our body,, so too, in the Mystical .Body of Christ, individual men and women are o/~ten grouped into societies andorganizations, distinct, yet work-ing for the common good and drawing life and inspiration from th~ one spiritual head. As St. Paul reminds us,, "the eye cannot say to the hand: I need not thy help; nor again the head to the feet: I have no need of you,'; neither can the various groups within the Church be self-centered, but" they must work for the common good of the whole Church under the guidance of its head, Christ's Vicar on earth. The religious form what might be called the right arm of the Mystical Body of Christ. Ever since our Divine Savior gave the invitation to the young man in the Gospel, "if thou Wilt be perfect, go sell what thou hast, and give to .the poor . and come, follow me," noble souls have been inspired to lea~e all things and seek perfection in the life of the religious. The very earliest centuries of the Church already found the deserts filled with the cells of the anchor-ites, from which soon was to be born the great monastic sys-tem as we have it today. Naturally, the unusual form of life led by the religious presents for them unusual problems. The Church in her canon law has taken cognizance of this and has devoted much space to defining the rights and duties of religious, both as indi'viduals and as institutions. However, the rami-fications of these rights and duties are so far reaching, and the field of direction towards spiritual perfection is so vast that the volumes upon volumes of commentaries that have been Written have not begun to exhaust the subje.cts. Besides, new .problems are ever arising. We have today many reviews of a general ecclesias-tical character dealing withthe multitudinou~s phases of the Church ~n general, yet we can readily see the need of a special review for the religious, not only to explain .the general laws governing their lives, but also to keep them abreast of the problems that theever-changing world is presenting to them. We feel confident therefoie that REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, which is making its bow. with this issue, will be .not .only very helpful to the religious but welcomed by the entire Church. We are happy to give it our personal approbation and fed honored that it is to be published in our Diocese. We are confident of its success under the editorial guidance of the Jesuit Fathers of St. Mary's. May it live long and effect much "pro Deo et Ecclesia!" PAUL C. SCHULTE, Bishop of Leaventvortl~. Plans :nd. ' . Acknowl dgem.ents N THIS initial number of REVIEW FoR RELIGIOus .wish tO say something Of our purpose,and ourplans, so that our readers may know rather definitely what to expect of us. ,, Our 'review is for all religious, clerical and non-clerical. However, we shall consider primarily the needs of brothe~ and nuns, bec~iuse clerics, particularly those in sacred orders, already have many excellent reviews at their disposal. This policy need not make the review less interesting to clerics, and it should increase its utility for those who may be entrusted with the spiritual guidance of other religious. In this latter connection, the review may also be of service to diocesan priests, as many of them are confessors and spiritual directors of religious. We have founded this magazine for a two-fold purpose: first, to aid °religi"ous in their personal sanctification; and secondly, to be of some service to them in carrying on their respective °apostolic works. The first purpose evidently call~ for articles of a purely ascetical nature; also for solid articles on the doctrines, legislation, and liturgy of the Church, as all true piety must ultimately conform to the Church's doctrine and practice. In line with the second purpose w~ll be a~'ticles which may have no direct bearing on ~he personal li:¢es of the religious themselves, such as background articles on various sections of the catechism, suggestions.for the care of the sick and the dying and for the ~arrying on of other ministries. Our general policy will be to offer articles of interest to all, but this policy cannot be inflexible. Some topics will be of use to superiorsand of slight value to subjects; some will be esl~ecially for brothers, others for nuns: some may concern only those engaged ina definite work such-as teaching, caring for the sick, and so forth. We think it well to adopt no general policy that would exclude such special-ized articles; otherwise our power for good would be great-ly diminished. We antidpate difficulties. The war situation evidently increases the difficulty .of .making definite plans. Some of our articles will be quite theological in content, yet these must be written in a non-technical, and understandable manner--an accomplishment that is not easy. On the part of our subscribers, some superiors have already suggested to us that a huge difficulty will be to find time for reading the review. We realize the force of. this practical objection: yet we hope that a fair number of individuals will find the time for private reading, and we suggest, that some articles frbm each issue will be suitable for community reading. The launching of. this project is the result of extensive dreaming and planning. Indeed, we should have begun many years ago, had not a certain unforeseen event delayed 9ur plans. Today, as we finally go to press, we are moved with an intense spirit of gratitude, to God for His assistance, and to all others who have helped us. Almost universally we have met with encouragement andcooperation. Our Bishop has been most kind in appro;cing our venture; our own and other re.ligious superiors were constantly helpful. Higher superiors, in general, responded very promptly and generously to our request for lists of houses to circularize: in many instances the superiors themselves sent subscrip-tions for entire congregations or provinces, thus saving us considerable labor and expense. May God bless them a11, and may He prosper this work begun for His greater glory! -~THE EDITORS. Religious Consecrat:ion Matthew .Germing, S.3. HOLY,SCRIPTURE says: "He that contemneth small things ~hall fall by little and little" (Ecclesiasticus 19:1). Spiritual writers commenting on these words rightly insist on the importance of little thing~ in the spiritual life. In the present consideration I wish to call attention, primarily, not to little things but to a big truth. I say, "primarily," because I believe that often enough interest in little things is best promoted by insistence on some large fundamental truth or fact on which the little ¯ things depend. Such a truth, once it has been thoroughly understood and assimilated, once it has. permeated the very marrow of our being and is thereafter kept vig.or.ously alive in mind an, d heart, will be a wonderfully energ,zmg force in the daily routine of life. It will extend its influence to the smallest actions of the day and thus compel us to take heed of even the little things. . Of this character is the consecration to God made by the members of every religious order and congregation. We are familiar in a general way with the meaning of consecration. Persons or things are consecrated when they are set apart and with the proper ceremonies dedicated to God or the Service of God. Thus the chalice used by the priest at Mass is consecrated; it is sacred and may not be used for any other purpose. To use it for other purposes would be sinful and sacrilegious. The same holds of a consecrated church. All religious are consecrated to Gdd by means of the three vows of religion. They are sacred in the eyes of God, far more sacred than consecrated church or ~halice. Whether they bel6ng to an active or a contemplative order, whether they are engaged in school work or hospital duties, whether in charge of orphans or caring for the aged and infirm, no matter what their function or task or position in the com-munity, all are consecrated to God. And they are so con-secrated by their three vows. There is a twofold aspect to these vows, the .negative and the positive. The negative aspect is "the privation involved in the vows, but privation is not the distinctive feature of religious poverty, chastity, and obedience. The mere lack of temporal goods does not make anyone accept.- able or sacred in God's sight. Poverty .as'such makes.many people in the world at large discontented and miserable, leading to complaints and rebellion against Providence. Nor does celibacy with its privations have of itself a sancti-fying effect. And as for obedience, a man may be a slave and be far from Christian and ev.angelical obedience. It is the motive that counts. It. is the love of Christ, the conse-cration to God which is the purpose and end of.all these sacrifices and privations, that makes them precious in the sight of heaven. And this is the positive aspect of the vows of religion. When we pronounced our vows for the first time we offered to God, to Christ our King and to His Sacred Heart all we had or possessed, and made ourselves entirely depen-dent on God and His representatives on earth. When St. Francis of Assisi bade farewell to his father and gave away the very clothes he wore, he said: "Now I can truly say, our-Father who art in heaven," Certainly Francis knew that God was his Father before that time, but he meant to say that only now was he absolutely without all earthly support whatever; he had only his Father in ¯ heaven to rely upon. And this gave him perfect joy and perfect cbnfidence. Blessed are we if our renunciation of the things of earth was nearly as complete as that of St. Francis and made in the same joyous~spirit. Then we can exclaim with him in ~ransportsof seraphic love, "My God and my all!" and pray to God in the word of another saint, "Give me only Thy love and Thy grace and I am rich enough and desire nothing more." But in pronouncing our vows we did much more than despoil ourselves of all temporal possessions out of love for Christ our Lord. We offered ourselves. There is recorded for us in Holy Scripture (I Paralipomenon 29: 16, 17) the touching prayer of King David when, surrounded by a vast multitude of his people, he offered to Almighty God the gold and silver and precious stones he had gathered from far and near for the temple which his son Solomon was to build. And David prayed: "O Lord our God, all this store ¯ that we have prepared to build thee a house for thy holy name is from thy hand, and all things are thine. I know, my God, that thou provest hearts and lovest simplicity, wherefore I also in the simplicity of my heart have 'joyfully offered all these things." We also on the day of our vows made our offerings to God in joyful spirit, presenting not gold or silver or precious stones but gifts, far more precious m the sight of heaven--the loyalty and devotion of a con-secrated soul. We knelt before the altar and in simplicity and sincerity of heart pronounced the vows of poverty, chas-tity, and obedience. Thus we made an oblat.ion to God of our entire being, our body with its senses and all their pleasures, our soul with its intellect and free will, promising to understand and do all things in accordance with the rules and constitutions of the religious life we then and there embraced in all its fulness. And we made these promises solemnly before the throne of God, in the pres-ence of Mary, Queen of heaven, of our Guardian Angel, our patron saints and the whole heavenly court as witnesses of our oblation. With holy David we acknowledged to God, "All things are thine, and we have given thee what we received of thy hand." Thus we vowed eternal loyalty to Christ and became consecrated and sacred in His eyes. This consecration was the most important event in our life, a spiritual fact of tremendous import. For it meant the abandonment of all selfish interests and complete devo-tion to the cause of Christ. Up to that time self had chiefly been the focus of our thoughts and desires; now our L6rd and Savior was to be enthroned in our mind and heart. Our. aims in life, our thinking and planning, .our capabilities of soul and body, our work and r.ecreation, our time itself, all were consecrated and must be directed to God. We are en-tirely His. We ought to make it our serious effort to understand and appreciate this fact. We should do what the Blessed Virgin did during her life on earth. And what did she do? St. Luke tells us in the second chapter of his Gospel. Toward the end of his account of the nativity Of our Lord, after narrating the apparition of the angel to the shepherds and the visit of the latter to Bethlehem, he adds: "But Mary kept in mind all these words, pondering them in her heart." We may be sure that what is told us so explicitly of her conduct in the present instance she did on many other occa.- sions in connection with the mysteries in the life of our divine Lord in which she had a large part. She treasured up in her memory the words and events, meditated on them, 10 prayed over them in the silence and quiet of her chamber, thus ever increasing in faith, hope, and the 10ve of God. Thus too she secured for herself the divine assistance, sup-port and guidance and encouragement in the daily happen-ings and sufferings of her life on earth. We ought to imitate this practice of our Blessed Mother in regard to so sacred an event in our life as our consecration to God. In the first place, we should recall it often and prayerfMly. Many religious have the commendable custom of making the renewal of'their consecration part of their morning prayer, using for the purpose a short formula; even purely mental renewal is .beneficial. We may do the same at intervals .between exercises during the day, even in the course of work which does not require dose and continu-ous attention. Our Blessed Lady gave us the example. Doubtless her mind and 1,ieart were frequently, if not habitually, occupied, with thoughts of sbme of the great mysteries in the life of her divine Son. This kept her in a state of recollection, transforming all her work into .prayer. Because of the difference of circumstances and the nature of their occupation, religious living in the modern world with its multiplic!ty of work are unable to practise recollection to. the same extent to which our Blessed Lady practised it in her home at Nazareth. Nevertheless, we must not lose sight of the fact that some degree of recoll~ction is essential for living the religious life as it should be lived. For all religious, whether members of an active or contemplative order, are consecrated to God. Consecration means total devotion to the cause of God, the cause of Christ and His Church. But they cannot effectively promote the cause of Christ unless they are devoted to prayer. And the prayer of consecrated souls must be something more than a casual and routine performance at stated times and places. Reli-gious must be penetrated and imbued with the true spirit of prayer, which comes only with thought and reflection and intimate converse between God and the soul. How can they achieve this spirit and continue it once they have achieved it if they do not strive with all the means at their disposal to attain to some degree of interior recollection? It is easier to keep up a high degree of recollection in somepositions or spheres of duty than in others. This holds of all religious communities whose members are engaged in the active life. But to whatever duty individual religious are assigned, all 11 must remember that their life of prayer, their spiritual life in generall will not take care of itself. The' saying is true that no one will be much more in prayer than he or she is out of prayer. In other words, they who outside of praye~ scatter their attention over a variety of interests, neither necessary nor useful for their work, will be unable to pray well beyond a few minutes when the hour comes for their devotional exercises. The inference is not that recollection is to interfere with attention to duty. Duty comes first. But there are moments and intervals when thoughts are free from assigned work and the employment of time is left to each one's discretion. These are favorable moments for the care and attentio.n which religious ought to have for their personal spiritual welfare. And if at such times they follow the promptings of mere curiosity, seeking the news of the day or other information not necessary or useful for them, thus spending the time in useless reading or. idle con-versation, they are losing precious opportunities' for sanc-tifying themselves. I said above that, in the first place, we ought frequently and prayerfully to recall the fact of our consecration to God. It is a thought pregnant with meaning for all of us and will be a great aid to recollection in the course of the day. Secondly, it will be decidedly profitable to take~ our consecration now and then for the subject of daily medita-tion. In such a meditation we may first consider, the ¯ meaning of our consecration. It means complete dedication ¯ "to God by means of the three vows, oblation of all that we have, all that we are, all that we are able to do--our thoughts, words, and actions; it means an act of the most perfect love of God. Then we may reflect on its obliga-tions. They are the observance of the vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience; of the rules and constitutions of the order, and obedience to the commands of superiors. Finally, we may think of its adoantages. The most impor-tant ones are that it frees us from many s~rious dangers of sin, furnishes numerous aids in the practice of every kind of virtue, aligns us with that choice company of the army of Christ which would signalize itself by special service to its Leader, renders us sacred in the eyes of God, is a sign of God's predilection, has Christ's promise of the highest reward-- they "shall receive a hundredfold and shall possess life ever-lasting" (Matthew 19:29). Conclusion. We may Con- 12 clude-with sentiments of esteem and love of our vocation with its consecration to God; humility; gratitude to God. Another opportunity for strengthening ourselves in our consecration to God is the Monthly Recollection. It is a time of spiritual grace, when God reveals Himself more fully to our souls. We should do our part by making a brief survey of the month that has passed, considering in detail and with more than ordinary scrutiny whether we are living up to ~:he requirements of our state. It is not a question of merely seeing whether we have avoided deliber-ate sin. This too merits our attention, as a matter of course. We must look to our religious ideals, the perfection of our daily actions, the motives that animate us from early .morning till late at night. Are we seeking God in all things in all our doings? Are ,Jesus Christ and His interests habitually in our thoughts, or is self frequently uppermost in our minds, controlling and directing our purposes and policies? Our Blessed Lord said: "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart, and with thy whole soul, and with thy whole mind, and with thy whold strength" (Mark 12:30). This is the perfection we are bound to strive after in its literal sense. It is the epitome, the compendium of all that is contained in our consecration to God. We are consecrated to God, sacred in His eyes. It would be quite wrong and detrimental to our spiritual life if, by reason of this, we were to fall into the error of conceiving and fostering self-complacency, as though we were the favorite~ of Almighty God and better than other people. If God has manifested His predilection towards us by bestowing the efficacious grace of a religious vocation, He has by that very fact also imposed on us graver obligations and responsibilities. In all humility we should thank God for what He has done for us and for all other men, each of us saying with the patriarch ,Jacob, "I am not worthy of the least of all thy mercies and of thy truth which thou hast f.ulfilled to thy servant" (Genesis 32:10). It is very important for .us to maintain~ an attitude of thankfulness and humility. Let us remember our Lord's words to His Apostles: "You have not chosen me, .but I have chosen you". (,John 15:16). He has chosen us out of the world and transferred us into a kingdom of light and grace that, like the Apostles; we might "bring forth fruit." It-remains for us to distinguish ourselves in His service by an ever increasing love and generosity, a more steadfast loyalty to the consecration which we made of ourselves when we pronounced our vows. In this way a big fundamental spiritual truth, kept fresh in mind and heart by daily prayer and recollection, will exercise oa salutary influence On the little things of every day life. It will have the effect Of sweepingaside in a moment the petty and narrow views arising from selfish-ness, just as the bright rising sun scatters the mist on a mid-summer day.' JOHN NEPOMUCENE NEUMANN Just before the first issue of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS went to press, we received a letter from the Reverend Albert H. Waible, C.SS.R., Vice-Postulator of the Cause for Beatification of the Venerable John Neumann, C.SS.R. John Nepomucene Neumann was the first pro-fessed Redemptorist in the United States and the fourth Bishop of Philadelphia. On December 11, 1921, Pope Benedict XV approved the decree declaring that John Neumann had practised heroic virtue, and he was given the title of Venerable. The Holy Father's words on that occasion are singularly appropriate for readers of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS : "We deem it proper to say that all our children should profit by the. Decree of today by reason of the peculiar character of the heroic virtues of Ven. Neumann. Perhaps the very simplicity of these virtues has been misunderstood by those Who thought there was no heroic degree in the virtues of the Servant of God. because in their eyes the good works and holy deeds performed by Neumann are. the holy .and good deeds which every good religious, every zealous missionary, every good bishop should perform. ¯ We need not repeat that works even the most simple, performed with constant perfection in the midst of i~aevitable difficulties, spell heroism in any servant of God. Just because of the simplicity of his works, We find in them a strong argu-ment for saying to the faithful of whatever age, sex, or condition: You are all bound to imitate the Ven. Neumann.,. If, in spite of this, there should be some who still seem surprised and cannot pic-ture him to themselves as a hero apart from grand undertakings, We hasten to say that wonderful results can spring from simple deeds, . provided these are performed as perfectly as possible and with unre-mitting constancy." Those interested in Bishop Neumann's cause can procure a small pamphlet biography from the Mission Church Press, 1545 Tremont St., Boston, Mass. 5 cents a copy; $3.50 per 100. 14 The Vow ot: Poverl:y in !:he Code ot: Canon Law Adam C. Ellis, S.,L IIF't LESSED are the poor in spirit, .for theirs is the king-dom of heaven" (Matthew 5:3). This poverty of spirit for which the Gospel promises the kingdom of heaven consists essentially in keeping one's heart free from attachment to temporal goods. It is the first means, though not the most important, which man must make use of to win heaven.or to attain to perfection. The reason for this is that poverty of spirit is the cure for that evil which is the root of all others according to the Apostle: "For covet-ousness is the root of all evil" (I Timothy 6:10). That is why our Lord not only began his preaching with it, but also gave us the example in His own person of a life of pov-erty from the crib in the stable of Bethlehem to the cross on Calvary. And when He wished to teach men the secret and the way ot~ perfection, he tells us again, in the instance of the rich young man, that. poverty is the starting point. "If thou wilt be perfect, go sell what thou hast. and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven; and come, follow Me" (Matthew 19:21). The first persons who took this lesson to heart and put it into practice were the Apostles, who in turn imparted it to the primitive church, and thus impressed upon religious communities the form of perfect poverty. In canon 488 of the Code ot: Canon Law, the Church tells us that the three vows ot~ religion, obedience, chastity, and poverty, are means by ~vhich religious strive at~ter per-t: ecfion; Hence in all orders and congregations approved by the Church these three essential vows must be taken, either explicitly, as in modern congregations, or as least implicitly, as in the older orders. In its essentials the vow 6f poverty is the same: for all religious, but the constitutions of different orders and congregations add details to these fundamental notions according to the particular spirit ot~ each institute. Evangelical poverty as set forth in the constitutions of a religious institute, may be considered from different points of view. It-is not our intention to give an ascetical ¯ or a moral.interpretation of the vow of poverty; we leave .15 that to others, who, we trust, will favor us later on with articles in the REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS dealing with these aspects. It is our purpose now to study the present laws of the Ghurch regarding the personal poverty of religious, as promulgated in the Code of Canon Law, since these laws are applicable to all religious, and are usually incorporated into the constitutions o~ all religious institutes. The Nature of the Vow of Pooert~/. The vow of pov-erty is a promise made to God by whicla the religious deprives himself of the right to place any act of proprietor-sbip over any material thing having a money value, with-out the lawful permission of his superior, The proper and distinctive character of proprietorship or ownership of property is the power to dispose of it freely and independently/: that is, to use it, to give it away, to sell it, to destroy it, at will, as an absolute master over it. without any obligation of having recourse to the will of another, hence independently of the will or permission of another. The essence of the simple vow of poverty consists, therefore, in the privation of this right to dispose freely and independently of temporal goods, of whatsoever kind they may be. The subject-matter of the vow is the possession and use of temporal things, independently of the will of superiors. Whatever the degree of poverty prescribed by the con-stitutions of any particular institute may be, only such things as come under the heading of temporal goods or property constitute the subject-matter of poverty. Other things, such as health, the use of one's bodily members, one's mental and spiritual faculties, talents, supernatural gifts, are not the subject-matter of the vow of poverty. Temporal goods or property, therefore, include any object of money value that a person can acquire and possess or hold, anything that can be owned. Personal goods or property are such things as can be kept on or near one's per-son, usually all movable goods. Real property or real estate consists in lands and whatever is attached to the land, houses and buildings of any kind. The general term, prop-. erty or temporal goods, therefore, comprises every material thing which has a money value, such as: money, real estate, stocks, bonds, mortgages, jewelry, and all movable and per-sonal objects having a money value. By his vow of poverty 16 the religious refiounces his right to place any act of owner- Ship over such goods without the permission of his supe-rior. The vow of poverty, therefore, forbids the religious: 1) every independent act of appropriation, e.g. to acquire, keep, use, receive, borrow from another; 2) every act of disposal of property: to give away, to sell, to lend, or lease to another, to allow goods to deteriorate or perish. All these acts, placed without the permission of the superior or of the constitutions, are contrary to the vow of poverty. The various degrees of sinfulness of these acts is a moral question and outside the limits of this article. Let us now take up the general legislation of the Church regarding the vow of poverty, keeping in mind that these laws obligate all religious, and that any contrary leg-islation in the constitutions has been revoked by the Code of Canon Law, unless a special apostolic privilege has been obtained. I. A religious who has tatien a simple vow of poverty, whether temporar!t or perpetual, retains the ownership of his property, as well as the capacity to acquire, more, unless the constitutions provide otherwise (cf. canon 580, § 1). The distinction between a simple and a solemn vow ~s the result of church legislation. ~ A religious who takes a solemn vow of poverty deprives himself not only of every right to place act~ proprietorship, as explained above, but he freely gives up even the right to own temporal goods. Such a religious must give away all that he. possesses, within sixty days preceding his solemn profession. After taking the solemn vow, he can no longer acquire temporal goods for himself, since by his vow he has renounced his very right to own, hence whatever may come to him by way of inheri-tance or gift, he acquires for his institute (cf. canons 581 and 582). The religious who takes a simple vow of poverty, on the contrary, retains his right to own, that is to possess property; hence he is not deprived of his property by the simple vow, but continues to be the owner of all that he possessed at the time of his religious profession. Further-more, he retains the capacity to acquire more property or temporal goods even after he has taken the simple vow of poverty. Such is the provision of. the general law of the Church today for all religious. The Church allows the constitutions to limit this right, but since there are very few constitutions ;which do so,,we.shall omit any comment On this detail, and we shall suppose hereafter that no such limitation has been placed. iI. The simple vow of poverty makes a" contrary a~t illticit, but not invalid, unless the contrarg, has been expressly decreed (cf. canon 579). The effects of the vow of poverty are determined by the law of the Church. That law says that the simple vow of poverty makes a.contrary act illicit, which means that if a religious with a simple vow of poverty disposes of or in any way exercises rights over his property without permis-sion, he-.commits a sin,. venial or grave acc.ording, to the gravity of the illicit transaction. However, the act which he places, for example, the gift or s~ile of temporal goods, is valid, that is, it is recognized as legal by canon law, unless the contrary is expresslydecreed. Such a prohibition may be contained in the general law of the Church," as 'happens in the case of a religious who takes a simple vow of poverty in an order in which he is to take solemn vows later on. Canon 581 § 1. forbids .him under pain of invalidity to give away his property, except within sixty days preceding his solemn profession. If such a religious gives away any property, the act is null and void, ~which means that the person to whom he,gave it must return it, and may not keep it. Thus if Sister Generosa, a member of a religious congregation, gave all her property to her needy family off the day 9n which she took her first vows, her parents may keep it, since the act is a valid act. Sister Generosa, how-ever, acted illicitly, that is, she violated her vow of povert.y :by transgressing the law of the church, unless she. did so m good faith, being ignorant of the law. Off'the other hand, if Brother John, a member of the Carmelite order, gave away all his property on the day he took his first simple vows, the person to whom he gave it would be obliged to give it back to him, because his act was not only illicit but also invalid. He can give away his property validly only within sixty days of his solemn profession. III.' If during his novitiate, a novice in any way what-ever renounces his property, or.encumbers it, such a renun-ciation or encumbrance is not only illicit, but also null and void (cf. canon 568). This legislation comes down to us from the Council of Trent. It applies to all novices, whether in a pontifical or 18 in a diocesan institute, and to all their temporal goods, whether movable or immovable, real or personal. The pur-poseof the legislation is to safeguard the freedom of action of both the novice and of the institute regarding the profes-sion to be made at the end of the novitiate. The novice may wish to leave, the institute may be unwilling to admit him to profession. Hence the wisdom of the legislation. To renounce one's property means to give up the right to it by freely and lawfully transferring it to another with-out recompense. A novice may, therefore, sell his.property and invest the proceeds, or. put the money in a bank for the time being. He may, likewise, freely~dispose of the income of his property during the novitiate, or add it .to his capital. He must pay his.debts, of course, and may pay for his board and clothing during the'novitiate provided this is required by the constitutions, or agreed upon before entrance into the postulancy, or novitiate in conformity with canon 5 70, §1. To er~carnber one's property means to put a burden or obligation upon it. Hence a novice may not promise to give away a certain part of 'his property or all of it on condition that he perseveres in the religious state and is admitted to profession. He may not mortgage his property.,-as that would be placing an encumbrance .upon it. While the law of the Church does not forbid such renunciation and encumbrance during the postulancy, the same reasons make such an act inadvisable. If such a renun-ciation is made for grave reason during the postulancy, it should be made conditionally, so that the postulant may be able to regain his property in case he does not persevere in religion, and must return to the world. Even before the Code went into effect i~ was a common opinion of canonists that novices could give alms to the poor, to pious causes, and even to their own institute, pro-vided that small amounts were given on rare occasions, The same is permitted under the Code. Thus a novice would be allowed to have a number of Masses said for the repose of. the soul of his father or mother who dies during his novitiate. Supposing that our novice persevere~, and that his institute is ready to admit him to his first profession~, the .law. of the Church requires him to place certain acts in rdgard to his property before he takes his first ~vows. 19 IV. Before the profession of simple vows, whether temporory or perpetual., the novice must cede, for the entire period during Which he wilt be bound bg simple vows, the administration of bis~ 15ropertg to whomsoever he wishes, and dispose freelg of its use and usufruct, unless the consti-tutions determine otberu;ise (cf. canon 569, § 1). We have seen above that the simple vow of poverty does not deprive the novice who takes it of the ownership of his property or of the right to acquire more property after he. has taken the simple vow of poverty. On the other hand, one of the purposes of the vow is to free the religious from the worries and distractions connected with the care and management of temporal goods. Hence the Church wisely decrees that the novice must turn over to another the administration of his property if he has any. He may choose any person he wishes to act as his administrator: his parents, a brother or sister, a friend, a lawyer, a trust com-pany. He may also ask his institute or province or house to assume this task if superiorslare willing tO accept it. Let us u.nderstand what an administrator is. All of us have heard on occasion, after the death of a person, that the deceased had appointed an administrator of his estate in his will, or if he died intestate, the court appointed somebody to fill this office until the estate could besettled. The per-son appointed cares for the estate or collection of temporal goods owned by the deceased, pay bills, collects rents, as well as interest on money deposited in banks or due on stocks and bonds, keeps buildings in repair, pays taxes and the like. In a word, an administrator performs all those ordinary acts which the deceased person performed during his lifetime for the preservation and increase of his prop-erty. Once the novice has appointed his administrator, he must leave to him all these acts of ordinary administration of his property. He may be consulted as regards extra-ordinary acts of administration, such as the sale of his property, and the investment of the money derived from such a sale, and be has the right to receive an annual report of the condition of his property. The administrator is entitled to some recompense in proportion to his labor. Once the administrator has been freely appointed, the religious may not replace him by another without the per-mission of his superior general, unless the constitutions of his institute allow him to do so of his own accord (cf.canon 20 580, § 3). It4s evident that the novice who has no prop-erty at the-time of his first profession .need not appoint an administrator. The disposition or: his income: The novice must dispose freely of the use and usufruct of his pr.operty, if he has any. If his property consists of real estate, a farm, a house and lot, etc. he may ~rant the use of such property to anybody he wishes. If his property is productive, real estate which brings in rents, or stocks and bonds producing income or interest, such income is called the fruits of his property, or .the usufruct. It is evident that were the religious to retain the free disposal¯ of such income in his own hands, it would become a source of distraction and worry to him. Hence the Code prescribes that, before he takes his first vows, he must determine, once for all, the person or persons who are to be given the use of or the income of his property for the duration of his vows. He may choose whomsoever he wishes as the beneficiary of bis income: his parents, a brother or sister, some charitable work, his own institute. It would be well for the novice, before making his decision, to think seriously on those words of our Lord: "give to the poor." His parents may be in need, or he may have a brother or sister struggling to raise a family or to get an education; then there are so many forms of Christian char-ity in need of funds to carry on their work: hospitals, or-phanages, homes for the poor, etc; lastly the novzce should also consider the needs of his own institute before coming to a decision. But the final decision rests with him, unless the constitutions of his institute determine otherwise. There are some constitutions approved before the promultzation of the Code which deprive the novice of the right to dispose of the use and usufruct of his property, or restrict that right or define it, e.g. by limiting such disposal in favor of a char-itable work, or by designating or excluding the institute as the beneficiary. Whatever the dispositions of such consti-tutions may be, they must be observed (Code Commission, Oct. 16, 1919). Once the novice has made this disposition of the use or income of his property, he may not change it in favor of someone else without the permission of his superior gen-eral, unless the constitutions' allow him to do so of his own accord (canon 580, § 3). It will-be Well to call attention here to a restriction which this same canon places on 'th~ 2I right to chahge the beneficiary with the permission ~of the superior general.~ Such modification or change mustnot be made, at least for a notable part of the income, in favor of the institute. Permission of the Holy See is necessary to make such a change in favor of the institute (Code Com-mission, May 15, 1936), if there is question of a notable part, say one-fourth, or certainly one-third Of the same. This point should be made clear to the novice before he chooses the person who is to have the use or the income of his property. While he is free before taking his first vows to appoint hisown institute (orhis province or house) as the beneficiary of his income, ifas a matter of fact, he does not do so, but appoints some other person, he may not later " cbang.e .this disposition in favor of.his ihstitute without the permission of the Holy See, if there is question of one third or more of the entire income. If, later on, after having taken his vows, the religious should leave his institute and the religious life, these appointments of an administrator and of the beneficiary of his income cease to have a.ny effect, and he regains comple.te control of his property. It may happen that a novice has no property at the time be takes his first vows. Later on, after takin~ his vows, he acquires pkoperty by inheritance or gift. What is to be don~? " " V. :In case the novice, because he possessed no property, omitted to make the cession and disposition mentioned above, but later on acquires p. ropertq, or i~:, after making the cession and disposition ~n question, be becomes the possessor of more property under whatever title, be must then' make the cession and disposition for the ~irst time, or repeat it, iri regard to the newI~/ acquired property/, his simple vow o~: povern.] notwit.bstanding (cf. canon 569, §2). In this case the religious whopossessed no property at the time of his first profession, but. later on acquires prop-erty, needs no permission to appoint an administrator and to determine who is to have the use of this newly acquired property, or the income thereof. The law obliges him to do .so. Similarly, if, after having appointed an adminis-trator and determined a beneficiary of the income of his property, a religious, after taking his vows, acquires new property by inheritance, gift, and so forth, he must then 22 repeat the same acts in regard to h!,s. newly acquired prop-erty. Of course he may simply say: I wish the same admin-istrator, already appointed, to take care of it, and I wish the same person or persons, already recei~,ing the income of my property, to receive the income of this new property like-wise." He may, howe.ver, appoint a different person administrator, and a different person the beneficiary of the income of this newly acquired property, if he wishes to do so, It may be noted in 1Sassing that an increase in value of property already possessed does not constitute a new acquirement of property .within the meaning of the law. Hence if the real estate, or the stocks and bonds which a religious owns, increase in value because of a land boom, or because of a rise in the stock market, such a religious may not consider that increase in value as a new acquirement of property. Nothing is to be done in such a case. VI. In ever{] religious congregation the novice, before taking his temporarg vouJs, must freetg make a will or tes-tament regarding all the propertg he actuatl~l possesses, or mag subsequentl~l possess (cf. canon 569, § .3). A will is a legal declaration of a man's intentions as to the disposition of his property that he wills to be carried out afterhis death. Strictly speaking, a testament differs from a will in that it bequeaths personal property only; but the terms are used interchangeably. By his will, there-fore, the novice does not give away his property here and now. ° He merely indicates the person Or persons whom he wishes to come into possession of it after his death. As long as he lives he retains the ownership of all his prop-erty. The beneficiary of his will becomes possessor of the property of the. religious only after the latter dies. Every novice in a religious congregation must make a will before taking his first, temporary vows, whether he actually owns any property or not, the reason being that the will includes everything that may come to the religious dur!ng his life-time, and of which he dies possessed. Novices about to take their first, temporary vows in an order are not obliged to make a will, since they must give away whatever they possess before they take their solemn vows. They are not forbidden, howe~er, to make a will valid for the period of their profession of simple vows, ~hould their wish to do so. ¯ Members of a religious congregation who took their 23 first vows before the Code went into effect (May 19, 1918), are not obliged to make a will, even though they acquired more property after that date, or will akquire such property in the future. But they ar~ not forbidden to make a will, should they wish to do so, and generally speaking, it is advisable for them to make a will.But all religious in every congregation who took their first, temporary vows after May 19, 1918 are obliged to make a will as soon as possible, if they have not done so already. The law requires this, even though it had been omitted in good faith. Even though the novice who is about to take his first vows cannot make a will valid in civil law because of a lack of the required age, he is still bound by canon law to make his will, and later on, when he becomes of legal age, he must tlake the steps necessary to make his will'valid in divil law as well. The Code says that the novice must freel~t make a will. This does not mean that he is free to make a will. or not, but that he who makes the will prescribed by canon law is free to choose the beneficiary of his will, that is he freely chooses the person or persons he wishes to take possession of any property he may own at the time of his death. May a religious ever change his will after he has freely made it? VII. No religious may change his will once made in "conformity with the requirements of canon law as explained above without the permission of the Hotel See, or. in case of urgencq, abd time does not permit of recourse to the Holg See, without the permission o3 his superior gen-eral, or of his local superior if the former cannot be' reached (cf. canon 583, 2°). A will is not considered altered or changed if certain prescriptions are merely made clearer, or if a will'which is invalid in civil law is changed merely to conform with the requirements of that law, so long as in both cases the bene-ficiary remains the same. Should the person named as bene-ficiary in the will of a religious die, the will becomes ineffec-tive and has no value. Hence no permission is needed to make a new will, since by so doing the religious is simply fialfilling the law of the Church which requires him to make a will. The will he had made is no longer valid, hence he is without a will, and must make another in order to fulfill the law, 24 As long as the religious with simple vows continues, to live in a religious congregation he may ~not give away his property. VIII. It is forbidden to the professed of simple" uows in a congregation to abdicate gratuitously the dominion ouer their property b~/ a voluntary deed of conveyance (cf. canon 583, 1°). To abdicate gratuitously means to give away one's property without receiving any monetary recompense in return. The motive for giving away one's property may be a spirit of gratitude, or friendship, or a charitable desire to help others in need, or to further 'the cause of some pious work. No matter what the motive may be, the Church forbids all religious with simple vows in a congregation to give away their property as long as they remain in religion. Due to the uncertain times in which we live, it can and does happen that religious freely leave or are obliged to leave their institute, or the institute itself may be dispersed by reason of persecution which is 'always present in the Church in some part of the world. Should any one of these con-tingencies arise, the religious will not be obliged to return to the world penniless, thus bringing Shame on religion, or becomin~ a burden to others, but he will be able to support himself with the aid of the temporal goods he brought with him when he entered religion, or which he received by. way of inheritance or gift during his stay in the religious life. Since the law says a religious is forbidden to give away his property, but does not say that such an act is invalid as it does in the case of a novice and of the religious with simple vows in an order in which he is to take solemn vows later on, it follows-that if a religious in a congregation has actually freely given away his property contrary to the pre-scription of the law, the act is a valid act, and.the religious cannot reclaim his prbperty. If he did so in good faith, in ignorance of the law, he will be free from all moral guilt in the matter. But all religious in congregations, whether papal or diocesan, should understand clearly that their supe-riors cannot give them permission to dispose of thei~ patri-money, as the sum total of their temporal goods is. called, during th~i~ lifetime in religion. The permission of the Holy See would have to be obtained before this couId be done licitly. A final question arises with regard to the property of O~ 25 religious with simple vows. We have seen that such a re!igidus retains his ownership over the property, he-pos-sessed at the time of his entrance into religion, as well as the capacity to acquire more property, even after he has taken his simple vow of pover~;y. How are we to decide what a religious may and must keep and add to his patrimony, what be must give to his institute of the temporal things which come to him during his life in religion? IX. Whatever a religious acquires b~j l~is own industrg, or in respect to his institute, he acquires for his institute (cf. canon 580, § 2). A religious with simple vows acquires for himself, that~ is, as part of his patrimony or collection of his temporal possessions, whatever he receives by way of inheritance, legacy or personal gift. But whatever comes to him by reason of his own industry goes to his institute. To acquire b.u one's own industrtl means by one's mental and physical efforts, such as writing a book, or making a work of art, a painting or fancy needle work, or by reason of one's profes-sion, recompense received for teaching, nursing and the like. Since the religious has become a member of thereligious family by his profession of vows, and is suppotted, fed, clothed and educated by the institute, which supplies all his reasonable wants, it is but meet and just that the fruits of his:labors should go to the institute. To acquire in respect to the institute refers to what is given to a religious not as an individual person, to John Jones; or to Mary Blank, but to the religious as a religious, to Brother Plus, or to Sister Martha, for the community to which he or she belongs, in order to help the Charitable or educational work in which the community is engaged, or because of the confidence and respect which the institute as a whole inspires in the donor because of its religious activ-ity. In a word a religious acquires in repect to his insti-tute whatever is g.iven to him because be is a religious. In cases of doubt, when it is not certain that the gift was per-sonal to the religious, the presumption will be that it was made in favor of the institute. This presumption applies especially to superiors. Small gifts given on special occa-sions such as feast days or at Christmas time to a teacher by his pupils, and so forth, are presumed to be given to the religious because he is a religious, not for personal reasons. The constitutions usually regulate such gifts. 26 The I::ducafion ot: Sis :ers William 3. McGucken, S.,J. THIS IS an altogether extraordinary book that should be of particular interest to the readers of the REVIEW FOR RELIGIDU$. It is not a dull book, despite the fact that it is in the genre of the much despised doctoral dissertations in Education (with a capital E). Sister Bertrande has a reporter's sense of what constitutes news, a reporter's abil-ity to penetrate beyond the barriers and get a "story" from. her unwilling victim. Very briefly, the book is the narra-tive of what has been done in America for the religious, social, cultural, and professional education of sisters, what is being done, and, most significant of all, what should be done. With the first two parts of the book no one can disagree; the facts are presented with such ingenious clarity that he who runs may read.In the third part one may question some of the proposals on the ground that they are too detailed, too rigidly regimented after the immemorial fashion of nuns, but with the main features of her proposal to give a truly sound and truly Catholic education (this time without the capital E) to American nuns there can be no disagreement. The true story of Catholic education in the United States, especially the education .of women, has yet to be written: its tale of heroisms, sacrifices, blunderings, and fatal failures have been chronicled in part. here and there. notably in Mother Callan's excellent study, The Society! of the Sacred Heart in North America, but nowhere can one find a complete picture of the whole scene. Particularly is this the case with American Catholic ~ducational policy as it affects the religious qua religious. The old saying "Cucullus non.facit monachum" is all too dreadfully true, but unfortunately many religious superiors believed the wimple made the nun. Every religious over fifty years of age knows that there was a time in the history of the sister-hoods in America when a young woman, often not even a high school graduate, was passed through a rapid postu- 1 THE EDUCATION OF SISTERS. A. plan for Integrating the Religious~ Social, Cul-tural, an'd Professional Training of Sisters. By Sister Bertrande Meyers. New York: Sh~ed add Ward, 194i. Pp. xxxiii + 255. $3.75. 27 l~ncy, given a Veil, and sent out to teach. Granted that mother superiors were forced by circumstances, the impor-tunings of bishops and parish priests, granted that the nuns thus sent off the assembly line with less than a year's training made up for their lack of acquaintance with the vchole idea and ideals of ~eligious life by their practices of piety, their simple devotion, their childlike faith, yet it still remains an inscrutable mystery of divine providence that there were not more individual catastrophes as a result of this short-sighted policy. The first .World War came along; there was a multi-plication of school~; especially of sisters' high schools and colleges: there was also a tightening of the reins by the accrediting agencies. .Moreover, Rome. was insistent on religious communities adhering to their constitutions. At last, it is true, the nuns were obliged to, spend, at least a canonical yeay in the novitiate, but in order to satisfy the professional requirements necessary to teach, many .of the sisterhoods had to resort to miserable subterfuges in order° to securethese "credits." A tragic.story, truly, this filching from the r~eligious training 9f the novice to satisfy ttie craze for credits. Nor is it over even now. Sister Bertrande says (of the year 1940) : "Isolated instances were even found where credit was given [dur!ng the Canonical Year] in Church History or World History for reading Lives of the Saints, in Home Economics for the daily.domestid work, and in Philosophy Of Education for the daily instructions of the' Mistress of Novices. iiO,,ne of ~he Mistresses of N0yices co,mplai~is bitterly: In the first place, there is a sii nion~h s postulate. But. lJefore the postulant can be.inducted into religious life She :is made conscious of credits to be earned towards her teaching credentials;.so her day is full of classes. That is not so bad, since this is just the Posti~late, but it would be better if she ~studied something like Logic--that would teach her how to think. But no. Methods of teaching, all professional subje.cts come togeth~er to make the girl more conscious of the need to become a good teacher rather than a true religious. " 'Then--the Canonical YEar. It is so taken, up with studies in the field of education that when a novice is asked how she is coming along in recollection, she says: "Recollec- 28 tion? Why I can think of nothing but getting my school work"done--there is no time even for class preparation." Spiritual exercises ar~ curtailed; classwork takes precedenc~ over interviews with the. Mistress of Novices--often I have to scheme little ways of finding an opportunity to give direction to a novice-who stands in need. " 'Two and one-half hours a day are allowed for Novi-tiate routine such as. instructions, spiritual reading, confes-sions, etc. If anything must be put aside it must be any-thing but classwork. Thus it happens that a thin, super-ficial religious decorum takes the place of depth and breadth in the spiritual life. And no real, permanent culture comes from this cramming of normal work. " 'The second, year the novices are sent out to teach. They go out to teach with good will, but with no concept of the interior life. There was a time when the second year was strictly a part of the Novitiate; .but it began With "bor-rowing" two or three novices for sorely pressed missions, and the Borrowed novices, were .never returned. Then, a few more were borrowed. Now, there is no pretence at leaving them in the Novitiate for a second year. They are robbed of their Canonical Year with a full program 0f studies; the second year they leave for the local schools, and as a~result we have teachers with no real Understanding of their Community or of' the obligations of religious life'." It should be noted that this condition has held ever since the State Departments have insisted on professional requirements for teachers; it still holds today, let us hope only in "isolated instances." It can be left to the reader's imagination what the situation was in the period immedi-ately after World War I when every major superior was confronted with the choice of closing a certain number~of schools or getting credits for her sisters somehow, some-where. The result: a conflict, was set up in the mind of the young religious; she was told that her spiritual develop-ment comes first, and yet much was done to interfere with her allowing her religious life to take first place. A very interesting part of the book is Sister Bertrande's discussion of the effect of secular universities on religious women. The majority of provincials,~mistresses of novices, deans of nuns' colleges feel that it does~harm, that there is a weakening of the Catholic: sense, but some are sure that they are forced to attend for certain courses in the graduate field. 29 It is not explicitly stated that the real reason for the danger tO sisters at secular graduate schools is the haphazard quality of the undergraduate preparation received by many of them: they have not a Catholic view of life, even though they may be very devout religious. "One point was uniformly expressed.m that the courtesy and consideration which sisters met in dealing with the officials and the faculties in secular universities outdis-tanced that which was experienced in Catholic centers." One just wonders if it is not possible that the more poorly prepared for graduate work attend Catholic universities, the brilliant students, the ones superiors are absolutely sure of, frequent the non-Catholic institution. Moreover, Catholic institutions have possibly far more experience of those "isolated instances" where nuns present transcripts of worthless credits than the officials of the secular universi-ties. It is g.ratifying to see from Sister Bertrande's tables that there is a tremendous increase in the attendance of sis-ters at Catholic institutions and a corresponding decrease in attendance at secular universities. One startling fact in the picture presented of the con-temporary education of Catholic sisters is this: relatively t~ew ot~ our nuns receive a thorough grounding in liberal arts. Even where the situation in the Canonical Year has been bettered, 'it is very rare indeed for a sister to be set aside to complete her course for the Bachelor of Arts degree. ~here. there is a second year of novitiate, studies are crowded, into this year--too many, alas, professional studies; that year ended, the novicepronounces her vows and is immediately sent on a mission. Carrying a full teach-ing schedule, she attempts to garner credits after school hours, on Saturday mornings, and in summer sessions. After she has attained the mystica! number of 120, she may be sent to graduate school, utterly unprepared for graduate work by this hurried amassing of credits which she has had no time to digest. It is not thus that bachelors of ar~s are made. One can say that many, not all, bachelors of arts in American colleges are in no better fix. This may be true, but the fact remains that sisters because of their profession as teachers should be thoroughly grounded in systematic fashion in the liberal arts. What this crowding of the day of the young religious does to her spiritual life can be left to the imagination. If this or a similar condition were bad a 30 generation ago, when life was .simpler, when our' novices came from good Catholic families with a tradition of reli-gious practice,, what must it not be today when we find the product even of our convent schools woefully lacking in Catholic principles and practices because of poor home training and the prevalent paganism of the American scen~. Sister Bertrande's plan for the education of postulants, with its emphasis on instruction in Catholic faith and prac-tice, so necessary at all times but especially in these times, its ignoring of all secular subjects except. Speech and Music, is espe.cially commended to all major superiors. So too her plan for the Canonical Year--one might wish that this part~ were continued everywhere for two years--with its rigid exclusion of everything but Religion and Gregorian Music will help to make our sisters strong religious women. Some Will quarrel with the curriculum Sister Bertrande out-lines for the two-year curriculum for the Community Jun-ior College. Too many of the courses, some would think, bear the mark of superficiality so characteristic of survey courses. However, that is a minor detail. The one point is brought Out that the postulancy and novitiate are devoted to God and the development of the spiritual life in the indi-vidual; two yeais of junior college are to be added to com-plete the foundation of their liberal arts program, with the leisure necessary for that. purpose. After that Sister Bert-rande recommends that the new sister be sent to a Catholic college for the completion of the work that is needed for the degree. The author does not say that they should be sent immediately. Perhaps it is too far away from the prac-ticalities of American convent life for her to recommend that. All in all this is a book that should be read and digested by everyone who has anything to do with the education of sisters,--major superiors, Catholic college professors and administrators, at least that they may acquire the saooir i:aire~ of their non-Catholic confr~res,.last but not least, pastors, that they may understand the difficulties under which the sisters in their parish schools are laboring. It is a book that had to be written: the candid objective presen-tation of facts can do no harm; it may prove to be of ines-timable benefit to future generations of sisters, if .present superiors heed the pointed lesson that is written here. 31 i~lygienic Morfit:ic~fion G. Augustine Ellard, S.J. ~'~NE of the most prominent ascetical writers of the ~ J twentieth century and at the same time an authority ~ on the history of the spiritual life in the Church, namely, Msgr. Saudreau, states that the principal defect in the cultivation of the interior life in our days is a lack of bodily mortification (1). Moreover, the want of mortifi-cation is assigned by Father De Guibert, of Rome, a leader among contemporary ascetical and mystical theologians, as the reason why so few pass beyond mediocrity in the spir-itual life (2). Perhaps one of the main reasons or pretexts why most devout people do not practice more external mortification is the fear that it would injure their health, or at least lessen their strength and capacity for work. One might answer that an abundance of mortification, and that too of a supe-rior form, may be found precisely in learning and living up to the principles of hygiene. Let us assume, for the present purpose; that mortifica-tign consists in any or all acts of virtue in as much as these involve foregoing what is pleasant or undergoing what is unpleasant. Thus it would be coexten,s, ive with the spher, e, covered by the old rule of the Stoics: bear and fork;ear. Though the word mortification (putting to death) may suggest the contrary, all sound ascetical authorities would hold that the purpose of it is posltix;e: life, a~nd more life. If inferior vital tendencies are checked and thwarted, it is only in order that the higher vital tendencies may bd saved from being checked and thwarted, and that they may be more freelyand richly developed. By all means, the aim of sound mortification is more and better life rather than less. "Ever we bear about in our body the dying of Jesus, so that the life, too, of Jesus may be made manifest in our bodies. For we who live are ever being delivered up to death for Jesus' sake, so that the life, too, of Jesus may be made manifest in our mortal flesh" (II Corinthians 4: I0-1 ! -~Westminster Version). (I) Auguste Saudreau. La Pi~tl d Travers Les Ages, page 661. (2) J. De Guibert. J:h'ctionnaire de SpiritualitY, Fascicule Premier. page 106. Hygienic mortification would consist in foregoing whatever is pleasant and undergoing whatever is unpleas-ant with a view to preserving, or improving, o.r regaining, one's health and vigor, and ultimately to.furth~ering God's glory and to-growing in that participation of, the divine life which comes with grace. Three degrees of hygienic mortification may be distinguished: first, avoiding any sin-ful neglect in the care of one's health; second, steering clear of whatever would .involve danger of such neglect; and third, refraining from wh~itever is less commendable in favor of the more commendable in this matter. Health is either physical or psychical. For the present, let us confine our. discussion to physical hygienic mortifica-tion. The psychic is more important in many respects, and more akin to the° "interior mortification" of the spiritual masters. Possibly in a subesequent paper we may revert.to it. Up to a certain point there is a strict obligation from the divine natural law to care for one's life and health. "Thou shalt not kill," either others or thyself. It is ethical to regulate our conduct in accordance with rational human nature and to avoid what tends to damage or destroy it. This d.uty requires .that one should use the ordinary means of sa.feguarding and preserving life and health. Nature is necessary for the supernatural life. If nature can do nothing in the supernatural order without grace; "neither can grace do anything without nature. It is .equally helpless. The Code of Canon Law, 1369, pr~scrib'es that those who are in charge, of seminaries should exhort the ~emii~arians Con-stant. ly to obs'erve the principles of hygiene and personal cleanliness. Presumably it is in .keeping with the mind of the Church that religious should do at lea~t~ as much. One who is. striving to become perfect will not stop with what is of strict obligation. He will constantly endeavor to do the better thing. Thebetter thing will indlude what-ever, other things being equal, is more conducive to bodily strength and effid~ncy. God counsels solicitude for health. "Better is a poor man who is sound, and strong of constitution, than a rich man who is weak and afflicted with evils. Health of the soul in holiness of justice, is better than all gold and silver: .and a sound body, than immense revenues. There is no riches above the riches of health of the body; and there is no pleasure above the joy of the heart. Better is death 33 t/~an a bit~ter life: and everlasting rest; than continual" sick-ness" (Ecclesiasticus 30: 14-17), In his inspired epistle to Timothy, St. Paul did not disdain to give this advice to one of the first bishops: "Drink no longer water only, but use a little wine, on account of thy stomach and thy frequent illness" (I Timothy 5:23). The divine counsel to have a concern for health is implied in all the numerous exhorta-tions to accomplish good works. As Pope Plus XI wrote in his "Encyclical on Education,"--.something, by the way, especially deserving notice by teadhers--"The true Chris-tian does not., stunt his natural faculties; but he develops and perfects them, by coordinating them with the super-natural. He thus ennobles what is merely natural in life and secures for it new strength in the material ond temporal order, no less than in the spiritual and eternal" (3). This is not the place for a presentation of the principles of hygiene, nor, even if it~ were, should I be presumptuous enough to. attempt such a thing. I should be:like the patient in the medical adage: "He who has himself for a doctor, has a fool for. a patient." If any religious should not know the elementary rules of h~giene, that is, the ~ules for living on the physiological plane, then let him begin his hygienic mortification by taking the trouble to-l~arn them. This is not an original suggestion ot: mine. A first-rate ascetical theologian of the twentieth century, namely, Zimmermann, the author of the excellent treatise Lel~rbucl~ der Asz~tik, counsels everyone seeking perfection to learn both the general prindiples of hygiene which may be studied, and the individual applica-tions and variations which must be gathered by personal experience (4). My attempt will be confined to indicatingcertain points on which the autldorities in hygiene do have something to prescribe, and to suggesting certain possible deviations that may perchance be found among religious. Posture migh~ be considered first. Constantly to pre-serve a wholesome and becoming posture of the body would not 6nly make for health, especially of the lungs, but it would also be something that would please others, and it would add to the influence of one's personality on others. Were it better observed, there would be fewer ill-looking (3) Pius XI. Christian Education of Youth; The Paulist Press: page 37. " '(4) Zimmermann. Otto. Lerhbueb d~r Asz.e. tiko page 516. 3# religious whose very appearance is, to put it mildly, not pleasing nor apt to inspire respect in Others. Certain religious seem to be given to the use of an exces-sive amount of clothing. To see them Out in winter weather, one might suspect from the. great number of thi~ngs 'which they are wearing, that they were planning on visiting the polar regions. Habitu'ally they are over-dressed. Then, sooner or later, iinevitably they are caught in some unex-pected exposure to cold, and, being sensitive like hot-house plants, rather than possessing the normal adaptability .to moderate variations in temperature, they~may catch cold,~ or develop a sore-throat or something of the sort. In any case, one would not expect a man who is ~eally mortified to be meticulous about slight changes in the temperature. Per- 'haps just the same persons are those who, believing that, as everything has its place, the proper place for fresh ai~ in winter is outside, insist on an immoderately high tempera- ~ure, and along with it, a bad atmosphere in the room. Thus .they diminish their alertness and efficiency, and at the same time waste steam and coal. Keeping the rules df etiquette at table would presum-ably be beneficial rather than harmful to one's health. At all events, it could be real charity and mortification. Cer-tainly, very certainly, it would be a great kindness to others, and tend to promote good appetite and health in the com-munity, as the neglect of good manners may be so great as to become disgusting to others. If there should be any re-" ligious who do not already know the ordinary pr~escriptions of table etiquette, then, by. all means, let them get Emily ¯ Post, and study her. It could be a very genuine act of vir-tue. Probably there are very few religious, those excepted who are already on a diet ordered by a physician, who could not make some change in their habits of eating and drinking that would not redound both to their physical well-being and to the glory of God. The right amount, the right balance of,diet, the right way of taking it,--these are points in which it is most human to err. Some, like chil-dren, may be inclined to slight the simple, solid substantials, and to show themselves too fond of sweets, desserts, and such better-tasting things. Possibly there are some who could at the same time reduce the community butcher-bill and improve their health. Some, though they lead a very 35 Sedentary lifd, may eat as if they had to dig ditches or. pitch. hay all day. .It i~ often said now that many Americans, even thosewho eat as much as and 'whatever they like, are star.ring themselves for the want of certain necessary ele-ments in their,diet: vitamines; for instance. Perhaps some ~.religious could drink less coffee, and thus improvetheir nerves, their t.emp~rs, their sleep, and their work. ~ The problems.of overweight and underweight, and all .their consequence.s, which may be 3r.ery serious indeed,hatur- :ally.suggest~ themselves in this context. Perhaps one ~eli-gi0us needs tO drink more milk, though he ~tislikes it~ and .another ought to'take.less of it, though he Iovesit. Pos-sibly one religious should mortify his pride and ask for permission to have an extra lunch~ between meals; "and an: other would do w~ll to obtain leave.to Omit the midday l_uneh. Iridi.vidual applic.ations of this point are~ infinite: If one realizes that he should dos0mething, gut not ~know what, it .would be easy to question the community phys, ician and find out. Thereare many religious who CgUld pr.actice this particular form of hygienic mortification, arid while making themselves more healthy and robust and fit for work and for a lon.ger life, also add very great!~; ~o the glory of God and the glory of His Elect in the hereafter. If one were to accuse, many male religious of smoking too much and thug really injuring themselves, one wduld only be repeating what they themselves accuse themselves of. Their oportunityiS obvious~ and the mortification involved would b~ great; but So ~ouldothe returris, at least in supernatural merit. T, he possibilities for mortification and for edific~ation, in connection with alc6h61 need only to ¯ be suggested. No,doubt there are many religious, who, if they be well-informed and sincere, would have to admit that some ~hangeinz~their lives ~ith respect to exercise Would, even from the spiritual pointof view, be an excellent thihg for them. If they need more physical exercise and can get it in some pleasant way, relaxing the nerves and mind as well as stirring the muscles, somuch the bett~r. " But get itthey ought, if they are fully to accomplish the tasks assigned to them by Providence. If nothing else .be possible; some form of calisthenics or setting-up exercise~ might be" tried fo~ a. prescribed number of minutes every day. If anybody think that there is no great mortification in faithfully per~ severing° in such a routine day after day and' month after m0nth,~let him try it . Many religious women would probably: be spared many troubles of mind and conscience, would performtheir exeicises of.piety with more energy and devotion, and would be more ready°in their obedience~ and work, as well, as morse healthy, if they h'ad a little walk every day' in the fresh air. Younger sisters, who until rather recently were college girls taking part in college athletics, might play a short game of tennis, or something of the kind. It would make for sound nerves and clear heads, and these in turn could obviate many. temptations and worries. It is:.true indeed that St. Paul wrote to Timothy: "For whereas bodily training oi~.,profitable for little, pietyis profitable for'all,things, .pos-sessing promise of life both here and hereafter" (I Tim-othy' 4:8). I take this to mean th~it bodily.training is of .little value in comparison with piety; but in as much as it is subordinated to.the purposes of wirtue and is a requisite condition for more vigorous piety, or piety in a longer life, its .wo.rthmay bereallY~very~great. ' " -" The ancient ascetics by way of reaction, it seems, to abuses connected with.the old public baths, mortified them-selves by not bathing. Could it be true that some.modern ascetics might practice mortification and virtue .by-making more use of it? ~ Care of the eyes deserves special mention. Apparently there are many who could deny themselves at times by taking the trouble to get better light when they are reading. Work, since it takes most of .the time and energy of religious, is a very fertile field for mortification. Some over-w' 6rk themselves for a time, and then for. a longer time they ¯ cannot do the normal amount, and perhaps~ ~hey evens:need the work of others to attend to them. Their ~problem is to avoid excess here, asin the practice of virtue generally. would Seem to be a good rule that there should.~nev~er:~.be overwork or overstrain except in emergencies. In the long run it is very poor economy and ef[iciency. They especially should cultivate self-abnegation'm avoiding overfatigue wh6 do not let superiors know that too much has been assigned to them; or who deceive themselves into believing that they. are heroically sacrificing themselves for noble motives when in 'reality there is an admixture of piide or human respect or merely human desire of success in thei:r 37 motivation. Sisters who in difficult days are attempting the double tasks of teaching and of getting their own edu-: cation at the Same time need more than others to guard themselves, even as the dreaded examinations approach, against overstudy and excessive exhaustion. Overfatigue -begets irritability, diminishes intelligence and liberty, and unbalances the nerves. Then the way is open to evils of all sorts, physical, mental, and moral. "So that ye may not grow weary and lose heart" (Hebrews 12:3). Humbly to be satisfied with a modest accomplishment when that is all that is possible without injuring oneself, or diminishing one's achievement in the end, is a very salutary form of mortification. There are others whose fault is too little exertion. Some of these, could benefit themselves physically, and perhaps mentally, as well as spiritually, by increasing their efforts until they reach the mean between excess and defect. Occu-pational therapy is an important kind of treatment for certain cases. After work, recreation and rest. For people who lead a life as strenuous and tense and uniform as the religious life is, recreation is of great importance. If they do not unbend at times, they will break. But are there not some religious who do not take even that minimum amount of recreation which is enjoined for them by their rules or their superiors? Here, in a peculiarway, to mortification charity could also be added. It is understood of course that what is supposed to be recreation or relaxation, really is recreation. Prob-ably no one will deny that there are at least a few religious who could advance in self-abnegation, and in prayer (especially the next morning), and in .virtue generally, by beginning their night's sleep betimes. Thus far certain points which may be the subject of ~mortification that is good for the body as well as for the soul. Only those in normal health, or at least in health that is nearly normal, have been considered. If one be sick already, evidently one has a greater need for hygienic mortification, and a greater opportunity to bear what is unpleasant and to forbear what is pleasant. Those who as yet are well, but, through some neglect or other, are slowly but surely undermining their health, could more easily and readily mend their ways if they could imagine to some slight extent what pain and torture, whaf 38 disappointment, what bitter sense of frustration, they are bringing upon thems~elves. Mortification is hard; other-wise it would not be mortification. But it is still worse to be sickand incapacitated, particularly if that be owing to some negligence or fault. An initial, though negative, advantage of hygienic mortification is that nobody can object to it on the score that it might injure his health. By definition, it makes for better health. Then, it possesses the-advantages and values of other forms of mortification, and besides, it is more thor-oughly positive and constructive than some of them. It is real and genuine mortification, involving, as it does, the suppression of much that is pleasant and the enduring of much that is unpleasant. :If anyone should think other-wise, he can try the experiment. Religious have a special need of keeping fit physically. There is the importance, in time and eternity, of their work, and this depends in great measure, on health and strength. An intense interior life--and this is always the ideal of religious--makes greater demands upon physical resources than the intellectual life, which in turn is hard enough upon the physique. The cultivation of mental prayer, of supreme importance in the spiritual life, demands that one's physical resources be at their best. Community o,bservances require health in the members of the com-munity, and if a sickly person drags himself along somehow to follow them, he is likely to become still worse and more incapable of continued community life. The great foundress, St. Theresa of Avila, who knew well the problems of religious women, and particularly the difficulties of mental prayer, wrote: "It is this resolution [to be always thinking of Him and loving Him] that He [God] seeks in us; the o~her anxieties which we inflkt upon ourselves serve to no other end but to disquiet the soul-- which, if it be unable to derive any profit, in one hour [of prayer], will-by ttiem be disabled for four. This comes most frequently from bodily indisposition--I have had very ~reat experience in the matter, and I l~now it is true; for I have carefully observed it and discussed it afterwards with spiritual persons--for we are so wretched, that this poor prisoner of a soul shares in the miseries of the body. The.change.s of season, and the-alterations of the humors,,. very often compel it, without fault of its own, not to do what if would,, but rather to suffer in every way. Mean-while, the more we force the soul on these occasions, the greater the mischief, and the longer it lasts. Some discre-tion must be used, in order to ascertain whether ill-health be the occasion or not. The poor soul must not be stifled. Let those who suffer thus, understa'nd that they are i11: a change should be made in the hour of prayer, and often-times that change should be continued for some days. Let souls pass out of this desert as they can, for it is very often the misery of one that loves God to see itself living in such wretchedness, unable to do what it would, because it has to keepso evil a guest as the body" (5). Other things being equal, alacrity of spiritand intensity of good will in exercises of piety, in keeping religi0us disci-pline, and in doing the work of the order or congregation, are to be expected rather from those who are physically fit ai~d strong than .from those who ,are unfit. The supernatural values of sickness and suffering~are very great, but it is understood and presupposed that the illness should not be due to indiscretion or negligence. ¯ Hygienic mortification~ will. contribute to poverty, because it is cheal~er to be well than to be paying for medi-cines, hospitalizations, and operations, and because healthx,, religious do more work. It will help chastity, by precluding certain temptations due to abnormal physical conditions, and by promoting, that soundness and stability of the ner-vous system which are so necessary for self-control. It will promote obedience, by removing obstacles both to readiness of will ai~d to actual performance, and by conferring greater positive strength and effciency. It will enhance charity and perfectibn it~self, by forestalling irritability and other impediments, and by enabling one to accomplish better and greater things for God and for souls. The present incumbent of the See of Peter and his immediate predecessor seem to offer an illustration in point. If Msgr. Ratti ha~d not been a very energetic Alpine climber, it is not likely that as Pius XI, and as a septuagenarian and an octogenarian, he could have achieved so much for the good of the Church. If I mistake not, the ascetical Car.- dinal Pacelli,while Secretary of State at the Vatican, used gymnastic apparatus installed in a room near his office. (5) St. Theresa, Life, translated b.y D. Lewis: chapter-XI. 40 There is one group of re.ligious for whom hygienic, mor~ tification, as thus far suggested, is not at all recommended. They are the hypochondriacs, to be found, here and there throughout the whole body of religiousl that is, those who are already excessively or even morbidly, solicitous about their health and all that appertains to it. For them it would be poison. However, they still need hygienic mortification: only it is of the psychic form. This they may need very rfiuch ideed. To quote St. Theresa again: "Take care, then, of the body, for the love of God, because at many other times the body must serve tl~e s0ul;.and let recourse be had to some recreations~holy ones such as conversation; or going out intothe fields . . . Altogether, experience is a great matter, and it makes us understand what is convenient for us. Let God be served in all things--His yoke is sweet; and it is of great importance that the soul should not be dragged, as they say, but carried gently, that it may make greater pro-gress" (6.). In conc!usion, a religious practicing physical hygienic mortification, as here proposed, will not by any means put care of his health above things that are of greater value, but rather, with the purest and noblest motives, make the most of the physical constitution that God has given him, and thus be better prepared and disposed to accomplish the very utmost for the glory of the Triune God, for the devel-opment of his own supernatural life, and for the sanctifica-tion of his brethren. He would simply and fully be helping to carry out the grand objective of the Incarnation: "I am come that they may have life, and may have it more abun-dantly" ¯ (2ohn 10: 10). (6) Ibidem. l:::xernpl:ions J:rom Fasting Gerald Kelly, S.J. THE PENITENTIAL season of Lent always brings with it the personal question: what should I do about fasting? Very likely the practical solution to thi~ problem in most religious communities is a regulation to consult one's confessor' and abide by his decision. This is certainly a wholesome custom; and it is notthe purpose of this article to criticize it in any way. Nevertheless, it seems profitable for the religious themselves to know something of the mind of the Church regarding exemptions from fast-ing. This .knowledge should be particularly helpful to superiors, since there may be times when they must pass judgment on their subjects' obligation to fast. Other re-ligious also can profit by the knowledge, for it sometimes happens that they cannot consult their confessor, at least for several days, and, even when they can consult, they can do so more intelligently and follow advice more reasonably if they are familiar with the principles governing their cases. This article, therefore, is intended to answer only one question, which may be phrased as follows: In what cir-cumstances is one exempt from the general law of fasting? The only point to be considered is the obligation to keep the general fasts of the Church. There is no question here of the obligations of rule concerning fasting as these exist in various religious communities. Nor is there question of the ascetical aspect of fasting. We can take for granted that fasting is. a splendid act of penance and mortification, as is evidenced by the entire Catholic tradition in the matter; take for granted also that the keeping of the common fasts of the Church in union with the other members of the Church is highly pleasing to God and of great profit to souls. These are interesting questions, but beside the point of the present article, the whole purpose of which is to determine who, according to the mind of the Church, may omit fasting without violating her law. The first expression of the Church's mind is found in the ecclesiastical law itself. Canon 1254, which contains the fasting law, exempts al! who have not completed their twenty-first year and all who have begun their sixtieth year. 42 Canon.1245 makes provision for other exemptions by granting the power of dispensing to local Ordinaries~ pas-tors, and superiors of exempt clerical orders. Custom, the unwritten law of the Church, exempts all who are engaged in hard and protracted manual labor. The foregoing are the only reasons for exemption con-tained explicitly in the law of the Church. They do not, however, exhaust the reasons which the Church acknowl-edges as valid excuses from the obligation of fasting. By far the greater number of excuses can be found in the teaching of the moral theologians. To put the matter briefly, these theologians, applying a principle approved by the Church as a legitimate method of interpreting the law, teach that fasting is not obligatory when it involves extraordinary difficulty. The word, extraordinarg, has a technical meaning which is perhaps best explained by contrasting it with what might be termed ordinarg difficulty. Evidently, the fasting law is intended to impose on the faithful some inconven-ience, that is, the inconvenience of self-denial. An incon-venience of this kind is termed ordinarg, and it would not excuse anyone from the observance of the fast. On the other hand, in a general law of this nature, the Church does not wish to impose exceptional hardship on anyone; much less does she wish to do harm or to hinder greater good. Such difficulties as these would be termed extraordinaru~, with respect to this law; that is, they are outside the scope of the law, and they excuse the faithful from the obligation of observing it. Applying this principle of extraordinary inconvenience, moralists teach that the sick and convalescent are excused from the obligation of fasting. Also exempt are those who, though perhaps not technically "sick," are of frail consti-tution; also extremely nervous people. Such persons nor-mally need nourishment frequently; fasting would prove harmful to them. It sometimes happens that even those in rather normal health cannot fast without severe headaches or dizzy, spells; also that the fast will render it impossible for them to get ¯ their needed rest at night. Some people are unable to get the one substantial meal allowed to those who fast; some are physically unable to eat or digest such a meal. Finally,. there are many who find that fasting interferes with their 43 necessary work; they lose valuable time and are quite inef-ficient. All cases like these are included under the exemp-tion by reason of extraordinary inconvenience. One might ask this very practical question: How am I to know if fasting would be exceptionally difficult for me or be harmful to me or my work? Perhaps the simplest way of answering this question is to tell such people to experiment a bit. This is the simplest but not always the most prudent method. Unless the experimentation is car-ried on very cautiously, it can work harm, and it can do this so quietly that the harmful effects are not perceived until it is too late. To avoid such injurious effects, one may legiti-mately follow certain recognized presumptions in deciding one's obligations to fast. The presumption of excuse favors those who are engaged in hard mental labor, for example, teachers and students. Regarding teachers, one may notice an interesting development~ in the opinions of theologians. The older theologians were quite ready to excuse a. professor of the higher branches, even though he had to lecture only one hour a day. They presupposed, of course, that he had to spend the day in preparation and that he did not merely read lectures which bad long since been cast into permanent mold. But these theologians were not always so benevo-lently inclined toward teachers of the lower grades (the equivalent of our high schools and grammar schools), even though these had to spend several hours a day in the. class-room. Father Ballerini, an eminent moral theologian of the last century, citing the especially severe opinion of one older school, remarked very tartly: "we should note that these great doctors were always engaged in teaching the higher branches; they had no experience in this humbler art." Also in the case of students there has been a progres-sive development towards leniency. Today, it is quite safe to say that the presumption of excuse favors those who spend several hours a day in teaching the lower grades, as well as diligent students who spend most of the day either in attending lectures or in preparing their lessons. When I say "the presumption of excuse favors" those mentioned in this paragraph, I mean that these persons may consider that they are not obliged to fast, unless they have very solid grounds for assurance that they can fast without, harm to 44 themselves, or their work. Those able to fast while carrying on these works are the.exception, rather than the rule. . The same presumption favors those who must spend long hours in the confessional or who are engaged in strenu-ous preaching.It may also be used in favor of those who are engaged in fatiguing works of mercy, such as caring for the sick. It should be noted that. in a!l these.cases, it is not only the strain of ~the work which favors exemption, but also the fact that the works themselves are of, great impor-tance. There should .be no danger that fasting will inter-fete with their proper performance. The foregoing examples of extraordinary ir~con~cen~ ience were chosen because they are of particular interest or practical value to the readers of this magazine. In cases such as these, the Church law does not bind. Furthermore, merely from the point of view of general legislation, there is no strict obligation Of consulting anyone, if one can form a prudent judgment of his~own case. A community regula-tion of consulting the confessor or spiritual director should; of course, be followed; and in general it is considered wise for everyone to consult about the matter. Often enough, it is diflScult to form a prudent, and especially a quieting; judgment of one's own case. Mention has already been made of those who have the power of granting a dispensation from fasting; local Ordi~ naries, pastors, and superiors of clerical exempt orders. These generally delegate the power to other priests, espe-cially at a time like-Lent: and the Holy. See. occasionally delegates other priests by special indults. None of these, even the Bishop, can give a dispensation without some rea-son; but the reason need not b~ so serious as would be required for exemption by reason of extraordinary~incon-venience. A dispensation is perhaps the best of all means for setting one's mind at rest regarding the obligation 0~ fasting. Even those religious superiors who have no power to dispense can pass judgment on their subjects' ability to keep the fast, and if they judge that a reason such as those described as extraordinary inconveniences is present, they may tell the subject not to fast. For passing such a judg-ment, no special jurisdiction is necessary. Certainly supe-riors are in a position to make a prudent judgment, for they 45 should know both the capacity of their subjects and the strain or importance Of their work. From what has been written here, it will appear that a fairly large number of religious engaged in the active life are not strictly obliged to keep the general fasts of the -Church. They have the same right as others to take advan-tage of exemptions. Someone might object, of course, that religious have an added obligation to give good example. The objection does not appear to have much weight in the :present instance. Religious should, by all means, give example to the world of a spirit of self-denial and mortifi. cation, but it is not necessary that this example extend to ,the letter of the law concerning fasting. In fact, without attempting in any way to minimize the general importance of the fasting law, one might advance several obvious reasons why religious have less need of this particular austerity than have others. ' Their life is a well-regulated, well-disciplined one, and those who lead it faithfully are being constantly schooled in self-denial. Furthermore, the very regularity of their life makes them feel more keenly the change brought about by fasting and renders them more apt to be upset by it. Finally, their work itself is of great spiritual importance.i As for bad example, the sharp or sarcastic word spoken by the confessor, teacher, or nurse is much more harmful than the so-called "scandal" of religious who do not fast. Perhaps these few remarks Will prove helpful to reli-gious, particularly to those who are inclined to worry about the fasting obligation or to lament the fact that they are judged unable to fast. They should take consolation in the thought that they can practise an even more meritorious self-denial by observance of their rule, by fidelity to duty, and especially by a constant and delicate charity. The inability to fast does not deprive them of the opportunity of glorifying God or of helping souls. 46 Saint: Rober Bellarmine's . Sign of the Cross Clement DeMuth, S. J. CATHOLICS with a greater than average knowledge of their religion are ~sometimes at a loss when they are called upon to render an. account of some simple reli-gious truth. They discover in themselves, not so much a lack of technical knowledge that lends itself to explanation only in learned phrase_s, but rather a failure to appreciate thd mental capacity of the child or other unlettered person to be instructed. To adapt one's knowledge of even the simpler God-give~i truths to the understanding of such a person is an art that must be cultivated, and developed, and integrated with one's deepening knowledge of human nature itself. The great catechists in the course of the Church's history practiced this art in signal fashion. One of the greatest of these, if indeed not the very greatest, was St. Robert Bellar-mine, Cardinal, Theologian, and Doctor of the Universal Church. In 1597 Pope Clement VIII requested St. Robert to publish his catecheticai method which was proving so successful With the unlettered people of Rome. The saint prepared two catechisms, the first of which was a compen-dium of Christian Doctrine in form suitable for learning by rote. The second, with Which we are here partkularly con-cerned, was a kind of teacher's manual and was entitled An explanation of Christian Doctrine u;ritten in the form of a Dialogue, for the use of those who teach it to children and to other simple people. The success of the little, two-fold work, written in Italian, was immediate and, What is more significant, enduring to an extraordinary degree. In the words of St. Robert's biographer, Father Brodrick, "wi~h the exception of the Bible and the Imitation of Christ, it would be difficult to name any other book which went round the world so rapidly and became familiar to so many different races." A series of Roman Pontiffs com-mended, prescribed, and in general promoted the little work down through the years from the time of Clement VIII. until our own century. With its richness of content, the saint's early chapter on that most obvious---and not always fully appreciated~ ~prayer, the Sign of the Cross, is representative. Its atten-tive perusal brings the conviction that "children and other simple people" are not the only ones who may profit by the saintly, Doctor's explanation of a simple prayer. The style of composition is informally conversational, with the pupil thoughtfully asking questions which would naturally occur to one listening attentively to the explanation of a rather difficult truth. It may be noted that the teacher makes, continual use of examples and illustrations, never permitting himself to forget that the pupil is little used to abstractions. Here is a translation of the chapter on THE SIGN OF THE CROSS PUPIL: Please give me a brief account of the more important mysteries contained in the Creed. TEACHER: There are two principal mysteries of our faith, and both are included in that sign which we call the Sign of the Cross. The first is the unity and trinity of God. Thesecond is the Incarnation and Death of the Savior PUPIL: What is meant by the unity and trinity of God? TEACHER: These are very deep truths and the explana-tion of them is a very slow process. For the time being, however, it will be enough to learn just the names, :and a very little bit more. The unity of God means that besides all created things there is one thing that had no beginning. It has always been and it will always be. It has made all ¯ other things, and it supports them and governs them. It is the highest, noblest, most beautiful, most powerful, the absolute master of every thing; and this being is called God. There is just one God. There can be only one true Divin-ity, that is, one nature, one essence infinitely powerful, wise, good, and so forth. Nevertheless, this Divinity is found in three persons that are called the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. These three persons are just one God ¯ because they have the same Divinity, the same essence. As for example, if three persons here on earth, named Peter, Paul, and John, had the same body and the same soul, they would remain three persons; because one would be Peter, and another Paul, and another John. Nevertheless, there would be just one man, not three men, there not being three bodies and thr~e souls, but just one body and one soul. 48 Such a state of affairs is not possible among men, because the being of man is little ~and finite, .so it cannot be in many persons. But the being of God, the Divinity of~ God,. is infinite. The same being, the same Divinity is found in the Father, in the Son, and in the Holy Spirit. There are then three persons because one i~ the Father~ the second.is the Son, an.d the third is the Holy Spirit, and there remains nevertheless just one God, because these persons have the same being, the same power, wisdom, goodness, and so forth. PUPIL: Now tell me what is meant by the Incarnation and.Death of the .Savior'. TEACHER: The second divine person, whom we called the Son, besides his divine being, which he had before the 'world was created, indeed from all eternity, this second person took for himself a human body and a human soul, that is, our whole human nature, in the womb of a most pure virgin. Thus he who-was at first just God now began to bd both God and man. After living among men for thirty-three years, during which time he taught the wa~ of salvatioh and worked m~an~r miracles, at last he let him-self be crucified, and on the Cross he died tO make satisfac-tion to God for the sins of the whole world. After thfee days he rose from death to life, and after forty days he a~cended into hea~ce.n, as we say in the article of the Creed.~ That is what we mean by the Incarnation ~ind Death of the Savior. '~PUPIL~ Why are these the principal mysteries of fdith? " " ~FEACHER: Because in the fi~st ~is contained the first principle and last end of man; in the second we have ttie unique and most efficacious means of knowing that first piinciple and of arriving at that last end. And beck/use by our belief in arid confession of th4se two mysteries we~ are distinguished from all th4 false sects, from Turks, ~dews; and heretics. And finally, because without b41ieving and confessing these two mysteries, no one can be saved. PupIi~:. How are these two mysteries included in the Sign of the Cross? TEACHER: ;The Sign of the Cross is made saying: In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy 49 Spirit; at the same time signing oneself in the form of a cross, putting the right hand to the foreh_.ead when one says: In the name of the Father, and then to the breast when one says: and of the Son; finally to the left and right shoulders when one says: and of the Holy Spirit. The words, in the ' Name, show the unity of God, because we say name and not names; and by name is meant the power, and the divine authority, which is one in all three persons. The words, of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, show the trinity of persons, Signing oneself in the form of a cross represents the Passion, and consequently the Incarnation, of the Son of God. Moving the hand from the left to the right, and not from the right to the left, means that by the Passion of our Lord we are transferred from temporal to eternal things, from sin to grace, and from death to life. ~ (NOTE: It may be well to observe that St. Robert, in illustrating certain spiritual realities by the movement of the hand from left to right, can be said to be exercising his ingenuity. He'would no doubt find another interpretation if his catechism were for oriental Catholics, who make the Sign of the Cross moving the hand from right to left!) PUPIL: What is. the effect of making the Sign of the Cross? TEACHER: First, it shows that we are Christians, that is, soldiers of our High Commander, Christ: because this sign is like a flag, or uniform, which distinguishes the sol-diers of Christ from all the enemies of Holy Church; from . gentiles, Jews, Turks, and heretics. Further, this sign is made to invoke the divine assistance in all our works. With ¯ it we summon the aid of the most Holy Trinity, through the Passion of the savior. Accordingly good Christians are .accustomed to make the Sign of the Cross when they rise from bed, when they leave the house, when they sit at table to eat, when they are about to go to bed, and at the beginning of every action that ~hey have to perform. Finally, this sign is made to arm oneself against eirery as-sault of~the devil, because the devil is terrified by it, and flees from it, as do criminals when they encounter the sign of th~i~ police. Very often by means 6f this sign of the holy - Cross man has escaped many evils, both spiritual and tem-p6ral; when he makes it with faith and confidence in the divine meicy and in the merits of Christ, our Lord. 50 Li!:urgy in !:he ¯ P !:t:ern of Modern Praying Gerald Ellard, S.J. WHEN the history o~ our times is written, chroniclers will dwell on the fact that they are characterized by three great, world-embracing prayer-movements. They will speak of the widespread initiation of large groups of the laity of both sexes into systematic asceticism,, be it that of the Spiritual Exercises, or other forms, collectively centering in what is known as the retreat movement~. Again, they will point how this age, .the world,over, has shown a sudden deep concern' practical as well as theoreti-cal, in that communion with God, that apperception of God, known as Catholic mysticism. Lastly historians will take pains to record that twentienth century Catholicism is endeavoring once more to integrate the layman and lay-woman into the offices of public worship. Doubtless, too, the portrait-painters of our age will pause a bit to discourse on the mysterious power possessed by this Church twenty. centuries young to renew its life and reform its institutions by drawing upon fresh streams of vita!it~ welling strong within her. ".So it has been in each great crisis," we can well imagine one of them concluding-; "when the forces of the Church seems spent, then it is she finds new power surging up within her: in the twentieth century the Church refreshed herself and the world by refashioning the pattern of her praying." This article concerns itself in elementary fashion with indicating what is to be expected from the restoration to the people, in the pews, after many long ages, of their organic contact with the ministry in the sanctuary in the joint performance of divine service. The better to visualize the goal o[ this reform in Cath-olic corporate worship, suppose we ask ourselves why such a thing as the. current liturgical movement was simply inevitable, and must have come sooner or later, if the Church were not content to see one. of her chief organs wither to full atrophy. The present-day reform of Cath-olic worship seeks to redress the multiple losses that laymen. and laywomen have suffered in the course of time in their parr in our common worship, seeks to lower the wall of separation, which quite literally in many medieval churches to be seen to this day, and figuratively in them all, shuts the laity out from active sharing in what went on within the holy place where the priestly mediator stood at the altar. It was characteristic of Christian worship from the very outset that it was planned precisely to allow the fullest understanding on thd part of all, the fullest sharing in their respective roles .by ministry and people in their joint asso- Ciation with Christ, theirPriest, their Liturgist. Pagan altars were accessible to the pagan priests alone; the ,Jewish Temple admitted' lay-worshippers to the outer court near to the altar. But with Christians the altar itself stood con- ~picuous and accessible to every least, last Christian, because m the new priestly race, all had some sharing, priestly or lay, in the perpetuation of Christ's priestly ministry in the covenant of 10ve. St. Paul thankedGod that he efijoyed the miraculous gift of speaking God's praises in unknown tongues: "Nevertheless," he said, "in church I had rather speak five words with my understanding, so as to instruct Others, than ten thousand words in a 'tongue' " I and my hearers do not understand" (I Corinthenians 14:: 19). Now Catholic worship in the West turned from the primitive Greek to the Latin, when that became the tongue the com-mon man understood best. It then took the liturgy of 'the Western Church a fairly long period in which to grow and develop, until at Rome under Gregory I, Pop.e from 590 to .°.6. 04, it achieved its zenith, the perfect expression of the Latin Christian's corporate worship of almighty God. How regrettable that Gregory lived in an age of indescrib-able upheaval, which rendered the realization of his ideal in worship impossible in any ecumenical manner! Particu- ¯ lar features excepted, the liturgy of the Roman Rite has never since received such a thorough-going reform and readjustment to current life as Gregory gave it then. In one way or another the layman's place in the liturgy has become more circumscribed with every century since Gregor3~ lived. To illustrate how this has been the case, suppose we imagine a sevent.h-century man or woman living on as a 'Wandering Christian" through the intervening centuries, and note how such a pilgrim would find lay-participation in worship further impoverished age by age. 52 In Gregory's day, for all greater occasions, people met at a fixed rendezvous and then marched to church .with Cross and banners, prayer and song~ At the common type of Mass, what we call high Mass, pedple and choir of clerics together madd, in the language of everydayiife, those responses to the celebrant, which, if they are not exactly the structure of the service, are nonetheless so many short, vibrant bonds with the altar. At the entrance of the clergy, in alternation with the choir, there was singing. So, too, did the people come singing to bring their gifts to the altar at the Offering (Offertory). They shared the~cle'rgy's ceremonial postures, standing, extending their arms, bowing or kneeling with the ministers, and gave each other the kiss of peace. So did they join in the psalmody, singing at leas~ the Gloria Patti, the K~rie, the Sanctus, and, when it was later introduced, the Agnus Dei. Singing too they came to the altar, the Table of Union, itself the sign, as the Fathers of Trent were to phrase it later, "of that one Body of which He is the Head, and to which He would fain have us as members united by the closest bond of faith, hope and love." The Roman of Gregory's day could in many ways feel himself "concorporate" in his' worship with every one sharing that worship with him. In the following century, had our pilgrim attended Mass in England, France, Germany, notto mention other coun-tries, he would look in vain for the procession to Mass. Save on Christmas, Easter or Pentecost there would be few communicants at Mass, and correspondingly few offerers giving visible expression of the basic concept of the worship of God by sacrifice. Then, too, he would have found him-self one of the very few laymen able to follow the stately Latin,and, as we see from conciliar enactments, not all the priests able to translate for him! But.our pilgrim would: note with a sigh the people's' eagerness in singing as far.as circumstances allowed. There at least he could still join. with them in prayer that sang. After a second century of wandering, during let us say the pontificate of Nicholas I ( 8 5 8- 8 6 7), our pilgrim would have noted with growing apprehension how elementary part-singing had already been discovered. "I sadly fear this may in course of time lead to the neglect, or even-the corruption, of unison singing, planesong,* alone possible to *Concerning this spelling, see note at the end of the article. 53 the congregation as a whole." But he would have hailed with delight the opportunity given him in the appearance of the sequences,~ to sing simple, homely rhyming lines with lustiness and joy, Could he have foreseen the future, he would have known that after their period of development, and luxuriance, there would follow such decay that with fewest exceptions the sequences were all to be expunged from the Missal. When that happened, there was taken from the layman the last impoitant element of the Mass he could still sing. And so it goes across the ages. When St. Thomas was writing in the thirteenth century his explanation of the Mass, he takes it- for~granted that "there are words which the l~riest begins and thd people take up . the Creed and the Gloria.'" In St. Thomas' day the people stil.1 answered Et cam st~iritu tuo, Amen and the like. Shall we follow our weary pilgrim into-the fourteenth century? In The Low Countries, England, France, Ger-many and elsewhere we find him complaining that the new measured music in such rising vogue everywhere was by its very difticulty robbing him of his chance to sing his prayer to God. "Soon.all singing in church will be the monopoly of the expert musicians, and to them will be restricted the fulfillment of St. Augustine's words, 'He that sings prays double.' " What was more, the new type of music, by its sensuous character, so said Pope John XXII, was under-mining his virility of soul. But Pope John XXII was one of the popes of the so-called Avignon Captivity; and for that reason people considere~l him unduly influenced by the French court. His admonitions drew little attention. ~ There was a period when the Council of, Basle was Cath-olic and well-inspired, and thither our pilgrim might have looked for reform of long-standing abuses. How he would have been cheered to note the Council's condemnation and abolition (?) of that abuse whereby "low Mass was said in such a tow .tone that it cannot be heard by those attending." That abuse seems to-have been spreading then in the northern parts of Europe: "If this is not stopped,~' our pilgrim grimly reflects,"even my few answers at low Mass will soon be made impossible." But that was at a day when the Church hadjust healed :the great scandal of the Great Western.Schism, and papal prestige stood too low to effect far-teaching reforms just then. in 15.18 Cardinal Louis of Aragon went into The Low Countries. ~Hadour pilgrim gonein his train be might .have seen the cardinal's secretary~ write in his journal about the Flemish priests:"They say .[Mass] . . . so low that no ohe hears their voices. They do not permit anyone .to make the responses, except the servers, and no one else."' That was~ noted, of course, because it was cbntrary to Roman practice come down from time beyond memory. But in 1518 Rome was suffering the baleful consequences of Italian Humanism, and suggestions a cardinal.might make on 1.ittle points like letting the'people respon~l at low Mass would fall with little weight. Then, too, when the car; dinal's secretary made that entry in his notebook, it was already soinemonthssinceMartin Luther had appended.his theses to the door of the Cathedral of Wittenburg, and thereby set in motion a chain of events that led to the calling of.the Council of Trent. "At long last the-layman'~s losses over a_period of a thousand years will surely be redressed at this greht Council," said our pilgrim as he faced the journey to Trent.Let us see how Trent prescribed for the cure of this pernicious aenemia of the layman's worship, only to have the administration of the remedy, postponed by yet further troubles. The aging Luther ,did not see fit to attend the Council, to .which he had once so solemnly appealed, and indeed he was in- his grave beforeits sessions were completed. But despite~his absence, he was the greatest chalienge to the Council, because he had become the symbol of every kind of error, the accuser of every discoverable abuse. Not a few,of those abuses were related to public worship, and as our pilgrim could have testified, were associated-with th~ fact that for centuries the layman was being deprived by force of circumstances ,of an active and intelligent part in divine service. All.this, it Was then hoped, would be remedied in this great Council. ~' Of all the Cotincils, Trent claims a position unique in many ways, one of which was that from the very outset the definition of. doctrine and the enactment of reform-decrees went forward simultaneously. From the Second Session (the decree opening the Council being the sole. business, of the First Sesson), ,lanuary 7, 1546, to the Twenty-Fifth 55 Session, December 4, 1563, the multiple questions to.ucl~ing the reform of Catholic public worship came up again and again. The Council's solicitude' was most in evidence in all that referred to holy Mass, becau.~e, as the Fathers said, "of all holy things this Sacrifice is the most holy." In resisting the Protestant demands, the Council deemed it "inadvisable that Mass should be celebrated everywhere in the vulgar tongue." Yet on all having the care of souls it laid the obligation, "lest the little ones ask for bread and there be none to break unto them, to explain frequently during the celebration of the Mass, especially on Sundays and festival days . some mystery of this most holy Sac-rifice." If Trent similarly rejected the Reformers' petition " that the entire Mass be said aloud, it did reaffirm "that some .things in the Mass be pronounced in a low tone and others m a louder tone." Masses at which the priest alone com-municated were emphatically declared to be valid Masses, yet in crystal-clear language is affirmed the desirability of having all worshippers communicate: "The holy Council wishes indeed that at each Mass the faithful who are present should communicate, not only in spiritual desire, but also by the sacramental partaking of the Eucharist, that thereby they may derive from this most holy Sacrifice a more abun-dant fruit." With regard to nuns the. Council here went .further and decreed that they must communicate .at least once a month: "Bishops and other superiors of monasteries° shall t~ike special care that the nuns., confess their sins and receive the most holy Eucharist at least once a month." The reforms of the Missal and the Breviary, begun at the .Council, were then handed over to the Holy See for com-pletion. In a hundred minor ways the Council showed its zeal that anything savoring in the least degree of unworthi-ness be kept from the public worship of the Church. The thorny problem of having only proper music in the churches was given much more serious consideration than might be judged from the brevity, of this enactment: "They [local Ordinaries] shall also banish from the churches those types of music in which, whether by the organ or in the singing, there is mixed up anything unbe-coming., so that the house of God.may be truly a house of prayer." Indeed many a bishop at the Council may have had the painful experience of the force of that saying, that .more people were sung into Protestantism than argued into 56 it. As early as 1523; in his Form for Mass and Communion, Luther had touched upon the desirability of German singing: "I would wish among us to l~ave as much as pos-sible in the vernacular what the people sing at Mass." Within a year Luther had contributed no less than twenty hymns of his own composition to his cause, and after Ein /:este Burg had made its sensational reputation, reli-gious rebels in non-German countries began to sweep peop!e into their conventicles by giving .them the chance to sing at divine service. Small wonder that the Fathers of Trent, with all this before their eyes, wished to purge away the corruption that had overlaid the ChUrch's once so popular planesong. This once restored to the people, these would be saved the sad choice of active participation in unorthodox worship, or mute and silent worship in the Church of Rome. Thus our long-suffering pilgrim, attending the ses-sions of Trent, might have envisaged a veri
Issue 21.4 of the Review for Religious, 1962. ; ALOYSIUS J. MEHR, O.S.C. Community Exercises in Religious Life Introduction: The Religious Community in Perspec-tive The religious communityx exists within two wider communities from which it draws its own unique vitality and significance. These two communities--forming one kingdom of God--are the Church and the total human world. Both are immeasurably deep and charged with dynamism; and we cannot arrive at an adequate grasp of the significance of community exercises in religious life unless we see the posture of our own particular commu-nity within these two great communities which are great covenants, the covenant of creation and the cove-nant of Christ. The religious community, however, is not related to the Church and the world only extrinsically as though these formed some kind of background or framework out-side of the community. Kather, the religious community exists at the point of encounter between two great lines of force and destiny which are the Church and the world. Its being calls out to the total human Community from which it arises and in whose service it acts; and its being is a response, deep and creative, to the call of the Word of God. The religious community sums up, symbolizes, and is an eikon of the human community and of the Church. The religious community, therefore, arises from the depths of creation, from the depths of life, lost in the eons of the life's growth itself.2 We carry on the work of crea- 2 This paper was written for and delivered at the international convention on Crosier spirituality held at Maaseik, Belgium, July 24-26, 1961. It has been revised so as to make it applicable to re-ligious communities in genera!. 2 Teilhard de Chardin, The Phenomenon of Man, translated by. Bernard Wall (New york: Harper, 1959); The Divine Milieu, trans-lated by Bernard Wall (New York: Harper, 1960). Hans Urs yon 4. 4. Aloysius J. Mehr, O.S.C., is on the faculty of Crosier House of Studies, Route 1, Wallen Road, Fort Wayne 8, Indiana. VOLUME 21, 1962 30! 4" Aloysius Mehr, O.~.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS tion, converging, as Teilhard sees it, to a kind of world unity in which all things are synthesized into community,a The direction of the history of life has moved through phases of biology ("biogenesis") into the world of incar-nate spirits ("noogenesis"); and in the New Covenant this force is caught up in the moment of the Resurrection, present among us as a pledge of the final entry into the glory of the Lord (kabod Yahweh). Our community-being, our being-together (Mitsein in Heidegger's termi-nology) is thus wrapped up in the forces and destinies of life, surging on in space-time towards its fullness, the seed of which it carries in itself at the present. Moreover, our community-being is also wrapped up in the fulfillment of creation, the new creation in Christ who draws all to the parousial and paschal destiny of all creation--a destiny that is already sacramentally present in a community called together in the Eucharistic sacrificial meal. These are undoubtedly far-reaching and difficult themes the full significance of which will always remain inaccessible to us, lost behind the veil of the future and the inscrutable destinies of man in the divine plan. We must expect, then, that any discussion of the religious community must, in its ultimate significance, shadow off into mystery. We shall not be able to lay out the forces in us as problems which can be solved, here and now, once and for all times. Community-being is essentially dynamic: we, as men and as religious, are homines vi-atores. Our fellowship in God is an eikon--an image, a sign, a symbol--of the Church localized in our areas of concern, but the Church which is the people of God on the march (in via), creating (in/ieri) what we most deeply are unto fullness in Christ who fulfills all in all (Eph 1:23; Jas 1:18). From this viewpoint we are able to see, or rather to begin to see, the profound significance of community exercises. Community exercises are the historical and temporal incarnations of our being-together (Mitsein). There is a deep and vast need, truly an ontological need, a need arising from our being-together, for authentic community activity that emanates from the inexhaust-ible fullness of our being.4 What we are demands suc-cessive real-ization; our being overflows into our life. Activity, operatio, exercise--these are not on some pe-riphery of the real, bu~ rather incarnations in the fabric of the real world. Man is embodied soul and besouled body. His existence is incarnate existence, caught up in Balthasar, Science, Religion, and Christianity, translated by Hilda Graef (London: Bums and Oates0 1958). s Teilhard develops this theme in The Phenomenon of Man: ~ Gabriel Marcel, Homo Fiator, translated by Emma Crawford (Chicago: Regnery0 1955), p. 26. solidarity with the corporeal universe but transcending it as spirit.5 Human being demands expression; as in-carnate, it is essentially temporal, basically historical, realizing itself further and more fully in successive and authentic encounters with the real--in the mysteries of birth, death, conversion, sickness, and above all, love.~ This paper is, first of all, a re-investigation of certain societal universals--relationships of persons which are the anthropological, sociological, and theological binding forces which help to produce a healthy and fruitful com-munity. The term "relationship" will be used more fre-quently than "community exercises" or "community ac-tivities." This, however, should not confuse the reader. An activity has social implications and social value if it is a relationship to others. The fact, therefore, that we will not group our material under the usual headings like "prayer life" or "recreations" or "the apostolate" should not tempt the reader to conclude that we are not speaking of things usually thought of as "community ex-ercises." We will speak primarily about the unifying forces, the community-building potential of community exercises, whether these be a simple conversation, a rec-reation, the Mass, superior-subject relationships, pro-fessional relationships of instructors with students, or even the exercise of talent in a "private" way within the community. It would be wrong to see as binding forces only those activities in which all of us perform the same movements or say the same words. On the other hand, community and society can hardly exist where there is no mutual a.ctivity, no common involvement of all the members in some fruitful, meaningful task. Finally, this analysis of communal activities precisely in their unifying value views the religious community in its objective, intersubjective, and Christian dimension. Part I: Community in Social Patterns To an anthropologist7 a very significant characteristic of the monastic community is that it is a celibate, reli-giously oriented institution'. This is without precedent or parallel in primitive or preliterate culture. In general, as the society becomes progressively complex,, certain indi-a Von Balthasar .develops this theme in his book Science, Religion, and Christianity. e Gabriel Marcel, The Philosophy O] Existence, translated by 4. Manya Harari (New York: Philosophical Library, 1949)', p. 6. 7The Reverend Alphonse Sowada, OiS.C., received his master's degree in anthropology from the Catholic University of America, Community Washington, D.C., in the spring o[ 1961. In an interview with the Exercises Reverend Ronald Kidd, O.S.C., he initiated in outline form the following analysis of the monastic community based, on anthropo-logical procedure. Father Sowada is'presently working in the New Guinea Mission, VOLUME 21, 1962 3O3 ÷ ÷ ÷ Aloysius Mehr, O$.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 3O4 viduals are set aside solely for religious activity. Hence the phenomenon even of the Israelitic priestly office, given to the tribe of Levi, suggests a somewhat highly developed social complexus. Furthermore, sexual prac-tices become restricted for religious specialists only in civilized, cultured society. The religious community, com-bining both factors, arises only late in the development of a people. This unique development suggests various problems: a separation from the elemental and primitive social binding forces, perhaps a tendency towards over-com-plexity and hyper-specialization, in general, a danger of an ever greater artificiality. Man-to-Nature Relationships The ecological system comprises the sum total of the man-to-nature relationships in a given social organiza-tion. It comprises all the activities by which these people make a living--how they satisfy their elemental needs from nature. Thus, the supplying of food, the manufac-ture of clothing, the realm of technology, and attendant organizations and belief are .elements in an ecological system. In primitive societies, these are the concern of everyone; social organizations and belief patterns (treated in the following sections of this paper) arise from this common involvement in wresting an existence from na-ture. The ecological system forms the foundation for the actual social forms of the people. In the religious community, participation in this basic, elemental social activity is often frustrated. The general pattern is the specialization of ecological functions; they are more often than not entrusted to a few--the prior,,;, procurators, and other superiors. As a result, the remain-ing members of the community lack this elemental bind-ing force with one another and with the community as a whole. This can easily lead to frustration, complacency, and eventually create parasites within the community, In this connection it should be noted that the work of those religious who are engaged in manual labor almost exclusively is much more in line with the needs expressed in an ecological system, provided that they are truly a part of the community in which and for which they work. In order to utilize this natural, social binding force, these religious must feel themselves solidly within the whole community. They should experience the same satisfaction that the son or daughter enjoys when they begin to co-operate with their parents in providing a livelihood for the family. The social bindings formed by the ecological system are intense and deep. For the clerical and teaching members of a community, there is also a need for an acceptable way either to fulfill this function or to find an adequate substitute. The apostolate might seem like a perfect substitute. But in the apostolate the results are apt to be too far distant for the immediate kind of satisfaction caused by common involvement in providing the basic necessities of life. In fact, where superiors or subjects try to make' apostolic work an "acceptable" sublimation, the very 'remoteness of results can tend precisely to create further frustration and complacency. '~ In general, any project in which personal initiative is called into play within and for the community and in which a sense of fulfillment can be forthcoming ~can be used as a substitute. Such projects are of great value in binding together the religious,community. Stress should be placed°especially on the matter of results; for example, graduation, profession, and ordination days should be planned wisely to be days of community joy in accom-plishment rather than of relief in being through with tedious work. Although effective substitutes depend on both subjects and superiors, it is the superiors, above all, who must see the absolute need for them. Individual ~religious may have the initiative to make valuable .suggestions, but :the only person who can integrate these suggested projects into the community and give them their full social force is ,the superior. Without due attention, the community moves towards increasingly artificial social forms, lacking and attempting to substitute for, the basic level of social solidarity. In order to have a healthy community, we must find effective and meaningful substitutes. Man-to-Man Relationships Next, we deal with interpersonal relationships, en-compassing social ability and practice, questions of status and hierarchy in the communal organization, questions of law regulating interpersonal behavior, family orienta-tion, pressure groups, informal and formal groupings. This is the area of personal response and personal: activ-ity~ phenomena that vary with,each individual. Consid-eration of the interpersonal relationships are of 'utmost importance in analyzing the social structure of a com-munity; they form the operative and dynamic structure of society. Perhaps the most evident charact~eristic of interpersonal relations within the religious community is its thorough structure ot control. First of all, everyone knows every-one else and every individual can control his response thereby. Moreover, the social control within our unique form of community is almost familial or patriarchal. This is a good basis for developed social organization. In a healthy community a person is a part of things, 4. + + Community Exercises VOLUME 21, 1962 305 ÷ Aloysim OM.e~h.Cr., REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS he knows what is expected of him, he is not bewildered or lost within the crowd. He is at home, he knows how to approach everyone else, he knows how to regulate topics of conversation, to account for individual differ-ences, to accept the particular interests of the other mem-bers of the religious society. He enjoys that ecce quam bonum feeling which is a natural result of being [ul_ly ac-cepted by the group. He belongs to them, uncondition-ally; they are happy to have him and would be distressed at losing him. As. a further consequence, he feels shel-tered, contented, and can gradually abandon all his poor little defensive mechhnisms as well as the defects of. char-acter which necessitate them. All his potential gifts can flower, he can. give himself up confidently to his most generous aspirations. Such. :are the blessings which accrue to an individual who lives in a healthy group definitely ready to accept him.s There are, however, definite dangers in our communal make-up. The first and perhaps most serious danger is that of artificiality--artificially controlled responses. To the extent that responses become too automatic, too pat, too set, too taken-for-granted, the very situation which ought to promote solidarity could conceivably destroy it. Responses must be genuine; meaningless responses are detrimental to community. The artificiality of community llfe can be much re-lieved by warm parental and fraternal relationships be-tween superiors and subjects, instructors and students, and, above all, between equals. This fosters the character formation that ordinarily occurs within the family. Con-sequently, everyone must take his role in community seriously; he must be open, understanding, sympathetic, and avoid meaningless responses and inflexibility policy in the name of functional efficiency. Professors ought to be aware of the fact that attitudes built up by personal relationships with students are as important as the material being taught. On the other hand, students must realize that they have much to learn and that their attitude towards their instructors is extremely important. Entering. into dialogue is always a two way street. Within the community deep and authentic friendships should be fostered, for personality grows in proportion as it is opened to others. Fear of friendship shatters munity and leaves only a group of isolated introverts living in the same building. Mistaken notions of partic, ular friendship have forced many a religious to lead an unnecessarily lonely life. Authentic friendship means that I am genuinely con-e Communal Lile, translated by a Religious of the Sacred Heart (Westminster: Newman, 1957), p. 267. cerned with my neighbor as a person. When interest is only pretended, people instinctively feel that they are be-ing treated, not as human beings, but as a case, an object, an It. Make-believe interest, pharisaical interest does more harm than good. Every Christian, and certainly every religious, should be conscious of the manyreasons why he should be deeply and genuinely interested in his neighbor in all places and at all times. Another danger in our communal make-up presents it-self where subjects refuse to cooperate with their supe-rior, or where incapable men are invested with status-power. In primitive tribes, subjects who refuse to work with their superior are simply eliminated. Moreover, a leader who blunders in personal relations or in tribal projects, for example, failing to bring off a hunting raid successfully, loses prestige ipso facto. But in our com-munity, the social status of the members is not easily changed. This has its advantages and disadvantages. More permanent social relationships can be formed so as to .give the individuals a greater security and to give the social order a basic stability. On the other hand, where poor relat!onships are formed, this situation too tends to perpetuate itself. Overspecialization is another factor which endangers solidarity in a community. Anthropologists distinguish between diversification, which can lead to mutual de-pendence and promote solidarity, and specialization, in which a member withdraws himself from the community in order to devote his time and energies to some partlc-ular field. In primitive societies, specialists share perforce a vast number of tribal interests: the medicine man is interested in the buffalo hunt and thereby enjoys a social binding to the hunters; he is involved in wars and raids since his status to some extent depends on a perpetuation of the present social organization. In general, in primitive cul-tures, bindings between religious functions and the re-mainder of tribal functions are very strong. But when society develops, it tends to free itself more and more from nature (the ecological system); and it does so only to become more and more dependent upon man and man-to-man relations. This dependence must serve as a constructive and not a destructive force. In order to prevent diversification--which is absolutely necessary in a complex society--from becoming special-ization, we must manifest and recognize on a community level our mutual dependence; for example, the very real dependence of one teacher upon all the others. Here we see the importance of faculty meetings in which the par-ticular field of competence of one person is seen as com-plementing that of another. There are many ways of Community Exercises VOLUME 21, 196Z ÷ ÷ ÷ Aloysius Mehr~ O.S.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS keeping different interests and fields of competence from becoming divisive. Perhaps greater stress should be placed on the apostolate as a community apostolate, a common effort, accomplished in different ways by each individual, but without thereby becoming any less communal in in-spiration, motivation, and reality. An awareness of our mutual dependence is absolutely necessary for the proper integration of personal activity towards our social goals. Interpersonal relationships in the religious community include not only individual-to-individual relations but also those of groups.-A formal grouping is one which is established de [acto and is recognized by the society as exercising a certain control of the whole. Chapters, councils, a faculty, special committees for accreditation, and so forth are all formal groupings. Informal groupings are not officially set up or estab-lished. We see examples of informal groupings during common recreation periods or when some religious work together informally as a group. Informal groupings can at times exercise more influence than the formal group-ings; that is especially true if the formal groupings are inoperative or if the i.nterrelationships between formal groupings is neglected. It is in the informal groupings that public opinion is formed and in many cases social innovation begins. The informal groupings should pro-vide much of the initiative and dynamism necessary for any society to be alive, to grow and develop, and to keep in touch with the members and their real needs and as-pirations. While informal groupings are very important, formal groupings are even more important in a religious com-munity; ours is by its nature a hierarchical society, and one strongly so. Therefore the effective functioning of our formal groupings is especially important for the vi-tality of the entire community. Inoperative formal group-ings, or artificiality in formal ,groupings, invites seg-mentation of the society, then disintegration, and finally demoralization. The history of the American Indian is an extreme case of precisely this. Factors leading to inoperative formal groupings are many. Among them are age differences, lack of precise definitions of ideals, and immaturity. For a well-function-ing community, superiors-,must be willing to present straightforward proposals to their councils or others' whose advice they are to seek. This means the full pres-entation of real cases that involve discussion and choice, not simply decisions for'ratification.9 In short, he must seek to collaborate. Also, he must have the humility and wisdom to consider minority positions; seeking support Ibid., pp. 270-273. only in numbers infallibly excites mistrust, resentment, opposition, or utter indit~erence. "The prudent and most efficient thing for the superior to do is to make the group share, from the beginning, in the common task.''1° Cooperation between formal and informal groupings is of the essence in achieving a healthy, vital c0mmufiity. This means that we must understand the roles which these groups are to play within, the community. More-over, since the religious community is so strongly hier-archical and the superior tO a large extent controls the interrelationships between formal and informal group-ings, he should be doubly alert, astute, and comprehend-ing in regard to the ideas generated in the informal groupings.Suspicion on the part of a superior is harmful to the vitality of the community, kills personal initiative, and tends again to artificial substitutions and the seg-mentation of the community fabric. But beyond this a superior must have the ability to select appropriate ideas from the informal groupingsmthose ideas which will prove beneficial to the community. It is difficult to re-spect a superior who accepts every suggestion that is of-fered to him or proves that he does not have the ability to choose well. In a primitive society he would in that eventuality lose status. Man-to-Ideals Relationships Under this heading we find community purpose and sense of purpose. In primitive society religion ferments the whole society. And certainly community goals, re-ligious ideals, can and should be important unifying fac-tors in a religious community. It is worthy of note here that in primitive ~ociety where the satisfying of the basic needs has such a prominent role, the upper echelons tend to have the same ideals as those of lower status, the .young as the old, the specialists as those engaged in community projects. When the eco-logical needs become less urgent and the man=to-man relationships more important, it becomes more difficult for all to have the same ideals. But the religious commun-ity should be able to realize this unity of ideals in a way that other communities in contemporary life cannot. In a religious community we-ness will tend to be established by living according to a unique set of ideals--provided the ideals are well defined. Our fellowship, as we will see later, is a unique fellowship in Godl For social vitality and solidarity, it is better to define ideals clearly and energetically and then, as the need arises, to modify them than not to define them at all or to define .them haphazardly or casually. Searching for Ibid., p. 270. 4" 4" CEoxm~misuensity VOLUME 21, 1962 309 4. 4. dloysius OM.Se.hCr,., REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ideals has little social result. Without well-defined, known, and accepted objectives, ideals will be fashioned individually and in groups; this leads directly to com-munity segmentation. In this situation, the very factors which in a healthy social organization cause solidarity and vitality have the el~ect instead of segmenting the community. Ideals must and will be formed. If the proper formal grouping will not define them, it is inevitable that informal groupings will attempt to fill this lack. Community goals and ideals, however, cannot be al-lowed to stagnate. Once they have been defined, they must be re-defined as social changes and new needs make themselves felt. In this sense, it is only by innovation that society can maintain its health and well-being. For these reasons, our ideals require constant modification and elaboration to insure their continued adequacy for the very real and growing society which they both reflect and form. Furthermore, wise inter-group relationships constitutd community dynamisms and insure that the social structures of the community are truly alive and' changing--that the incarnations of the community ideals are true responses to the appeals of the era and the per~ sons, that the community continues to be constituted through history in its response to the Word, that its voca-tion continues to be authentic. It is in this context that tradition possesses real meaning. One group, which is n.aturally the most capable of really fruitful effort in this direction, is the meetings oE the various spiritual directors on a regional or inter-national basis. Undoubtedly much good could be ac-complished by regular and well-prepared meetings of these spiritual leaders in each order or congregation. Each meeting should consist oE a series of scholarly papers followed by serious discussion. Here again, we should point out the grave responsibit-ity of superiors. Upon their shoulders must rest a good portion of the burden of keeping goals alive and develop-ing with the community itself. But this responsibility can-not be placed solely upon the superiors. For a society to develop, all should participate in the re-discovery of old ideals and the formation of new. Community is a "we"; its responsibilities are no less communal than the end which they serve. If a religious suffers from abnormal loneliness, an anthropologist would immediately look for some need which is neither being fulfilled nor et~ectively substituted for. Where such a condition exists, the man is not livit~g a whole life; and attempting to live a half life tends to-wards increasing frustration. The only effective remedy in such a case, according to anthropologists, is the real-istic integration of our activities by directing them mean- ingfully towards the specific and ,well-defined goals of our community. Any notable incidence of real loneliness will probably reveal upon careful .investigation some rupture in the social structure of the whole community-- whether ecological, man-to-man, or man-to-ideals, More-, over, from the fact that our society is in 'itself artificial to a certain extent (lacking almost necessarily the deep and elemental bindings of an ecological involvement), we must be doubly aware of the other unifying forces within our community. Part H: Community and Personal Creativity ~ Patterns of social organization are vital, without the slightest doubt. Much. of our actual failure to realize deeply and meaningfully fellowship with one another in a brother-to-brother relationship stems from the neglect or mismanagement of the social structure of our com-munity. Yet the religious community---even considered only as a deep community of men--is not simply cre-ated by experts. The expert manipulates, controls, studies problems, and finds solutions; but his union with his tools and the particular determined purposes of his craft is extrinsic. We can think in" this connection of the over-organiza-tion of working communes as they sprang upsince the last world war. Here, everything is functionalized--all the activities are planned out, with time alloted on the schedule for religion, recreation, and so forth, which are considered as necessary means for overhauling the ma-chine periodically. When people begin to see their lives coincide with the routines planned for them, when they see themselves and their own importance diminish to the level of cogs in a machine, their spirits harden, atrophy, and wither. Life becomes less than free in the sense that activities are not flowing from the deepest levels of being. They become re.ore and more a number in a filing system. This is no doubt an extreme case. But we must reso-lutely resist the temptation to reduce man simply to an aggregate of psychic functions and forget that he is a living soul. In my relations with the men in my com-munity, I am involved. My actions should not tend to build a wall of separation between the me I know myself to be and others. Given the thorough system of social con-trols characteristic of religious life, given too a life that is frequently arranged by my superiors, the most common temptation is to avoid reaching out in true personal ap-peal to the other in all his unique personality, but to see both him and myself as [unctions--a teacher, student, cook, carpenter, Mass-sayer (a cog in a machi'ne can never pray), a procurator, or sflperior. The conclusion we have been working towards is this: ÷ ÷ Community Exercises VOLUME 21, 1962 dloysius Meh~, O.S.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS community is not established by merely legislating laws, setting up a hierarchy of superiors.and subjects, or giving a dozen human beings a common residence. Nor can it be produced by a system' of techniques. Community must grow out of its members, for it is a highly personal gift of oneself to the other person in all the richness of his individuality. While techniques cannot produce community, they are nevertheless valuable in eliminating those things which could prevent community from happening; for example, enclosure within myself, being trapped, as it were, in a system of concentric circles which stand between me and my life. Furthermore, techniques are undoubtedly neces-sary for the effective accomplishment of particular, goals; for example, organizing a sports program requires some manipulating of people. But teamwork still remains a union based on something outside of the being of the other person;, while it may be a true degree of community, it is still not the fullness of human community, let alone: of fellowship in the word and love of God. "Community," Martin Buber .writes, '"is where com-munity happens.TM There is something in genuine meet-ing which extends beyond calculations, plans, and proj-ects. Just as my being is not definitely exhausted in any one particulai'ity of my life but overflows into promise and possibility,12 rooted in my existence and its destiny, so also the community is never definitely established, en-tirely a "given" factor, a.status; Community, the genuine union of beings, is created out of the depths of promise of my bei~ng. It is not pro-duced. Community is meeting; and that meeting which calls to the other from all that I am is essentially creative: something new happens, I become something that I was only potentially before, and in this connection I must think in terms of gilt or grace. I can remain open to re-ceive this gift of the other as long as I am not artificially isolated from my own being in a world of function; but somehow we are here in a realm in which the notions of cause and effect no longer apply with their full import--. I do not cause dialogue. Even more, in a very real sense, I am given to myself fully only in dialogue, in the gift of another self calling out to me, joining our lives in com-mon destiny and hope. "All real life :is meeting.''13 The energies of life become fully real only in community: [ am the possibility, even more, the promise of community in my most elemental reality as incarnate spirit. r~Between Man and Man, translated by Ronald Gregor Smith (Boston: Beacon, 1955), p. 31. '~ Marcel, Homo Viator, p. 26. ~ Martin Bub~r, I and Thou, translated by Ronald Gregor Smith (New York: Scribner's, 1958), p. 11. Hence community--and in a unique way, the religious community--fulfills a basic demand (exigence in French) of human being. The ability to say We, the possibility of genuine encounter presupposes beings who can love and give themselves to others, beings who are incarnati.ons of the spirit which man i~, a spirit embodied iia'spake.and time, in solidarity with the cosmos and the covenant of creation. The human spirit can be stifled for just so long--a time and a time and half a time of the Scrip-tures-- within the abstractions and reductions of a func-tionalized world which, we repeat, is a real danger in a religious community due to the artificiality and conven-tionalisms so easily developed in such a life. But in the well-chosen words of Gabriel Marcel, it seems, at least as far as man is concerned, tha~ even if life is weakened and in a way degraded, it must still retain a certain character of sacredness . We must accordingly realize, I think, that here we are faced with a~ certain absolute, and that this absolute must be assisted, however strong the temptation to resist it?' Man's spirit seeks the fullness of being, the fulfillment of its destiny.15 Even in the midst of degradation or open rebellion, the voice of his spirit calls out for authentic living. Rebellion is a call to another to answer my appeal, to respond, knowing that even if I fail, at least my call will go on being heard. Although many unfavorable things can be said about rebellion, yet we must admit that it is still authentic living. As Camus has written, "I rebel--therefore we are,''x~ In modern religious life, the danger is not primarily open rebellion. With us, frustration more frequently takes the place of rebellion. We begin with high ideals, but, after encountering many difficulties and meeting with many failures, it is easy for us to lose courage, to be-come despondent and frustrated. The principal cause of this frustration is the lack of understanding one's own abilities, strength, and weakness, Being frustrated, religious enclose themsdves within a shell of their own creation; they try to circumvent the full meaning of their vocation. Frustration is a flight from authentic living, and that is the reason why frus-trated religious try to escape and lose themselves in rou-tine or a ceaseless merry-go-round of activities. Here we see, or begin to see, the ontological.significance of frus-tration, despondency, and defense mechanisms--the psy- ~ The Mystery ol Being, translated by G. S. Fraser (Chicago: Regnery, 1950), v. 2, pp. 182-188. x~ Marcel, The Philosophy ol Existence, p. 4 a0Albert Camus, The Rebel, translated by Anthony Bower (New York: Vintage Books, 1959), p. 22. ÷ ÷ ÷ Community Exercises VOLUME 21, 1962 Aloydm 0M.$eh.~r., REV~EWFOR RELIG;OUS chological and sociological ruptures which prevent com-munity from happening. It is in this context that we propose to re-investigate the three relationships already viewed on the anthro-pological level: my relationship to things, to other peo-ple, and to ideals. Creative Community and Things 1. Art. In our mechanized world, things are considered more and' more as means, even pure means (bona utilia), apart from myself, only accidentally and, ontologically speaking, haphazz'rdly coming into contact with me. Their own values are, for me, simply utilitarian. I fail to see in them the mystery of creation in which I also am essentially involved. Art, beauty--these are simply esoteric tinsel, luxuries for the functional man. In a way this man is only half a man, and hence only half himself, begrudging those energies of life with which his created and corporeal being is essentially in communion.,x7 It would be almost meaningless to tell such a man that his activities are incarnations of his being, for he has denied any essential involvement in this universe of space and time.xs When I live out of harmony with myself and the deep community of creation in which I am, which 'is my world, my environment, my ontological context, how can I truly give myself to another? Furthermore, how can a com-munity that is out of harmony with creation be worthy of being presented to Yahweh in the Eucharistic assembly as the sign of His pleroma? The famous American painter, Ben Shahn, writes: I have always believed that the character of a society is largely shaped and unified by its great creative works, that a society is molded upon its epics, and that it imagines in terms of its cre-' ated things--its cathedrals, its works of art, its musical treas-ures, its literary and philosophic works. One might say that a public may be so unified because the highly personal experi-ence (of the artist) is held in common by the many individual members of the public. The great moment at which Oedipus in his remorse tears out his eyes is a private moment--one of deepest inward emotion. And yet that emotion, produced by art, and many other such private and profound emotions, ex-periences, and images bound together the Greek people into a great civilization, and bound others all .over the earth to them for all time to come.1D Art brings into play the unifying forces of creation but' at a deeper, more subjective, and thoroughly personal~ a~ Von Balthasar, Science, Religion, and Christianity, p. 45. a~Bernard Haring, C.SS.R., The Law o] Christ, translated by Edwin G. Kaiser, C.PP.S, (Westminster: Newman, 1961), v. 1, p. 87. ag Ben Shahn, Shape o] Content (New York: Vintage Books, 1960), pp. 45-46. level. Lacking a developed and fully shared ecological sys-tem, the religious-community unity depends on other re-lations to our world, activities of creativeness, ingenuity, activities which produce "results," or better, activities in which my being sees fruition in the corporeal world in which I am. The point is that we should not i~eglect the unifying force of art, the union of persons in the beauti-ful, in the shared experience of meaningful incarnation. But the attitude of encounter with the beautiful is not limited to what we call the fine arts. If I pick up a chisel, it is simply a tool which I use to perform some task. Con-sider, however, the difference when a highly skilled artist or carpenter picks up a chisel. His work expresses him-self, gives himself to the community. Here we return to the general theme of these 'pages: df community is to happ.en, I must give mysel[, and not simply offer the other some service which I perform. In art--from garden-ing to the liturgical setting--I give myself, I entrust to the community that deep and personal experience of creativ-ity. In accepting another's art, we "welcome" him. To welcome is active, personal, embracing. I go out of my-self to meet the other, to invite him to feel at home with me. We cannot merely accept the other's art, whatever it may be, as we accept the result of an assembly line. To accept his art, I must reach out and take his work into my own life; and by doing so I take him, too, into my life. And here again we glimpse a moment when com-munity happens. If a community does not accept the beautiful, it neglects an important binding force--a neglect which will tend to re-appear in personal encounters. Without the proper at-titude toward art, even the deep significance of liturgical symbolism and expression will lose some of the vitality which it was meant to have. The community chapel, above all, should be a masterpiece of art, expressing community, proclaiming the fellowship in God which we are. 2. Play. Finally, we should consider more deeply the meaning of play. Perhaps play is not the deepest of the arts, but it is a true creative expression of man.2° Play is of its nature public. "Through play we find ourselves no longer imprisoned and isolated in our own individual-ity.'' 21 Play "is act in its spontaneity, acting in its very activity, the living impulse.''~ As a vital phenomenon or manifestation of human being, play--to be genuine-- demands a man in contact with reality; "only the vital Eugene Fink, "The Ontology of Pla}'," Philosophy Today, v. 4 (1960), pp. 95-109. Ibid., p. 96. Ibid., p. 97. ÷ + ÷ Community Exercises VOLUME 21, 1962 315 4. 4" 4- A~oysius Meh~, 0.$.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS being., can die, work, struggle, love, and play. Only such a being is in touch With surrounding reality and the total environment--the world.''u3 Humanplay . is a creation through the medium of pleasure of a world of imaginary acuv~ty . Play ~s always character, ized by an element of representation (something like the real world and its rules, but never degrading into routine). This element determines its meaning. It then effects a transfigura-tion: life becomes peaceful.~' In our own world, play is apt to be a highly organized, commercial project; and here again its mea'ning tends to become more and more functionalized---I play, not for delight, but in order to preserve physical and psychic health. If we would look for a moment at the primitive world, we would find far more significant contours: In the primitive times, play was not practiced so much as an act in its pleasure-giving aspect as is the case for those isolated individuals or groups who periodically detach themselves from the social group to inhabit their own little isle of passing hap-piness. Originally, play was the strongest unifying force. It founded a community quite different, it is true, from that of the living and the dead, the governing and the governed, and even from that based on the family. The community of play of primitive man included all the forms and structures of com-mon life., and it called forth a reliving of all the elements of life. This reached its high point in the community festival. The ancient feast., was a liturgical spectacle where man ex-perienced the proximity of the gods, heroes, the dead, and where he found himself in the presence of all the beneficent and dreadful powers of the universe . What was represented was nothing less than the whole universe.= Genuine play is extremely important in a religiou:; community. We will develop this point further in Part III where we will see that community recreation should serve as a catechesis of the proper celeb'ration of the~ Eucharistic festival--the Mass. Inter-personal Creativity: Intersub]ectivity Community exercises are significant only in as far as they involve an encounier with the Thou. This is the point, above all others, which we must remember. This is the heart of the matter. Divorced from all genuine en-counter with the Thou, community exercises are mean-ingless. In our very proximity, it is easy for me--because of routine, fatigue, and so forth---to consider my confrere less and less as a person (a Thou) and more and more ;ts an object (an It). An object is contained within itself, something which I can possess and manipulate. A person Ibid. Ibid., pp. 104-105. Ibid., pp. 105-106. is a being to whom I can call out, whom I can invoke, who is able to return my call, and in our response to each other create community. I can say "We." But to approach the other in his own unique being and destiny, in all that makes him himself, I myself must be a presence to him. Self-consciousness atrophies,, encloses me in .myself; we may be with one another physically and temporarily, but we have not yet realized Mitsein, that full union in love and welcome where deep calls out to deep. Without doubt, our lives and our encounters with one another tend to form stereotyped patterns. In accordance with our rule and constitutions,~l meet others at certain determined places and at set times. We are joined to-gether for specific purposes: prayer, recreation, work, in short, every conceivable type of community exercise. In a way there is constant community. I am very little in real solitude whether before God or before men. The students whom I teach in the classroom, the community for whom I cook or for whom I build cabinets, the confreres with whom I watch television--these are certainly beings with whom I exist; and even though I cannot speak of the re-ligious life as being entirely or ~even properly speaking functionalized, yet frequently there is something in the other which I am neglecting. P~r~haps 1 am polite and courteous: I smile at the other and laugh at his jokes; I try to understand his problems and offer him sympathy-- and still; perhaps, we stand more in juxtaposition than in community. But there are moments when this half-face to the 'world breaks down, hours of.grace (kairos.in St. John) in which the possibility of far deeper community is suddenly revealed. It is then that we see individuals in an entirely new perspective and their presence becomes more mean-ingful to us. A time of community crisis can draw us to-gether in this way, and we learn to depend on a confrere as he is, and not just in what he does---or better, what he does incarnates what he is. The world from which our candidates come has been well described as a broken world.20 This factor must be kept in mind while considering, the present-day prob-lems of religigus life. Older forms of unity have been gradually breaking down--the family, for instance, has been to a great extent replaced by the peer group, the gang, the more casual associations. Political and techno-logical unions have become strong~ r, suggesting a growth 'in world unity. But frequently, ~he new unions which have sprung up are on the impersonal plane; technol-ogy, for. example, unites the worlO" because cultural dif- ~ Marcel, The Mystery o! Being, v. 1; pp. 22-47. The title used for this chapter is "A Broken World." ~ 4. 4. 4. Community Exercises VOLUME 21, 1962 317 + Aloysius Mehr, O.S.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 318 ferences do not prevent a person from working a machine; in principle any one at all can learn this operation. But "any one at all," l'on,.das Man, does not exist. What exists are real people, individual, free beings, irreplace-able in the solitude of their liberty. In those moments of human existence in which I some-how transcend the world of mechanisms, I sense another dimension which I know to be more basic, and more real. I sense that there is something in myself and in the self of the other which is immanently private and which does not lend itself to concepts or superficial unifying or binding forces; this is unique subjectivity, the deepest level of per-sonal existence, that which constitutes me as I, the irreduc-ible core of personality, the shrine of what is most serious and authentic in me, the theatre of my eternal commit-ments. It is this dimension of mystery which constitutes the great distinction between persons themselves. Regardless of how close two persons may unite with one another, something of the other's.subjectivity will always evade the other: he may become a Thou for me, we may even speak with full force and meaning the word "We," but the other is always profoundly other than me. The We is precisely for this reason a miracle or the grace that it is. We can never be like two drops of water coming together to form a single drop. I may give myself deeply in love and hope to another, but he will always remain absent from me in some way and this hbsen~e is what makes him uniquely himself. But it is of the essence to note that the other is dis-closed to me in his full contingency only in those situ-ations in which we are genuinely open to one another. I can hardly speak of the mystery of subjectivity--the revelation of the other--without speaking of the mystery of intersubjectivity--the mutual revelation of both ofu~, which includes the gift of the other person to me. Here; we can speak more justly and fully of presence: presencel reveals a human dimension beyond that of proximity or even of sharing an experience, and this is the dimension of full encounter, coesse, of co-presence.~7 Presence is in its deepest reality co-presence. The structure of this situation is one of appeal and response. To meet another', I must call out to him, or welcome his appeal to myself by responding with my whole being, and not simply with a stereotyped, pre-determined response. When I speak to another, the area of mutual concern may be a purely business proposition; but if I welcome him into my life, if there springs up deep sympathy in the basic meaning of that word, we Roger Troisfontaines, S.J., De L'Existence a l'Elre (Louvain: E. Nauwelaerts, 1953), v. 2, p. 21. are to another something more than a billboard which announces the time of a community exercise or an IBM machine that reels off information. The question he asks me implies his faith in my ability to answer--my ability to stand, as it were, in his place and understand his question "from the inside.''2s" ~'The question, anyway, operates as an appeal, a signal that may or may not be received.''29 The appeal reaches me in my freedom. I may respond by being, for all practical purposes, some sort of information machine; yet in t~he course of our conver-sation, he becomes something more than a "somebody." "That is, he participates more a~d more in the absolute which is unrelatedness and we cease more and more to be 'somebody' and 'somebody e!se.' We become simply 'US.' "30 This is not merely a psychol~gical interpretation of emotional experience, for realistically speaking, "I cannot really invoke 'anybody'; I can only 'pretend~ to do so. In other words, it appears as if inv'ocation can only be ef-ficacious where there is communiiy.''al Truly, I can speak the word Thou to another only Where community is re-vealed, and we speak the word We.m This deep dimension of human reality reveals me to m~self; in my.deepest and freest being, I find the mystery Of intersubjectivity, the mystery of our solidarity in the destinies of the human phenomenon and the covenant of'creation. Although the sharpest mani[esthtion of this ontological community of men tends to be the somewhat dramatic events--birth, death, love, and go forth--which break in on our course of existence?3 still intersubjectivity runs in a scale from, for example, the chance smile of a stranger from whom I happened to ask directions in a city I am not familiar with to the union with one another in Ghrist in the Eucharistic assembly. Thi(. is important for com-munity life; by holding myself open to the other, by mak-ing myself available, by my. willingness to welcome him, entirely mechanical situations like asking a routine per-mission from my superior can be illuminated with a bit of the radiance of the truly significant. The deepest moments of intersubjectivity can act perhaps as beacons, reflecting that, unit most clearly and fully. As I enter the religious liie and make my pro-fession, the community kiss of peace manifests beautifully the community which has been created in me. This mo- ~ Gabriel Marcel, Metaphysical Journal, translated by Bernard Wall (London: Rockliff, 1952), p. 21. "Ibid., p. 143. ~ ~a I bIbidid.,, pp. 114761. ~ Ibid., p. 303. a Marcel, The Philosophy o] Existence, pp. 3-4. ÷ ÷ ÷ Community Exercises VOLUME 21, 1962 319 4. Aioysius Mehr, 0.$.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ment, though past, can be kept alive, can remain a presence to me--a moment of deep community to which I bear witness in the day-to-day encounters. I know, deeply within myself, that these encounters, for all their routine, flow forth from the community which we are, the com-munity which must be ever renewed through the passing years in creative fidelity to the situations in which. I am given to myself as one whose life, in the religious com-munity, is a being-with. From this point of view, we can look more closely at the full meaning of the opportunities of our religious com-munity: The closeness in which we live with one another is dangerous if reduced to the level of the functional, but it can just as truly point out to us the heights and depths of intersubjectivity. Social bindings open out into onto-logical community. Religious community life is rooted in social organizations and patterns, but it exists on the level of the human person in his freedom. In conclusion, the activities of our religious life must reflect the deep fact of our community-being, of our being-with one another, sharing a common destiny, united in the bonds of true love in Christ, For the structure of intersubjectivity is in its fullness, the structure of love. But we must be willing to see the levels and the manifestatiom of this love dim from time to time, just as in marriage the union in love has its ups and downs. Nevertheless, I must be aware of my deep responsibility to make my-self what Louis Lavelle calls "accessible" and Gabriel Marcel "disponible" or "availabie" to the other. Marcel equates this accessibility with charity, and quite rightly so.34 This is the fundamental posture or attitude for any fruitful communication between men, a communication which means opening myself to the presence and in-fluence of the other, desiring this presence, and being will-ing to go out into something that is quite different from myself. The self-centered egoist finds it impossible to be accessible and available. He is incapable of sympathiz~ ing with other people or imagining their situation. "He remains shut up in himself, in the petty circle of his private experience, which forms a kind of hard shell round him that he is incapable of breaking through.''3G Handy rules for making encounter possible, while help-ful, cannot be used without the danger of taking up a position outside the encounter itself in order to manipulate both the other and myself.3e I can perhaps ~' Ibid., p. 15. ~ Marcel, The Mystery o/Being, v. 10 p. 201. a Dale Carnegie gives.many of these handy rules in his famous book How to Win Friends and Influence.People (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1936). The value of some of these rules is questionable because of their pharisaical tendencies. be more aware of what I cannot do--in summary, tO treat him as an object, as a somebody, as anyone at all, as a function (whether teacher., farpenter, or any o[ the categories that can substitute for the person). In dis-agreements, I must respect the gift, for the other gives himself to me in his ideas and intdrpretations; in com- ¯ munity we can seek not a Procru~stean compromise but a kind of common expectation so that together we can go on seeking the light of truth. Th~ very things which tear us apart from one another~differences in age, in taste, in talent, in personal history-~zan unite us, not in a collectivity where differences are ignored or frowned upon, but in a community of mu[ual understanding. Creativity and Community Ideals High ideals attract men; the. higher the ideals the greater the attraction. Ideals fire, men with enthusiasm. But ideals cannot be handed physically to me as, for in-stance, a book or the constitutions.' Ideals can be described on paper, but they cannot exist oh paper. They are real-ized only in free creativity at the ~ery depths of being. More particularly, the ideals of. a gommunity must be ideaIs for particular men. They must be possible of fulfill-ment in their unique life and in the unique situation which invites their loyalty andS,, faithfulness to them. Every religious must create, again and again, the tra, di-tions and ideals of his order or congregation .by incarnat-ing them anew in his own life. The passage of ideals to incarnate human life, to act and incarnation in space and time is truly creative, for it ~nvolves a full and personal gift of myself creating meaning. Bu~t this does not happen in a void, but rather in an encounter, or 'a revelation of what I am (in the community that we are) that calls forth my witness and fidelity. An e, ncounter means a call and a response; a gift and a pre~ence of another who confronts me in my uniqueness; a re'alization of the destiny which lies at the heart o[ myselL "In action," writes Teilhard, "I cleave to the creatlve~ power of God; I co-incide with it; I become not only its instrument but its living prolongation.''~7 In the words of Gabriel Marcel: We have to realize that there are modes o[ creation which do not belong to the aesthetic order, and which are within the reach of everybody and it is in so far as he is a creator, at how-ever humble a level, that any man at all can recognize his own freedom.~ In our context, this means that in my freedom I must ~ Teilhard de Chardm, The D:vtne Md~eu, pp. 26-27. m Gabriel Marcel, Man Against Mass Society, translated by G. Fraser (Chicago: Regnery, 1952), p. 16. 4. 4. 4. Community Exercises VOLUME 21, 1962 4. 4. 4. Alo~$ius OM~e.Ch~r., REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS respond to the unique religious vocation, which I have received from God, and that response is the truly creative assumption of the ideals, traditions, customs, and rules of my community. If I am to be a religious, and not merely act like one, I must enter into the living tradition of my community, see clearly the deep relationship be-tween law and reality (law in its deepest meaning in Christianity is the living out of our incorporation in Christ), and sense within myself the dynamism within the community, the promise of the future held in the hands of the present moment, the hour of trlal and grace. By translating the traditional ideals of my particular community into my life, I reach back into the very an. rials of history and, at the same time, proclaim that which is yet to come. I enter into living communion with the past and the future, with all who have professed, or will in the future profess, these ideals. Ideals seen in their' existent,_'al fullness are moments of consecration, joininl~ us with the ever-continuing history of our community. As Hiiring points out, History is to be viewed from the standpoint of the "now" in relation to beginning and end. The historic present reaches out into past and future. The past has its heritage which may be compared to the warp and woof of a rich fabric constantly redesigned into marvelously new and alluring shapes and formsi The treasure.is a summons or invitation, and a challenge as well, to the free will of man in the historic moment of the present.~ My response to this challenge wiaps up the rich her-itage of my order in the dynamism of my unique, per-sonal life, and.hands it as a sacred trust to the community, enriched, for future generations. By thus entering deeply into the We, and sharing together, feeling together in our deepest being the subtle movements and aspirations which translate possibility into act and thus tradition into life, and being into incarnations, I realize existentially arid not only notionally or rationally both the being which I am called to be and the significance of the union of men who have joined their own destinies together in respond-ing to the same ~hallenge. But just as we cannot understand man until we see his marvelous destiny, so we cannot begin to see the beauty and mystery of our community until we view it in its promise, in its dynamic growth and activity towards fullness. The religious community, as we pointed out in the introductory pages of this paper, exists within two wider communities--the community of life and t'J~e community of grace--from which it draws its own vital- The Law o] Christ, v. 1, p. 87. ity and life-thrust. In either Community, our destiny is not encompassed by the immediate projects, particular ends, or temporary goals. Our being plunges back into the dynamisms of created being itself; and in us the world achieves a certain completion of its own dest!ny. We are then a kind of particular and contingent, though nonetheless real, summation or symbol or eikon, image, of the community of all being. But the deepest values of our activity do not only capitulate in us the mystery of creation and the dy-namisms of life. As Teilhard would phrase it, ontogenesis has passed on into Christogenesis. Creation has been caught up, in its deepest dynamisms, into the new cre-ation, which is fulfillment, not destruction (Eph 2:15). As a community within the Church, and indeed its true eihon, its incarnation, we continue the forces of creation through the Incarnation and the New Adam into the promise and pledge of the Parousia (1 Cor 15:24). In this perspective, or better in this divine milieu, lies the true significance of our activities; we are bound together under a common cause which is as wide and deep as the community of men and as transcendent in its promise as the parousial presence in which life and temporality shall be consummated in the supreme en-counter of love. Seen in this light, we must modify our earlier thesi~ about the artificiality of the religious community. Adapt-ing Teilhard's terminology and the vision of St. Paul, we can rightly say that the religious community is an anticipation of a later and final stage of evolution, the unity of all men in Christ, the Omega point of historical being. This higher unity of mankind, which we an-ticipate, involves a center of gravity, a focal point, an axis above and beyond the ecological and physical. And what is this axis of religious community life? It is charity. The religious community must be founded on love of God and neighbor. This new level of mankind, as any leap in evolution, involves a definitive departure, a break from the lower stages even though it is their continuation, ful-fillment, and transformation.4° And yet, as an anticipation we are beginning to create the new within the old; this combination of the old and the new must involve sacrifice and tension--the death of the type as we pass into the era of the antitype, the dis-sipation of shadow as we strive to realize the light. There is tension and strain. Creation groans and is "in the pangs of childbirth" (Rom 8:22). Life is born through death. In our very community, creation is being re-capitulated in Christ. Christ is being born! The Divine Milieu, p. 86. ÷ ÷ ÷ Community Exegcises VOLUME 21, 1962 323 dloysius Mehr, 0~.~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Part HI: Community in the Word The deepest significance of religious community exer-cises is not found in mere human encou.nter, but in the encounter with men in God. Religious life .is a charism, a localized outpouring of the Spirit of God, who fills the whole .Church, in such an intense and concentrated way as to bear witness to a particular reality which in varying degrees permeates the whole Church. Keligious life is not radically different from Christian life; rather it is the living image, the eikon, the type and inauguration of perfect Christian life. The perfection to which all Christians are called and in which all shall share when the Day of the Lord dawns is incarnately realized in the Church today by the religious life, which can be called the "sacrament" of Christian perfection. The flourishing of religious life in the Church stands an apocalyptical pledge that the things to come will truly come because they have already been realized living type; religious life bears encouraging witness to each generation of Christians that the life of the Gospel can truly be lived to the full now, into the fullness that is to come. Such a witness can only be the fruit of the Spirit outpoured in charismatic plenitude. Once the religious life is seen as charismatic, its sacra-mental and ecclesiological dimensions become apparent and important. Since the religious life is the image of perfect Christian life, the basic structure of religious life must be seen in relation to the strhctural pattern of the Church's life. The possible points of reference here are numerous; we will limit the discussion to two features of Christian life which seem to be most fundamental. First, the Church is a community formed by the word of God. Secondly, the Church is a community of sacramental worship. Community in Covenant The Church of the New Testament, seen in the con-tinuity of sacred history as recorded in the. Scriptures, is the fulfillment of that people of God which was in continual formation down through Old Testament times by the gradually unfolding revelation of the Word of God. After the fall, God's Word appears on the human scene as a call; God called Abraham to leave his people and his father's house for a land of promise in which his descendants would multiply until they became as numer-ous as the sands of the sea (Gen 12:1). When Abraham responded to the initial promptings of God's Word, God spoke again to Abraham to make a covenant with him for a mutual sharing of destiny down through Abraham's posterity, which would come into being as a result of God's Covenant-Word. Abraham's family came into being as the family of God (Gen 15). As the history of the family of God folds back upon it-self, the same pattern emerges in the formation of the Israelite people from the family of Abraham. The Israel-ites were called out of Egypt to hear the Word of God proclaimed on Mount Sinai'(Ex 3:16--17). Another cov-enant resulted from this new proclamation, a covenant which was again creative of the community with whom it was made (Ex 24:8). The Israelites became a spiritual community in becoming the people of God in the Mosaic covefiant. The pattern recurs again as each successive wave of revelation leaves in its wake a fuller, more spiritualized community to whom God's Word is addressed as a call and a covenant. There can be no doubt from the annals of sacred history that when God speaks to man He speaks to man in community. In the dialogue between God and man, God is the I who speaks the creative Thou to the community. In the light of the fall of Adam, this dialogue appears as a healing dialogue. The community of the'human race disintegrated in sin. It appears to be God's plan to build it back up again meticulously in time, .through the gradual revelation of his creative Word in a gradually more perfect community, until these last times in which He speaks to us by a Son (Heb 1:2). He is the perfect Word uttered in the community which in the new Adam already exists but which is still being perfegted. (created) and realized (actualized) in all the members of the new human race by the continued call and proclamation of the new covenant in every life and time. In the realm of salvation, man does not walk alone and he is not free to do whatever he chooses. He is saved in community by the healing Word of God which is spoken to and in the community which it itself creates. The inner structure and dynamism of the Church is to be and to become this community of the Word of God. Let us now look more closely into the religious life in terms of what has already been said. If the religious life is to be the type and the eschatalogical pledge of the life of the Church, it ought to be the flesh-and-blood realiza-tion par excellence of the community of the Word of God. It is here that the progress of sacred history toward the fulfillment of God's plan of perfect community ought to be moving forward to the last day when the perfect community of the cosmos will be reheaded in Christ and God will be all in all (I Cor 15:28). The implications of this reach deeply into the basic attitudes incarnate in the concrete circumstances of re- Eoxme~mc~uen$lty VOLUME 21, 1962 325 Alo~situ Mehr, O.S.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ligious life. If the religious community is to be at all, the breath--the spirit-~of. God's Word must be free to move through and in us. Through baptism and confirmation we received the Spirit unto the building up of the com-munity to the full stature of Christ.4x The religious com-munity must be the community of the Word of God, true to the pattern of sacred history outlined above: call, proclamation of the Word, covenant. 1. (Tall. We are accustomed to the idea of a vocation to the religious life. We must draw this out to its concrete conclusions. First, when God calls man He calls him to community. A vocation to the religious life .is a call to community. Secondly, when God calls man to a religious community, He calls him to be initiated into a particular religious community. This means that the candidate must undergo a true initiation into the concrete life of that community and that he must successfully complete the initiation: he has to prove himself ready and able to renounce anything and everything which stands between him and the ideals of his vocation, to accept deeply in his incarnate being the two-edged sword of the Spirit. The religious pre-novitiate and novitiate training ought to be for the religious community what the catechu-menate was for the primitive Church. It ought to test the authenticity of the call. The community, but also the candidate, must ask the question: Is the Word of God truly at work here? God speaks toman in human language, not in weight-less abstractions. Hence the family background of the candidate must be looked into to see if God's Word came to him through parents genuinely in touch with God by their lives of faith. I[ the indications here are strongly negative, the.stronger influence of less natural channels of God's Word must be evident. Because of the psychology involved in such a situation, the candidate's response to this call must be tested for its supernatural authenticity by a convergence of other factors indicating the working and direction of Providence with adverse circumstances. The following questions must be answered: first, hits the candidate attained at least the minimum strength of character, mental health, and social ability required for successful community life; for the monastery or convent cannot function as a rehabilitation center without in-justice to its other members. Secondly, does the candidate at least show promising signs of being able to respond to maturing influences that will be able to help him to ~ Eph 4:13; see La Saihte Bible de Jerusalem (Paris: Cerf, 1956), p. 1546, note n: "Non pas simplement le chrfitien arriv~ h l'~tat de 'parfait,' mais l'Homme parfait en un sens collectif: soit le Christ lui-m~me., soit mieux encore le Christ total, T~.te. et mere- grow to a greater measure of personal authenticity? If the latter is the case, one must investigate whether or not these maturing influences so much needed are actually present in the community which the candidate wishes to join and whether they will be accessible to him. ~This is only another way of asking whether this person,~who does seem to be called by God, is being called to thig particular community. 2. Proclamation. This has led us to our next point. The community has been called together to hear the Word of God; hence that Word must be. authentically proclaimed in the community. In the Church there are official proclaimers, messengers (kerukes), for this task: the priestly hierarchy. In the religious community, this responsibility rests primarily with the superiors. They must be men of God's Word. The Bible must be familiar ground to them. They ought to be able to breathe the Scriptures. God's Word cannot be spoken with authority except by men who themselves hear the Word of God and keep it. St. Paul's timely words to Timothy, the head of the Ephesus community, point out this obligation: Attend to the public reading of Scripture, to preaching., to teaching. Do not neglect the gift you have, which was g~ven you by prbphetic utterance when the elders laid their hands upon you. Practice these duties, devote yourself to them, so that all may see your progress. Take heed to yourself and your teaching; hold to that, for by so doing you will save both your-self and your hearers (1 Tim 4:15--16; see also Col 3:16). The central time and place for the proclamation of God's Word to the community is the liturgy. Everything within the range of possibility should be done to make this proclamation authentic. The laws of liturgical psy-chology must be understood and incorporated into actual liturgical practice. Also it should be understood that proclaiming God's Word in the liturgy is not confined to the scriptural readings but extends to the homily or sermon delivered in the assembly. It is a mistake to think that because religious do a great deal of spiritual reading they do not need to hear sermons. Faith comes from hearing (Rom 10:17). The Scriptures must be au-thoritatively interpreted in relation to concrete con-temporary events. Here the jurisdictional power of su-periors can be seen to be more than a matter of legality. Theirs is the charism to preach authoritatively and to recognize the authentic prophetic spirit in those whom they delegate to preach. In general, there ought to be within the community a real atmosphere of reverence to the Bible. This is mani-fested, for instance, in the handling of the sacred books. Dilapidated Missals ought not be found on the altar. Out-side of the liturgical assembly, the Missal should not be ÷ ÷ Community Exercises VOLUME 21, 1962 AIoysi~s Mehr, O&C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS carelessly thrown in the corner of the sacristry but re-served in a place of honor, like the Blessed Sacrament and the Holy Oils. The same can be said for the Bible used for community reading during the meal, and to a lesser extent for the copy of the Bible kept by individuals in their rooms. Private Bible reading ought to be en. couraged within the spiritual reading program; but this entails some instruction in how to read the Bible, es-pecially for those who do not have the benefit of an in-tensive Scripture course. All these things are only ex. amples, but they indicate a direction .of attitude which must be fostered if the seed of God's Word is to find good ground to grow into a community. 3. Covenant. The proclamation of the Word of God in the community climaxes in covenant, an intimate I. Thou relationship of God with the community. Itshall be a continual burnt offering throughout your genera-tions at the door of the tent of meeting before the Lord; where I will meet with you, to speak there with you . And I will dwell among the people of Israeli and will be their God. And they shall know that I am the Lord their God, who brought them lorth out o] the land oI Egypt that I might dwell among them: I am the Lord their God (Ex 29:42-46). The intimacy of the covenant is best expressed in the Scriptures by the idea of a sacred meal with God at the time of the covenant. "Then Moses and Aaron and Nadab, and Abihu, and seventy of the elders of Israel went up and they saw the God of Israel . they beheld God and ate and drank" (Ex 24:9-11). The sacred meal will be discussed later. What is of moment here is that God addresses the community as Thou. He covenants with the community. He shares the destiny of the community, and in this way alone does the community become God's people, heir to the promises. "I will be your God and you will be my people" (Jet 32:38)~ The community has in fact been established by the progressive call of God through both Testaments. Or, to put it more critically, the concrete possibility has been established for the authentically Christian community to become to be, to grow in creative fidelity into being fully what it already is in the reality of infallible promise. Nor is the creative, call merely the point of origin; the call is repeated through and in the community of the Church to each generation for the divinization of every era. We are in fact inserted into this order of the Spirit; and by this very reality bear the serious responsibility of. hastening the Parousia (2 Pet 3:12) by a total effort to build community, to respond to the creative call ad- dressed to us, to assure that there will be in us a Thou for the moment when God speaks his "I." There must be real communion of persons who have an authentic, conscious, un-egocentric participation in the human nature and creatureliness they share in their com-mon flesh from the loins of Adam. There must be com-munity in which Christ is progressively becoming in-carnated and given being-in-the-world, caught up, as it were, by the Spirit and created time and time again in authentic response (possible only in community) to the liturgical Word. proclaimed now, as in times past, in liturgical community. Then the great Passover of Jesus from the Cross into the glory of His Resurrection~ Ascen-sion, and Enthronement can take root- in the world and create from our community authentic and supernatural Christian community, the Body of the Lord. For a man to enter the We :of the community, certain things must happen to him. For one thing~ he must have experienced encounter with other persons in the com-munity. This occurs on various interpenetrating levels. On the sacramental level, the encounter begins with his initiation into the Church through baptism and confirma-tion which are an encounter with the concrete Church community. In the religious life a further sacramental encounter is the act of religious profession. Think of the handclasp, the Amen of the community, and the kiss of peace. , Through baptism, confirmation, and profession, the religious has already met the members ofthe community on the sacramental level, the. authenticity of which meet-ing will depend on the authenticity of the ritual. This also means that he is ontologically structured for and pledged to this encounter in all its dimensions. Other levels of encounter which are basic to the we experience are the father-son relationship between su-perior and subject, the brother relationship between con-freres, the teacher-student relationship, and the more in-timate encounter of true religious friendship. A parish community is as strong as the basic I-Thou relationship between the husband and wife in the families of the pa.rish, since marriage is the effective sign of the Church. similarly a promotion of genuine I-Thou relationships within the community builds up the great We of the I. Thou relationship with God, as the.se experiences open the personalities of the religious to that common human nature and creatureliness which would otherwise be hoarded up individualistically by each selbcenter. The human nature and creatureliness which we share is a concrete human nature and creatureliness incarnate in the human beings around us, and it is there where it must ÷ Community VOLUME 21, 1962 32g ÷ ÷ REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS be met. Here we have the sensible, real basis, the sign, of the Body of Christ which is realized in sacrament. Another experience which conditions for and builds up the great We is the common sharing of a rich ex-perience, a going through something together, a com-mon passover. God made his covenant with Israel after the Exodus experience, after the people had passed through the Red Sea together. This experience involves the elements of crisis, judgment, and victorious issue. Once again, on the sacramental level, this is accomplished through the catechumenate and initiation sacraments of baptism and confirmation in which the candidate shares the Christian community's experience of the Exodus, of the Passover from the Egypt of sin through the Red Sea of baptism to the new life of the people of God. In the religious life a further sacramental or ritual sharing of crisis-victory is embodied in profession, the passover into the state of perfection. But this sacramental ontology of community on the basis of shared experience becomes incarnate in and is the fulfillment of numerous experiences undergone on other levels of life. Religious life can provide many ex-cellent experiences of solidarity through crises and vic-tories. As examples can be mentioned: working out phil-osophical and theological problems; a difficult community project such as the continued and successful support of a mission; a common experience of joy such as might be expected at ordinations and professions; the death of a member of the community; in short, any event which deeply affects the community. This solidarity in experience is not limited to events. What may be more important is the common experience of the presence of great persons. Just as the Israelite community was somehow bound up in the persons of Moses, Josue, and Aaron, and just as the Church is bound up in the persons of Christ, the Apostles, and the Virgin Mary, so the religious community is bound up in the per-sons of its superiors and leading figures. The superior must be a deep, spiritually mature person who is in personal contact with his community so that the members of the community actually have a chance to experience him and feel a solidarity in this experience. As fdr the other leading figures in the community, the more deep personalities God has given to a community, so much richer will that community life be as the solidarity in this experience broadens the horizons of the com-munlty. It is a corruption of a precious gift for a com-munity to consider its outstanding members as divisive forces or to make them feel like isolated individualists. Sharing the experience of encounter with a great man is one of the strongest bonds of unity there is between man and man. We have discussed some factors in the formation of the community We which becomes the Thou whom God addresses in his covenant dialogue. There is one other element of covenant that should be mentioned, and it is the sharing of destiny. God becomes involved in the community's destiny and the community is caught up into God's great mystery of salvation, the secret hidden from the ages and revealed fully in his Son, the movement of salvation history (Col 1:26-27). There is a movement toward fulfillment, toward Pleroma. Christ has already been established as the Head of new order in heaven, but his Body is still undergoing construction upon earth. The completion of Christ's Body is being realized little by little. It is a steady growth until the full measure of the perfect Man is attained. This fullness, Pleroma, means that in Christ harmony has been established among all things, that the universe is "filled b~ the creative presence of God."42 When this day shall arrive, the Church will contain Christ in his fullness. The Church will reach the stature of the perfect man (Eph 1:23), The movement .of salvation history, however, is not inevitable. God is faithful and will accomplish His pur-pose, but His people do not always respond with like fidelity, and He will not use force. If the Day of the Lord is to come, it is the Christian community, we, who must hasten it (2 Pet 3:12), we who must move ahead; and we are free to contribute to this forward movement or to hold it it check. If we should choose the latter, we would become like the Thessalonians who sat around and waited for the Parousia and who were upbraided for their pre-sumption (2 Th). The religious community ought to be an advance guard unit in this forward march, for it is by definition a place of perfection and fulfillment. This again points up the necessity for the proclamation of the Word of God in the community. The history of salvation is contained in the Scriptures. God's plan is there, and only those who are familiar with its patterns are capable of reliable frontier work on the boundaries of sacred history. Ful-fillment does not mean reckless lunging out in any direc-tion. Yet neither i~ it all mapped out in detail. Here the living tradition of the Scriptures assumes its rightful im-portance. The leaders of the community must be men who walk in the way of the Lord and meditate on His law. If we may say so, they must have a scriptural instinct, a Pierre Benoit, O.P., "Corps, t~te et pl~r6me darts les Rpitres de lacaptivit~," Revue Biblique, v. 63 (1956), pp. 5-44. ÷ ÷ ÷ Community VOLUME 21, 1962 .331 ÷ Aloysius OM.Se.hCr., REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS a feel for the way God does things, and a contact with the currents of life in the Church. They must be attentive to the voice of higher authority and at the same time be aware of the prophetic movements within their own com-munity. They literally have to know which way the Wind --the Holy Spirit--is blowing. Community in Worship At this point lines of thought begin to converge: the Word of God, community, covenant, sacred history; and their point of convergence is worship. We may say that the community called into being by the Word of God in the context of sacred history through the intimacy of the covenant is primarily a worshiping community. What happens in Christian sacramental rituals? The Word of God, spoken once definitively in Jesus Christ, is spoken now in the Church community which is the Body of Christ, the real, glorified soma tou Christou, which is building up to completion. Ritual makes possible.through its pneumatic bodiliness, its symbolic or sacramental na-ture, the entrance by the commUnity here and now into the great sacramental moment, the primordial time, Christ's great Resurrection Passover, which stands at a particular moment of history yet transcends it, catches up within itself the vitality of all history, its direction and its completion. Here the Christian community whose task it is to move sacred history ahead, to build up the Body of Christ, is in contact with the vital source of the upward thrust of sacred history: the leap of the crucified Jesus up into the life of the Christos-pneuma. Covenant intimacy with God becomes possible in ritual: the I-Thou rela-tionship between the Father and the community comes into being in the spoken word and the meal ritual (or other symbolic act), in both of which, taken together, the risen Christ in whom we meet the Father is present through the working of the Spirit. By hearing the ef-fective Word together and eating the sacred meal to-gether (or doing the ritual action of the other sacraments), the members of the community pass together through the greatest of all experiences: the Passover of Christ, the primordial passage of non-being into being, of what is away from God to what is in God, of what is dead: sarx, to what is alive: pneuma. 1. Mass. In this context, the Mass, as the supreme Passover ritual, becomes for the Church and the religious community the supreme moment of covenant communion with the Father and with one another. The place of meet-ing with God is the place of.assembly and formation of the people of God. The people of God were formed to the Qehal Yahweh by communication with God himself. The community entered a covenant with God, and the effec- tive token of this covenant was the paschal meal. This reaches its fulfillment in the Eucharist where we become one people of God by sitting at table with God. For the community, the Mass is not just one of the de-votional exercises of the day, nor merely one of the "means" used by a group 0f3ndividuals for accumulating personal merits. It is first of all a gathering, an assembly of Christians, those who are of Christ. Secondly, it is not an hour of community meditation, but an hour of com-munity action, an event, a celebration. The act of cele-bration is important, for the event is Christ's event (here we have the true meaning of ex opere operato), and the community enters into the mystery of Christ by their ritual transposition of the action of Christ. The event is the Resurrection Passover of Christ which He Himself rit-ually transposed in the sacramental moment of the Last Supper and ordered to be clone in commemoration of Him. Let us examine these two interrelat'ed realities: com-munity and event. The worshiping community is not a priori, not an automatically given thing with which to work out the problem of celebrating Mass. Nor can the community be improvised haphazardly. It must be .built up by active and intelligent effort; it demand~ active con-cern and reverence for the laws of human acting. In fact, if the sacramental reality is to be accomplished, if com-munity is to be created on the supernatural level, the sacramental signs must be authentic. As St. Thomas has told us: the sacraments signify what they cause and cause only insofar as they signify,aa This highlights the necessity for catechesis: instruction, explanation, acclimatization--initiation into the reality of the community and the event. Catechesis is a psy-chological necessity because words and actions must be significant. The Bible and the ritual must be understood by the community. Cathechesis is accomplished both by systematic instruc-tion and by the actual celebration authentically done. We have already spoken of some things that can be done out-side the celebration regarding the catechesis of the Bible. A suggestion or two concerning the cathechesis of the ritual outside the celebration may slip into what fol-lows by an occasional convenient parenthesis, but what we are primarily interested in here is .the ca-thechesis that occurs within the celebration of Mass itself. No matter how much formal instruction we have about the Mass, we can come to learn the Mass only by doing the Mass. Actions must be learned from within, by doing. No matter how many books we read about how Summa Theologiae, 3, q. 62, a. 1, ad I. + + + ommunit~ Exercises VOLUME 21, 1962 ÷ ÷ ÷ Aloysius Meh¢, O.S.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ,334 to study or how to play tennis, we will never really have learned these activities until we have entered into them. Catechesis must adapt the celebration of the Mass to the psychological climate of the assembly. This, of course, must be done within the limit of the laws of the Church. We do not, for instafice, simply "adapt" our celebration into the vernacular, despite the fact that this might be an excellent cathechetical move, one to be hoped, prayed and worked for through legitimate channels. But there is much to be done within the limits of the present rubrical framework. Let us begin with the community itseff. We can talk the idea of community to people until the Parousia, and it will not create community. A Christian community has to be built up by the celebration of Mass itself. The daily conventual Mass is a summons to enter deeply into com-munity. The community must experience community. Community is indeed where community happens. In the primitive Church there were at first no Catholic schools to teach the idea of community. Community was built up through worship, a worship that took into account the concrete conditions of the lives of the faithful. One of these basic concrete conditions is the bodiliness of men. Body is intrinsic to human personality. Man not only has a body, but also is a body. As we have already seen, man is a spirit incarnate in a body which is its epiphany, its revelation, its sign. And to come to the point here, it is through his body that man is part of the community of the race of Adam 'and through his body that he enters into conscious contact with the community. It is the role of good catechesis to create a sensible at-mosphere of community. It is especially when brethren gather around the altar that they ought to get that ecce quara bonum feeling. What can be done toward this? First of all, there have to be people there. And they ought to be there for the Mass. If I sit down to eat a meal with someone and he insists on reading the paper, I do not feel that he is really with me. Likewise, if the man next to me at Mass is "getting his meditation in" or "getting through his Office," the sense of community i~ being broken down. This does not mean that everyone at Mass has to be doing the same thing, for there are many liturgies or works to be done at the one great liturgy: the celebrant, the choir, the schola, the altar ministers, the organist, the choir director--all have their own work to contribute to th~ whole. But there must be that sense of the whole to which all are contributing. All present must feel that "we came here to do the Mass." The importance of this, I think, is felt instinctively even by those who close themselves up in a meditation book at Mass: they stand, sit, and kneel with the community. This at least is better than nothing, but it is for from the ideal. Akin to this is the practice of having "a Mass going on" in church when the community has come there to do something else. One picks up the habit of not becoming distracted by the Mass. Not only does this dull ofie's abil-ity to participate at other times when he is supposed to, but such a psychologically unsound practice of not doing what you are doing, on the basic religious level, has a disintegrating effect on the total personality and shows up in other activities. The desire to "get in an extra Mass" may proceed from sincere devotion, but it some-what misses the point. Whenever the Mass is used as a background or as something that is secondary, its signifi-cance (which is of prime importance in the sacramental realm) is greatly lessened (I do not say completely ab-sent); this lessening of significance breaks down the au-then. ticity of the ritual, hence its effectiveness. But in the Mass-and-something-else situation, it is not only the Mass that suffers. When two community exercises which de-mand full attention are combined, neither is able to have any depth. The sense of community at Mass is also built up by the alertness and freshness of the presence of the participants. This means that those who plan to attend Mass in the morning ought io feel it their responsibility to get enough sleep the night before to enable them to be attentive to one another and to the sacred actions. It also means that Mass should not be scheduled to be done after a marathon of spiritual exercises has just about exhausted the normal capabilities of a man to do the intensive work which good praying demands. Another important contribution to the sense of com-munity is the very structure of the church building. People at Mass ought to be able to see the altar and to see each other. They must be able to feel close to one another and not to feel oppressed by one another. Their place in church ought to be related to their role at the Mass. They ought to be able to feel together in the pres-ence of God. These problems have to be worked out on the architectural level by those competent in the field. The furnishings of a church must be such as not to distract from the main purpose of the building. The com-munity ought not to be pulled in all directions by a penny arcade of devotional concession stands. This does not mean elimination of statues from the church, but it does mean an integration of all furnishings into the main-stream of attention. This must be done by the planning of skillful designers, not by a mere process of accumula-tion. ÷ ÷ ommunlty Exercises VOLUME 21, 1962 335 4. ÷ 4. Aloy~ius Mehr, 0.$.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 336 The celebrant, too, has his role to play in creating a sense of community. He must realize his role as the leader of the community, as one who acts in their name, and must by his very actions sweep up the community .into participation with him. Hemust understandthat not all parts of thd Mass are equally important, and he must learn how to emphasize the important parts with the proper gestures and tone of voice, and not to monopolize the attention of the community when what he is doing is not the main thing going on, especially when the choir is singing. His gestures must be authentic. When he greets the people, there should be contact, and he should wait for their response. When he proclaims the Word of God, he should do so loudly, clearly, and expressively. During the great presidential, prayer, the anaphora, from the pre-face to the doxology, he should invite the silent attention of the community to what he is doing by his own sense of presence, by his poise and serenity. His whole bodily attitude must be expressive of praise and thanksgiving, His priestly vestments ought to mark him as a man of dis-tinction. In short, he must look and sound like a leader, and to do this he has to feel like one. He is not to be esoteric or insert idiosyncracies into the celebration, yet his action must be personal action flowing expressively from his total personality which on the deepest level is priestly. Finally, the two .very important factors in building up the sense of community are music and movement. People experience real togetherness by mutual singing and mu-tual movement. Every conventual Mass should be a com-munity sing. But again this does not mean that everyone has to sing everything. Some of the prescribed chants are too difficult to be enjoyable for those who are not trained to sing them. The obvious answer is to let the trained schola sing those parts, while the rest of the community listens attentively--at that moment their liturgy is med-itative listening together. Beyond this, there is need for the composition of good music which is singable by the real communities that actuall~ exist. °The ability to sing must be built up, but we have to start where people are and help them experience their own way into better things. The most familiar mutual movements at Mass are the changes of posture: standing, sitting, kneeling, and bow-ing. These movements ought to be expressive and forma-tive of community. This means that all should rise, bow, and so forth, together because community actions are not fully authentic unless every member makes his contribn-tion to the communal movement. These movements, as well as all the ceremonies during any liturgical function, should be expressive of two things: first, the gravity of what is being done, and secondly, the anirna una et cor unum of the community. Beyond the familiar change~ of posture, there are three great movements of the .people of God at Mass--the En-trance Procession, the Offertory Procession, and the Com-munion Procession~during which the community is sing-ing together. There are practical difficulties in restoring the movement features of the first two processions which have been reduced to the singing of the Introit and Of-fertory Antiphons. The difficulties are not insurmount-able, but they are more formidable than the difficulty it would entail to reintroduce the singing feature of the Commun, ion Procession. There are few experiences of community which can match walking in a group of your confreres in joyful song on the way to and fron~ the table of the Lord where you share the .one Bread. Let Us now make a few observations about the cat-echesis of the Mass as an event. The Mass is not an ordi-nary dialogue, nor an ordinary meal. It is a festive speak-ing of God and a festive eating with God. It involves a longing for happiness and salvation, for every feast" has the atmosphere of expectation and liberation from rou-tine. This is the eschatological dimension of the Mass. The early Christian found it easier to feel the festivity of the Mass because he found it easier to see the Mass as a cel-ebration of the coming of the risen Lord, a pledge of His final coming. For the early Christian Christ was present in the Church, especially in the actual liturgical assembly gathered together in His name: as the community cam~ together, Christ came among them. When those who love come together the tone is one of festivity. The Mass must, then, become a real celebration, as its interpenetrating rhythm of dialogue and meal indicate it is meant to be. At a celebration people talk and sing and move around. There is real, free communication. Mass is a dialogue between God and His people through the mediatorship of the priest. The priest talks to God in the name of the people and to the people in the name of God. When people really come together in a festival setting to talk with one another, they bring their interests, their work, their experiences, and their whole personality which transcends these experiences. Here one can see the role that community recreation and community meals can play as a catechesis of the proper celebration of Mass. It is not stretching a point to see community recreation as the extension and fruit of the festive dialogue of the Mass; in itself it has something of the nature of a ritual and might indeed be considered a sacramental for community. Play is sacred. When the Bible says the people rose up ÷ ÷ + Community Exercises VOLUME 21o 1962 337 ÷ ÷ Aloysius Mehr, O.~.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 338 to play while Moses was conversing with God on Mount Sinai, it speaks condemningly of the event, including its sexual misbehavior, precisely because it was an act of false worship (Ex 32:1-6). Later in Israelite history we know that David leapt and danced before the Ark of the Covenant (2 S 6:14). Play is an expression of joy and freedom--like the Sabbath day of rest. The idea of worship and the free-dom from the drudgery of work belong together. The need to break routine is rooted in man's desire for the freedom of salvation. Play is free dialogue, whether it be in the form of relaxed conversation, or a contest in which make-believe competition is manufactured, or the sharing of some unroutinized activity just "for the fun of it." Play keeps a man from b~ecoming a slave to his work; it keeps him from confining himself to the world of I-It. We take a game seriously to a point. We must take it that far, for playing is literally "making fun" of work. The religious significance of this is deep. One can take his life's work seriously only to a point; from there he must "make fun" of it in the sight of God and man as David made fun before the Ark and the people. Other-wise he will become proud and self-sufficient. The world of I-It is not to be despised, but it must lead up to the world of I-Thou, of dialogue between man and man and between man and God. Community recreation ought to be fun, but it must never be dissipation or aesthetically squalid, or the whole meaning of it is destroyed. It is the bringing of the real necessity of one's work to the level of free personal dialogue with God and man. A person-alized celebration of community recreation is a great help to a personalized celebration of Mass. The festivities of" the Mass reach their climax in the meal celebration. Food and drink are an essential part of a celebration. The Mass is a holy eating together, a sacred banquet in which we are filled with the bread of life and drink of the cup of gladness. The symbolism of wine especially provides the atmosphere of festivity. The feeling tone of the Mass is that of a celebration of people who are spiritually well fed and well drunk, who feel the spiritual fullness from the rich bread and the spiritual freedom from the intoxicating wine. Here we might note that the regular community meals can be a real catechesis of the Mass, since they are in fact a sacramental extension of the meal aspect of the Mass through the ritual prayers surrounding them. Human eating is of its nature a sacred and communal act. It is not a mere refueling for another round of work. God is present at every meal in his gifts of food and drink and in the fellowship around the table. The prayers before and after meals set the tone of the meal. They are mos~tly i, excerpts from the Psalms, breathing the spirit of the anawim, the spirit of joy, thanksgiving, appreciation, de-pendence on God, praise, awareness of God's presence, simplicity. The meals themselves should reflect all this. The food should be simple fare, b,ut good. It ought, t.o be eaten in an atmosphere of calm enjoyment, not of frantic dumping from platter to plate to palate. There ought to be a real spirit of fellowship at the table. But besides fellowship at table, we should also be aware of how community meals tie in with the Mass. Father Godfrey Van Lit, O.S.C., describes the intimate relation-ship between the refectory and the ~ chapel, community meals and the Mass.4. The Christian dining room table is a symbol of the Eucharistic table, the altar, and hence the refectory used to be decorated with a large, artistic painting of the Last Supper. As we have silence of place in the chapel, so we also observe silence of place in the refectory, And as in the community Mass the leader pro-claims to us the Good News, so also during our commu-nity meals a lector acquaints us with the consequences of the Gospel narrative. Both at Mass and at table, we are reminded that "not by bread alone does man live, but by every word that comes forth from. the mouth of God" (Mr 4:4). Both the Mass and the community meals ought to par-take of the spirit of the Passover and Chaburah meals of the Old Testament. The pervading tone here is that of a family meal. The community superior presides in the place of honor at the table as the father of the family who provides the good gifts. In so doing he is the epiphany of our heavenly Father who provides us with all good things, and the assurance of His presence among us. "He who has seen me has seen the Father" (Jn 14:9). The hebclomadarius who leads the community both at Mass and at the meal prayers must be seen as the delegate of the father of the community, just as every priest stands at the altar as the delegate of the bishop. So simple a thing as the custom of not starting the prayers until the superior "knocks of[" in chapel or rings the bell in the refectory helps to keep this family awareness. At the com-munity table one ought not to feel that he is just one nameless stop along the long line of the gravy train, but that he is among the little group of his brothers with whom he is at home. We are one "b~cause the bread is one" (1 Cor 10:17). The event aspect of the Mass also demands that the ritual transposition of the sacramental moment should be ~ Lucerna Splendens super Candelabrum Sanctum, Id Est, Solida ac Dilucida Explanatio Constitutionum Sairi ac Canoni¢i Ordinis Fratium Sanctae Crucis (Coloniae Agrippinae: apud Antonii Boet-zeri Heredes, 1632), pp. 45-58; 87. ÷ ÷ ÷ ECxo~mrmcisuensity VOLUME 21, transparent; the celebration must be a revelation of the event itself. The main event is the Easter Passover, but there are other sacramental moments in sacred history which unfold in the course of the Church year as incip-ient or concluding stages of the Passover, from the In-carnation to the Mission of the Spirit. The sacramental moments are themselves revelations, openings into the Passover mystery, which pervades the whole Church in her sacramental ritual. A final note on the Mass concerns the apostolate. Cult is formative of missionaries. Worship is the school of the very Christian experience which the apostle seeks to com-municate to others. Here we must remember that there is no. effective activity without sanctity; there is no sanc-tity which does not radiate in the Church; there is no grace which does not come from the Head, and there is none which does not flow from the member back over the entire Body.~ + + lloysim Mehr, O.S.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 34O A religious who neglects his personal sanctity in order to intensify his activity, paralyzes it. The gift of the Spirit is the sacramental basis for com-munity in work. When a man works to bring forth the fruits of the earth as a Christian, he brings these temporal things into the sphere of the Spirit by doing the very best job he can to make his farming or his teaching, and so forth, as perfect as possible within the total context of human life, of community. He is working with the crea-tive force of the Spirit who hovered over the waters and brought order, harmony, and completion out of chao:; and who is now at work in the community. He brings; creation into his Passover experience. He is using the totality of his mind and energies and spirit, which totality exists only within the community, 'to bring creatures to perfection, to fill up the glory ofGod which will come in its fullness at the Parousia. 2. Penance. We are not accustomed to thinking of the sacrament of penance in terms of the community, and in this we have missed much of its meaning. The weekly confession of devotion can easily become for religious a routinized ticking off of peccadillos which one "gets rid' of" by inserting his penitential coins in the laundromat at the back of Church. The sacrament of penance is a re-penetration of our ex-istence into Christ's healing death and Resurrection. Re-penetration implies that something preceded. Through baptism man is ontologically structured into the commu-nity of the holy--holy persons and holy things which they share. Sin 'is something abnormal for man in Christ Jesus '~Jules Lebreton, S.J., The Spiritual Teaching o! the New Testament (Westminster: Newman, 1960), p. 375. (Rom 6:2). By sin man withdraws from the Body of Christ and sides with the world. The sacrament of penance is reconciliation with the Church. It is the Church that listens to his confession, prays for him, and gives him absolution. Here we see the Body of Christ, wounded by'sih, festoring itself t~0 health. For us, a return to God is always, first of all, a return to the Church. Forgiveness is not so much something which the Church brings us, but rather a belonging to the Church outside of which there is no salvation. The importance of the local Church community must be emphasized here. When a sinner is forgiven, he is for-given through the forgiveness of the local community. This was more evident in the earlier forms of the sacra-ment of penance when the sinner was received publicly back into the assembly. He was assured of God's forgive-ness by the concrete forgiving spirit manifested to' him by the community. The power to absolve is vested in those with hierarchical authority, but they absolve in the name of the community of the faithful; hence the?e is a more fruitful and creative spiritual power at work in the con-fessional of a community'where there is a strong spiri't of mutual forbearancb and forgiveness, where the '~'as we forgive those who trespass against us" is prayed with awareness and sincerity, where the offensive person is ac-cepted in patience, understanding, and ultimate trust in what in him lies beyond his offences: his Christian per-sonality. The sacrament of penance can also be made more fruit-ful if the sacramentals of penance in the community life are appreciated. Two important ones. come to mind: Compline confession of sins and the chapter of faults. Let it be remembered that by the institution of the Church these rites are sacramentals, and if approached in a spirit of contrition they accomplish forgiveness of sin. The Compline confession of sin is the best catechesis for the sacrament of penance for it clearly embodies .its essential elements: contrition, confession of sin in the community and to the community, including the whole community of saints in heaven as well as those present; absolution is given by the presiding priest; and everybody prays together for the effectiveness of the forgiveness. The chapter of faults is also well constructed to pro-mote the communal atmosphere of penance, but it needs to be approached in a genuine spirit of sorrow. The pub-lic confession of our faults in the presence of the com-munity helps to make us realize that by our transgres-sions, by our indifference, lack of interest, fulfillment of purely personal inclinations, and non-participation in the community as such, we cut ourselves off, in fact we deny, the ontological status or nature of our very calling. ÷ ÷ ÷ F~oxmermcisuens ity 4. .4. Aloysius Mehr, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Worse yet, we hold back the community, we retard its growth. This seems to be the point of the chapter of faults: we confess that we have not been completely faith-ful to the ideals to which we vowed creative fidelity. 3. Holy Orders. In clerical religious communities, the whole idea of community life is intimately bound up in the sacrament of holy orders. Some observations on the place of the priesthood in the Church are necessary to clear the ground. It has often been said recently that the Church is not the clergy, despite the impression that has long been given to the contrary. The community is the first inten-tion. The priesthood exists for and in and fromthe com-munity through the apostolic succession. The priesthood is a charism, a mode of being in the Church, for the com-munity, not for itself. It expresses and makes possible and matures the general priesthood of the faithful in its three-fold dimension of worship, kingship, and prophethood. These are the Messianic goods, and they have been placed within the community in the gift of the Holy Spirit. In this context the Church itself is the Ur-Sat~rament con-taining the fullness of the Spirit, which is worked out through many diverse gifts. The priesthood is a charism for the building up of the Church (Eph 4:11-14). Ordination is the,gift of the Holy Spirit by the laying on of hands in the Church for the community. The priest is filled personally by the Holy Spirit to be his minister. No man takes the office to him-self-- or for himself. The fullness of the priesthood is only in the bishop. He is the sign of the full presence of Christ on earth, the organ of unity within the local Church community. He is one with Christ and one with his people. His faith is the norm for the faith of his flock. St. Cyprian defines the . Church as the people united to its priest, the flock stick-ing with its shepherd. The 'bishop is the nucleus of the community because he is the link with Christ through the imposition of hands through which the continuum of the soma tou Christou is maintained. The presbyterate is only a share in the bishop's priest-hood, a subsidiary priesthood under the bishop. As the ordination rite explicitly states, the presbyter is a "sec-ond- rate" priest: secundi meriti. In this light, every priest is a diocesan priest, and, exempt or not, when he works as a priest in a diocese, he works there as the helper of the bishop. By his ordination he is ontologically struc-tured for this work. He is called from the depths of his being to be a helper to the bishop of the diocese in which he lives. Here one can see what a deordination it is for religious priests not to be on good terms with the local ordinary. These good relations should also exist with the rest of the local clergy since the presbyterate is not merely an in-dividualistic but a collegiate institution. The architecture of early churches and the episcopal liturgy indicate this by placing the corona presbyterorum on the bema round the bishop. We still put the clergy together in the sanc-tuary. When a presbyter is ordained he joins the ordo foresbyterovum. This is eloquently obvious in the ordina-tion rite when the "college of presbyters" encircles the ordinands and joins the bishop in the imposition of hands. Priestly fellowship is rooted in the sacramental re-ality, and this sacramental reality is also what makes com-munity life a natural thing for priests. The unity in an order of canons draws its essential vitality from the sacra-ment of holy orders. In this context, the naturally prominent position of the Divine Office and liturgical exercises in many of the cler-ica. I religious communities becomes evident. The Divine Office is, as defined by Pope Pius XII, ~he perennial prayer of the Church, offered to God in the name and on behalf of all Christians, by those who have been deputed for this. It is the hymn of the Divine Word who has united to Him-self the entire human race, and the hymn which He sings is the hymn of praise which is sung in heaven continu-ously. St. Augustine is correct in saying that in the Divine Office "Christ prays for us. as our Priest; he prays in us as our Head; we pray to him as our God . We recognize Our voice in him and his voice in us.''4~ It is the Church praying. But we should go one step further. When a community of canons regular is called into existence by the Holy Spirit and officially approved by the Church, it is by its very nature entrusted with the solemn and communal celebration of the sacred liturgy, especially the Divine Office and the conventual Mass. If any religious body has the right to say that the liturgical life is its ideal, it is the canons regular.47 They above all should lead the way in the liturgical revival of Christian life. The proper chanting of the Divine Office in common is formative of community. But, in order to be formative of community, it presupposes first of all that the community understands the dignity of the Church's prayer, secondly, that the choir members are able to read the text of the prayer intelligently, and, finally, that they adopt as their own the sentiments expressed in these prayers. ,e Mediator Dei, nn. 142-144. ,TDom Germain Morin, O.S.B., The Ideal o] the Monastic Life Found in the Apostolic Age (Westminster: Newman, 1950), p. 105: "If any Order has the right to boast of this it is the Canons Regular, rather than ourselves." See also the article "Canons Regular and the Breviary" by Roger Capel, Orate Frates, v. 23 (1948-49), pp. 246-251. ÷ ÷ + ECxoemrdmsuesnity VOLUME 21. 1962 343 ÷ ÷ ÷ Aloysius Mehr, O$.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS It is not merely a question of recitatk;n or of singing which, however perfect according to the norms of music and sacred rites, onl)t reaches the ear, but it is especially a question of the ascent ot the mind and heart to God' so that, united with Christ, we may completely dedicate ourselves and all our ac-tions to him.'s Whenever the Divine Office is chanted "worthily, with attention and devotion," it is prayer in the fullest sense of the term, and every genuine prayer cements together the members of a community. "Our deepest contacts with one another can be made only through God.''49 It is only in the depths of prayer that, in the fullest sense of the term, deep calls out to deep, and the soul gives itself to God. In this sense, every genuine prayer is a renewal of religious profession, the leaving of all things and following He-who- is. If the religious community is to blossom forth into a true community of worship and love, it must be able, at all times, to call upon this interior gift to God.5° The central portion of the Divine Office is the Psalter: the Word of God. The best way for men to pray together is to speak with God in God's own words, for the Word of God is formative and expressive of the community. The common chanting of the Psalter is, by and large, a meditar tive re-experiencing together of the great events of sacred history--again a community-forming factor.5x The Psalter is redolent with man's proper responses to God and his works: the spirit of the anawira, the poor in spirit, God's lowly ones through whom sacred history is accomplished. By a continual singing of these prayers day after day for many .years, these attitudes of heart sink into those who give themselves to this prayer with their minds and hearts and bodies. Through the ritual action, the attitudes and events are effectively experienced by the total personality in community; by all the rules of psychology such prayer is extremely capable of transforming one's life as an aLt-thentic individual in the community. A final note on the Divine Office concerns the non-choir members and every other member of the community who has been assigned work incompatible with regular attend-ance at choir. Here it is important to remember that the choir is a community obligation'. In a living community there are many members "just as in one body we have many members, yet all the members have not the same function" (Rom 12:4). Some are sent out as missionaries, others do the cooking, others are engaged in social work--- ~s Mediator Dei, n. 145. ~9 R. W. Gleason, S.J., To Live is Christ (New York: Sheed anti Ward, 1961), p. 11. ~ T. de Ruiter, O.F.M., Her Mysterie van de Kloostergemeenschap (Mechelen: St. Franciskusdrukkerij, 1958), p. 131. ~ Mediator Dei, n. 148. each according to the grace that has been given to him (Rom 12:6). And then there are also those who are not excused and who have the responsibility to be in choir. In each case it is the community at work or at prayer. Whether we are in the choir or legitimately excused, we are all working together in the name of the omhaunity, fulfilling our role in the completion of the cosmic task. 4. Extreme Unction. The communal dimension of ex-treme unction must be viewed from the Christian stand-point on death. The creation of Adam in flesh is the man-ifestation of the mystery of contingency which attends the existence of all things outside of God. Only God is in Himself and by Himself. All other beings tend to fuller being, which implies nonbeing. Death is the natural con-sequence of man's fleshy nature. Since the human race is a community in flesh it is also a community in death. Adam, however, did not accept his contingency. He failed to project beyond the dissolution of flesh to fuller life. He revolted against being the creature who dies, and death became a punishment for this sin. since the human race is a community in sin, it is a community in the pun-ishment of death (Rom 5:12). Christ, the New Adam, humbled himself: took on con-tingency. He submitted, as the suffering Servant, to be the creature who dies, and death became a redemption, a passage into the eternal life for which Adam revolted in vain (Rom 5:15-19; 1 Cot 15:21). Since the Church is a community in redemption, it is a community in triumph over death. Through the Church's sacraments of death and disso-lution, Viaticum and extreme unction, all human suffer-ing. and death is taken into the redemptive sufferings of Christ. The falling apart involved in suffering and death becomes the creative mustering of forces for the upward thrust to a higher level of life. The death of the Christian is his final experience of the Passover of Christ. Without Christ, death is complete loneliness. One leaves the community of his loved ones to go alone into nothing-ness. Christian death conquers this ultimate loneliness. The highpoint of the ritual for the dying is the admin-istration of Holy Viaticum. The Christian does not go alone into death: the Lord comes to take his faithful serv-ant up into his triumphant Passover. The Lord is able to come in Viaticum because the community has celebrated the Eucharistic Passover. Much of the loneliness of death comes from the effect of sin, by which man cuts himself off from the community. In the prayers and anointing for sickness unto death, the healing Lord approaches in the person of the priest to cure the wounds of severance from the community, to re-store the peace of mind that can come only from c6mplete + + + Community Exercises VOLUME 21, 1962 345 4. 4. 4. Aloysius Mehr, O$.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 346 reconciliation with the Church. Again, the priest is acting in the name of the community. The death of a Christian is a deep experience for the community in which it occurs. When at all possible, the religious community should be present at the administra-tion of the last sacraments to the dying members of the community, and they should pa.rticipate in the expressive prayers of the ritual. Such a death is a witness to the reality of the triumph of Christ, a real martyrdom. The joyful and peaceful suffering and death of one with whom we live in intimacy is a striking pledge of the reality of Christ's Resurrection and the certainty of the Parousia. Here we have the reason for a quite joyful celebration of a funeral. What is said of death extends also to the sufferings of illness, disease, and serious injury, as well as of old age. Here there is the same factor of dissolution and contin-gency which is at work in death. Illness and death are times of crisis that naturally draw the community together to struggle against the loneliness which has set into our flesh as a result of sin. The serious sufferings of a member of the community are a community experience and ought to be entered into by the community. This involves a patient care and con-cern for the aged and the sick and keeping the community informed of their condition. It means visiting the sick. It would also be good to make use of the magnificent ritual for the visitation of the sick: let the community gather occasionally in the sick room to join in these moving and consoling prayers led by the superior. In the communal carrying out of this sacramental, the healing Lord will be present, and the patient endurance of suffering in the true Christian spirit will again be a witness to the community of the reality of Christ's presence and the certainty of his coming. Epilogue: The Dynamism of the Sacramental Com-munity There is an inherent tension in the very being of a sac-ramental dispensation or system: the tension, inherent in the nature of a sign, toward the fullness of that reality which is less than fully present in the sign. This underlies the call, covenant, and passover aspect of the sacraments and gives them their "obligatory" dimension, their ex-istential imperative. In Christian life this tension is the cosmic covenant: the Christian community's responsibil-ity for the entire cosmos which needs redemption and building up. This means authentic community work. Religious life is Christian response lived to the full in the working out of salvation history. It is charged with the building up of the Church unto the Pleroma, with the hastening of the day of the coming of the Lord (Ac 3:20; 2 Pt 3:11-12