Suchergebnisse

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

Issue 46.2 of the Review for Religious, March/April 1987. ; Modern Media and Comn~unity Vocation Directors and Sexuality Trends in Spirituality--1986 An Experience of Group Direction Volume 46 Number 2 March/April, 1987 Rl~v~l~w VOR RIz~,~c;~ous (ISSN 0034-639X), published every two months, is edited in collaboration with faculty members of St. Louis University's Department of Theological Studies. The editorial offices are located at 3601 Lindell Blvd., Room 428: St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. REvw.w RF~l_~c,~otJs is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO © 1987 by REv~.w ~:OR RV, t,~G~OtJS. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription: U.S.A. $11.00 a year: $20.00 for two years¯ Other countries: add $4.00 per year (surface mail)¯ Airmail (Book Rate): $18.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address, write: R~:viFzw vor~ R~:~Acaot~s: P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Daniel F.X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editor March/April, 1987 Volume 46 Number 2 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the edilor should be sent to REVIEW I.'OR R~:~.~taotls: Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd., St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Richard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave., Berkeley, CA 94709. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from R~:v~:w ~'ou RE~,W.~o~s: Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393, "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. A major portion of each issue is also available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually impaired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. The Fi st Stage tO"Union: The Active Night Of the .Senses Susan A. Muto Doctor Muto is Director of Duquesne's Institute of Formative Spirituality (Duquesne University; Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania 15282). St. John of the Cross' teaching in the first book of the Ascent of Mount Carmel presupposes that the sojourner has reached that stage in the spiritual life where he or she Js ready to advance beyond the beginnings of prayer and awaken to the deeper regions of divine intimacy. Thus he writes here for (advanced) beginners and persons already proficient in such virtues as detachment, humility and charity. The aim of Book One is threefold: to help an already well,formed self, one who has tasted certain pleasures and satisfactions, to unburden itself of worldly, inordinate attachments; to share the knowledge the saint has gathered through his own reading, experience, and direction as to how souls are to avoid spiritual obstacles; and to describe in concrete detail the way in which one can live in the freedom of spirit necessary, for divine union. It is wise at this point to read the poem, "One Dark Night," and return to it, for its moving images teach--more than abstract concepts can--how happy the soul is to pass through the nights of sense and spirit to union with its Beloved. In the Prologue to Book One the master says that his guides on this journey will be, above all, the desire for God, along with the background wisdom provided by Sacred Scripture and the doctrine of the Church. He immediately identifies two main obstacles to advancement, these being, in a phrase, inadequate direction and inadequate appraisal. Spiritual directors, 161 Review for Religious, March-April, 1987 lacking both sufficient knowledge and experience.of what is happening to the pilgrim soul may unwittingly encourage persons to continue in their old ways. Then, too, the person himself or herself may neither know how to nor want to advance. Even if the Lord comes, they are not willing to adapt themselves to his work. They resist the flow of grace or refuse to cooperate. Thus: God gives many souls the talent and grace for advancing, and should they desire to make the effort they would arrive at this high state. And so it is sad to see them continue in their lowly method of communion with God because they do not want or know how to advance, or because they receive no direction on breaking away from the methods of beginners (AMC, I, Prologue, 3/70).* Failing to understand that God is the author of this enlightenment, ill-prepared directors may urge persons, instead of advancing, to return to former ways of prayer or to make many general confessions. They do not realize that now is not the time for such activity: Indeed it is a period for leaving these persons alone in the pu~'gation God is working in them, a time to give comfort and encouragement that they may desire to endure this suffering as long as God wills, for until then, no remedy--whatever the soul does, or the confessor says--is adequate (AMC, I, Prologue, 5/71). Having said this, St. John begins in Chapters One and Two to explain the imagery of'the "night" that will guide both him and the soul. Early evening or twilight marks the point of departure, the time of purgation, for the soul will experience deprivations of its appetites for worldly pleasure, possessiohs; powers. As one mortifies these, one is led deeper into the night--to the midnight hour of dense darkness where the only means of progress is faith, where intellect is deprived of its normal modes of knowing so that one may be made ready for the secret and intimate self-communications of God. The night eventually gives way to daybreak, to the dawn, which symbolizes the point of God's arrival, the time of love's illumination transformed into perfect union with the Lover: Thus these phases of the night encompass the threefold path of purgation, illumination, and union, not as something accomplished once and for all in linear fashion, but as an ongoing cycle of deprivation, restoration, and transformation. One discovers through the nights of sense and spirit that, as St. Teresa of Avila says, on this walk through life God alone suffices. No object of sense, no concept, image, or idea, can fulfill our infinite desire. The point of Chapter Three is to identify the first cause of this night as the "privation"~or deprivation of perverted desires or appetites. Perhaps The First Stage to Union this is St. John's way of explaining, as a necessary condition for.spiritual deepening, control of the pleasure principle. This control actually effects a rechanneling of vital energies so that they flow from and return to their transcendent source. We must go through this "night" in order to restore the equilibrium thrown off by excessive attachment to the gratifications afforded by our relations, sensually speaking, to persons, things and events. It is clear from the context of this chapter that St. John believes that all creation is good; nothing is evil in itself. Ideally we ought to proceed from the manifestations of God to God himself. In reality, due to the spiritual blindness imposed by our fallen condition, we cling frantically to these vital gratifications. By refusing to let them go, we disavow them. as pointers to their Creator. We tend to make them ultimate sources of pleasure or posses-sion. They become idols or ends in themselves. The result of not entering the night of sense deprivation is, therefore, an increase of formation igno-rance or forgetfulness of our true transcendent" nature--the dynamic that marks our most distinctive human quality. Hence, we need the "night" to reawaken our capacity to remember the Creator in our sense perception of creatures. That is to say, we must see through the visible to the invisible Reality. We are not to remain only on the surface of things but to behold in faith the depth dimension. By darkening the senses of hearing, seeing, smelling, tasting and touching, one is paradoxically free and empty of all things, even though one possesses them. In short: "Since the things of the world cannot enter the soul, they are not in themselves an encumbrance or harm to it; rather, it is the will and appetite dwelling within it that causes the damage" (AMC, 1, 3, 5/77). St. John now goes on, in effect, in Chapters Four and Five to suggest three steps to follow on this phase of the journey through the dark night to God. They are, in a word, remembrance, comparison and renunciation., In the first place, to be freed from this idle/idol illusion, one must strive to remember the right relation between creation and the Creator. Curiously enough, this re-membering has to do with dismembering, that is, of divesting ourselves of inordinate attachments to things as they are in themselves, as if they could be separated f~om their Creator. To dismember a thing as ultimate is to re-member it as dependent on God.Such detachment, while painful, helps one to appreciate things much more as manifestations of the goodness of God. By contrast, one who is clothed in these affections (versus dis-membered) will be "incapable of the enlightenment and dominating full-ness of God's pure and simple light, unless he rejects them" (AMC, I, 4, 1/77-78). Harsh as it may sound, St. John holds firm to his conviction that the light of divine union cannot be established in the soul until these (inordi-nate) affections are eradicated. A more positive way of making the point 164 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1987 might be to ~ay t~at when our idolizing ~lesire to take pleasure in and to possess things as such is mortified, we can appreciate them as they are in their pristine origin and beauty. We move in this way from a posture of violence and control to one of love and letting be, from an attitude of manipulation and calculation to one of compassion. A second helpful step at this stage of the journey is to set up a comparison between the finite, limited nature of things as distinct from the "how much more" of the infinite. For example, the Sea of Galilee compared to the sea of God's love is like a drop of water compared to the Pacific Ocean. Simi-larly, creatures, however beautiful, elegant and abundant they may be, com-pared to their Creator are as darkness compared to light, are as coarseness compared to grace, or ignorance compared to ability. Through this exercise in comparison, St. John introduces us to the Reality Principle, namely, he wants us to see things as they really are in their limited value and as pointers to the limitlessness of thei'r Lord. Via this comparison, we will be better able to break the tendency to make any "little beyond" into the "True Be~,ond"' and hence _to. r_is_k !nitiating a pseud.o-spirituality that invests in something finit~ the richness of the Infinite. Understanding this point of comparison enables us to read Chapter Four as a litany of praise to our Creator God: ¯ . . all the being of creatures compared with the infinite being of God is nothing . All the beauty of creatures compared with the infinite Beauty of God is supreme ugliness . All the grace and elegance of creatures compared with God's grace is utter coarseness and crudity. (AMC, l, 4, 4/79). Here St. John would agree fully with St. Paul that the wisdom of the world is mere foolishness in God's sight (1 Co 3:19). Clearly, the meaning of these statements does not intend for us to reject creaturely being, beauty, grace and ability as bad, but to place these attributes in their proper rela-tion to God. They will all pass away, but not his word. Creaturely qualities, no matter how rich, are ultimately poor in comparison to the Being, Beauty, Elegance and Wisdom of God. Our hope resides not in this or that momen-tary pleasure or possession but in God alone. If the first step out of illusion is to remember our nothingness without God, then the second step is to compare his eternal truth with whatever is temporal. The promise he makes to us is more trustworthy than any stopping place on the path of formation. Thus it is up to us to keep running the race to the end, which means not resting ultimately in anything but God, for, as St. Augustine has said so beautifully, our hearts are restless until they rest in him. Or, to again quote St. John: The First Stage to Union All the sovereignty and freedom of the world compared with the f~eedom and sovereignty of the Spirit of God is utter slavery, anguish, and cap-tivit3; . All the delights and satisfactions of the will in the things of the world in contrast to all the delight that is God is intense suffering, tor-ment and bitterness . All the wealth and, glory of creation compared with the wealth that is God is utter poverty and misery in the Lord's sight (AMC, I, 4, 6, 7/80). The third step, as suggested in Chapter Five, is the most radical, for St. John says that total renunciation is the condition par excellence for pure transformation. Here paradox prevails, Just as knowing is only possible in unknowing, so freedom of spirit or liberation is the result of detachment or renunciation. One must empty the appetite of all the natural and super-natural things which can be a hindrance to the journey to God. This kenotic experience does not happen once and for all but demands habitual effort in cooperation with the graces God is bestowing. The language here allows for no compromise: , The road and ascent to God, then, necessarily, demands a habitualeffort to renounce ~nd mortify the appetites; the sooner this mortification is achieved~ the sooner the soul re~ches the top. But until the appetiteff are eliminated, a person will not arrive, no matter how much virtue he practices. For he will fail to acquire perfect virtue, which lies in keeping the soul empty, naked and purified of every appetite (AMC, I, 5, 6/83). If we desire to climb the summit of the mount "in order to become an altar for the offering of a sacrifice of pure love and praise," we must strive to accomplish three.tasks, described through the following metaphors: first, we must "cast out strange gods," meaning that we have to let go of any affections and attachments that tend to alienate us from God; secondly, we must purify ourselves of their residue through habitual denial (saying no for the sake of a greater yes) and--for as often as we fail to do so-- through habitual, confident repentance (trusting that God's mercy responds with motherly tenderness to our misery); and, thirdly, we must take on a "change of garments," meaning that we must be clothed in a "new under-standing of God [through the removal of the understanding of the old man], and in a new love of God in God . " In this way, we move from igno-rance of who we really are toward acceptance of our being made in the form and likeness of God, of our being, as St. John puts it, "his worthy dwelling." The saint is one who says with every fiber of his or her being: "My God and my all!" One accepts this truth without flinching: "The only appetite God permits and wants in his dwelling place is the desire for the perfect fulfillment of his law and the carrying of his cross" (AMC, I, 5, 8/84). Having reflected on the meaning and demands of total renunciation and "166 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1987 the liberation it brings, St. John moves on in the next five chapters (Six through Ten) to analyze the harms the appetites engender in the soul. There are two main areas of harm, the one privative, the other positive. In general, unruly appetites deprive us of God's spirit. By our attachment to a created thing weoare less capable of soaring free to God. St. John relies for his reason-ing on the philosophical fact that two contraries cannot coexist in the same person. Therefore, "Since love of God and attachment to creatures are con-traries, they cannot coexist in the same will" (AMC, I, 6, 2/85). In biblical terms, rather than accept our privilege as children of God to eat at his table, we act like dogs who must eat the crumbs that fall to the floor. We refuse to rise from the "crumbs" of creatures to the uncreated Spirit of the Father. It stands to reason that "this uncreated fullness cannot find entry to a soul until this other hunger caused by the desires is expelled" (AMC, I, 6, 3/85). As to the second harm, which is positive, we must realize that numerous. impediments are wrought in the soul by inordinate appetites, the most obvious of these being that they weary, torment, darken, defile and weaken the true seeker. Our spiritual life suffers in the first place because these appe-tites weary and tire us to death. He compares them to restless, discontented children, who wear their mothers out trying to please them. Satisfied at one moment, they demand more satisfaction the next. The more one quiets their cravings, the more demanding they become. One feels increasingly agitated, disturbed, fatigued. Like the pulsion governing physical hunger or sexual need, so appetites in general are stirred to satisfy themselves endlessly. St. John makes this analogy: Just as a lover is wearied and depressed when on a longed-for day his oppor-tunity is frustrated, so is a man wearied and tired by all his appetites and their fulfillment, because the fulfillment only causes more hunger and empti-ness. An appetite, as they say, is like a fire that blazes up when wood is thrown on it, but necessarily dies out when the wood is consumed (AMC, I, 6, 6/87). Such desires make it impossible for us to live in the longing for God alone, for instead of him, weexpect them to satisfy us. It is as if we keep looking for heaven on earth. Thus we become ready victims of illusory promises of fulfillment. We give in to the pressures of consumerism. In both cases the sad reward is discontent, for we have turned unwittingly from God who alone can satisfy us. These inordinate appetites not only wear us-out, they also torment us. They gnaw at us mercilessly, as if we were bound by tight cords or tortured on a rack. The torment would be comparable to that which a person suffers who lies naked on thorns and nails; who is in pain; who knows no peace; who is always thirsty. In contrast to what happens to us when the cord of The First Stage to Union / 167 desires tightens around us, when the possessions we cling to desperately possess us, think of the liberation of the children of God. Consider the refreshing peace that is ours when we surrender our will to his. Instead of wasting our efforts, why don't we delight in the abundance of God? We should learn to see that this movement to~vard abundance is a departure from the pleasures of crea-tures, because the creature torments, while the Spirit of God refreshes'.' -Accordingly, God calls us through St. Matthew. as though he were to say: All you going about tormented, afflicted, and weighed down by your cares and appetites, depart from them, come to me and I will refresh you; and you will find the rest for your souls that the desires take away from you (Mt 11:28-29) (AMC, 1, 7, 4/88-89). Thirdly, these self-centered desires blind us. It is as if we are living behind a cloudy pane of glass that blocks out the bright sunshine. We see only a hazy image of things--not things as they really are. Due to this blindness, it is impossible for us to think clearly. It is as if the powers of our transcen-dent mind are dulled by the excessive demands of the vital or functional spheres. Both natural reason and supernatural wisdom are darkened. And when the intellect is obscured, the will becomes weak and the memory dis-ordered. The desire for const'an~ pleasure or sensual stimulation makes reflec-tive living a virtual impossibility. Things go from bad to worse because the intellect is incapable of receiving the illumination of God's wisdom; ttie will cannot embrace the pure love of God; and the memory lessens its capacity for the impression of the serenity of God's image upon it. Unless these blinding desires are mortified, one will not advance on the way of union. It stands to reason that if the~e unruly appetites lead a person, he or sh~ is bound to be blind to the'mind's appraisal powers. One reacts on impulse, without the help of a quiet attunement to the Christ form in the core of one's being. All that is released is the counterfeit form of con-cupiscence and pride. No amount of penance can overcome this darkness if one does not root out the source of the trouble, namelyl the blinding blockage of inordinate desires. They are like a ~ataract on the eye or specks of dust in°it. Until they are removed, they obstruct vision. One way or another, in this life or in the next, these appetites have to be chastised and corrected. They have to underg6 purgation before any steady progress in the spiritual life can take place. St. John laments this condition of forma-tion ignorance in language reminiscent of the prophets: Oh, if men but knew what a treasure of divine light this blindness caused by their affections and appetites deprives them of, and the number of mis-fortunes and evils these appetites occasion each day when left unmorti-fle!! . At every step we mistake evil for good and good for evil. 16~i / Review for Religious., March-April, 1987 This is peculiar to our nature. But what will happen if appetite is added to our natural darkness? . We have felt our way along the way as though blind, we have groped as if without eye,s, and our blindness has reached the point that we stumble along in broad daylight as though walk-ing in the dark (AMC, I, 8, 6, 7/91). Using even stronger language, St. John assures us that such blind desires stain ,and defile the soul, bringing it into bondage under the rule of the autarchic-pride form, and blackening the beauty of the christ form we are called to release. We are like someone who is stained by pitch or blacker than coal--and yet we are meant to be whiter than snow or milk. This is so because even the disordered soul remains in substantial union with God. It "possesses in its natural being the perfection that God bestowed when creating .it," even though in its rational being it is full of the defilement described here. We cannot grow in Christ-likeness until this defilement, is checked by formative detachment. The tragedy is that these inclinations keep us away from the peace God is drawing us toward in the life of union. incredible as it may sound: One inordinate appetite alone., suffices to make a soul so captive, dirty, and unsightly that,until the appetite is purified the soul is incapable of con-formity with God in union. This is true even though there may be no matter for mortal sin in the appetite. What thenwill b~.the ugliness of a soul entirely disordered in its passions and surrendered to its appetites? How far it will be from God and his purity (AMC, I, 9, 3/92-93). It follows that all three faculties of the soul are affected by this kind of attachment. Just as one bad spot spoils an entire garment, so intellect, memory, and will are defiled by disordered desires. . The end result is that such desires render us lukewarm, spiritually speaking. Appetites that go unmortified eventually sap the soul of the strength it needs to persevere in the practice of virtue. In this weakened state, ours is an on-again, off-again spirituality. We are usually overdependent on consolations and only sporadically attracted to steady discipline. Appetites, as it were, divide and conquer us, whereas asceticism unites our inner faculties and makes us stronger. Lacking this discipline, we feel scattered. Our faith is easily challenged. We may.be open targets for exalted schemes that promise salvation through a wide door, not a narrow gate. We would like to master God rather than allow him to master us. What matters most is not his will but our own interpretation of the easy way. Without purgation and ongoing appraisal of the direction of our spiritual life, self-gratification, not God, becomes our center. As far as St. John is concerned, this would be hell on earth. Instead of copcentrating on strength-ening our practice of virtue, all we care about is satisfying our desii~es, Little The First Stage to Union / 169 wonder, then, that they rob us of what we already have. Unmortified appe-tites result in killing our relationship with God. Because we did not put them gently but firmly to death first, they live on to kill us. For what difference does it make if we win the whole world and lose our soul? Having spelled out in vivid detail the privative and positive harms appe-tites can cause in the soul, St. John explains again in Chapters Eleven and Twelve what kinds of appetites are detrimental to the soul. To do so he distinguishes three kinds of appetites, moving from the least to the most detrimental, these being the natural ones, the "semivoluntary and the voluiatary. Natural movements, as, for example, an ear for and an attraction to good music, are of little or no hindrance to the attainment of union, provided we do not make them the center of our attention nor pass beyond the first stage of spontaneous affinity in which the rational will plays no part. Because we are a body-mind-spirit unity, because we are born with certain givens in the realm of temperament, disposition and talent, it is impossible to eradi-cate natural appetites in this life, and, were we to do so, it would most likely be deformative. TheSe movements go hand in hand with our creatureliness. One can be experiencing them in the sensitive part of one's being, as, for instance, a hunger pang, and yet be free of the desire for food at this moment, as, for instance, during a liturgy, in the rational part of one's being. These movements can even be stirring in a person who is experiencing an intense union of will in the prayer of quiet. These appetites may actually dwell in the sensory part of the soul, yet the superior part pays no attention to them, just as there can be foam on the ocean's surface and deep calm underneath the sea. One. may even feel certain sexual stirrings without in the least detract-ing from one's absorption in God in the center of one's being. As long as one pays no attention to them--rletting them buzz in and out like flies but not stopping to swat them--one need not be concerned about them. Such is not the case with the other appetites--~whether the less grave, which involve venial sin, or the most serious, which involve mortal sin. The trouble with natural movements, which are the least of them all, is that one can consent to them and be forthwith ~aught up in imperfections that are contrary to God's will. If one is to reach (he perfection of union with God through one's will and love, it is obvious that one must be freed from every appetite, howe~,er slight. One must have the strength and freedom to be able--in the face of temptation--to refuse consent. There is a difference between "ad~,ertence" Or "knowingly" falling into imperfections, and "inad-vertence" or falling without much knowledge or control of the matter. These are the semivoluntary sins because of which it is said that the just man will fall seven times a day and rise up again. Review for Religious, March-April, 1987 The real problem resides with the voluntary appetites. Anyone of these, even the most trifling, is sufficient to impede union. Especially problematic are the "habitual appetites," because scattered acts rooted in diverse desires are not such a hindrance. They are not a determine~l habit--yet ultimately the soul must be liberated of these too since they both proceed from and may lead to habitual imperfection. Habitual, voluntary imperfections that are not completely mortified not only stand in the way of divine union but also hinder spiritual prog~ress as such. St. John gives some examples of what he means by habitual imperfections (those deformed dispositions that prevent us from responding fully and freely to the call to love). ¯ . . the common habit of loquacity; a small attachment one never really desires to conquer, for example, to a person, to clothing, to a book or a cell, or to .the way food is prepared, and to other trifling conversa-tions . Any of these habitual imperfections, and attachment to them, causes as much harm to an individual as ,would the daily commission of many other imperfections (AMC, I, 11, 4/97). Harsh as it may sound, St. John will not compromise his conviction that such an attachment, however trifling it ma~, seem, will make it impossible in the long run for one to progress in perfection. Something as simple as insisting on the same place in a church pew, and compelling others to crawl over one, can hinder the spiritual flight the saint is talking about. The point is: It makes little difference whether a bird is tied by a thin thread or by a cord. For even if tied by thread, the bird will be prevented from taking off just as surely as if it were tied by cold--that is, it ~vill be impeded from flight as long as it does not break the thread . This is the lot of a man who is attached to something: no matter how much virtue he has he will not reach the freedom of divine union (AMC, I, 11, 4/97). In one text after another, St. John comes back to this issue. How regret-table that a soul laded like a rich vessel with the wealth of good deeds, spiritual exercisesand virtues never leaves port because one lacks the courage to break the rope of a little satisfaction, attachment or affection. God gives them the power to sever other stronger cords while they cling to some childish act or thing God ask~ them to overcome for love of him. Not only do they fail to advance; they even turn back for so ,mething that amounts to no more than a thread or a hair. And, "Everyone knows that not to go forward on this road is to turn back, and not to gain ground is to lose." The goal of union demands that we do not stop on the road, but that we continually mortify our appetites rather than indulge them. For how can a log of wood be transformed into the fire if a single degree of heat is lacking to its prepa- The First Stage to Union ration? Similarly, itis St. John's contention that the soul "will not be trans-formed in God even if it has only one imperfection." This is so because a person has only one will, and if this is encumbered or occupied by any-thing, it will not possess the freedom, solitude and purity requisite for divine transformation. Complementing these clarifications from Chapter Eleven are a few of his Sayings of Light and Love, for example, Saying 23--"He who does not allow his appetites to carry him.away will soar in his spirit as swiftly as the bird that lacks no feathers" (668). Returning to the topic of the kinds of harm the appetites can cause in the soul, St. John explains, in regard to privative evil or the loss of grace, that only the voluntary appetites whose object may involve mortal sin can do this~completely--that is, deprive the soul of grace in this life, and glory, the possession of God, in the next. The positive evils (weariness, torment, blindness, defilement, weakness) correspond in general to a turning toward creatures, just as the privative involve an aversion from God. Naturally, the degree of harm depends on whether the appetite leads to mortal or venial sin, whether it is voluntary or semivoluntary. The harm. caused by each appe-tite can be direct or indirect. For example, vainglory positively harms the soul in all the ways mentioned, but it most principally darkens and blinds it. The point to keep in mind is that all these evils together oppose the acts of virtue, which generate the contrary and corrective effect. For example, a virtuous act produces in one mildness, peace, comfort, light, purity, and strength; an inordinate appetite brings with it torment, fatigue, and so on. In short: "Through the practice of one virtue all the virtues grow, and similarly, through an increase in one vice, all the vices and their effects grow" (AMC, I, 12, 5/100). Don't we all know from experience (think of that overstuffed feeling after a too rich meal) that "the appetite when satisfied seems .sweet and, pleasant, but eventually the sour effect is felt." We cannot avoid this basic truth that if and when we allow ourselves to be carried away by our appetites, the bitter effect of losing our-selves in vitalistic feelings or functionalistic preoccupations is inevitable. Such is not the case with the natural, involuntary appetites. Though disturbances in this realm may seem to defile one, the actual resistance of them has the opposite effect. In this struggle one wins strength, purity and many other blessings, for as our Lord told St. Paul: "Virtue is made perfect in weakness" (2 Co 12:9). Since, in conclusion, it is the voluntary appetites that bring on all these evils--and even more--the chief concern of spiritual directors with their directees ought to be the "immediate mortification of every appe-tite." Nothing less than this emptiness-will liberate them. We come now to the famous Chapter Thirteen of Book One of the Ascent in which St. John delineates some counsels pertaining to the active night 179 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1987 of the senses or how one can conquer and overcome voluntary appetites. Though one is doing what one can, this very action is dependent on the "already-thereness" of God's grace, prompting one to enter this night and thereby come "quickly" to the passive way in which God accomplishes this work in us. What is this "abridged method" that leads us from~nothing to everything, from emptiness to fullness, from renunciation to liberation, from being bound to soaring free? It proceeds in a series of steps, which we shall summarize here. 'First and foremost comes the habitual desire to imitate Christ in all of one's deeds. Nothing is more important on the way of perfection than bring-ing our lives into conformity with his. This being with the Christ form implies the ongoing reading (lectio continua) of the Scriptures together with their more concentrated study (lectio divina). Knowing him through his words and actions, we can better emulate his attitudes in our own situation, thus drawing our entire existence more and more into union and communion with his. It follows that to succeed in this imitation, we need to calm down and by and large renounce sensory satisfactions severed from that which gives honor and glory to God. We cannot do this on basis of willpower alone; our motivation must emerge not from fear but from our love of the Lord who came to show us how we are to go through him to the Father. His one desire in life was to fulfill the Father's will, which "he called his meat and food" (Jn 4:34). What does this decision mean concretely? The key resides in the phrase "do not desire," and it means do not desire to hear, . look upon, act, take pleasure in anything that is unrelated to the service and glory of God. St. John would never be against enjoying good music, if we have an ear for it, of appreciating the beauty of art or nature, or in delivering or hearing a moving sermon. What bothers him is our tendency to stop at this literal level instead of going through and beyond it to the transliteral, sacred mystery. One cannot help but experience satisfaction in these sensory goods. The important directive is not to desire the gratifica-tion as such but to desire the God who gratifies. By this method, we leave the senses, as it were, in darkness and, from the spiritual point of view, "gain a great deal in a short time." Such vigilance, perhaps understood as purity or singleness of heart, leads to the tranquilizing or harmonizing of the natural passions of joy, hope, fear, and sorrow--four emotions that constitute the basis of the active purga-tion of the will by love in Book III, Chapter Sixteen ff, of the Ascent. Here it is sufficient to present a few maxims that represent a first formula for pacifying these passions while practicing many virtues. Note here as well that what we are pacifying is the passion for (inordinate attachment to) satis- The First Stage to Union / 17'3 factions that are self-centered; expectations that are willful; anxieties rooted in our search for security; and depressions due to lack of control, and not having things go our way. Only if we understand this can we understand and accept as wise these well-known maxims: Endeavor to be inclined always: not to the easiest, but to the most difficult; not to the most delightful, but to the harshest; not to the most gratifying, but to the less pleasant; not to what means rest for you, but to hard work; not to the consoling, but to the unconsoling; not to the most, but to the least; not to the highest and most precious, but to the lowest and most despised; not to wanting something, but to wanting nothing; do not go about looking for the best of temporal things, but for the worst, and desire to enter into complete nudity, emptiness and poverty in everything in the world (AMC, 'I, 13, 6/102-103). This passage may seem life-denying, slightly masochistic, to say noth-ing of the impossibility of reaching or doing, if we overlook the crucial phrase at the beginning, which says "Endeavor to be inclined always . " This is the same as saying "Strive," "Try," "Foster the inclination" to develop that "sixth sense" that guides our call to be a true follower of Christ, which implies inevitably to deny ourselves and to take up our cross for his sake. As witnesses to the Gospel, we ought to be ever more proficient in detecting what in us operates on basis of the pride form and what in us gives assent to the Christ form. For did he not choose the "narrow way" that was, by human standards, most diffic.u~lt, harshest, less pleasant? Did he not work so hard to accomplish our salvation that he had nowhere on which to rest his head? Was his agony not unconsoling? Was he not numbered among the least of men? Among the most despised? What did he want except to fulfill the will of the Father? If this is true, and if we want to walk with him, then we too must practice the poverty of spirit by which he emptied himself and became like a slave for our sake. Thus in these counsels, St. John is indicating concretely how we are to accomplish the imitation of Christ. With his help, we can learn to embrace them earnestly and overcome the aversion we may feel toward them. By entering into nothingness, we enter into nothing-butness--for nothing but God will satisfy the heart that loves him. Such a life practiced with order and discretion (for these mortifications are means toward union, not union itself), enable us to live in faithfulness to our unique call to discipleship. What is easiest and what is most difficult depends, of course, on who we "174 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1987 are. It may be easiest for a research scientist not to spend tedious hours in his laboratory looking for formulas that will benefit human health when he would rather be on the golf course. Hence, what is difficult and done for Christ is to maintain his place in the lab, putting his God-given gifts to work. For another, the most difficult.may be to overcome his shyness and meet colleagues on the golf course, thus tempering his workaholic ten-dency and relaxing so he may be a better servant for the Lord. These decisions are dependent on the appraisal powers of our transcendent mind and will, but behind this appraisal stands the basic counsel, "Endeavor to be inclined always" to imitate Christ and to be ready to do what is most consonant with our call to radical discipleship. This commitment will inevitably lead us through the narrow way of the night of the senses, for we will have to die to the old, unredeemed, fleshy pride form, the "pride of life," as St. John calls it, for this "concupiscence" reigns in the world, as separated from God, and gives rise to all the appe-tites. Toward this pride form, we are to try to act with contempt, speak with contempt, and think with contempt. Nothing short of this radical rejec-tion of pride will ready us for radical discipleship. This contemptuous no is for the sake of a greater yes. We are saying no to formation ignorance, to its remote cause which is the pride form, and to its proximate causes, such as the immersion in vitalism, the escape in functionalism, the evasion of interformative responsibility. In saying no to the pride form, we are taking the first necessary step to combating demonic seduction (the deception that we are in charge of our destiny) and growing strong in Christ for the greater struggle to come in the dark night, where our only guide is faith. These counsels are thus an essential preliminary for formation freedom. For only if we desire nothing can we allow God to give us all. In summary, to mortify "the concupiscence of the flesh" means to ceas~ allowing the vital dimension of the life form to be a substitute for the tran-scendent. It means the end of downward transcendence. To mortify "the concupiscence of the eyes" means to cease allowing the functional dimension to dominate our existence with its penchant for envious competition and ego control. It means the end of horizontal transcendence. And, ultimately, to mortify "the pride of life" means to root out the source of our trouble and to pursue upward transcendence, in which the vital and functional spheres become servants of the ascent to God. Such are St. John's basic instructions for climbing to the summit, "the high state of union." Now perhaps we can understand and absorb with relief his concluding counsels., for if we read them properly, they will tell us to desire nothing in order to allow God to give everything. Thus: The First Stage to Union / 175 To reach satisfaction in all desir~e its possession in nothing. To come to possess all desire the possession of nothing. To arrive at being all desire to be nothing. To come to the knowledge of all desire the knowledge of nothing. To come to the pleasure you have not you must go by a way in which you enjoy not. To come to the knowledge you have not you must go by a way in which you know not. To come to the possession you have not you must go by a way in which you possess not. To come to be what you are not you must go by a way in which you are not. When you turn toward something you cease to cast yourself upon the All. For to go from all to the All you must deny yourself of all in all. And when you come to the possession of the all you must possess it without wanting anything. Because if you desire to have something in all your treasure in God is not purely your all. In this nakedness the spirit finds its quietude and rest. For in coveting nothing nothing raises it up and nothing weighs it down, because it is in the center of its humiliiy. When it covets something in this very desire it is wearied. What St. John is saying in these remarkable verses is that one will reach satisfaction in all, possession of~all, being all one desires, only if one desires nothing but God. One will know much in the knowledge and remembrance that one is no-thing. One is a child of God, emerging from him and returning to him--not an object of one's own pleasure or satisfaction, but his child, with all the dignity that one is afforded thereby. Thus if we want a pleasure higher than any vital stimulation, if we want an understanding greater than any reason can conclude, if we want to possess more than any collection of material or spiritual goods can yield, if we want to be who we most deeply are, then we must follow this narrow way of 176 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1987 enjoying what we don't know, of understanding One who is incomprehen-sible, of possessing what we can never fully own--for the divine mystery will ~ilways escape our urge to master it. Indeed, to be who we are we must go by this way in which our pride form is not, in which we are increasingly naughted, in which it is noI longer we who live but Christ who lives in us. Every time we turn toward some thing, person, or event as ultimate or absolute, we turn away from the Lord of all. We cease to cast ourselves upon his mercy, forgiveness, love. To go from the all (God's gifts every-where) to the All (God himself), we must deny ourselves of the All (God), that is, the illusion that the All can be found in or contained in all. God is beyond every little idol we try to create. And even when we possess him, we must do so in a letting-be attitude, without wanting anything but him as he reveals himself. Because if we desire to have something, for example, more consolations or signs of his love, then our treasure in God is not purely or wholly in him as our all, but only in his consolations. The more we reflect on this message, the more we discover that only in this nakedness, this emptiness of spirit, can the soul find its rest. In coveting, in desiring, nothing but God's will, one experiences real tranquil-lity. Whether in adversity or prosperity, whether in consolation or desola-tion, nothing raises one up and nothing weighs one down. It is a blessed state to live in the center of one's humility, to walk graciously in the truth of who one is. Coveting something produces the opposite effect: weariness and torment. For nothing can bring to rest our restless soul save union with God--and it is toward this union that St. John fires our love with urgent longings. Book One closes with two short chapters, which really provide a transi-tion to Book Two. The.phrase St. John comments upon points to the main effect of the active night of sense, namely, "Fired w.ith love's urgent long-ings." The result of this initial purgation of the appetites is a more intense enkindling of another love: a better love, the love of God above all else. The motivation for giving up these attachments must be neither fear of punishment nor the presumption of merit but the freedom, based on faith and love, tb choose a higher good. "By finding his satisfaction and strength in this love, a man will have the courage and constancy to deny readily all other appetites" (AMC, I, 14, 2/105). Such love is not static, but dynamic; it is a longing love. Since the sensory appetites are always in a state of "craving," spiritual desires must be fired with other more "urgent longings." Lacking this transcendence,dynamic, the soul will not be able to overcome the yoke of absolutized vital impulses and functional ambi-tions (what St. John calls the "yoke of nature"); nor will one be able to enter the first night of sense, and certainly one will not have the courage The First Stage to Union / 17"/ to live in the darkness of all things--not by rejecting them as such but by denying the desire for them as if they could provide the fulfillment God alone can offer. St. John will deal with these matters more fully in upcoming Books on the active night of the spirit (which will discuss the purification of our spiritual faculties, intellect, memory and will by, respectively, faith, hope, and love). At least to have passed through the night of the mortification of the senses, the night in which the house of self-will is stilled, is itself a "sheer grace." God's grace, his always active love, has released us already from this prison. But because of our fallenness, "flesh" is still subject to the passions and unruly appetites. To be liberated from this bondage in a way that is unimpeded by its enemies (world, flesh and devil) is for the soul an unspeakably wonderful grace. To achieve this liberation to the full, one must, so to speak, leave the Egypt of sensory satisfaction and cross the desert of spiritual deprivation. When the house of willful appe-tites is quieted through the mortification of sensuality, then the soul is free to walk in genuine freedom, enjoying union with the Beloved. It is to this next phase of renunciation for the sake of greater liberation that one must now turn, keeping in mind this saying of St. John's: "If you purify your soul of attachment to and desire for things, you will understand them spiritually. If you deny your appetite for them, you will enjoy their truth, understanding what is certain in them" (Sayings o fLight andLove, 46/671). *All quotations can be found in references by paragraph and page number. Collected ~'orks of St. John of the Cross, translated by Kieran Kavanaugh, O.C.D. and Otilio Rodriguez, O.C.D., ICS Publications, Institute of Carmelite Studies, Washington, D.C. The Eucharist: Heart of Religious Community Susan Wood, S.C.L. Sister Susan Wood teaches theology at Saint Mary College (Leavenworth, Kansas 66048). This article is the fruit of her reflection in anticipation of her community's General Chapter last summer. As she writes, "Paradoxically, what may be most specific sometimes touches what is true universally." The daily celebration of the Eucharist is a focal point of our lives a source of our charity a fount of inspiration in our mission a sign and means of unity and nourishment. Constitution, #23 Today many sisters are asking whether we can continue to say that the Eucharist is a focal point of our lives. Quite simply, some say, for many of us our daily schedules prohibit a daily eucharistic celebration. Others question how the Eucharist can be expressive of unity in a situation where the worshipping community does not know one another. Still others wonder whether we should celebrate Eucharist at all if we find ourselves divided and still in need of reconciliation with one another. They remind us that Jesus said to leave our gift at the altar and be reconciled with our sister and brother before offering our gift. If we inquire further, we discover yet more serious roots of the current questioning of the place of the Eucharist in our religious lives. The Eucharist may appear to be a devotional practice which, while important, is somehow peripheral to other concerns which claim our energies. The real task that 178 The Eucharist: Heart of Community / 179 the question of the place of the Eucharist in our lives sets before us is the identification of what constitutes the center of our common life. Is our service of the poor our focal point? Is our common life? Does the inspiration for our religious adaptation and reform repose in fundamentally non-sacramental realities such as community, authority, Chapter enactments, the Constitution, our apostolates, our charism? Or can we say that our sacramental life is our center, and that all these important, but non-sacramental, aspects of our life are means rather than ends in themselves. That is, they are the means of extending and making concrete and specific the sacramental reality which first defines our life together. These pages cannot solve the problems of conflicting schedules; nor do they pretend to offer a complete theology of the Eucharist. They do propose, however, to examine some connections between the Eucharist and religious community. It is only after we grasp this connection that we will be equipped to address the more concrete questions concerning our daily eucharistic celebration. Religious Life: An Ecclesial Life The basis for the connection between the Eucharist and religious com-munity is, first, the relationship between religious life and the Church and, second, the close association between the sacraments of baptism and Eucharist. The first presupposition is that religious life is fundamentally ecclesial. More than simply a manner of living within the Church, religious life is directly oriented to the Church. This is evident within our own tradition when we recall St. Vincent de Paul's description of the Daughters of Charity as "daughters of the Church." The ecclesial character of religious consecra-tion is further evident in its sacramental foundation, baptism. In baptism we are incorporated into the body of Christ and his Church and our religious life is an attempt to live out the implications of our baptism, and thus this incorporation, in a radical way. As a radical living out of the baptismal commitment, religious life is equally a living out of our identity as ecclesial women. This theology appears in our Constitution where we state: As Christians united personally by baptism to Jesus Christ and to his body, the Church, the Sisters of Charity of Leavenworth . . . are women who view baptism as the most significant event in our lives and who have responded freely to the Divine call to express this consecration more fully by profession of the evangelical counsels of poverty, chastity and obedience lived in apostolic and communal love (Constitution, n. 3). The decree of the Second Vatican Council, Perfectae Caritatis, refers Review for Religious, March-April, 1987 to this ecclesial~orientation when it urges religious to "more and more live and think with the Church," and "dedicate themselves wholeheartedly to its mission (n. 6).'.' If our unity as a Church is the unity in the Spirit of the body of Christ, and if our identity as religious women is inseparable from 0u¢ identity as ecclesial women, then it follows that the source of our unity is radically identical with that of the Church. In other words, our unity is baptismal and eucharistic. From this close association between religious and ecclesial life, it follows that the relationship between the Eucharist and religious community will be analogous to that between the Eucharist and the Church. The Unity of Baptism and Eucharist The second theological presupposition is that baptism and Eucharist are intrinsically related. Consequently, if religious life is a radical living of the baptismal commitment, it is no less a eucharistically centered life. The Eucharist is not simply that which we receive when we come together as the Church. Nor is it primarily a celebration of who we are as a believing community. The Church does not exist prior to the Eucharist, but is formed and created by it. This may appear at first as paradoxical, for in a sense a minister and community are necessary for the celebration of the sacrament. One may also object that the Christian community is formed by baptism rather than the Eucharist. This, however, ~eparates the sacraments of initia-tion when they should instead be seen as a unity. Baptism is indeed incorpora-tion into the Church, but the culmination or fulfillment of the sacraments of initiation, and thus baptism, is the Eucharist. Initiation into the Church is incomplete without the reception of the Eucharist which is incorporation into the historical body of Christ sacramentally present in our world. This is evident in the rite of initiation in the Eastern Church where baptism, confir-mation and Eucharist are conferred within the same ceremony. Baptism and the Eucharist.are closely associated, first, because both are intrinsically related to Christ's Paschal Mystery. In the Eucharist we proclaim the death of the Lord until he comes (1 Co 11: 26). In the eucharistic sacrifice the victory and triumph of Christ are again made present (Sacrosanctum Concilium, I. 6). In baptism we are plunged into the Paschal Mystery of Christ, die with him to sin, are buried with him, and rise with him to a new life in Christ (Rm 6:4; Ep 2:6; Col 3:1; 2 Tm 2:11). Second, both baptism and the Eucharist are means of incorporation into the body of Christ. The text of 1 Co 12:12-13 makes this clear regarding baptism: Just as a human body, tho.ugh it is made up of many parts, is a single unit because all these parts, though many, make one body, so it is with Christ. The Eucharist: Heart of Community In the one Spirit we were all baptized, Jews as well as Greeks, slaves as well as citizens, and one Spirit was given to us all to drink. It is precisely as members of Christ's body that we share in his death and resurrection through baptism (Rm 6: 3-4). The Eucharist is a further means of participation in the body of Christ as is evident in 1 Co 10: 16-17: The cup of blessing which we bless, is it not a participation in the blood of Christ? The bread which we break, is it not a participation in the body of Christ? Because there is one bread, we who are many are one body, for we all partake of the one bread. In the final analysis, therefore, we are incorporated in Christ by both baptism and the Eucharist, the principal reason why they are both considered sacraments of initiation. Initiation into the Church differs from initiation into human societies precisely because it is sacramental. This means not only that through the sign of the sacrament we are initiated into membership in the body of Christ, but that this union with Christ is really achieved now, and is itself a sign of the final eschatological union that all the blessed will share with Christ and with one another. The Eucharist is causative of the Church because the unity of the Church is not that of an aggregate of individuals, a collectivity which exists prior to or independently of Christ, but the unity of a body. In the Eucharist we are nourished by the body and blood of Jesus Christ, and, being vivified by that body, we become one. Consequently, the unity of the Church does not exist metaphysically prior to or apart from its union with and incorporation in Christ. To grasp this profound interconnection between the Church and the Eucharist requires that we think sacramentally rather than according to the categories of human societies and organizations. The temptation throughout history has been to pattern the Church according to the models of society current at the time--in our day the democratic model. The Mystery in which we are invited to participate transcends merely human structures. An example of the shift required in our perception is that while that which we eat is normally transformed into our own flesh and blood, in the sacrament we. are assimilated to Christ, not he to us. The unity of the Church is not a moral unit~, sustained by the good will and cooperation of those consenting to be united, but rather is the unity created on the initiative of Christ who offers us the New Covenant. The Ecclesial Dimension of the Eucharist We believe that sacraments are efficacious signs of God's grace. Therefore we believe that what is signed by the sacrament achieves its effect in us both Review for Religious, March-April, 1987 individually and communally. The sign of the Eucharist is our partaking of Christ's body, efficaciously signified by the bread and wine. Sacramental realism assures us that that which is both signed and effected is our union with Christ, and, as 1 Co 10 indicates~ our union with one another. In tradi-tional eucharistic theology this effect of the Eucharist has been- called the res tantum, and is none other than the unity of the ecclesial body, the Church. This unity is the union of the members with their head, Christ. Since the middle of the twelfth century, largely in response to the eucharistic controversy involving Berengarius, eucharistic theology has fre-quently concentrated on eucharistic realism. Great care has been exerted to emphasize the fact that Christ is really and truly present in the Eucharist. While this truth is of incomparabl~ worth within eucharistic theology, the care to correct a heretical eucharistic theology led to the neglect of the ecciesial dimension of the sacrament. A eucharistic piety that focuses too narrowly and exclusively on the real presence often misses the ecclesial signification of the sacrament, as well as its context within salvation history. The Eucharist in addition to and precisely because it is the sacramental presence of Christ within history is anamesis (remembrance) as well as antici-pation. As remembrance it is the representation of the sacrifice of Christ as well as the fulfillment of the typological prefigurations of Christ's sacrifice in the Old Testament. As anticipation it looks ahead to the final eschato-logical union of all the blessed with Christ at the end time. The final union of the members of Christ with their head is what St. Augustine called the "whole Christ." Thus the Eucharist is an instance of what theologians call "realized eschatology." That is, that which will be complete at the end time eschatologically is already present in a real, but incomplete form. We are really united with Christ now in the present time, but this union prefigures a complete union for which we work, pray, and wait. In a similar manner, we are really sacramentally united with one another, but our unity is still imperfect. Concrete Consequences of a Eucharistic Ecclesiology Once this is seen, certain corollaries become evident. First, the referent of the sacrament, that is, that which it signs, is both the Christ who died, rose and ascended to the Father as well as the eschatological union of all the blessed with Christ. Thus the sacrament effects this union in the present, but its ultimate referent transcends the present as it anticipates this final union. This means that the primary referent of the Eucharist is not the immanent worshipping community or exclusively the presence of the Christ within the community. The Eucharist is not a celebration of unity achieved apart from our union with Christ and prior.to the Eucharist, but effects The Eucharist: Heart of Community / 183 and anticipates that for which we hope as Christians--final, irrevocable union in Christ. This means that we do not wait until we experience perfect union before we approach the Eucharist. If a community stands in need of reconcilia-tion, it should indeed work so that it is in fact what it proclaims itself to be in word, namely, Christian community. However, just as we do not save ourselves but ask for salvific grace, so our reconciliation is not entirely our work but something worked within us by the grace of God with our cooper-ation. The Eucharist is not only a sign of unity, but effects unity and recon-ciliation; Secondly, the community which gathers for eucharistic worship is not required to be an intimate, homogeneous group. The universality of the kingdom of God, the body of Christ, indicates that those ecclesial communities which most accurately reflect the universal vocation to union with God may be the most diverse of groups, often anonymous, where faith in our common vocation transcends the diversity of races, nations and walks of life. This does not me.an that we should not work for a more ideal realization of como munity but rather that such an ideal should not become a prior condition of eucharistic worship. Third, although in the Eucharist we receive the sacramental presence of Christ, the primary focus of the sacrament is communal rather than indi-vidual. We approach the Eucharist as a Christian community who celebrates the great things the Lord has done for us in his life, death and rising. The Eucharist as anamesis, that is, remembrance, sacramental presence and pledge of our. future hope, reminds us that we are a people in the midst of the history of God's salvific plan for us. This communal and historical focus of the sacrament is the primary reason why communion services can never be an adequate substitute for the celebration of the Eucharist. These services, even under the best of circumstances, emphasize the individual's reception of the sacramental presence of Christ rather than the community's immersion in salvation history with its celebration of a past event sacramentally present, itself a sign of a future reality. The Eucharist is properly word and sacra, ment, the sacrament representing more than the presence of Christ's body and blood. It is also the presence of that sacrifice which renders that body and blood efficacious for our salvation. Objective vs. Subjective Meaning of the Eucharist One of the problems today is that we may~be confusing "meaning" with "meaningfulness." The first is an objective category while the second is s~ubjective. When we experience the liturgy as dull and lifeless, apparently divorced from the rest of our lives, we are tempted to say that it has "lost Review for Religious, March-April, 1987 meaning" for us. In this instance what we really mean is that it has ceased to be meaningful. The Eucharist obviously has not lost its objective meaning as the sacramental presence of Christ within human history, as the Christian community's remembrance and representation of Christ's salvific death and rising, as an efficacious sign of our future union in Christ. Our experience, therefore, is more of a statement about ourselves than about the objective meaning of what takes place at our eucharistic liturgy. It is a statement 6f our inability to consciously live and celebrate what we believe, of the incongruity between our life as a Christian community and what the Eucharist calls us to be as a community. Indeed, we may experience fragmentation, boredom and disunion but this experience is a call to recon-ciliation, a call to approach the altar once again so that that which we cele-brate liturgically may be integral with the whole of our life, a call to pray for a more lively faith. It is likewise a call to contribute our best efforts so that our liturgical prayer, through sign and symbol, awakens, fortifies and expresses our faith. Even though it is a mistake to confuse meaning with meaningfulness, we are not excused from the efforts necessary for good liturgical celebration, including personal prayer and reading of Scripture as well as the more proxi-mate preparations of celebrants, musicians and artists. Sacraments are signs, and signs are of their nature human, subject to expressing more or less adequately what they signify. The liturgical renewal enjoined by Vatican II calls for a more active participation on the part of the faithful so that the liturgy can be the "outstanding means by which the faithful can express ~n their love, and manifest to others, the mystery of Christ and the real nature of the true Church" (Sacrosanctum Concilium, n. 2). Within eucharistic theology there exists an objective and subjective di-mension of the sacrament. Traditionally this has been referred to as the opus operatum, the work effected by Christ, and the opus operantis. This latter term originally referred to the disposition of the celebrant. The dis-tinction between the two terms explained how a Mass celebrated by a priest in a state of serious sin was still valid although not spiritually fruitful for him. Recent writers have extended the meaning of opus operantis to refer to the cooperation with and active reception of grace by the believer. In the opus operatum, the objective element of the sacrament, we are assured that Christ is really present. In the second, the subjective element, we receive grace, and the sacrament is "fruitful" with our growth in faith, hope and charity. The question of meaning vs. meaningfulness can, in part, be expressed as the relation between the objective reality of the sacrament, the opus oper-atum, and the subjective disposition of the recipient, the opus operantisl The Eucharist: Heart of Community Our sacramental celebrations may appear arid when the ecclesial reality of the sacrament does not find expression in a renewed commitment to Christ and his Church. Some writers, including Karl Rahner, discuss the frequency of eucharistic celebration with reference to the opus operantis, saying that this frequency should be governed by the conditions which make it possible for us to receive the sacrament fruitfully, with conscious faith and the psychic energy necessary to enter subjectively into that which we celebrate objectively. Two extremes are to be avoided. First, within the context of the communal character of the Eucharist, it is obvious that it is not question of increasing grace by multiplying the number of eucharistic celebr.ations one attends. This not only emphasizes the individual rather than the com-munal nature of the Eucharist, but it also quantifies grace, distorting its primarily relational character. However, it is equally a mistake to expect each 0"f our eucharistic celebrations to be a peak religious experience. An excessive emphasis on our preparation and readiness for the Eucharist makes it our work rather than God's gift and action on. us. In the Eucharist we are invited once again to enter into the New Covenant. Within the vicissitudes of our life we need to be invited to this oft~en, perhaps even daily. The Lord's Prayer provides,us with the model for the dailiness of our eucharistic celebration for when we ask for our daily bread, this is no less than the Bread of Life. However, this emphasis on the ideal of a daily celebration need be neither slavish nor mechanistic. The essential is to realize that the Eucharist is truly the sacramental focal point of our reli-gious life together. Once this is realized and lived, the frequency of our eucharistic celebration will not be so much a question of legislation as that which is truly possible within our individual circumstances and the expression of who we are as ecclesial women. The relationship between Eucharist and religious community is parallel to the relationship between the Church and the Eucharist. Within ecclesiology today there are many theologies competing with a eucharistic ecclesiology. The search for relevance and liberation has prompted dialogue on what con-stitutes salvatio.n, whether it represents liberation from oppressive societal structures and/or whether it is more properly a release from the bondage of sin. Much of what is good within this discussion represents a healthy correction of the excessive individualism which has plagued us since the Enlightenment. An excessive emphasis on intra-worldly goals of this liberation is now being cort~ected within a broader vision of the drama of sin and grace in the world. That these same tensions are reflected in religious life is no accident since religious life is fundamentally ecclesial. In many ways a religious commu-nity is a microcosm of the larger Church. Within this perspective it is not "186 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1987 sufficient that we pray together, serve the poor and live a common life, We can do all these things without being a religious community. Although our charism is to serve the poor, our primary identity is not that of the social worker. Furthermore, there are times when the non-sacramental aspects of our life lead us away from our true identity as a religious community. For instance, we may become excessively work-orierited. While work for the kingdom is praiseworthy, a certain attitude distorts our work so that it becomes something which we undertake, initiate. Our events replace the Christ event. Communal efforts become our action rather than God's action on us, and the Eucharist becbmes a devotional practice rather than the most fundamental expression of the reality of our lives. The Eucharist is the heart of religious community because it is the histor-ical presence of the New Covenant which unites that community with its Lord. Our primary identity is to be a eucharistic community in union with Christ. Our service of others then flows as a consequence of what the Eucharist means--as a response of thankfulness for what the Lord has done for us, as the service modeled by. Christ at the Last Supper, as a means of facilitating the union of all in Christ. It is then that we can truly say that the Eucharist is the focal point of our lives. Good Friday, April 1, 1983 Gently running, delicate raindrops--spring rain as tears from the windows of my soul. The clear-paned pain allows me to glimpse the promise of life within the dry earth, within myself. Suffering and tears stir tender blossoms deep inside. They struggle to break through the crusty-hard shell, to lift themselves to the long-promised warmth of the loving Son. Sister Mary Therese Macys, S.S.C. 2601 W. Marquette Road Chicago, Illinois 60629 Learning from the Worldly Leo D. Davis, S.J. Father Davis, a member of the Jesuits' Oregon Province, presently resides in Italy, where he may be addressed: Via Spaventa, 4; 50129 Firenze,: Italy. "For the worldly are more astute than the other worldly in dealing with their own kind" (Lk 16:8). Desperate for American reading material while in a foreign country, ] dipped recently into one of the national best sellers of a few years .back, Peters and Waterman's In Search of Excellence: Lessons from America's Best-Run Companies (New York: Warner °Books, 1982). Though not ordi-narily a reader of business literature, I found the book absorbing, not as a study of American business success, but as an indication of why many religious institutes, including my own, fail specifically as organizations to reach their goals. Of course, we religious are not primarily in business: auxiliary to our main purposes we do run businesses. These auxiliary enter-prises, however, are not my concern in this article. Rather, I'm interested in how we organize and conduct ~urselves in spreading the Word of God and serving our neighbor. Can we learn from successful business con-cerns how to do this better? I I~ave it to the readers themselves to judge after considering Peters and Waterman's findings. The two studied sixty-two corporations in the fields of high tech-nology, consumer goods, services, industrial supplies, management and resources. They wanted to discover just what makes these firms leaders in their fields. They found that all agree on an eight point philosophy in doing business. Contr'~ry to what one might expect from business men out to make a 187 11~8 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1987 buck, the authors argue that hardheaded rationality is not enough to suc-ceed. International Telephone and Telegraph, for example, was managed in a rigidly national fashion, and failed. The war in Vietnam was largely run from the Pentagon by Robert McNamara's Ford Company technical "whiz kids," and we all know the outcome. Mere technique however sophisticated, won't do the trick. Planning, long and short range, is needed, but planning can often become an end in itself. Of three hundred twenty-five planning task forces studied, none had yet finished its task after three years of work. Task forces, the authors suggest, should be small, limited in time, volun-tary, and contain some senior staff. Their work should call for no addi-tional staff and produce a minimum of documentation. Follow-up on their recommendations should be swift. Paper shuffling among executives and back and forth between executives and managers can stifle all action. Analysis can lead to . paralysis. Gamesmanship and contention in committees replace action. As one executive commented, it is easier to develop a negative argument f~r doing nothing than to advance a constructive one which issues in action. The authors argue that major concerns should be dealt with one at a time. More than two objectives for a task force mean no objectives at all. There should be constant communication, constant keeping in touch with the realities and persons involved in decisions. Communications should be short and clear; the authors cite the famous practice of Procter and Gamble in restricting all memoranda to a single page. Chaotic action is preferable to no action at all. Experimentation and testing ideas in prac-tice is better than just talking about problems. Get people acting and they solve their problems, and come to believe in what they're doing. Close to the Customer As religious, we're not, as such, selling goods to customers, but we are dealing with people. What are the needs, tastes, preferences of those with whom we deal? Are we willing to put ourselves out for others? The successful companies know their clientele and go to great lengths to serve them. Thomas Watson of International Business Machines had a simple philosophy: We want to give the best customer service of any company in the world. He guaranteed answering any customer complaint in twenty-four hours. Caterpillar Tractors guarantees forty-eight hour service to any country of the world. Frito-Lay aims at a 99.5 percent rate of service in peddling their products; they will spend several hundred dollars to restock a remote store with thirty dollars worth of potato chips. But their reputa-tion for reliability in the end outweighs the short term costs. I'm reminded Learning from the Worldly of an old priest colleague of mine who was preaching to the coffee room audience on service; when a telephone call interrupted him, he told the caller to see him during office hours--and continued his harangue with no sense of incongruity. The Disney people realize what service means; sixteen-year old ticket takers at Disneyland are put through four eight-hour days of training just so they can take tickets with the Disney elan. McDonald's scores of billions of hamburgers are sold by insistence on cleanliness, efficient ser-vice, uniform quality and reliability. Burgers not sold ten minutes after cooking are thrown out; french fries, after seven minutes; and their cashiers are taught to have eye contact with the customers. The authors give an example of the extraordinary lengths to which some companies will go. When a woman complained about a foul-up with a discount air ticket, she wrote to the president of Delta Airlines. The president of the corporation himself met her at the airport and per-sonally presented her with a new ticket. All these companies stress quality. McDonald's, with seven thousand restaurants doing 2.5 billion dollars worth of business annually, tell their stockholders: Quality is the first word in McDonald's motto. Digital Com-puter's philosophy states: "Growth is not our principal goal. Our goal is to be a quality organization and'do a quality job, which means that we will be proud of our work and products for years to come. As we achieve quality, growth will come as a result." There's food for thought here for religious experiencing a decline in vocations. The lonely Maytag serviceman of the TV ads is a symbol of the company's guarantee of ten years' trouble-free operation of any machine. Hewlett-Packard is obsessed with quality; ask them about personnel, they talk quality; ask about sales, they talk quality; ask about management, they talk quality. The president of Heineken Beer says bluntly, "I consider a bad bottle of Heineken a personal insult to me." Until recently, the eighty-two-year-old founder of Marriott Hotels read every complaint card personally. Productivity Through People All members of an organization should be made aware that their best efforts are essential to success and that they will share in that success. Here again we religious in the ranks are not mere employees in the ministries of our institutes. In fact, many times we might be better off in some of America's best companies than at the hands of some religious superiors. One executive complained to the authors: People issues take up all my time. To them he was really saying that his business would be easy to run if it weren't for people. But corporations, like religious institutes, 190 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1987 are people. Those who work in them should be treated as adults and as partners, with dignity and respect. This doesn't mean that they be mollycoddled; they should be given reasonable and clear expectations, and practical autonomy to get the job done. In a study of school teachers, the authors point out it was found that when they held high expectations of their students, that alone was enough to cause an increase of twenty-five points in the students' IQ scores. Workers should understand what is being done and why. Peters and Waterman quote Admiral Zumwalt's method of reorganizing Navy prac-tices: What I tried hardest to do was ensure that every officer and sailor on the ship not only knew what we were about, not only why we were doing each tactical operation, however onerous, but also managed to understand enough about how it all fitted together so that they began to experience some of the fun and challenge that those of us in the top slot were having. 1 knew from experience the impact of treating sailors like the mature adults they were. Dedicated religious women and men deserve no less. Communication between superiors and ranks cannot be mere lip ser-vice, mere gimmicks, but must be a sincere effort to make all really part of the team. Sam Walton has built a company from eighteen to three hun-dred thirty stores, with sales rising from forty-five million dollars, to 1.6 billion dollars and the process made his family the richest in the United States. He always calls his employees "associates." "The key is to get out and hear what the associates have to say," he states. "It's terribly important for everyone to get involved." For him this is not lip service: one sleepless night he went down to the loading dock with four dozen donuts and talked to his "associates." He learned that they needed two more shower stalls in the wash room--and they got them. This is a sur-prising degree of concern in an executive running a 1.6 billion dollar com-pany. Again, when Thomas Watson first took over IBM, he was not out to shake up the company by wholesale transfers and firings, but to buff and polish those already in place so their performance would improve; his bone-deep belief, says his son, was respect for the individual. Peters and Waterman suggest some simple rules iia the treatment of workers: all important communication should be face to face; there should be opportunity for career education; there should be security in their posi-tions. Superiors should be accessible to all, their doors always open. Finally, there should be incentives. "A man wouldn't sell his life to Learning from the Worldly you, but he would give it to you for a piece of colored ribbon," says a war correspondent about soldiers in World War lI. The best corporations go to extraordinary lengths to reward good performance, creating oppor-tunities for showering pens, badges, buttons and medals on their people. At Mars Candy everyone on time for work during the week gets a ten percent bonus; IBM has a "gold circle" for top salespersons; Tupperware senior management spend thirty days a year at "jubilees" for outstanding performers; one company even puts gold stars on a public bulletin board after the names of those who don't miss work. Religious might well feel out of place in an atmosphere like this. Indeed, our vocation is not to look for rewards but to dedicate ourselves to the selfless service of God and neighbor. But superiors, on their side, should be aware of the value of incentives; nothing is more powerful than positive reinforcement. This, the authors advise, should be specific, tan-gible and frequent. They point to a model of motivation in a Procter and Gamble executive who, red in the face and vehement, told a Stanford University seminar: "Just because the product is toilet paper doesn't mean that Procter and Gamble doesn't make it a damn sight better than anyone else." The executive, he continues, is called to help fulfill the individ-ual's search to transcend himself or herself, to avoid isolation and the fear of helplessness, to give people a sense of being, in control of their des-tiny. High performance is based on intrinsic motivations: people must believe that a task is inherently worthwhile if they are to be committed to it. All this to sell toilet paper! Hands On, Value Driven Management The authors insist that the successful executive keeps in close touch not only with personnel but with the firm's essential business. Again Thomas Watson of IBM: "I believe the real difference between success and failure in a corporation can very often be traced to the question of how well the organization brings out the great energies and talents of its people . I firmly believe that any organization, in order to survive and achieve success, must have a sound set of beliefs on which it premises all its policies and actions. Next, I believe that the most important single factor in corporate success is faithful adherence to those beliefs. And, finally, I believe if an organization is to meet the challenge of a changing world, it must be prepared to change everything about itself except those beliefs . " The institutional leader is primarily an expert in the promotion and protection of values. The basic values: a belief in being the best; in the "" "109 / Review for Reiigious, March-April, 1987 importance of the details of execution; in the importance of people as indi-viduals; in superior quality and service; in supporting innovation and tolerating failure. The effective leader must be a master of two ends of the spectrum--ideas at the highest level and actions at the most mundane levels of detail. The top performers create a broad, uplifting, shared: cul-ture, a coherent framework within which charged up people search for appropriate adaptations. The real leader does' not force others to submit and follow him by the sheer overwhelming magic of his personality. He is influential in inspiring and strengthening them; he arouses confidence. Success in instilling values appears to have little to do with charismatic personality. Rather it derives from obvious, sincere, sustained personal commitment to the values the leader seeks to implant, coupled with extraordinary persistence in reinforcing these values. Hewlett- Packard advises its executives to wander around, being approachable, accessible, listening, keeping people informed. Others advise: don't summon people to your office; go see them. Kill grimness with laughter; maintain an atmosphere of informality; encourage exuberance. Without such hands on management, it seems nothing much happens. Stick to the Knitting By this Peters and Waterman mean, "Remain with the business you know best." Organizations that do branch out but stick close to their orig-inal purpose outperform others. Successful companies enter only those businesses that build on, draw strength from, and enlarge some central area of competence. ITT began as an international telephone company, but the tools that it took to run a phone company in Chile didn't help much in the management of newly acquired Continental Baking and Sheraton Hotels. The result was that ITT had to sell off thirty-three busi-nesses. The lesson is never acquire a business you don't know how to run. Minnesota Mining and Manufacturing, makers of Scotch tape, make fifty thousand other products and introduce one hundred new ones each year, but all is built around its central coating-and~bonding technology. Procter and Gamble is good at soap, but Pringles' potato chips, machined to uniform size in a neat box, is an apparent failure from the standpoint of consumer taste. Simple.Form, Lean Staff The authors are passionate advocates of clear, simple structural organization so that everyone knows to which boss to report. Some staff gain power by keeping everything vague and unclear. Outlaws can use the lack of clarity to their own advantage and to the detriment of the whole. Learning from the Worldly / 193 With simple organization, fewer staff are needed at headquarters to make things work. Emerson Electric, with fifty-four thousand personnel, has one hundred in corporate headquarters; Dava Industries, with thirty-five thousand, has one hundred; Schlumberger, an oil service company with six billion dollars worth of business annually, has ninety cprporate staff. The Society of Jesus in its headquarters in Rome has ninety-five on the corporate staff for only 25,500 personnel. The story goes around Jesuit circles that at one time our largest province had more departmental provincials than first year novices. "Less is more" in corporate manage-hment, say Peters and Waterman. Simultaneous Loose-Tight Properties By this the authors mean fostering a climate in which there is dedica-tion to the central values of the company combined with tolerance for all employees who accept these values. The central values must be carefully fostered and protected, yet autonomy, entrepreneurship and innovation should flourish among the rank and file. The discipline of shared values provides the framework for all the rest. It gives people confidence to exper-iment stemming from stable expectations of what really counts. Too much overbearing discipline kills autonomy but the discipline of shared values encourages innovation. Rules should reinforce positive traits and not just discourage negative ones. The company should offer meaning, provide guiding belief, create a sense of excitement, a sense of being part of the best, a sense of producing something of quality that is valued. Basic .values should be set in concrete, and executed by attention to mundane, nitty-gritty details. Every hour, everyday is an opportunity to act in sup-port of overarching themes. A lively sense of realism enforces tight disci-pline; the attention to the desires and needs of the clientele is the most stringent means of self-discipline. Autonomy and Entrepreneurship Tight discipline and preservation of basic values should not interfere with a stress on innovation, and a tolerance of failure for those who fail in the pursuit of innovation. Some companies support "skunk works" where the talented mavericks of the business brainstorm and experiment. All of this must be coupled with constant communication and the dogged persistence of innovators to put their ideas across. Interestingly enough, physical proximity is vital in this communica-tion. The authors point out that people working thirty feet apart meet each other only eight to nine percent of the time, while those working only fif-teen feet apart meet twenty-five percent of the time. They maintain that 194 / Roview for Religious, March-April, 1987 the best companies do their work in large, self-contained, campus-like headquarters outside the city. What does all this add up to? What I've tried to say in a modern idiom and detail drawn from actual studies is only what St. Paul told his Corinthians: "You know (do you not?) that at sports all the runners run the race, though only one wins the prize. Like them, run to win! But every athlete goes into strict training. They do it to win a fading wreath; we, a wreath that never fades" (1 Co 9:24-25). The "Active-Contemplative" Problem in Religious Life by David M. Knight Price: $.75 per copy, plus postage. Add ress: Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 Modern Media and the Religious Sense of Community Matthias Neuman, O.S.B. Father Neuman is well known to our readers. His last article in these pages was entitled "Personality and Religious Adjustments in Older Candidates" (May/June, 1986). Father Neuman continues to teach at St. Meinrad Seminary; St.Meinrad, Indiana 47577. Back in the sixth century St. Benedict, in his Rule, included a short chap-ter on "The Proper Amount of Drink." To modem ears some of its sug-gestions may seem mildly humorous, yet in context a radical practicality pervades the .thought of this monastic genius. We read that monks should not drink wine at all, but since the monks of our day cannot be convinced of this, let us at least agree to drink mod-erately and not to the point of excess, for wine makes even the ffise to go astray.' Were this same St. Benedict composing a rule for a religious order of the late twentieth century it is quite likely he would feel the need to insert a chapter on "The Proper Amount of Watching Television" with similar suggestions and pleas .for moderation. For few would be the reli-gious men and women today who would agree that they should avoid all television. This article treats some of the background issues which would lead to that hypothetical modern chapter on the proper amount of television. Actually the topic goes far beyond television to include all manner of modem electronic media: radio, stereo systems, cassette players, tele-phones, VCRs and, most recently, computers (can spiritual video games be far behind'?). What religious house is there that has not felt the inva- 195 Review for Religious, March-April, 1987 sion of this technology? What communities today do not admit into for-mation programs young people shaped by a high-intensity media culture? The electronic media have, for better or worse, become part of the ethos of life in twentieth-century America. My basic premise suggests that the presence of these media has influ-enced the communal shape of religious community life far more drastically than we may initially surmise. Surely the use of such media affect common schedules (viewing a late "Special" on some current event) and budgets ("Our office must have a computer!"). Beyond these surface impacts the involvement with media slowly but surely has shifted our very sense of what community means and how we associate as social persons. To media theorists one of the major human effects of all cultural media, and particularly electronic media, is to create a very specific and delimited realization of "being together," a style of how people gather and interact.'- For example, television gathers people physically, but focuses their communal attention outwardly and away from the people around them. Relentlessly sustained participation in such media experi-ences will alter slowly the way one interacts and responds in all situa-tions. Television creates an instant community which passively watches. As an interesting sidelight, when television first began to be widely commercial in the 1950s the leading American theorist on communica-tions flatly predicted that it would never be a success because "people would have to sit in a dark room and ignore each other." One might wonder how far that attitude has affected our religious sense of com-munity? Other entertainment media besides television reinforce this psy-chological separation or distancing from one's immediate surroundings and relationships. Cassettes and stereos supply individual, isolated encoun-ters with music and detached thoughts. Now with portable stereo and ear-phones we can eat, recreate, shop or work, and clearly advertise that we wish no personal contact with anyone immediately around us. The tele-phone brings instant contact over worldwide distances; we start to belong to a global network embracing an incredibly wide range of personal connections. Without our being that aware, these daily immersions into media experience adjust our expectations of personal relationships. In par-ticular they change the way we are involved with the people immediately around us. The previous issue is a critical one for vowed religious who have a spiritual stake in the meaning and practice of community life. According to the Church's law, participation in community is essential for one to be considered a religious by the Church;3 in contemporary theology the for- Modern Media and Community mation of authentic community is praised as a preeminent goal of Chris-tian life and ministry; and in many modern forms of spirituality the very notion of community inclines toward the realizing of the Trinitarian mys-tery of God.4 But with the arrival of the electronic community we had better stop and take a careful look at what precise actions are implied in the linguistic usage of "community jargon." Under the surface we may find a clash of world views taking place, a clash that undermines real com-munity, an undermining that gnaws away in the midst of people busily doing their daily work, living their lives, and talking incessantly about community as an important aspect of their lives. A brief comparison of these contrasting world views of community might focus our reflections. The ancient notion of "religious" com-munity, as traditionally used of the Church as a whole or of particular vowed communities, rested on a conviction of human solidarity borrowed from the goals, structures and attitudes of a close-knit, agrarian, craft-based or familial society. Community here meant the composite of ways that people lived, worked, prayed and played together. The goal of such sustained daily interaction was communal solidarity, mutual commitment, the sharing of hopes and values in a communality of life. The structures which embedded those goals aimed at a slow, patient, day-by-day, elbow-by- elbow building up of emotional bonds and support systems. Just as one learned to love in familially-arranged marriages, so one learned to be a member of a vowed community by the shaping of common intentions formed through daily work and prayer. These community goals and struc-tures depended on social routines of living that stressed the physical prox-imity and sharing of participants over the long haul of life. This religious vision of community was a prize to be won through sustained work and prayer. The concluding words of the Prologue to the Rule of St. Benedict exemplify perfectly this ancient vision: Therefore we intend to establish a school for the Lord's service. In draw-ing up its regu!ations, we hope to set down nothing harsh, nothing bur-densome. The good of all concerned, however, may prompt us to a little strictness in order to amend faults and to s~ifeguard love. Do not be daunted immed!.ately by fear and run away from the road that leads to salvation. It is bound to be narrow at the outset. But as we progress in this way of life and in faith, we shall run on the path of God's commandments, our hearts overflowing with the inexpressible delight of love. Never swerving from his instructions, then, but faithfully observ-ing his teaching in the monastery until death, we shall through patience share in the sufferings of Christ that we may deserve also to share in his kingdom.5 1911 Review for Religious, March-April, 1987 How divergent appears the community of the electronic mindset! It presents instantaneous intentions drawn from anywhere in the world, and on any topic, from far bey6nd the gathered viewers, and its heightened visual intensity etches those intentions into the awareness of participants. Electronic media joins the viewers automatically to a national and world community. The communal intentions that bind us here are all given by what the media chooses to focus on and present. The solidarity of the elec-tronic community does not flow from a patient and lengthy building up of common intentions, but,from the impulsive response to instantaneously given themes. It is a fragile solidarity indeed. Its communality depends on intensity to maintain interest. (So it must deal with a topic ever more heatedly-~or find a new topic.) And media are powerfully effective! By themselves the media constitute a very real and engaging psychological support system. Any individual can retire to the privacy of his or. her room and by means of TV, radio or stereo be in touch with any particular psychological input (to soothe, to excite, to reinforce love, to wal,low in nostalgia). It is a support system that dispenses with flesh and blood people. It is instant electronic community, and is radically different from the older notion of religious community founded on agrarian, craft and familial social patterns. This latter style has been the traditional founda-tion of vowed religious community life in the Church, but it is being increasingly challenged by the newer media style. The critical point I wish to raise is this: if religi6us communities of today believe they can continue to stress and intend the older form of com-munity while allowing the ever-spreading presence and use of electronic media, they are sadly deceiving themselves. Houses in which many indi-viduals hold active ministerial positions in the Church and society must face the challenge more acutely; these people need bolstering in stronger doses. Their increased emotional drain begs for a multitude of psy-chological supports. Make no mistake! Electronic media constitute a pow-erful psychological support system, and by themselves they can under-mine the traditional ethos of familial religious community. The inherent reason that electronic media form such a strong psy-chological buttress lies in their ability to alter the fundamental shape of our sense perceiving. Lengthy exposure to media causes differences in the balancing of sight, hearing, touch and balance. Marshall McLuhan, the great pioneer of media theory, noted that electronic media create an instant sensorium, synthesizing sight, sound and touch simultaneously.~ The music video (MTV) is a perfect example of instantaneous multiple sensual involvement. Through this complex sensory input the perceiver's emotions "heat up" quickly; they can attain an intense level of inner Modern Media and Community involvement, and even psychologically remove the perceiver from the pressures of the present. If I happen to be dealing with some specific vexing problem and my feelings are.tired or conflictive, how smoothly a change comes from flipping on the TV or putting a favorite record on the stereo. These media generate an instant, sensual response and become a psychological support system in themselves. Many aspects of the traditional style of community life have already been affected by the intrusion of media into the daily life of religious houses. The structure and frequency of common recreation has altered sig-nificantly. I've heard many individuals either lament or factually describe the practical disappearance of large community-recreation sessions, the evening walks of many people, the diminishment of common reading rooms. In their place have appeared public television rooms, usually more than one to accommodate smokers and non-smokers (for men's houses) or Dan Rather or Tom Brokaw fans (for women's houses). In some communities the time of the evening news program has influenced the daily schedule of meals arid prayer, although the more recent advent of the video cassette has eliminated this temporary problem. The electronic media have subtly altered what people look for in rec-reation itself, that is, what we expect from and put into a period of recre-ation. In the older familial style, recreation was in part a kind of work, an effort to get to know the individuals of the community and to construct these common intentions that make a group into a true communitas. Russell Baker in his delightful autobiography, Growing Up, reminisced about his childhood evenings when the whole family would sit around the kitchen table for three hours or more, each working at some game, hobby or menial task and conversing about different aspects of their day and inter-ests. Such a scenario would be practically impossible for someone raised in today's media world; it would be the ultimate "bore." Although it is so much easier to watch television, maybe recreation for both families and religious communities needs to recapture some aspects of work and effort. Perhaps it's a modern area of life that demands a practi~:al asceticism. Maybe we should go back to ~the basics and see recreation not just as a time of personal leisure but also as a special moment for build-ing the common intentions with real people that will bond us to a particu-lar group. In the last several decades electronic media have frequently become an intrinsic part of the way some religious communities care for their elderly. Mothers with small children often refer to the television set as the "essential babysitter." The TV also gets used as companion an~ diversion for the infirm and bedridden. Has anyone ever wondered what 200 Review for~Religious, March-April, 1987 kind of psychological impact or shift in fantasy those old priests and sis-ters experience through their continual exposure (subjection) to game shows, soap operas and nighttime police stories? It's a thought worth pondering. In some cases those various media have even generated a new com-munity "official," like the custodian of the TV set or the curator of video movies. Their responsibilities are varied: get the TV guide from the Sunday paper before it disappears, tape the evening news for later rerun, moderate disputes about which programs will be watched, and so on. One final way that the media impinge on religious community life today may be in their subtle escalation of psychological depression. More than a few observers have suggested that depression is merging on becom-ing a national epidemic, the prototypical American social disease that eve-ryone seems to suffer from at one time or another. Depression results from a mixture of physical, psychological and social causes: weariness and exhaustion combine with discouragement that we have not met our expected goals within a social context that regularly fails to provide sus-taining or creative human relationships. All of these causes can be com-monly present in work-oriented, overly-structured and perfection-motivated religious houses. When someone senses the weariness and dis-couragement that keys the onset of depression, the easiest response is to plop in front of the TV set and watch "anything." It takes no effort at all. Paradoxically the unintended result may intensify those precise psy-chological and social roots of depression, the unreal expectations and the distance from people. Some psychologists have postulated a sharp link-age between TV addiction and habitual depression; the two feed each other in a vicious circle.7 Even though modern media present many difficulties, we could also point to effects which play a positive role: accurate information of world-wide import, entertainment of the highest artistic quality, and new, essen-tial ways of proclaiming the Christian message, as well as a very valid recreational dimension. St. Benedict probably would make the same kinds of concessions that he did about drinking wine. Certainly we ought to borrow his insights about moderation, as well as recognize that the media are probably here to stay in our contemporary houses. In the long run the challenge will be to discover a sense of com-munity living that binds together the older familial style of community with the newer style of spontaneous and heightened psychological interchange. Both possess strong values: the former, a powerful-sense of ptiysical togetherness in work and prayer, a set of common goals built up through repeated sharing, and the virtue of perseverance; the latter, an Modern Media and Community / 201 emphasis on the value of emotional support and a true recreational element in community. The merging of these two styles will affect all types of societal living today: the family, the social organization, the local parish, as well as the monastery. Unfortunately we have usually tended to oppose the different views in an either/or perspective. Without doubt the quality of community living has changed drastically in religious houses since those first telephones, radios and tele-vision sets were brought in. The wisdom of Benedict suggests that it's doubtful if the monks and sisters of our time can be convinced that these instruments are not good for them. So, at least, let us use them not to addiction, but to moderation. That's an incredible word of practical wisdom that resounds through the centuries! NOTES ' RB 1980: The Rule of Benedict. Edited by Timothy Fry, O.S.B., (Collegeville, MN: The Liturgical Press, 1981), p. 241. The quotation is from chapter 40, vv. 6-7. ' Margaret Miles, Image as Insight (Boston: Beacon Press, 1985), pp. 128-132, 148. 3 Canons 573, 602. Code of Canon Law (Washington, DC: Canon Law Society of America, 1983), pp. 219, 227. 4 Evelyn Eaton Whitehead and James Whitehead, Community of Faith: Models and S~t rRaBte 1gi9e8s0 f:o rT Dhee vReulolep ionfg S Ct.h Briesntieadni cCto, mppm. u1n6i5ti-e1s6 (7N.6e Mw aYrsohrakl:l SMecaLbuurhya nP,r Uesns,d 1e9r8s2ta).nd-ing Media: The Extensions of Man (New York: New American Library, 1964), pp. 57-67. See developments of these ideas by John Culkin, S.J., in McLuhan: Hot and Cool, edited by Gerald Emanuel Stem (New York: New American Library, 1967), pp. 49-57. -, 7 Jerry Mander, Four Arguments for the Elimination of Television (New York: Morr6w Quill, 1978). Also Marie Winn, The Plug-In Drug. (New York: Viking, 1977). Vocation Directors and Healthy Sexuality Sheila Murphy Dr. Murphy is a professor of psychology at Walsh College (2020 Easton St. N.W.; Canton, Ohio 44720) and is also Director of the Rogativa Center, an educational/ research facility, located on the campus, which serves the needs of women and men religious internationally. An earlier article, "Maximizing Human Potential," appeared in the issue of January/February, 1979. A vital concern to vocation directors is the healthy sexuality of the can-, didates they interview. Numerous workshops, articles, and lectures develop interviewing techniques, questions to ask, and areas to cover to facilitate directors' attempts to discover, during initial interviewing, the quality of candidates' sexuality integration. While these are all necessary and important, they represent only half of the story; the other half is the vocation director's own healthy sexuality and sexual integration. All persons are challenged to healthy sexual integration, and vocation directors, especially, must respond to this challenge because of the qual-ity and nature of their ministry. As initial gatekeepers of religious insti-tutions, their perceptions, judgments, and reactions regarding applicants determine whether of not, in many cases, candidates progress beyond expressing initial interest in a congregation or diocese. In this vital role, vocation directors need to be very clear about which interview issues are their own and which belong to the candidates. This is particularly essen-tial in the area of healthy sexuality. Healthy Sexuality--A Definition Healthy sexuality reflects the integration of the total person. Not a "separate" area of human development, sexuality is the total expression 202 Vocation Directors and Healthy Sexuality / 203 of an individual's social, intellectual, physical, and emotional develop-ment. In addition, the combination of these is also the individual's spirituality--the person's complete expression of who she or he is in rela-tionship to self, to others, and to God. Everything people do is sexual. Embodied as women or men, people express their femaleness or maleness in all aspects of their beings. As a ¯ female, for example, everything I do is sexual because I do everything as a woman; I do not function as an it, nor can I be a man. This simple yet relatively new concept was not part of the pre-Vatican theology or sociology in which most people were raised. On the contrary, most grew up in a time when sexuality was associated with genital behaviors, the epit-ome of which was heterosexual intercourse, and divorced from all other areas of human functioning. Within that limited perspective, the full gamut of interpersonal interaction, like self-disclosure, affection, and play-ful touching, were either dismissed as trivial or judged to be suspect behaviors employed as a prelude to the "real thing," i.e., genital inter-course. Also in ~this perception, people's social, emotional, and intellec-tual development were believed to be unrelated to their sexual integration. Such beliefs led to personality fragmentation, suggesting to people that they could compartmentalize their beings and their lives as if they were machines rather than vibrant, dynamic individuals. Because people are constantly emerging as persons, so, too, is their sexuality. Understandings of themselves that answered yesterday's questions may no longer be viable for today's. This all implies that a per-sonal understanding of sexuality is nbt a "one shot" insight to be devel-oped in adolescence (another myth perpetrated by the pre-Vatican II the-ology and sociology), but an ongoing struggle for authenticity. Vocation directors, like other religious, have been struggling for years to incorporate these newer understandings of self, sexuality, and spirituality into their religious lives and their ministries. A formidable task, this requires a rethinking and readapting of many teachings and beliefs that were entrenched in childhood and young-adult education. Fur-thermore, not all are in agreement regarding this concept; theologians, priests and religious continue to argue the place of sexuality in human development. As a personal and corporate enterprise, developing healthy sexuality is no easy task! Sexuality as a holistic concept suggests that the overall quality of people's lives is reflected in their interactions. If they are having difficul- .ties with their feelings, then these people will have difficulties with their sexuality. If intellectually confused or agitated, then they will be sexually and spirituhlly impeded. Feeling unaccepted by or alienated from their pri- 204 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1987 mary support congregation or diocese, these people will suffer other rela-tional and spiritual problems as well. Hazards of Vocation Ministry Vocatipn ministry is uniquely demanding, and recent reports and research on vocation directors indicate the importance of personal and sexual integration. Perhaps one of the most telling findings is th~ fact that the attrition rate from the ministry on the part of vocation directors exceeds sixty percent. They leave the ministry altogether either while still functioning as directors or shortly after terminating their positions. This certainly underscores the intensity and problems indigenous to this ministry. Another finding is the high rate of burnout reported by vocation directors. It is not uncommon for a vocation director to wear a variety of ministerial hats simultaneously. Many hold two or more jobs, each of which is reputed to be part-time but which, in fact, requires full-time involvement and energy. In addition to their vocation .ministry, many administrate diocesan offices (e.g., deaconate programs), function as parish pastors, or hold full-time teaching positions. They do many differ-ent things during the day, yet retire at night feeling exhausted and unfulfilled, both of which lead to apathy, resentment, and indifference-- all classic symptoms of burnout, the result of unmet personal needs. Some vocation directors report increased cynicism and hostility ~oward the people they serve. What they initially entered into with enthu-siasm and optimism has become fraught with boredom and drudgery. Another manifestation of burnout, this frequently translates into intropunitive aggression whereby some vocation directors gain an average of ten to thirty pounds a year; others convert their cynicism into increased alcohol and drug consumption. A frequent complaint of vocation directors is the pain of alienation they experience from the very groups they represent. Erratic s~hedules, travel, and workshop demands can preclude regular contact with their base group for prayers, meals, and recreation. Praying and eating alone can be lonely experiences, so vocation directoi's may seek support else-where. Sometimes they request a transfer to another community or diocese; sometimes they look outside their congregations for their primary support networks. In either case, they become increasingly disenchanted with their communities and .their work, all of which contributes to the high attrition rate reported above. Another source of alienation from base congregation and diocesan groups is the updated education most vocation directors receive. As fre- Vocation Directors and Healthy Sexuality / 205 quent participants in workshops, conferences, and regional meetings, voca-tion directors are exposed to the most recent theorizing and research in issues pertinent to religious life. They hear the latest on theological and psychological implications for richer ministerial actualization, and they are eager to implement these insights in their own communities. The base groups, not having been similarly exposed, are often confused over these "newfangled ideas" which seem to come as a shot in the dark. "After all," they reason, "this person is seldom with us. She or he is out and about, breezes in for a day or two, and expects us to change overnight without being an active member in the change process." Mutual recrimina-tions ensue; vocation directors perceive their base groups as closed to new ideas while base group members perceive vocation directors as free-wheeling individuals with their own cars, budgets, and schedules, and who enjoy the luxury of travel and trouble shooting. These conflicts play themselves out as a painful push-pull between the directors' pleas for inno-vation and the group members' refusal to budge. Vocation directors may then conclude that they can no longer, in honesty, represent their com-munities, which they have come to view as narrow-minded and static. Another source of personal frustration and community alienation for vocation directors is the intangibility of results in vocation ministry. Many congregations and seminaries stress the importance of quality candidates, yet when yearly evaluations roll around, actual "body count" seems to loom larger than quality control. Vocation directors have been known to invest enormous amounts of time and energy in candidates who, through such intense interaction, learn that ministry is not their authentic vocation. These individuals do not show up on "body count" charts, and vocation directors again find themselves trying to justify themselves as "really doing their jobs." Candidates who opt out of niinisterial pursuits have truly been ministered to. Yet how to account for such ministry is a dilemma faced by all vocation directors. ,~ Another problem reported by vocation directors is the feeling of "going crazy." Not unique to vocation directors, this symptom is fre-quently accompanied by the fragmentation experienced during normal, predictable, adult-development transitions. A person going through midlife transition while engaging in vocation ministry may feel that life has become too much to bear. Unable to differentiate ministerial issues from developmental issues, vocation directors can come to the premature and often erroneous conclusion that their work is the sole source of all their problems. Further compounding the situation is their perceived alien-ation from community, which leads vocation directors to believe that they cannot honestly voice their concerns to their brothers and sisters. 206 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1987 Taken together, these hazards can leave vocation directors feeling lonely and alone. Feeling alienafed, angry, and perhaps personally inade-quate, vocation directors are ripe for relational and sexual problems. Warning Signs There are many signs indicating that vocation directors are in rela-iional or sexual jeopardy. The following represent a compilation of several voiced by religious and diocesan vocation directors over the past few years. "Using relationships" can suggest poor sexual integration. This means viewing people as means to an end rather than ends in themselves. This occurs when directors approach others for what they can offer or do for them." Referring to others by title ratherthan by name--"my secre-tary," "my candidate," "my brother priest," "my sisters in community"--all are examples; they imply either ownership and/or dis-tance. The personal element is missing, suggesting that others' functions and/or commodities are more important than their persons. Some directors are plagued by pervasive anger, another signal of distorted sexual integration. They find everyone and everything upsetting, behaving as seething cauldrons of discontent. Their inability to enjoy life, to derive pleasure from people or activities, points directly to a lack of personal integration, which leads to impoverished sexual and spiritual expression. The challenge for these individuals is to identify the sources of their anger and to do what they can to rectify the situation rather than to target others inappropriately. Any increase in indulgence signals danger. Most people probably think of alcohol, drugs, or food in this regard, ,but they would be simplistic to end their list with these. Any compulsive indulgence is a warn-ing: compulsive exercise, compulsive visiting, compulsive TV viewing, and compulsive reading are a few examples. These behaviors represent a struggle to impose external controls which, individuals hope, will com-pensate for internal chaos. It is the internal fragmentation that threatens healthy integration, not the lack of food, exercise, or reading in their lives when people carry these activities to extremes. Another warning sign is preoccupation with others' relationships. These people seem to be perpetually immersed in somebody else's sexual/ relational lives. Most often the targets of their concern are family mem-bers~ and friends outside of the primary community or diocesan base group. Living vicariously through others will never substitute for living authentically through personal relationships, yet these people would prefer relationship-atka-distance to 15ersonal risk. They seem to be inter- Vocation Directors and Healthy Sexuality / 207 ested in relationship, yet they live divorced from relationship. Further-more, by attending to those outside of the base community or group, these women and men are avoiding their obligations of presence to and relationship within their primary commitment arena. Curiosity focused almost exclusively on others' sexual behaviors is a clear indication of unresolved personal sexual issues. Vocation directors must be especially vigilant in this by observing and monitoring the kinds of topics and questions that seem to demand their greatest energies. Does the conversation always seem to turn to sex? Are dates reviewed in minute detail? Are sexual histories more detailed than educational or family histories? Affirmative responses to any of these suggest that the vocation directors, more than the candidates, may have sexual problems. It is possible that directors are projecting their own needs and fantasies onto the candidates. A very obvious warning sign is a preoccupation with overtly sexual material. Increased viewing of x-rated films, compulsive reading and/or collecting of pornographic literature, and frequenting of strip bars may reveal unresolved sexual and relational tensions. Here, the problem is not so much one of the preoccupation itself as what it signifies. Marked changes in affectional displays, either noticeable reductions or increases, can be symptomatic of sexual disintegration. Normally affectionate people who become stand-offish, or normally distant people who suddenly need to touch whomever they are talking with,'are sending out pleas for help. In effect, they are demonstrating current discomfort with themselves and are revealing this through their behavior. .In all of these, people have failed to integrate or are struggling to rede-fine their sexual identities. As happens when individuals are agitated, they tend to look to others and the environment first as the possible source of or solution to their difficulties. Until the inner source or solution is dis-covered, these individuals are doomed to look for answers in all the wrong places, frus~trating themselves and others in the process. Healthy sexuality is a personal responsibility and privilege. Developing Healthy Sexuality The fii'st step toward h.ealthy sexual integration is education. People need to learn the basics of biology and human sexual response so they can make informed decisions about their personal sexuality. People in our society too often grew up in a culture where sexual myths outweighed facts, generating fear and inco .mplete information. Many women and men continue to function out of adolescent fears and fantasies developed when they learned half the sexual stor3) from friends who had, at best, about 201~ / Review for Religious, March-April, 1987 one-tenth of the total plot. The sad tragedy is that many women and men religious do not know how to read their own body responses when in intense or angering or sexual situations. Simple, straightforward informa-tion is an available corrective. A sad reality is that men, more than women, are reluiztant to seek solid sexual education. Current research sug-gests that this is because men in our culture have been raised to believe that they must be sexually knowledgeable, and to seek information wo(ild be to violate their masculine image. Credible vocation directors, like all religious and priests, cannot afford to perpetuate that stereotype. Personal sexual evaluation is the next step toward healthy sexual integration. Armed with valid biological and sexual data, women and men must then assess their personal sexual identities. They must ask them-selves, "How comfortable am I with my own sexuality? What does it mean to be a woman? What does it mean to be a man? Do I know when I am sexually aroused, and what can I do about it within the bounds of my public celibate stance? What is my definition of relationship, and where does affection and/or sexual expression apply?" The answers to these and related questions must come from within. Opinions and text-books can guide reflection, but personal response is essential. Along with personal sexual evaluation is the challenge to develop s6me understanding of personal sexual orientations, whether they be ambisexual, homosexual/lesbian, or heterosexual. Since sexuality is con-stantly in process, so also will be individuals' assessment of their identities, but this does not preclude the need to think about and accept where they find themselves at this time in their process. Developing and evaluating personal philosophies of celibacy, sexuality, and intimacy are prerequisites to healthy sexual integration. People must hold themselves accountable to some code of sexual moral-ity. Too many people employ too much energy reacting to and refuting others' definitions of sexual

Issue 63.2 of the Review for Religious, 2004. ; 2004 Review for Religious helps people respond and be faithful to God's universal call to holiness by making available to them the spiritual legacies that flow from the charisms of Catholic consecrated life. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published quarterly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Telephone: 314-977-7363 ¯ Fax: 314-977-7362 E-Mail: review@slu.edu ¯ Web site: www.reviewforreligious.org Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393 Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP ° St. Joseph's Provincial House 333 South Seton Avenue ° Emmitsburg, Maryland 21727 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©2004 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permissign will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religigus. view for religious LIVING OUR CATHOLIC LEGACIES Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Clare Boehmer ASC Philip C. Fischer SJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe Tray Gramn~ Judy Sharp Sr. Raymond Marie Gerard FSP Eugene Hensell OSB Ernest E. Larkin QCarm Louis and Angela Menard Bishop Carlos A. Sevilla sJ Miriam D. Ukeritis csJ QUARTERLY 63.2 2004 contents 118 134 143 spirituaO wisdom Keeping a Balance: Contemplation and Christian Meditation Brian V. Johnstone CSSR proposes that some form of active vocal prayer may well go together with contemplation. Faith Seeking Understanding: Spiritual Direction's Sapiential Function Dennis J. Billy CSSR explains how spiritual direction is a divine (but also human) art that helps us "pray in truth" and come to an intimate personal knowledge of God. Windows of the Soul: Walter Ciszek SJ George Asehenbrenner SJ relates the incident in the life of the Jesuit Walter Ciszek that gave him the faith-filled freedom to survive twenty years of Communist prison. 148 158 men oring Merton and a Spirituality for Millennials Fred Herron proposes Merton's retrieval of the riches of the Benedictine Rule as a spirituality for the millennial generation. Paradox in the Monastery: Lessons from Two Ammas Laura Swan OSB reflects upon the paradox that oft-told stories reveal more about us and our current struggles than about the subject of the story. Review for Religious 169 Viewing Chapters as "Authorizing" Our Congregations' Narratives Patrick Sean Moffett CFC presents various aspects of religious-life chapters that emphasize the storytelling nature of these ecclesial events. 182 ignatian tradition Our Lady's Presence in the Spiritual Exercises J. Thomas Hamel SJ helps us to review the subtle, but penetrating, presence of our Lady to the prayer exercises of the Ignatian Spiritual Exercises. 192 The Spiritual Power of Matter: Teilhard and the Exercises Kathleen Duffy SSJ shows how the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius helped Teilhard de Chardin to synthesize the science of evolution with his Christian knowledge of God. departments 116 Prisms 204 Canonical Counsel: Mergers, Unions, Federations, and Confederations 211 Book Reviews 63.2 2004 Pentecost is the traditional birthday of the Christian church, and its mis-sionary effort began simultaneously with its birth. As we read in the second chapter of the Acts of the Apostles, Peter stood up "with the Eleven, raised his voice, and addressed the devout Jews of every nation staying in Jerusalem at the time. 'Jesus God has raised up, and we are his witnesses. Exalted at God's right hand, he first received the promised Holy Spirit from the Father, then poured this Spirit out on us. This is what you now see and hear'" (Ac 2:32-33). As a result of Peter's preaching on this first Pentecost day, some three thousand were bap-tized. This is the story of the church's birthday. After centuries of identifying mission just as one of the activities of the church, we now are returning to the church beginnings at Pentecost to realize how church and mission are a single reality. We might claim, then, that Christian theology has its beginnings in our reflection on mission. In the U.S. bishops' 1986 pastoral let-ter "To the Ends of the Earth," we read: "To say church is to say mission." Our way of theologizing about our Trinitarian God--Father, Son, and Spirit--is in terms of their active relationships, in terms of their mission. In Genesis, God pours forth the Spirit, and creation and life happen. In the Gospel of St. John, Jesus describes himself as the One who is sent. And, in that same Gospel, Review for Religious Jesus describes anew a sending of the Spirit from the Father and himself. Both creation and redemption can be described as salvific acts because God as "missionary" is always involved in being a saving presence in creation. As the Body of Christ, sharing in divine life, we the church also share in God's mission. The church, then, like our Trinitarian God, is missionary in its very being. The word missionary cannot be restricted only to those sent to evangelize in countries or cultures not their own. In fact, mission cannot be defined by geography, especially in our globalized world. Mission is not driven just by the zeal to expand the boundaries of the church. To be missionary, however, does call us to step out beyond the boundaries of our fears and our traditions and our cultures. If being church is being missionary, what does mis-sion mean for us? We Christians, members of Christ's Body, are missionary in our very baptismal being. Jesus has extended his mission to us all--proclaiming the reign of God (close around us) and so making people aware of the nearness of a saving, loving God. Just as the mis-sion of God is found incarnated in Jesus' life mission, we realize that our mission today must be exercised in the way we live and deal with others. It is the way that God respects and dialogues with us human beings. Only with such dialogue and respect can we make ourselves one with God's mission. As missionaries, like St. Francis of Assisi, we live, and sometimes we have to preach. There is a traditional saying, "You can only convert what you love." In an analogous way, we might need first to be "evangelized" by those that we intend to evangelize. But today we are being called anew to be who we are baptized to be: missionaries, made in the image and like-ness of our Trinitarian God, our Missionary God. David L. Fleming SJ 63.2 2004 spiritua wisdom BRIAN V. JOHNSTONE Keeping a Balance: Contemplation and Christian Meditation Some time ago Ernest E. Larkin OCarm pub-lished an article titled "Today's Contemplative Prayer Forms: Are they Contemplation?" After reviewing the different meanings given to "meditation" and "contemplation," he conclu-ded: "In this frame of reference, we see that centering prayer and Christian Meditation do not fit handily in the category of either meditation or contemplation. They are something new in contemplative practice.''1 The present article offers an account of what is different in these contemporary prayer forms and seeks to show how they are nevertheless related to tradition. The discussion will focus primarily on Christian Meditation. Meditation and Contemplation Contemplation itself, as understood for example by St. John of the Cross, is "pure Oft"; there is no place in it for active collaboration. Brian V. Johnstone CSSR, new to our pages, writes from Accademia Alfonsiana; C.P. 2458; 00100 Roma; Italy. Review for Religious Thus, Larkin concludes, "John's contemplation is not the immediate horizon of contemporary contemplative prayer forms.''2 In his writings, the Benedictine monk John Main, who is recognized as the original exponent of Christian Meditation, does not enter into lengthy, detailed analysis of the higher states of prayer such as we find in St. Teresa or St. John of the Cross. In his account of Christian Meditation, John Main says: "I am using the term meditation as synonymous with contemplation, contemplative prayer, meditative prayer, and so forth.''3 We do not find in his writings a sharp distinction between contemplation in the classic sense and the forms of prayer that entail the active engagement of the person praying. Is there an issue here? Perhaps the most practical question is whether Christian Meditation is to be regarded as a form of contemplation in the classic sense, that is, a type of prayer that is believed to be given freely by God, but usually only after a long process of many steps. In particular, for John of the Cross, contemplation begins with the passive, dark night of the senses. This would mean, at least in a commonly accepted interpretation of contemplation, that it would be a miraculous supernatural event reserved for an elite. Christian Meditation, as described by John Main, is not like this. It is a form of prayer in which, after some simple instruction, beginners can join. He is concerned to impart to interested persons a simple method which, being simple, is available to many. Participants are not encouraged to think of themselves as moving from stage to stage along a precisely delineated path towards a "higher" level of prayer. It is recognized that meditation over a long period, many years in fact, is usually necessary to acquire facility and skill, but experienced meditators are not considered as having attained a level of prayer with different requirements from those that are appropriate and possible for beginners. 63.2 2004 Johnstone ¯ Keeping a Balance A fear of mistaking "doing nothing, with nothing happening" for genuine contemplation has a long history in Christian prayer. This raises an important practical issue. In the traditional theological analysis, it was important that persons engaged in prayer recognize clearly the stage they had attained. A director was to assist discernment in this matter. Since there were particular rules and expectations for each stage, a mistake could have serious spiritual consequences. The issue is mentioned in Larkin's article; he cites James Arraj as warning that without "express contemplation" (which I take to mean contemplation in the sense of "infused" or passive contemplation) the person should continue to make acts of faith and love rather than be "simply idle in the prayer." 4 The practical problem seems to come when people think they have been given the pure gift of contemplation in the proper sense. Then, since this level is essentially passive and excludes the making of acts, they think they should drop such activity. But they may be mistaken. Having stopped making acts of faith and so forth, they may then just "hang out," doing nothing, thinking they are enjoying the gift of passive contemplation when they are merely being passive. They would be doing nothing, and nothing would be happening. This would be unlikely in the case of people following John Main's Christian Meditation. He insists on the continuous, quiet repetition of a short prayer that he calls the mantra; if persons at prayer should momentarily lapse into inactivity and find themselves Review for Religious doing nothing, they should immediately begin repeating the mantra again. A fear of mistaking "doing nothing, with nothing happening" for genuine contemplation has a long history in Christian prayer. On the one hand, it would be a serious mistake to lead people to believe that the hours they are spending in "contemplation" are just a waste of time, mere wool gathering. On the other hand, if a spiritual guide such as John Main strongly recommends that people continue to make acts during meditation, does this imply that in this form of meditation there is no place at all for contemplation in the classic passive sense? In offering an answer to this question, I will examine a prayer form recommended by St. Teresa and accepted also by some who followed her. As I will seek to show, she had a less restrictive notion of contemplation than the previous analysis suggests. This broader notion of contemplation, furthermore, may well have a parallel in Christian Meditation. Active Recollection Larkin takes note of St. Teresa's "active recollection," a form of prayer that she developed from her own experience,s He describes it as a "transitional prayer form that is very similar to modern contemplative prayer.''6 "Transitional" indicates that this way of praying is followed by those who are passing from simple meditation to the "higher" levels of contemplation, but have not yet arrived. St. Alphonsus de Liguori (+1787), in addition to his works on moral theology, wrote extensively on the spiritual life, and in particular on prayer. Following St. Teresa, he gives special mention to "active recollection," which he links closely to "contemplative repose," an expression he takes from "the mystics.''7 Contemplative repose, he explains, is vi.rtually the same as active recollection; it refers to a spiritual condition in which 63.2 2004 ,~obnstone * Keei~ing a Balance "the soul is focused on some spiritual thought and, absorbed in itself, feels gently attracted to God." I will analyze this type of prayer, "active contemplation," and compare it with Christian Meditation. Such a comparison will, I believe, serve to show the continuity of Christian Meditation with tl~e older tradition, and also bring to light those new features which it has to offer. What did St. Teresa mean by "active recollection"? She was familiar with what is called "discursive meditation." This form was promoted in the Dominican Luis de Granada's famous Book of Prayer and Meditation, which St. Teresa actually recommends in her con-stitutions. She herself, however, did not find this way of prayer suitable. About such works she wrote, "There are so many good books written by able persons for those who have methodical minds and for souls that are experienced and can concentrate within themselves that it would be a mistake if you pay attention to what I say about prayer" (19.1). But her own method is for those persons whose minds, like hers, are "wild horses" (19.2). How does St. Teresa deal with this mental rodeo in the context of prayer? She recommends .the Lord's Prayer. One would recite it phrase by phrase, slowly and attentively. In her view, vocal prayer does not exclude contemplation. She calls her method "active recollection." in this kind of prayer, she says, "the soul collects its faculties together and enters within itself to be with God" (28.4). This entails a centering of attention, plus awareness that God is near, fully with us at all times (29.5). We are to be fully present to God and to gaze upon him. Teresa uses the sight metaphor several times. It is not a matter of constructing arguments with concepts. She writes: "I'm not asking you now that you think about Him or that you draw out a lot of concepts or make long and subtle reflections with your intellect. I'm not asking you to do anything more than Review for Religio~ts look at Him" (26.3). She calls this a "method," and the one praying is required to make an "effort." This form of active prayer does not exclude contemplation, but promotes and may include it. From Teresa's experience she can affirm that this method disposes a person to the prayer of quiet (that is, a more passive kind) more readily and quickly than other methods. During this form of prayer, she writes, the soul will at times feel a passive quieting and be drawn gradually to a greater silence (30.7). For Teresa, the experience of passivity, that is, of contemplation in the proper sense, is not reserved to some final stage at the end of a long progression, nor is it reserved for spiritual experts. Is there a conceptual difference between the "prayer of quiet" and contemplation in the classic sense? St. Teresa refers to the former as "the beginning of pure contemplation" (30.7). But it still entails active recollection and may include vocal prayer. She insists that it is a mistake to believe that vocal prayer cannot go together with contemplation. There are no clear psychological gaps between vocal prayer, the prayer of quiet, and the beginning of contemplation. One fades into another as the felt need to initiate new effort yields to the sense of being moved by the impetus of the process one has already begun. This itself, of course, was begun as a response to the stimulus of grace, which in turn, as it emerges into consciousness, yields the awareness of being taken over completely by God. St. Alphonsus dealt specifically with the nature of the "prayer of quiet." According to his view, since in active recollection one's will is dominant, it will bring the imagination under control without any further effort on the part of the soul.8 There is, then, control, but it is the kind of control that follows the momentum of the earlier activity; there is no need for the further effort of making 63.2 2004 Jobnstone * Keeping a Balance new acts. This is a-form of quiet, but it is not completely passive. St. Alphonsus insists on some acts, those to which God is gently attracting us. The impetus of the divine initiative begins to emerge into consciousness, but this is not to say that the same initiative was absent before one's becoming conscious of it. The assumption that active and passive prayer are essentially different levels of prayer begins to appear as abstract theory that does not necessarily correspond to actual experience. For St. Teresa, the reason for active recollection is to become aware of Christ's presence. For example, we can be present to him in joy, being with him as risen. Here Teresa seems to imply reflection on the Gospel accounts. She has a theological support for this conviction: "Although risen, he still influences us through his earthly mysteries, by which he draws close to us in a more tangible way" (26.4,5,8). St. Alphonsus, as has been said, followed St. Teresa closely with respect to "active recollection." He is St. Alphonsus insists on some acts, those to which God is gently attracting us. perhaps more insistent than she is that the person at prayer continue to make acts. There may have been historical reasons for this emphasis, apart from A1- phonsus's own energetic personality. Pope Innocent XI in 1687 condemned the Quietists. This group taught, or is supposed to have taught, that making one intense act of love of God and never withdrawing it would assure union with God, and that no further effort was needed either in prayer or in living. It may be as a reaction against this that St. Alphonsus stresses the need for acts and more acts. Review for Religious However, while he emphasized the need for activity, it was certainly not his intention that the active contemplation become obsessively busy. Consider the following description of active recollection: "Without conscious effort, untroubled by external distractions, and totally absorbed within itself, experiencing at the same time a deep sense of serenity, the soul is able to concentrate on the mystery or the eternal truth in question.''9 These words would, on the whole, not sound alien to one familiar with Christian Meditation. But, to explain the differences between Christian Meditation and the active recollection of the Teresan tradition, a more detailed description of the former is needed. Christian Meditation John Main's account of Christian Meditation begins with an acknowledgment of the inveterate confusion of the human mind. While St. Teresa invoked the image of wild horses, John Main compares this condition of the mind of the would-be meditator to a "tree full on monkeys." Whether described in terms of horses or monkeys, the mental experiences are clearly similar. There is also a similarity in the way these two writers recommend that we deal with the problem. St. Teresa favors the Lord's Prayer; John Main also proposes a form of vocal prayer. The prayer he recommends is an attentive, mindful repetition of a phrase, a mantra. He recommends, in particular, Marana tha, an Aramaic expression which means "Our Lord, come." St. Paul ends his First Letter to the Corinthians with this invocation, and the Book of Revelation ends with the same prayer. The prayer is eminently Christian. For both St. Teresa and John Main, the aim of cultivating attention so as to make space for the experience of the presence of God is essentially the same. Main once wrote: 63.2 2004 Johnstone ¯ Keeping aBalance St. Thomas Aquinas says that "contemplation consists in the simple enjoyment of the truth." Simple enjoyment! Now it is true that thinking, analyzing, comparing, and contrasting all have their place in the various disciplines, including theology. But contemplation, as St. Thomas calls it, meditation as we would call it, is not the time for activity, for the activity of thinking, analyzing, comparing, or contrasting. Meditation is the time for being. Simple enjoyment. And the simplicity that St. Thomas speaks of, its oneness, union.1° Here no clear distinction is made between contemplation in St. Thomas's sense and meditation. The experience of oneness or union, however, seems to belong to contemplation in the classic sense, that is, something beyond active meditation; the soul is completely passive. For John Main, though, these distinctions do not seem to matter. There is a notable difference between the Weresan prayer of "active recollection," at least as understood by St. Alphonsus, and Christian Meditation. The first entails reflection on a "mystery" or "eternal truth," while the latter aims at a sense of union, without passing through the penetration of a "truth." In Christian Meditation, one does not concentrate, for example, on the meaning of the phrase "Lord, come," but repeats it as a way of focusing awareness on the presence of God. As we have seen, St. Teresa, and St. Alphonsus as well, would immediately affirm this goal. The point of difference is that they would include a concentration on a particular mystery or truth within the meditation itself. Truth in a more general sense, however, is intended as an element of Christian Meditation. John Main wrote: "Meditate every morning and every evening, faithfully, simply, and humbly. Contemplation consists in the simple enjoyment of truth.''11 This statement suggest two facets of the one event: the active meditation (that is, the Review for Religious repetition of the mantra) and the simple enjoyment that accompanies it. This is not all that different from St. Teresa's and St. Alphonsus's notion of "active recollection." Christian Meditation should not be misinterpreted. It is not antiintellectual or antitheological. It does not downplay the importance of truths. It merely leaves reflection on such truths outside of meditation itself. Indeed, within the movement there is available to meditators an extensive body of writing that offers ample reflection on the mysteries of faith. Because it is a popular movement, the reflection is generally not presented as systematic theology, but then neither are the reflections of St. Teresa or St. Alphonsus. I have noted above the particular place that St. Teresa gave to the resurrection; the same theme occurs frequently in the writings of John Main.~2 It would be a mistake to think that Christian Meditation plays down doctrine. Rather, we might say, it is presumed that study and reflection lead to a background awareness which, while not consciously evoked in the meditation itself, continues to support spiritual awareness. There can be no doubt that many people, growing numbers of them, have found Christian Meditation a most satisfactory way of prayer. Is there any compelling reason to choose between St. Teresa's more extensive use of words during meditation--in particular, the words of the Lord's Prayer--and the brief word recommended in Christian Meditation? There are many ways of praying, and people may be led by the Spirit along different paths. Some, perhaps because of different cultural backgrounds, have found the older approach rather too insistent on Christian Meditation is not antiintellectual or antitheological. 63.2 2004 Johnstone * Keeping aBalance repeated acts and a good many words. As I have noted previously, however, neither St. Teresa nor St. Alphonsus had in mind a multiplication of acts or a mechanical proliferation of words. For whatever reason, though, in our time the verbal austerity of Christian Meditation seems to appeal to many. The limited use of words, or even the deliberate renunciation of them, in Christian Meditation is connected to its nature as conceived by John Main. Spiritual authors in the past often spoke of "conversation" in their accounts of prayer. This conversation was to be a two-way affair, even if carefully structured. When God speaks, we listen attentively; when God does not speak, we engage actively in the conversation through acts of faith and love.~3 This "traditional" element John Main includes in his own words, although again with a significant modification: "Prayer is not a matter of talking to God, but of listening to him, of being with him. It is this simple understanding of prayer that lies behind John Cassian's advice that, if we want to pray, to listen, we must become quiet and still, reciting a short verse over and over again." ~4 Active Recollection and Contemplation At this point I move to a more theoretical discussion, but one with practical implications as well. The issue is the relationship between active recollection and contemplation. St. Teresa, from her own experience, taught that active recollection disposed to contemplation, but she also anticipated that contemplation itself might well arrive during the time of active recollection. The 4th-century monks of the Egyptian desert also expected that "higher" forms of prayer might suddenly break through more normal forms of meditation. During their periods of praying the psalms together, they were to curb their spitting, coughing, yawning, groaning, and Review for Religious similar noises. The only sound that was accepted was a spontaneous sigh of ecstasy.15 It was anticipated, apparently, that moments of "contemplation" would emerge within more ordinary prayer. St. Teresa seems to have had no difficulty in recognizing when such special moments occurred in her own prayer. For one whose spiritual sensibilities were as finely tuned as hers, there would probably be no reason to have any doubt about the presence of contemplation. What are we to think, then, of the advice of Arraj, mentioned by Larkin, that, until "express contemplation" is present, one should continue to make acts (of faith, love, and so forth)? The practical problem is how to know that such contemplation is present, and how certain we should be about it. To clarify the question, we could accept Karl Rahner's theological explanation, namely, that the experience of God in meditation, in human activity, or in classical spiritual doctrine's "infused contemplation" arises from the one same gift of God at work within us.16 Indeed this must be the case. To speak of "passive" contemplation as a pure gift must not be allowed to suggest that active recollection is not a gift, but somehow a product of our own efforts, before or apart from grace. We may say that recollection "disposes" us to the prayer of quiet, but we may not claim that recollection is the product of our initiative, which somehow, of its own power, engenders or earns the further state. "Pure," as applied to the gift of contemplation, does not imply that prayer such as active recollection is somehow impure, because contaminated with human activity. Nor can it be philosophically accurate to say that in "passive" prayer we are not active in any sense. The pure gift of God's grace cannot but raise us to the highest level of actuation. Our conscious experience may be one of pure passivity, but when God takes over completely our 63.2 2004 Johnstone ¯ Keeping a Balance The more intense the power of grace, the more we are fully active. 1-30J capacities are not simply extinguished. As is always the case with grace, the more intense the power of grace, the more we are fully active. The more God intervenes, the more empowered we become and the more free we are. Similarly, I would have difficulties with an explanation of infused contemplation according to which "the infused light and love go directly to the object without any return to the self.''17 In the "modern" philosophical era (that is, from the 16th century onwards), there has been a dissociation between subject and object)8 This seems to have been reflected in Catholic theo-logy, so that some traditions focus on the subject and others on the object. In these circumstances the interpretation of the spiritual experience involved here may tilt excessively towards the object. Perhaps such thoughts as these are ¯ improper philosophical intrusions on discourse about spirituality, but I would suggest that cutting or leaving the subject completely out of the picture is metaphysically impossible. Further, I would point out that what is interpreted as an absolute certainty of the presence of God, or of the state of "passivity," is a certainty on the part of the subject. When someone says "Whenever I experienced contemplative prayer, there was absolutely no doubt that I was in God's presence,"'9 we would need to add after "doubt" the words "in my mind." Without this qualification the interpretation veers too far towards the subjective. Such a state of consciousness is not a proof that God is present, or that the pure gift of prayer of quiet has in fact been granted. We cannot know definitively whether we have reached this "stage" or not. Review for Religious Such certainty as we have rests ultimately on the certainty of our faith, not on the felt quality of our experiences. This is not to return to a theory in which grace is beyond experience. We may indeed experience grace. But our conscious certainty cannot establish that grace is in fact present. What I am suggesting here is that the traditional language used in speaking of contemplation, meditation, and levels of prayer has problems. At least part of the difficulty with the older formulations is that they presupposed a rigid distinction between "natural" and "supernatural," and hence between "acquired" (or natural) contemplation and "infused" (or supernatural) contemplation. "Natural" meant what we do; "supernatural" meant what God does. Such a sharp distinction is understandable when we recall the theological disputes of the time (especially the controversies about grace), but we would express that difference somewhat more flexibly today. Perhaps we could say that it was and is a mistake to reify the various categories of prayer which the classic authors have named for us. Probably it was not so much these authors themselves, but the theological commentators who interpreted them, who made the mistake. To reify would mean to consider the distinct kinds of prayer as if they were things like quantitative blocks of consciousness that we could, as it were, line up one after another on a conveyor belt and then run the belt through our minds. Following on this thought, we might suggest that saying the petitions of the Lord's Prayer, as St. Teresa did, or repeating.the mantra, as John Main did, can dispose us to quiet and contemplation. But it is not necessary to turn them off, as it were, so that we can really appreciate the quiet. If we do so, the wild horses of our disordered minds are likely to gallop back again, or the screeching monkeys may well return to the 63.2 2004 Johnstone ¯ Keeping a Balance thickets of our consciousness, and quiet would be no more. In these reflections I am suggesting that the classic fixed distinctions between different forms of prayer may not be so important as they .were once thought to be. I suggest that it would not make a great deal of sense to say to oneself, "I have not yet arrived at the experience of passivity and received the pure gift of contemplation, and so I must continue with active prayer." Nor would the reverse be any better, namely, to convince oneself that one has indeed been given this gift and so to drop active prayer. The best solution, I suggest, would be to accept with St. Teresa (and St. Alphonsus) that some form of active, vocal prayer may quite well go together with contemplation. At root this is what John Main believed: the repetition of the mantra may accompany contemplation. We do not need to be scrutinizing our consciousness so as to find whether contemplation has occurred or not. The prayer of quiet, or gift of contemplation, may be given by God at any moment within that active prayer. We need not be surprised if this happens, and we may welcome it if or when it is given to us. To conclude, the form of meditation in which one repeats a short prayer continuously with the expectation that a prayer of quiet (with a sense of oneness and rest) may supervene has strong roots in the Catholic spiritual tradition. This is true not only of the earlier tradition, where we find Cassian commending this practice, but also of the more recent tradition, as expressed in particular by St. Teresa. The description of prayer in the texts on Christian Meditation does not include a description of contemplation in the classic sense, but who are we to say that the latter may not supervene? It is indeed God's gift--and may be given whenever God chooses to do so. Notes t Ernest E. Larkin OCarm, "Today's Contemplative Prayer Forms," Review for Religious 57 (1998): 83. Review for Religious 2 Larkin, p. 84. 3 Cited in Larkin, p. 78. 4 Larkin, p. 87 n. 12. 5 The Way of Perfection, in Vol. 2 of The Collected Works of St. Teresa of Avila, trans. Kieran Kavanaugh OCD and Otilio Rodriguez OCD (Washington, D.C.: ICS Publications, 1980). p. 140. The relevant passages are chaps. 28-29. Hereafter all references to Teresa will be to this work and edition, by chapter and section(s) given in the text thus: (19.1). 6 Larkin, p. 83. 7 Alpbonsus de Liguori: Selected Writings (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1999), p. 170. The putting together of this "active" recollection with "contemplative repose" may seem perplexing. The essential point is that it still involves acting, as distinct from "infused contemplation," where there is no acting on our part. s Alpbonsus, p. 176, citing St. Teresa. 9 Alpbonsus, p. 170. ~0 John Main, The Inner Christ (London: Darton, Longman, and Todd, 1987), p. 203. " Main, p. 205. ~2 Main, pp. 116, 119, 132. '3illpbonscts, p. 171. ,4 Main, p. 22. ,5 Owen Chadwick, John Cassian (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1950), p. 69. ~6 Larkin, p. 81. ~7 1 refer here to the citation from Max Huot de Longchamp, Saint Jean de la Croix: Pour Lire le Docteur Mystique (Paris: Fac-editions, 1991), p. 164, cited by Larkin, p. 87. ~8 See Charles Taylor, The Sources of the Self: The Making of the Modern Identity (Cambridge: Harva~:d University Press, 1989), p. 188. ,9 Larkin, p. 78. 63.2 2004 DENNIS J. BILLY Faith Seeking Understanding: Spiritual Direction's Sapiential Function ~;l~you are a theologian, you will pray in truth; and you pray in truth, you are a theologian." 1 These words of Nilus of Sinai (+450), a 5th-century monk from Ancyra in Asia Minor who lived in the wilderness of Sinai for more than sixty years, remind us of the inti-mate connection between conversing with and under-standing the mystery of God. A true knowledge of God involves an experience of the divine mystery, not simply knowledge about it. Such experiential knowledge comes, not through rational analysis, but from a living rela-tionship with God nourished by prayer. This under-standing of theology emphasizes knowing God by participating in the intimate community of divine love. It values the living reality of God over theological constructions of that reality. That reality is closer to us than we are to our own selveS. We are invited to be pre-sent to God's pr.esence in us. Spiritual direction can help us become present to this reality. It is a divine (but also human) art that helps us "pray in truth" and come to an intimate personal knowledge of God. ._~,, ~ ~,~4_J 2D45e8n;n iRs oJm. Bai l0ly0 1C0S0S; RIt awlyri.tes again from Accademia Alfonsiana; C.P. Review for Religious Praying in Truth The theologian, in Nilus's eyes, is one who knows how to "pray in truth." To do so, we must strip off the old self and put on the new. Only then, by being renewed in the image of our Creator, will we gradually progress toward true knowledge of the divine (see Col 3:9-10). To pray in truth is to pray in Christ, the way, the truth, and the life (see Jn 14:6). Praying in truth means open-ing our hearts and being present to God as we really are. It means not being afraid to look inside ourselves and confront the various masks and self-deceptions we find there. It means bearing our souls to God so that God may bear his soul to us. Intimacy with God first requires intimacy with oneself. We cannot communicate with God in truth if we are unwilling to know the truth about ourselves. Coming to an intimate knowledge of ourselves, how-ever, is no easy task. Most of us cannot go it alone and are in dire need of help. We find facing our inner wants and insecurities much too threatening. Left to our own resources, many of us would end up rationalizing away our fears and discounting our deepest hopes about who we are and want to become. Spiritual direction helps us confront ourselves and open our hearts to God. It gently points out the voice of the Spirit manifested in the nitty-gritty circumstances of our lives. As the prophet Elijah reminds us, often that voice is found, not in whirlwinds, earthquakes, and fires about us, but in the small whisper that can only be heard in the solitude of our hearts (see 1 Kg 19:11-13). Spiritual direction seeks to settle our hearts so that we can rest in this solitude and become ourselves in our faith? Focusing on our conscious and unconscious inter-action with the divine, it helps us to follow the flow of troublesome and often conflicting personal narratives in our life and then to make responsible iudgments about 63.2 2004 Billy * Faith Seeking Understanding what we are being called to. It pays special heed to our prayer life, helping us to discern authentic prayer from its mean and paltry imitation. The goal of spiritual direction is for us to "pray in truth." We receive help to confront ourselves and thereby to discover our authentic voice. That voice alone will lead us to intimacy with God. We must be patient, how-ever, and ever so silent. We must listen to our heart and not be afraid to hear what it has to say. When we speak from the heart, we soon discover the gentle voice of the Spirit yearning within us. To pray in truth is to pray in the Spirit, the re-creative presence of God that hovers over and revives the primal forces within us. We know we are praying in the Spirit when our lives manifest the Spirit's various gifts and fruits (see Is 11:2-3, Ga 5:22-23). Spiritual direction helps identify these spiritual riches and let them do their quiet work within us, the work of gradual divinization, of greater sharing in the eternal love of the Godhead. Solitude of Heart The primary means by which the Spirit accomplishes its task is by nurturing in us a deep desire for solitude. As we empty our hearts of unnecessary attachments, we make room for the divine indwelling. Solitude of heart is the precondition for our experience of the fullness of life. "The glory of God," says Irenaeus of Lyons, "is a liv-ing human being."3 We who are created in the image and likeness of God become ourselves only by allowing God to be himself in us. Spiritual direction helps us open our hearts to the heart of God. It helps us by fostering a contemplative attitude toward life, enabling us to see all that happens in the light of God's providential plan. By offering their directees the hospitality of a lis-tening heart, directors set the tone for all that happens during the session. By being present in silence and with Review for Religious their full attention, directors affirm the seriousness of what is taking place and often form lasting friendships. These bonds spring from their reflective gaze upon the directees' unfolding experiences, from this sharing in their solitude. Three persons share in this solitude of heart: the director, the directee, and the Holy Spirit. In direction, directors and directees gradually turn their attention to this quiet partner in their midst. They discern the signs of the Spirit in the nar-ratives that directees share with their direc-tors. The Spirit leaves traces of its presence in the threads of people's lives. When we look at our lives prayerfully, these slight vestiges gradually become noticed and fit into conscious awareness. This is the time for directors and directees together to interpret these signs so that the directees can respond appropriately. One of these signs is peace. After his resurrection Jesus comforted his disciples with a message of peace that stemmed from his immediate and unquestioning trust in the Father's love (see Lk 24:36, Jn 20:19, 21). Today this same message comes to us through the yearn-ing of the Spirit in our hearts, who intercedes for us to the Lord with unutterable groaning (see Rm 8:26). Directors help their directees to recognize the factors in their life that contribute to peace. Such peace comes not from the world, but by giving ourselves whole-heartedly to the one thing that ultimately matters--the love of God dwelling in our heart. "The paradise of God," says Alphonsus de Liguori, "is the heart of man.''4 The peace of Christ works its The primary means by which the Spirit accomplishes its task is by nurturing in us a deep desire for solitude. Billy ¯ Faith Seeking Understanding way outward from within. Rooted in the love of the Lord, it eventually finds outward expression in our striv-ing to form right relationships with others on every level of human society (such as family, country, community of nations). Peace, "the tranquillity of order" as Augustine of Hippo refers to it, possesses personal, com-munal, and transcendent dimensions.5 For us to find it in our lives, solitude of heart is necessary. Spiritual direc-tion, in turn, is an important instrument given us by God to help in that discovery. Faith Seeking Understanding If theologians are persons who pray in truth, spiritual direction facilitates such prayer. Theology, we are told, "denotes. far more than the learning about God and religious doctrine acquired through academic study. It signifies active and conscious participation in or percep-tion of the realities of the divine world--in other words, the realization of spiritual knowledge.''6 To be even more specific, theology has to do with our attempt to reflect upon our experience of the indwelling of the Trinity in our hearts. When seen in this light, the classical Western understanding of theology as "faith seeking understand-ing" (tides quaerens intellectum)--which was developed by Anselm of Canterbury under the influence of the Latin Vulgate and Augustine of Hippo--needs to be rescued from the overrationalizing of later centuries and exam-ined in relation to acquiring Christian wisdom.7 When understood as a sapiential (as opposed to a narrowly ratio-nal) enterprise, theology's true task comes to the fore. All of us are called to reflect upon the meaning of our lives in the light of the gospel message. To accom-plish this task well, we must reflect on the experience of God in our hearts and try to ascertain what exactly is being asked of us. When understood sapientially, theol-ogy as "faith seeking understanding" tries to discern the Review for Religious movement of the Spirit in our lives so that we can bet-ter understand how to live out our call to discipleship in mature and responsible ways. Spiritual direction is an important place for acquiring spiritual wisdom. It helps us talk to God, listen to him, and engage in discernment that leads to deeper intimacy with him. Spiritual direction achieves this goal whenever there is an honest, sharing relationship between the two per-sons. This relationship, while complex and manifold, focuses primarily on the relationship of the directee with God. Directors help directees to understand their inter-action with God better and then to draw closer to God. This process is both challenging and consoling. Directors challenge directees to be honest and to identify areas for future growth. They also need to comfort directees in times of discouragement and imminent loss. Knowing when to exercise this dual role of challenge and comfort is one of the primary skills that directors need to have. Faith seeking understanding in spiritual direction calls for directors to have flexibility and strength. They need to adapt to changing times and circumstances and to withstand the adverse challenges that may occur. The fruits of the process become evident. To believe as one searches for meaning in life leads to a deeper under-standing of one's life situation, of one's relationship with oneself, with others, and with God. Spiritual direction, in its many forms, seeks to empower us to affirm our faith and in the process become ourselves more fully. Becoming Holy Becoming ourselves in our faith is but another way of speaking about our desire for holiness. Spiritual direction is not simply a matter of gaining greater insight into our relationship with God. It has very much to do with turn-ing those insights into concrete practices that lead fur-ther along the path of conversion. These practices must 63.2 2004 Billy ¯ Faitb Seeking Understanding Becoming ourselves in our faith is but another way of speaking about our desire for holiness. not be imposed from without; they must arise from within. They must correspond to a true assessment of our needs based on insights that spiritual direction has facilitated. A truly wise person is also a holy person, and vice versa. According to Thomas Aquinas, wisdom is the gift of the Spirit that corresponds to and is guided by and is a perfec-tion of charity.8 The sapi-ential function of spiritual direction leads us beyond simply knowing God to loving and serving him. "Faith seeking understand-ing" through spiritual direction leads not only to insights into divine things, but also to incorporating those insights into the way we live our daily lives. This close relationship between "being" and "action" is important for the sapiential function of spiritual direc-tion. The virtuous actions performed by people striving to be virtuous contribute to making them even more vir-tuous. When directees ask their director what they should do, they are ultimately asking about what kind of person they themselves wish to become. When prop-erly exercised, spiritual direction helps people see this important connection and encourages them to make "communion with God" the motivating force of all of their actions. Living in communion with God is another term for becoming holy. It is a primary concern of the direction process, helping people become themselves in their life of faith. As an element of "faith seeking understanding," spir-itual direction seeks to help us not only to discern but also to act. By far the most important thing any of us can ever do is pray. Prayer is "the great means of salva- Review for Religious tion.''9 Our manner of prayer--its frequency, its form, its content--is and should always remain a vital subject in spiritual direction. During direction we need to ask if our prayer addresses every dimension of our human makeup: the physical, emotional, intellectual, social, and spiritual.~° With the help of our director, we should try to identify what we may be neglecting in prayer and make appropriate changes. How we pray says a great deal about our own self-understanding and our rela-tionship with God. By examining our prayer carefully for ways to improve it, we demonstrate our love for God and our longing for holiness. Spiritual direction helps us to understand and prac-tice true prayer. It accompanies us on the way to self-knowledge and invites us to deeper intimacy with God. Such experiential knowledge transcends the conceptual world of the professional theologian. By it we share consciously in God's love and develop an intuitive aware-ness of the mind of God. By helping us to "pray in truth," spiritual direction assists our understanding and enables us to become ourselves in our faith, to live in the Spirit, to grow in wisdom and in the knowledge of God, to grow in charity throughout our lives. By help-ing us listen to the movement of the Spirit in our hearts and respond wisely and generously, spiritual direction enables us to see the world around us with something of God's zealous compassion, God's .intense longing to dwell in the hearts of us all. Notes 1 Nilus of Sinai, IY3 Texts on Prayer, no. 61 in Early Fathers from the Philokalia, trans. E. Kadloubovsky and G.E.H. Palmer (London: Faber and Faber, 1954), p. 134. 2 See Jean Laplace, The Direction of Conscience, trans. John C. Guinness (New York: Herder and Herder, 1967), p. 26. 3 Irenaeus of Lyons, Against the Heresies 4.20.7, in Vol. 1 of The Ante-Nicene Fathers, ed. Alexander Roberts and James Donaldson (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1925), p. 490. 63.2 2004 Billy * Faith Seeking Understanding 4 Alphonsus de Liguori, The Way to Converse Always and Familiarly with God, in Vol. 2 of The Complete Works of Saint Alphonsus de Liguori, ed. Eugene Grimm (Brooklyn: Redemptorist Fathers, 1926), p. 395. s Augustine of Hippo, The City of God 19.13, in Vol. 2 of The Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, ed. Philip Schaff (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1903), pp. 409-410. 6 The Philokalia: The Complete Text, ed. and trans. G.E.H. Palmer, Philip Sherrard, and Kallistos Ware (London: Faber and Faber, 1981), Vol. 2, p. 389. 7 See Anselm of Canterbury, The Proslogion, chap. 1, in Vol. 1 of Anselm of Canterbury, ed. and trans. Jasper Hopkins and Herbert W. Richardson (Toronto and New York: Edwin Mellen Press, 1974), pp. 91-93; Biblia sacra vulgata, ed. Robert Weber (Stuttgart: Wiirttembergische Bibelanstalt, 1969), Vol. 2, p. 1103 (Is 7:9); Augustine of Hippo, On the Trinity 8.5.8, in Vol. 3 of The Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, ed. Philip Schaff (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1900), pp. 119-120. ~ See Thomas Aquinas, Summa theologiae, I-II, q.68, a.8; II-II, q.45, in Vol. 20 of Great Books of the Western World, ed. Robert Maynard Hutchins (Chicago: Encyclopaedia Britannica, 1952), pp. 95-96, 598- 606. 9 Alphonsus de Liguori, Prayer, The Great Means of Salvation, in Vol. 3 of Complete Works (1927), p. 23. 10 See Dennis J. Billy, Evangelical Kernels: A Theological Spirituality of the Religious Life (Staten Island: Alba House, 1993), pp. 167-184. Gift I am stunned by the gift you gave me. Not a sun or stars, not the sea or a pebble rounded to perfection. Not even forgiveness, although this was wrapped into the gift. You gave me love. Some day I may regard your gift indifferently, as something I deserve. For now, I know nothing but astonishment. Patricia Chaffee OP Review for Religious GEORGE ASCHENBRENNER Windows of the Soul: Walter Ciszek SJ T e eyes are often windows into the soul. A mother ows this as she gazes quietly into the eyes of her newborn child, dreaming and hoping about its future. Lovers and friends know this too. Gazing into each other's eyes opens a whole world, wide and deep beyond words. Most of us are unaware of how revelatory our eyes are. The grumpiness of discontented people lurks in their eyes for anyone to see. So, too, the limpid kindness of truly guileless people sparkles in their eyes. Yes, in many instances our eyes are windows into the soul. In fact, our eyes convey more and deeper messages as we grow through life. Forty years ago,. on 12 October 1963, BOAC flight #501 from London landed right on time at 6:55 a.m. A man in his late fifties wearing a heavy green overcoat shuffled down the stairway from the plane. A big floppy Russian hat concealed a lot of his face. But, under the brim of that hat, like beacons of a profoundly wise soul, George Aschenbrenner SJ has written for this journal every couple of years since 1966. His current address is Campion Hall; University of Scranton; Scranton, Pennsylvania 18510. r~l!4~a --- ~ 63.2 2004 Ascbenbrenner ¯ Windows of rise Soul two lively grayish-blue eyes greeted sights not seen for twenty-seven years. At least ten years before, his Jesuit brothers in the New York Province had offered for him the customary two Masses for deceased Jesuits. Now Father Walter Ciszek of the Society of Jesus had risen from the dead. Those dancing guileless eyes, those soul-beacons, told a stoW immediately that it would take years to get into words: two books written painstakingly with the gracious competent help of Father Dan Flaherty, a brother Jesuit. But, if you ever had the chance to meet Father Ciszek, you got the whole stoW in those eyes. My experience of Walter was that those lively eyes, those bottomless wells of love, joy, and humble confidence, conveyed more than any hand gestures ever could. Dramatic gesturing was not his way of communicating. Like a diamond those eyes sparkled with a wisdom, a peace, a humble confidence, but first and foremost a startling freedom. On that October day at New York's Idlewild airport, Father Walter was free, free from KGB surveillance, free from restriction on his priestly min-istry, free from the brittle cold, free from his starvation diet, free from the threat of death at almost any moment. But freedom was something he had known truly and profoundly for the last twenty-one years--ever since that time in the dreaded Lubianka prison, a time that marked his soul for the rest of his life, a time that he would never forget. (It was a soul-changing experience, too, for oth-ers when they met him: something smiled in and leapt out of those eyes to greet you.) Early in his captivity, solitary confinement and intense interrogations night and day were wearing him down. Knowing he was not guilty of the espionage charges, he thought that all he had to do was explain this clearly and definitely to his questioners. But a combination of forces--first the repeated questionings like a pile driver hammering into Review for Religious his head and heart and then the cold deaf ear to his labored and elaborately explicit defense--became too much for him. He gave up. He quit. He signed an admis-sion of his guilt--just to get it over with. Back in his cell, however, and all by himself again, it hit him. He had given in to free himself of this harass-ment of his soul. His motive had been selfish, filled with ego, and had lost much awareness of God's love and care. He felt ashamed and confounded. In that disheartened state of mind, though, he felt relief that, during the fif-teen years of hard labor in Siberia to which he had been sentenced, at least the solitary confinement and the mad-dening questions would stop. This relief was short-lived. Soon he was told that there would be four more years at Lubianka to "clarify" some of the issues to which he had confessed. The deaf-ening, soul-splitting interrogation began again. It seemed more than he could handle. What he had hoped to get out of by signing the paper was beginning all over again. An overwhelming despair descended upon him, a loss of hope and faith. He felt absolutely helpless. He was at rock bottom. You and I have sometimes felt helpless; we know that even brief moments of helplessness are fear-some. But most of us have never plumbed the depths to which he fell at that moment, all alone, in Lubianka. But, at this moment of feeling bankruptcy of soul, at this lowest point in his whole life, something happened. He stepped across a boundary line. No, to be more exact, he did not step across: he was lifted across. In that moment of despair, he remembered an olive grove some two thousand years ago. Jesus, Son of Mary and Son of God, having chosen to be faithful to his identity and mis-sion in the face of looming certain death, had collapsed in helplessness, had hit rock bottom (Mk 14:32-42). Through his surrender, through his self-abandon-ment, Jesus was rescued, he was freed. The impending 63.2 20O4 Aschenbrenner * Windows of the Soul Walter Ciszek's contemplation of Jesus" agony in the garden gave new meaning to his own despairing helplessness. horrific suffering and death were not taken away, but something shifted deep inside. A freedom, a humble con-fidence, lifted his soul because the eyes of a dearly loving, caring Father were still gazing on him, even in his utter helplessness. In fact, now he knew it in some new way: no depth of helplessness could ever be beyond the loving, life-giving gaze of those eyes. Those eyes, there in Gethsemane, both looked deep into his soul and also revealed a bottomless love and care deeper than any doubt or frustration. Walter Ciszek's contemplation of Jesus' agony in the garden--a prayer that just came upon him, he did not reach out for it--gave new meaning to his own despair-ing helplessness. As in the case of Jesus, Father Ciszek's fear was transformed into freedom, and his feelings of danger and despair became confidence and happiness. Now nothing seemed to worry or trouble him anymore. At an apparent depth of no return, he had learned that God would never leave him, but would take care of him even if he were killed. Astonishing, simply amazingm talk about a new heart and a new freedom! He could say with St. Paul: "I am ready for anything through the strength of the One who lives within me" (Ph 4:13). That prayer along with Jesus in the garden marked Walter Ciszek for life right into eternity. He would never forget that prayer. Yes, Walter Ciszek became profoundly free in Lubianka twenty-one years before he stepped off a plane in the United States. The Word of God had leapt off the page anew in the person, the presence, the eyes of the Review for Religious risen Jesus. Now nothing he did, nowhere he was taken, nothing that happened to him, absolutely nothing could separate Walter Ciszek from the risen Jesus. In his own agony of despair and helplessness, he had been gifted with a very special awareness of God's love. This gave him an invincible trust, whatever the future might hold. Nothing could really hurt him now because he was in God's loving hands, more than he had ever realized before. Yes, the eyes are windows into the soul. But the eyes of holiness are also reflectors. Holiness reflects the radi-ance of Someone Else's loving eyes. Just as Jesus knew the gaze of a dear Father's eyes, Walter Ciszek experi-enced God's loving gaze in the depths of his despair and helplessness. That same loving gaze blesses us all, each and every one, with a freedom and a trust that does not take all suffering out of our lives, but does enliven our hearts, our souls, and our eyes. It is no surprise that, whenever my friends and I met Father Ciszek, we felt we were meeting more than just that courageous, peaceful little man. Those lively, gray-ish- blue, dancing eyes were windows glistening with the wisdom, the freedom, the love of his soul. Those eyes mirrored the steady gaze of Jesus' love--a love that moti-vated everything Walter Ciszek did, a love that got him through fifteen years of undeserved hard labor in prison and five years of undeserved solitary confinement, a love that burned in his soul and left him unscarred by bitter-ness, anger, revenge. The eyes of Walter Ciszek told the story of his soul, a story of courageous love in incredible suffering and of invincible trust against all odds, because the most impor-tant story of love always glistens in the eyes of the risen Jesus. 6~.2 2004 mentoring FRED HERRON Merton and a Spirituality for Millennials Young people who grew up in the late 20th cen-tury, sometimes called millennials, easily relate to Thomas Merton as someone not entirely comfortable in any one place. Like him, they find it hard to root themselves in one "abiding place.''1 They are more comfortable describing themselves as "spiritual" rather than "religious." For them the paradigm shift that Merton illu-minated in his lifetime seems a dramatic release from the moorings of the stable past and an optimistic embarkation on a journey. By high-lighting such a change in his life and thought, Merton managed to offer direction and some cautions to those who would follow. Dwelling and Seeking Robert Wuthnow has argued convincingly that a major change took place in the spiritual Fred Herron is chairperson of the religious-studies depart-ment at Fontbonne Hall Academy and a member of the Department of Theology and Religious Studies at St. John's University, Staten Island. He may be addressed at Fonthonne Hall Academy; 9901 Shore Road; Brooklyn, New York 11209. Review.for Religious practice of the last half of the 20th century. He suggests that "a traditional spirituality of inhabiting sacred places has given way to a new spirituality of seeking." He con-trasts these two viewpoints this way: "A spirituality of dwelling emphasizes habitation: God occupies a definite place in the universe and creates a sacred space in which humans too can dwell." On the other hand, "a spiritual-ity of seeking emphasizes negotiation: individuals search for sacred moments that reinforce their conviction that the divine exists, but these moments are fleeting.''z Both forms of spirituality have found their place in the history of religions, and the world religions have sup-plied rich imagery for both. Wuthnow points out that, "in settled times, people have been able to create a sacred habitat and to practice habitual forms of spirituality. [However,] in unsettled times, they have been forced to negotiate with themselves and with each other to find the sacred." Settled times evoke an imagery of dwelling, and unsettled times one of journeys. In the former, "the sacred is fixed, and spirituality can be found within the gathered body of God's people; in the latter, the sacred is fluid, portable, and spirituality must be pursued with a sense of God's people having been dispersed.''3 A habitation spirituality is suggested by the Garden of Eden and a land of milk and honey. A spirituality of seeking, on the other hand, is illustrated by the taber-nacle and the tents of pilgrims and travelers. The first form can be seen in the secure routine of the monastery, the cloister, while the latter is seen as an ongoing journey. The story of the Shulamite woman draws the dis-tinction between these two spiritualities. At first she revels in the security of her spiritual home: "Our bed is green, the beams of our houses are cedar, and the rafters of fir" (Sg 1:16-17). Later, however, she wanders, seek-ing the warmth she has lost: "I will rise now., and go 63.2 2004 Herron ¯ Mertion and a Spirituality for Millennials about the city. In the streets and in the squares, I will seek the one I love" (Sg 3:2). Merton's metaphors of the "citadel" and of the "wide, impregnable country" point to similar visions.4 Note that both are images of security, but the former suggests secu-rity and the latter.openness and freedom. In the citadel there is isolation from others, whereas in the wide coun-try there is room for an indefinite number of people seeking God. A spirituality of dwelling seems to be more secure, while a spirituality of seeking seems less constraining. Both offer freedom, but quite different kinds of free-dom. Familiar places offer the freedom of not having to worry where the next meal is coming from, since both caring people and known resources are available. Anne Truitt describes this experience as "the lighthearted feel-ing of being in a litter of kittens.''5 That understanding of freedom is comparable to not worrying about achiev-ing any particular objective, that is, not feeling "bound by an inexorable result [but being] like the birds or lilies ¯. without care." 6 Seeking and Freedom The fifth volume of Thomas Merton's letters, VVitness to Freedom, suggests that there are three stages in his understanding of the growing freedom that is central to a spirituality of seeking.7 In Merton's youth, freedom meant doing whatever he pleased. The second stage came with his entrance into the monastery of Gethsemani in 1941. Merton recalls that, when Brother Matthew met him at the monastery gate, led him through that gate, and then locked it, "I was enclosed in the four walls of my new freedom." s This was the freedom of the citadel, the freedom to do what he was told and to keep the rules. Freedom here became obedience, one portion of the monastic Rule. Review for Religious Keeping the rules is central to both of these stages. In the first, the rules are the problem. In the second, the rules are the solution to the problem. The third stage led Merton to view freedom in a very different light: freedom as an inner reality guided much more from within than from without. In con-templation, Merton realized, we meet God, and in meeting God we discover our deepest freedom. People achieve this third level of freedom, a sense in which their deepest selves are in God and express God, to the extent that they rid themselves of the illu-sions that distort reality for them.9 Merton wrote to Jacques Maritain of these illusions: "There are great illusions to be got ridden of, and there is a false self that has to be taken off. There is still much to be changed before I will really be living in the truth and in nothingness and in humility and without any more self-concern." 10 The road to true freedom is strewn with idols: the false god, the false self, and the false image of God's crea-tures. A false vision of God causes us to see God as one among many, not as absolute, the Hidden Ground of Love, from whom all things come and in whom all things are sustained.ll From this arises the false self, for, instead of being an image of the true God, the self tends to become an image of the false god. Finally, to be fully free, we need to be liberated from the illusions that mark our relationships with other human beings and with the rest of God's creation. What, then, is the freedom that Thomas Merton con-siders essential to this spirituality of seeking? It is the freedom to choose the good and not to choose "freely" In contemplation, Merton realized, we meet God, and in meeting God we discover our deepest freedom. 63.2 2004 Herron ¯ Merton and a Spirituality for Millennials between two realities such as good and evil. Merton argues that "the free man is the one whose choices have given him the power to stand on his own feet and deter-mine his own life according to the higher light and spirit that are in him.''12 He says: "The mere ability to choose between good and evil is the lowest limit of freedom, and the only thing that is free about it is the fact that we can still choose good. To the extent that you are free to choose evil, you are not free. An evil choice destroys freedom . Perfect spiritual freedom is a total inabil-ity to make any evil choice." 13 St. Benedict's Rule and the Spirituality of Seeking The contrast between a spirituality of habitation and a spirituality of seeking is evident in the 6th-century Rule of St. Benedict. The Cistercian monk takes three vows: stability, obedience, and conversatio. Stability emphasizes setdedness, a "permanent and lifelong attach-ment to the monastery of one's profession." 14 Conversatio connotes the changeable life of the spirit. It is "a com-mitment to live faithfully in unsettled times and to keep one's life sufficiently unsettled to respond to the chang-ing voice of God." ~5 It involves a commitment to con-stant progress in virtue. The monk can never say that he has done enough. It is "the vow to respond totally and integrally to the word of Christ, 'Come, follow me,' by renouncing all that might impede one in following him untrammeled, all that might obscure one's clarity of intent and confuse one's resolve."16 As such, it is a source of peace. Peace comes when there is a "willingness to renounce our petty selves and find our true selves beyond ourselves in others, and above all in Christ." 17 Obedience here suggests a commitment to both sta-bility and conversatio. This is an obedience to God in all things. The monk uses this obedience as a means to grow closer to God. It is the obedience of faith in the context Review for Religious of love and discipleship. The wisdom of St. Bernard is that dwelling and seeking, stability and conversatio, are both part of what it means to be human.18 The desire for a dwelling, for a citadel or fortress of solitude, is evi-dent in the fact that people associate God with churches, synagogues, and temples. It is intimated by the feelings that are aroused by memories of the house in which we were raised or by the uprooting we feel when we need to move. A human habitat takes on sacred meaning, becom-ing a home that has a "heart and a soul," an abode that can be lived in with grace and in "the power of bene-dictions." 19 Merton spoke about Gethsemani, especially in his early years there, as a "sign of Christ.''2° Thomas Merton and a Generation of Seekers Americans live in increasingly complex and perilous times. We face conditions that appear to be spinning wildly out of control--terrorism, environmental pollu-tion, worldwide hunger and poverty, AIDS, crime. A spir-ituality of dwelling may appeal to many people, especially when reli-gious leaders promise secure space in which to worship God in famil-iar ways. For some, the purpose of any congre-gation will be to pro-vide a haven amidst the uncertainties of modern times. A spirituality of seeking, however, will appeal to more of the American people, precisely because it lets them choose their own understandings and their own ways of worshiping. For them, the believing community is less a haven than a supplier of spiritual goods and services. Neither style is entirely satisfactory. Both arise out of our conversation with our past. While earlier genera- The believing community is less a haven than a supplier of spiritual goods and services. 63.2 2004 Herron ¯ Merton and a Spirituality for Millennials tions found some peace and security in a spirituality of inhabiting, later ones take pride in being on a spiritual journey. This shift has roots in our immigrant history.21 Until the beginning of World War II, when Thomas Merton entered the monastery at Gethsemani, ethnic groups were still influenced largely by their immigrant experience. They had come looking for a better life. Together they built institutions. They came in search of both physical and spiritual homes. After the war they worked feverishly at the task of building new houses. Levittown came to symbolize that desire, and the Cold War represented a threat to that dream. The decade of the 1950s was to be an ending as well as a beginning in that regard. The world has changed substantially since the pres-idency of Dwight Eisenhower. Change has become a general condition of every part of modern life. The 1950s gave way to an era of racial unrest, political turmoil, and environmental havoc. The children of the 1960s seemed out of control and all too willing to question authority. That changing world is the world that Thomas Merton inhabited and somewhat came to personify. But the later Merton was firmly rooted in the earlier one. That is, his willingness to stand on his own two feet was not the mark of a radical individualist undertaking a ruggedly individualistic spiritual journey. Rather, it was the mark of a "free" human being dedicated to living faithfully in unsettled times as a person firmly in "one dear perpetual place." Stability, for Merton, was rooted in his relationship to his monastic family and his work within the monastery. It was the dedication of one who had come to grips with the allure of worldliness and won, leaving it behind in search of greener pastures. Merton was not claiming an "abiding place," for the Spirit of God did not let him put a mere place above the call of fidelity. His commitment was not simply to a commu- Review for Religious nity, but ultimately to the God who told him, "Come, follow me." A portion of Merton's enduring legacy to the mil-lennial generation rests precisely in his understanding of the Rule of St. Benedict. He cautions the next gener-ation about undertaking a journey for its own sake or in search of illusory goals. Better to live firmly in a com-munity that demands your constant focus on growth. If that involves a journey, so be it. But the journey, the "road trip," is not an end in itself. It needs to serve a greater truth. The challenge of conversatio for today's young people is to be constantly open to going where God takes them and not where the illusory goals of a consumer culture or a warrior culture might lead them. The call of obedience is to cling tightly to God and to the gift of true discipleship. Like the gyre that William Butler Yeats describes in his poem "The Second Coming," Merton struggled in his personal life and on his spiritual journey to find a way for the center to hold, to find a way toward some form of final integration[ The point where stability and conversatio meet was, for him, in obedience. Obedience holds both together, insisting that both are essentials in the spiritual life. Merton not only illuminates the dra-matic upheavals of our recent past, but points a way to our future. Notes ~ Dean Hoge, William Dinges, Mary Johnson SNDdeN, and Juan Gonzales, Young Adult Catholics: Religion in the Culture of Choice (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 2001); James L. Heft SM and James D. Davidson, "The Mission of Catholic High School and Today's Millennials: Three Suggestions," Catholic Education 6 (June 2003): 410-422; T.P. Waiters, "Millennial Youth: Facts, Figures, and Priestly Vocations," in T.P. Waiters and B. Crawford, eds., The Millennial Generation: Hearing God's Call (St. Meinrad, Indiana: Abbey Press, 2001), pp. 15-25; and James D. Davidson et al., The Search for Common Ground: What Unites and Divides American Catholics (Huntington, Indiana: Our Sunday Visitor, 1999). 63.2 2004 Herron ¯ Merton and a Spirituality for Millennials 2 Robert Wuthnow, After Heaven: Spirituality in America since the 19YOs (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998), pp. 3-4. 3 Wuthnow, After Heaven, p. 4. 4 Donald Grayston, Thomas Merton's Rewriting: The Five Versions of Seeds/New Seeds of Contemplation as a Key to the Development of His Thought (New York: Edwin Mellen Press, 1985), p. 371. See also Thomas Merton, The Seven Storey Mountain (New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1948), p. 33. s Anne Truitt, Daybook, the Journal of an Artist (New York: Pantheon Books, 1982), p. 22. 6 Thomas Merton, "Elias--Variations on a Theme," in his The Strange Islands (New York: New Directions, 1959), p. 233. 7 Thomas Merton, Witness to Freedom: The Letters of Thomas Merton in Times of Crisis (New York: Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1994). 8 Merton, Seven Storey Mountain, p. 372. 9 Thomas Merton, Turning toward the World: The Pivotal Years, Vol. 4 of The Journals of Thomas Merton (HarperSanFrancisco, 1996), p. 146. ~0 Thomas Merton, The Courage for Truth: The Letters of Tbomas Merton to Writers (New York: Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1993), p. 39. ~1 Thomas Merton, The Hidden Ground of Love: Letters of Thomas Merton on Religious Experience and Social Concerns (New York: Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1985), p. 452. ,2 Thomas Merton, The New Man (New York: Farrar, Straus, and Cudahy, 1961), pp. 178-179. 13 Thomas Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation (New York: New Directions, 1962), p. 199. 14 Thomas Merton, The Monastic Journey (Kansas City: Andrews and McMeel, 1977), pp. 66-68. is Wuthnow, After Heaven, p. 6. ~6 Merton, Monastic Journey, p. 110. 17 Merton, Monastic Journey, p. 40. ~8 Timothy Fry, ed., The Rule of Saint Benedict (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1982); Brian C. Taylor, Spirituality for Everyday Living: An Adaptation of the Rule of Saint Benedict (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1989); Joan Chittister, Wisdom Distilled from the Daily: Living the Rule of Saint Benedict Today (New York: HarperCollins, 1991), Eviatar Zerubavel, Hidden Rhythms: Schedules and Calendars in Social Life (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1981). 19 Mark Twain, cited in Witold Rybczynski, The Most Beautiful House in the World (New York: Penguin Books, 1989), p. 171. Review for Religious 20 Michael Mott, The Seven Mountains of Thomas Merton (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1984), p. 208. 2, Oscar Handlin, The Uprooted (New York: Little, Brown, 1951). Class Reunion The women, this fiftieth June after June Graduations, have buried the men: at this Table for ten, there are two husbands, Their two wives, a nun, and a quintet Of well-dressed, well-coiffed survivors, Not one a mere relict, but all Junoesque, Carrying Junoesque handbags at arms" ends. The nun carries nothing. The pair of men Draw together, only to be drawn apart Again by the women who treasure their presence: All that is left as stand-ins for the children. Amiably passed from widow to widow and back To spouse, they are lost, hosts at a table With too many partners, until saved, saved By the nun whose last name no one can Remember, sistering them with shy veiled Smiles, her innocence bridging the gap Between that June and this, seeming fifty Years younger than all the rest. The banquet Is served . Could Sister please bless? Nancy G. Westerfield 63.2 2004 LAURA SWAN Paradox in the Monastery: Lessons from Two Ammas Mwost of us have grown up with family stories that e have "always" been "familiar" with. This is oral tradition. Certain stories get told over and over, recalling the colorful, poignant, even troubling members and events of our families and congregations. Stories are retold among friends, families, and religious communities because the memory of them touches us deeply. They tell us something of who we are and where we have been. Stories unpack the mystery of the present and give us guidance into the future. We pass particular stories on because they have shaken something awake within us and we desire to share this awareness with others. We want to remember the lessons learned. Vowed religious remember stories retold about religious over the centuries along with the stories of their own monasteries and congregations. Which stories are dusted off and retold (and embellished) often says much about who we are and what we struggle with. Stories contain and sustain our cultural values. They assist in Laura Swan OSB, author of The Forgotten Desert Mothers, is prioress of St. Placid Priory; 500 College Street N.E.; Lacey, Washington 98516. Web page www.stplacid.org, and email to lswan@stplacid.org. Review for Religious passing on the traditions of our monasteries, congre-gations, faith communities, and families. In the desert of the early Christian movement, stories were collected, remembered, and passed on. Even today stories preserve the memory and teachings of the desert ascetics, the ammas and abbas who lived at the beginning of Christian monasticism. They sought the desert, a place of intense solitude, in order to focus their pursuit of the Holy One with single-minded devotion and limited distractions. Their goal was union with God. These stories formed an early oral tradition now known as Sayings (apothegms, apophtheg~nata). Side by side with this movement into the desert was a movement toward an evolving Christian monasticism. The desert ascetics were often associated with monastic communities. Eremitic communities were little more than groups of cells in the desert where the seekers occasionally met for teaching, prayer, and exhortation. There was no standard monasticism at this period. Religious life was quite diverse in all its expressions; every monastic community had its own rule and traditions. Two leading figures in the development of monasticism in Egypt were Pachomius (ca. 282-346) of Tabennisi in upper Egypt and Shenoute (ca. 348-464) of Atripe, also in upper Egypt. Writings of their followers, often called Lives, give us insight into the struggles and aspirations of early religious life and of Christianity itself. Many stories from the desert reflect the tensions of diverse expressions of Christianity and tensions between those seeking to articulate statements of belief, as in the Arian and Trinitarian controversies. The Holy Drunken Woman I would like to look at two stories. They confront us with paradox, and their themes are repeated in other stories from the desert) As the first story goes, on the feast 63.2 2004 Swan * Paradox in the Monastery of Abba Apollo, Abba Daniel went to the Upper Thebaid, visiting first the monastic community of men and then the monastic community of women. The community of three hundred women was called the Monastery of Abba Jeremiah, led by a "mother archimandrite.''2 In this story the women "violate" the tradition of not permitting men in their monastery in order to welcome a particularly venerated and beloved elder of the desert. In the tradition of desert hospitality, these monastic women welcome Abba Daniel and his companion into their monastery chapel and wash their feet. The women then bless themselves with the water used. Then they ask for a blessing and a word of teaching or exhortation. As the women seek a wise word from Abba Daniel--a common trait of desert stories--the scene shifts to an anonymous member of the women's monastery who remained away from the rest of the community. This anonymous nun believed to be drunk is asleep in the forecourt of the church, wearing clothing that is in shreds. Abba Daniel asks the mother archimandrite who this nun is, and he is told: "She's a drunk and we don't know what to do with her; we're afraid to take the responsibility of throwing her out of the monastery, and if we let her stay she demoralizes the sisters." 3 The community then redirects Abba Daniel to their refectory for a shared meal. Interestingly we are told that the women served the men simple vegetarian fare while they themselves ate well. When Abba Daniel inquires about this seeming disparity and violation of hospitality, the mother archimandrite responds: "You are a monk, and I served you a monk's food. Your disciple is a monk's disciple, and I served him a disciple's food. We, however, are novices, and we ate novices' food.''4 By example the women have exalted the venerable teacher by lowering themselves in an eccentric yet enticing paradox. Before leaving, Abba Daniel again concerns himself Review for Religious with the "drunken" nun, who was seen sleeping by the toilets. The men had been watching her. As the monastery retired for sleep, the woman rose and stood in a position of tearful supplication or prostrated herself in contrition. Whenever a nun came out to use the toilet, she would throw herself on the ground and snore. Abba Daniel calls the mother archimandrite, who joins him in observing this behavior. Realizing that the nun is merely feigning drunkenness and remembering her own mistreatment of her, the mother archimandrite confesses her own sin with deep conviction and contrition. When the "drunken" nun realizes that she has been discovered, she cleverly steals Abba Daniel's cowl and staff and disappears into the desert. The story concludes with Abba Daniel and the mother archimandrite declaring the "drunken" nun to be one of God's hidden servants. The woman rose and stood in a position of tearful supplication or prostrated herself in contrition. The Woman Who Feigned Madness From Palladius we learn of a women's monastery at Tabennisi in which a member feigned madness and demon possession.5 She was treated with contempt, and the other nuns avoided her company. This "mad" nun voluntarily worked at the most menial jobs in the kitchen. She wore a rag on her head while other members cropped their hair short and wore a cowl. She ate the scraps and leftovers only. She was never angry and never grumbled; she rarely spoke--all in the midst of being treated with contempt. She was insulted, cursed, and loathed by the other nuns. 63.2 2004 Swan ¯ Paradox in the Monastery An angel appears to Abba Piteroum, another venerated desert ascetic, inviting him to meet someone more holy then he, and a mere woman at that! The angel sends him to Tabennisi with a challenge: This woman is continually mistreated by her community and yet never takes her heart off God, while our venerable abba dwells in his cell yet wanders about the cities in his mind--a theme found throughout desert teachings, including the Sayings ofAmma Syncletica.6 For his angelic lesson, Abba Piteroum arrives at the women's monastery to see this holy woman, whom the nuns call "touched." She resists meeting him, but is physically forced into his presence. He immediately recognizes her as spiritually mature by an intuition of mind and heart. He falls at her feet seeking her blessing, and she responds by falling at his feet seeking his blessing, both vying to express their humility. The nuns are aghast. Abba Piteroum declares the touched nun to be the community's true spiritual mother. The nuns recognize the truth of his words and immediately begin to confess their mistreatment of this unknown amma and elder. Now elevated to "venerable," she cannot tolerate the place of honor and disappears from the community-- another common theme of the desert. The Paradox Most of us have experienced difficult people--in our congregations and monasteries, in our professional lives, in our faith communities and families. These are the people who know our buttons and hooks well. They have an innate ability to stir up our anger and impatience and frustration. These are the people who can make day-to-day living exasperating and an exercise in profound patience. Our inner reactions to these difficult people tell us more about ourselves than we care to admit. They gift us with all this opportunity for asceticism--and are Review for Religious usually quite unaware of it. While our history as religious seekers and as vowed religious includes eras of health-damaging fasts, hair shirts and nail beds, my Irish forebears standing for long periods in freezing cold water, and whips--these are all self-imposed ascetical practices of dubious value. These false ascetical practices betray our neo-Pelagian and neo- Jansenist hearts.7 Desert ascetics remind us that life hands us authentic asceticism: meetings, deadlines, "smallness" of income in the midst of aging, the ministrations that frail members call for, authority and obedience in tension in our individualistic culture, and difficult community members. Families have difficulty building and sustaining relationships in a culture that undermines those values and commitments. Desert ascetics sought to The desert tradition was intended to force the seeker to face self without distractions, illusions, or barriers. disappear, taking their wisdom with them. We know that the greater challenge is to build healthy communities and a healthy church. To us it seems the easier thing to disappear, to seek hiddenness. Yet the desert tradition was intended to force the seeker to face self without distractions, illusions, or barriers. Today's desert ascetics are, first and foremost, students of the desert and the spiritual difficulty encountered there. The desert teaches them self-knowledge and self-awareness. It teaches them to listen deeply and intensely. Daily they come to know a bit better who they are before God. While growing in awareness of who they are and who they are not, they detach themselves from reputation and any need to 63.2 2004 Swan ¯ Paradox in the Monastery defend themselves from those who may attack it. In the old and colorful stories, ascetics go beyond detachment from reputation to distancing themselves from others in order to live alone for God. We savor these stories because they invite us to multiple meanings, because they do not allow us a simplistic answer. Contemporary religious life recognizes--and painfully grows more aware of---fragile, disturbed, and disrupting members. Our call is to handle these troubling members wisely and compassionately, and at times firmly. We try to minimize the disruptions that wounded unruly members are capable of; we listen and ask ourselves what they are here to teach us. Often the stories we have retained and repeat pertain to the graced insights we have been given, the humor and lessons we have learned. Biblical scholar Walter Brueggemann speaks of the capacity of the Psalms to move us from orientation, through disorientation, to a new position of re-orientationf We experience times of disequilibrium, yet when God is there with us beautiful psalms can be birthed. In many ways this experience occurred in the lives of the desert ascetics. They were thrust into disorientation by accepting the gospel and striving to follow its earnest call by living in the desert or monastery. After each new experience of reorientation, the desert ascetics would be thrust again into disorientation through continued ascetical practices that could bring them to ever closer union with God. This rhythm stripped the seekers of all that separated their truest selves from God. The nun who feigned madness and the holy "drunken" woman open up the paradox that troubled members, nonconforming members, and the mentally ill confront us with. These women speak to us of the paradox of ultimate detachment, of letting go of all that keeps us from an intense relationship with God and our truest selves. And they are paradoxes because their pursuit Review for Religious of interior freedom causes disruption for others. These women certainly speak to us of ways that God is found outside our concept of "normal." And yet these women of old both challenge and help us to provide pastoral care for our nonconformist members who struggle with the daily reality of living out their vowed commitment or are mentally ill. We anguish on behalf of troubled members around questions of ability and willingness to live the demands of our life calling. Careful discernment is demanded of us. Is this person confronting a systemic problem in the monastery or community? Is she a prophetic element? What does the fruit of her behavior tell us? These women remind us that our teachers and mentors may come in the form of Balaam's ass--or a holy "drunken" woman or a woman who feigns madness. Indeed our troubling members call forth the strength of compassion and steadfastness and vision in ways we did not ever foresee. Sometimes we discover our best selves-- and sometimes our worst self comes out. These stories clearly teach the paradox of who was actually troubled: the woman or the community? The holy "drunken" woman and the woman who feigned madness behaved in disturbing ways, but were revealed to have pure hearts intent on God, while others manifested conformity and even appropriate conduct (not always the same thing) but inwardly lacked something even to the point of behaving badly. We are presented with a paradox, with a teach-ing/ learning moment. Discernment is necessary. What appears as "bad" is shown to be "good." What is in us-- our purity of heart, or our lack of it--is exposed. We are presented with classic stories of the desert, stories that support the desert goal of apatheia. Apatheia is the interior state in which people no longer have to struggle against inordinate attachments. Through 63.2 2004 Swan ¯ Paradox in the Monastery The desert ascetics taught all to deliberately let go of whatever keeps us from the single-minded pursuit of God. profound interior freedom, they are not pulled hither and yon by various worldly, desires. Apatheia is a mature mindfulness, a sound sensitivity, and a keen attention to one's inner world and to the outer world in which one has been living. Apatheia is purity of heart. The desert ascetics taught all to deliberately let go of whatever keeps us from the single-minded pursuit of God: feelings and thoughts that bind us or others, cravings and addictions that diminish feelings of worth, and attachments to self-imposed perfectionism. The paradoxical questions are: Does my purity of heart support my fellow seekers' own interior journey? Is it inappropriate if my purity of heart disrupts your journey? How do we discern this together? Desert ascetics faced suffering with determination and courage. They understood that suffering often has roots in their own attachments to thoughts, attitudes, motives, relationships, and reputation. Suffering was the avenue towards freedom, and detachment the avenue towards maturity and humility. And yet there are innumerable stories from desert monastic communities--possibly Shenouteand the White Monastery being the most famous--where misbehavior and harshness were too common.9 Benedict of Nursia's own Rule reveals a monastic leader purified by the fire of members' unruly misbehavior and matured by his attempts to curb it. The "mad" nun and the "drunken" woman remind us that the pursuit of holiness is a lifelong journey. Review for Religious As in all good stories, we are not given easy answers to hard questions. Paradox lives on and calls for discernment. We need self-awareness in order to understand what power the stories have and why we repeat them in our dining rooms. The "mad" nun and the "drunken" woman confront us: Who are our teachers? From whom are we willing to learn? At whose feet do we sit to receive the wisdom of desert cell and monastery? Are we alert to unexpected opportunities to learn? What do we do when our presumptions, prejudices, and expectations are exposed and thwarted? How do we discern? With whom do we discern? Who are our wise elders? Notes l I am drawing from Tim Vivian, "Witness to Holiness: Abba Daniel of Scetis," Coptic Church Review 24, nos. 1 and 2 (Spring and Summer 2003): 2-52. See also L~on Clugnet, "Vie et R~cits de l'Abbd Daniel de Sc~t~," Revue de l'Orient Chr~tien 5 (1900): 67-70. See also Witness to Holiness: Abba Daniel of Scetis, ed. Tim Vivian (Kalamazoo: Cistercian Publications, forthcoming). z Archimandrite is a term usually used only in the Orthodox and Coptic Christian traditions, referring to a leader of the monastery. 3 Vivian, "Wimess," p. 36. 4 Vivian, "Witness," p. 36. 5 Primarily I am using Palladius, Lausiac History, ed. and trans. Robert Meyer, Vol. 34 of Ancient Christian Writers series, ed. Johannes Quasten (New York: Newman Press, 1964), pp. 96-98. 6 Palladius, p. 97, and see The Life of Blessed Syncletica by Pseudo- Athanasius, ed. and trans. Elizabeth Bryson Bongie (Toronto: Peregrina Publishing, 1995). 7 Pelagius's name is given to the heresy that denies original sin and claims that human beings can choose the good on their own and thereby effect their own salvation. We see echoes of this in the posunodern North American and western European culture. Jansen's name is given to the heresy that human nature is so flawed by original sin that special grace is needed to follow Christ. His teachings around determinism are quite similar to Calvin's teachings on predestination. Jansenism was a rigorous and austere movement. I suggest that much of our perfectionist drive comes from the Jansenist influence on our culture. 63.2 2004 Swan * Paradox in the Monastery 8 See Walter Brueggemann, Praying the Psalms (Winona: St. Mary's Press, 1986). 9 See Susanna Elm, Virgins of God: The Making of Asceticism in Late Antiquity (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994), and Rebecca Krawiec, Shenoute and the Women of the White Monastery: Egyptian Monasticism in Late Antiquity (New York: Oxford University Press, 2001). They Who Sow in Tears. These are not hollow hours that the spirit spends in tortured wrestling with a loneliness trenchant and piercing. Even this ache that rends our subtlest calm beyond each day's regress with sharp-toothed gnawing at the being's core is heaven-sent, is calculate, is more than all our orisons, presaging joyous yield. This is the "sowing in tears" within His field. Agnes Margaret Humbert CDP (nursing home, age ninety-one) Review for Religious PATRICK SEAN MOFFETT Viewing Chapters as "Authoring" Our Congregations' Narratives ~hSU~S offers us his story. While walking the streets, lls, and lakesides of his homeland, he authored in Spirited word and action the initial chapters of the defin-ing narrative of Christianity. All eyes were on him in his hometown synagogue as he proclaimed that the words of Isaiah were being fulfilled in their hearing: "The Spirit of God has been given to me and has anointed me. God has sent me to bring the good news to the poor, to proclaim liberty to captives and to the blind new sight" (Lk 4:18-19). Chapters have a unique function in the lives of reli-gious congregations and their members and in the wider church. They merit re-viewing and re-hearing from a number of vantage points. Here I present a perspective that emphasizes the storytelling nature of these eccle-sial events. Stories We Live By In the stories people tell about themselves, psychol-ogists find a manifestation of two great motivational forces: agency and communion.~ Agency refers to behav- Patdck Sean Moffett CFC writes again from Christian Brothers, Central Harlem; 74 West 124th Street; New York, N.Y. 10027. I.LJ~K.~'O"~ 63.2 2004 iors that individuals perceive as uniquely their own: I think, I feel, I do. Communion refers to people's percep-tions of relatedness, of belonging, of being integral mem-bers of a group that they experience as us or we. In chapter preparations, various "Emmaus Walks" have gained favor as ways of fostering shared discern-ment. They are making a reappearance, displacing a pre-vious decade's preference for evaluations and sorting exercises' designed to evoke an exchange on personality types or styles of human interaction. Gospel based and focusing on people's unique life journeys, Emmaus Walks facilitate personal narration. Participants are usually assigned a partner randomly. After a time of reflecting by oneself (perhaps on a given theme or a text of Scripture) or checking in on one's own current affect, the pair simply take a walk during which they express what is happening within them. These exchanges are sometimes followed by testimonies within small or large groups or by a period of shared silence and a concluding blessing or hymn. The Emmaus Walk serves as an example of the story-telling which begins anew with the announcement of a coming chapter and characterizes much of what happens throughout the time of chapter. Individual members are invited to reflect on the movement of the Spirit within their individual and. communal experiences and then to share their observations with their sisters or brothers in local, provincial, and eventually congregational contexts. "Time of chapter" is the full period extending from the first announcement through, the preparations, the prechapter gatherings, the formal opening, and the issue and voting sessions to the chapter's formal conclusion. Consecrated Life in a Time of Chapter "Why is this day different from every other day?" The child's question opening the Hebrew Passover ritual Review for Religious might be applied to the time of chapter. Consecrated life in the Christian tradition is nourished by daily atten-tion to the Spirit of Jesus working in and through the individual and the community. A call to chapter is an invitation to each and all of the members to engage in discernment that goes beyond the usual daily praxis. In personal reflection, in personal and communal prayer, in speaking and listening, the focus in the time of chap-ter is our unity within our brotherhood or sisterhood in Christ. Our individual stories are narrated within the communal story. We attend individually to movements of the Spirit that may be intended for the whole community. I attend within myself, within the community, and within the people we are called to serve. I willingly risk asking if there is something in our shared life that I am called at this time to affirm, to question, to challenge, or to propose. I risk accepting a call to prophesy, a call to speak to my brothers or sisters in the name of God. I listen with special attention to those who speak in ways that challenge me, that call me to deeper levels of relationship with them and with our God. I test the spir-its that are stirring among us. I listen with mind and heart, noting particularly what evokes strong signs of passion, dissonance, or consent. Collectively, the members of the congregation under-stand that a general chapter is a defining moment in the ongoing story of their institute. Canon law is quite explicit: In an institute the general chapter has supreme author-ity in accordance with the constitutions. It is to be composed in such a way that it represents the whole institute and becomes a true sign of its unity in char-ity. Its principal functions are to protect the patri-mony of the institute . . . and to foster appropriate renewal in accord with that patrimony. It also elects the supreme moderator, deals with matters of greater importance, and issues norms which all are bound to obey. (c. 631, §i) 63.2 2004 Moffett ¯ Viewing Cbapt~ The New Testament offers what might be considered models of chapter. Stories within a Story The New Testament offers what might be considered models of chapter. Jesus gathers the disciples on the return from their first mission. They share stories marveling at all they had done and taught (Mk 6:30). Jesus chooses a committee consisting of Peter, James, and John to wit-ness the transfiguration. As Jesus approaches the time of his passion, he gathers the full group as friends at a meal in an upper room. He ritualizes his role among them as one who serves, and he enjoins them to follow his example. He speaks with great intimacy of his rela-tionship with his Father and with them, and of their incor-poration into his continuing story. He announces a new commandment revealing the defining characteristics of their agency and their commu-nion. "As I have loved you, you love one another. By this all will know that you are my disciples" On 13:3 4). Several postresurrection encounters are similar. Peace, self-reve-lation, and a shared mission are the recurrent themes. In the Acts of the Apostles, as the members of the early church confront issues of leadership, community management, and inclusiveness, there is a coming together to consider what is happening among them, to recall the story of tlieir mission, and to decide--"we and the Holy Spirit"--where to go from here. Religious hold as a treasure, but also as a memory of painful moments, the chapter stories of their congrega-tions- times of jubilee, special fervor, and renewal, but also of schisms, suppressions, and even denunciations of their founders. In the treasures of Franciscan lore, the gathering of the friars in 1217 at Pentecost continues to suggest Review for Religious images and hopes for new generations of the sons and daughters of the Poverello. He writes to those who were to gather, encouraging them to have a listening heart and to be "cleansed and enlightened interiorly and fired with the ardor of the Holy Spirit": Listen, then, sons of God and my friars, and give ear to my words. Give hearing with all your hearts, and obey the voice of the Son of God. Keep his com-mandments wholeheartedly, and practice his counsels with all your minds. Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; extol him in your works. This is the very rea-son he has sent you all over the world, so that by word and deed you may bear witness to his message and convince everyone that there is no other almighty God besides him. Almighty, eternal, just, and merciful God, grant us in our misery that we may do for your sake alone what we know you want us to do, and may always want what pleases you; so that, cleansed and enlightened interiorly and fired with the ardor of the Holy Spirit, we may be able to follow in the footsteps of your Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, and so make our way to you, Most High, by your grace alone, who live and reign in perfect Trinity and simple Unity, and are glorified, God omnipotent, for ever and ever. Amen.2 In 1976 Eduardo Cardinal Pironio, in his role as pre-fect of the Sacred Congregation for Religious, offered a vision that anticipated many of the directions that chap-ters have taken during the past quarter century: A chapter is not a mere study meeting, a superficial gathering or a short-lived revision of life. A chapter is essentially a paschal celebration. For this reason it is above all a "penitential" celebration which aims at liv-ing two things deeply: a sincere attitude of conver-sion and a deep and painful search., for God's will in the present necessities of consecrated life. But, since it is a real paschal celebration, it is not just the penitential aspects that interest us in a chap-ter. It is the whole extent of paschal newness, a fresh- 63.2 2004 ness in the church and a good dose of pasc.hal opti-mism. If the chapter has been celebrated well, in poverty, prayer, and brotherly charity, it is a re-cre-ation of the institute, and its spiritual riches overflow upon the church and the world. Because of all this, the chapter is a salvific event, an ecclesial event, a family event. (L'Osservatore Romano, English edition, 16 September 1976) For many congregations the "time of chapter" has become increasingly inclusive of individuals and groups with whom they are associated in life and ministry. Coworkers and those served are invited to share in many aspects of the chapter preparations and celebrations. They respond with helpful and often challenging insights, genuine affirmations, and earnest testimonies to possible applications of the congregation's charism. They clearly have a role in the story of the institute. As the chapter moves into its more formal role of supreme authority with respect to the congregation's members and its choice of leaders, the various associates join with the universal church in prayerfully awaiting, outside closed doors, the moment of a new Pentecost. The church, historically the chief beneficiary of these charismatic moments, is most attentive in protecting the members' rights and asserting their duty to discern among themselves the movement of the Spirit. J Planning the Chapter Groups engaged in chapter preparations, when asked what outcomes are most desired, readily speak of a greater unity--unity in who they are and what they are about in the name of the Lord. "By this they will know that you are my disciples." A steering committee approaches the design of a chapter with the guidelines of canon law and with the congregation's constitution, statutes, directives, and cus-toms, but also with aspects of the "Zeitgeist" or cultural Review for Religious climate of contemporary religious congregations. Resources, facilities, travel possibilities, witness, means of communication, inclusiveness, ministerial pressures, and solidarity are some of the issues that have evoked creativity and diversity in the conduct of chapters. The Spirit has been called on to adjust to a great variety of venues. Faith is supported by Jesus' promise that, wher-ever two or three are gathered in his name, he will be around for whatever will be happening. Canon law offers chapter planners two notes: § 1. Participatory and consultative bodies are faithfully to carry out the task entrusted to them, in accordance with the universal law and the institute's own law. In their own way they are to express the care and par-ticipation of all the members for the good of the whole institute or community. §2. In establishing and utilizing these means of participation and consultation, a wise discernment is to be observed, and the way in which they operate is to be in conformity with the character and purpose of the institute. (c. 633) The initial request for community members' sug-gestions about the chapter tends to elicit many concerns about content and process that go well beyond what a large gathering could address within the limited time available, and so standing or ad hoc committees are assigned the tasks of: ¯ sorting through the initial input, ¯ performing or commissioning the research necessary for a more thorough study of stated expectancies and issues, ¯ developing preliminary drafts of papers or pro-posals, and ¯ offering opportunities for the members to share an emerging story in a variety of ways. (Letters, emails, calls, community and intercommunity gather-ings, retreats, liturgies, and assemblies become part of an extended effort to incorporate into the "time of chap-ter" the experiences and issues that may not find space and time in the formal chapter gathering.) 63.2 2004 Moffett ¯ Viewing Chapters A sacred history informs the narrative of our times. All recent retellings of the story of "consecrated life" make reference to defining characteristics articulated in the Vatican II Decree on the Appropriate Renewal of Religious Life, Perfectae caritatis. Religious hear a call to be faithful as men and women of our times, as followers of Jesus and his gospel, as members of the people of God sharing the mission of the church in the world, and as religious gifted with the charism of our particular congregation? The specification of a "time of chapter" is an invita-tion for members of a congregation to become more intensely engaged in sharing stories about the action of the Spirit in our personal and communal lives. My sisters and brothers encourage me: ¯ to attend to revelation I am receiving for the group, ¯ to share that truth in love, ¯ to attend to the prophecy of my sisters and brothers, ¯ to explore the differences, and ¯ to seek in faith the light, the direction, and the leadership that will guide our shared lives and mission toward the next chapter. When the members of the congregation or their del-egates come together for the formal affairs sessions and elections, it is a time for refinement, affirmation, and actualization of a consensus that has been emerging dur-ing several months of prayerful discernment, prophetic sharing, thoughtful listening, and rearticulation of the group narrative. In the process it is the movement of the Spirit that matters. The concluding chapter sessions, in their distinct moments, are a point of arrival and a new departure. Having clarified a shared vision for the life and mission of the congregation over the next few years, the members select those who will have a leadership role in helping Review for Religious membership remain attentive to the Spirit as together-- membership, leadership, and Spirit--they author the beginning lines of a new chapter in the continuing story of the congregation. The Zeitgeist and Some Dangerous Ideas As men and women of their times, members of reli-gious congregations, especially those working at the mar-gins of society, have a special vantage point for observing the surrounding culture, but also the risk of being affected by it. Much of what once happened only at general chap-ters has become part of congregations' ongoing admin-istration. Instant communication, travel opportunities, greater exposure to global issues, international and inter-cultural exchange, shared ministries, and increased col-laboration with governmental and nongovernmental organizations have broadened our ministerial vision and reduced our corporate response time. In the process, congregations have been exposed to prevalent cultural influences; sometimes they have regressed in search of past glories and a lost sense of security. Marist Father Gerald Arbuckle sounds the alert for "Avoiding Cultural Seduction in General Chapters" (Human Development 23, no. 3, Fall 2002). Recent terrorist activity has heightened awareness and concern about what propels groups toward conflict. Researchers are examining belief systems that seem to be fueling intergroup hostilities. Psychologists Roy and Judy Eidelson, in a review of the growing body of liter-ature, have identified five belief domains particularly important for further study: superiority, injustice, vul-nerability, distrust, and helplessness.4 They suggest a consideration of what happens as these ideas are incor-porated into the self-definition of individuals and then of the group to which they belong. 63.2 2004 Moffett ¯ Viewing Chapters Extraordinary times offer obstacles and opportuni-ties for evangelization. As in all instances of empathic ministerial response to hurt and evil, we are called to find within our own stories traces of what we seek to address. Our own sinful history attunes us to what makes Congregations sometimes have regressed in search of past glories and a lost sense of security. others particularly vulner-able to prevalent cultural influences, to what the Eidelsons call "dangerous ideas." Religious need not be suicide bombers or look beyond their own congre-gational experiences to have an initial insight into the dynamics of such ideas: "I and we are the superior ones. I and we have been the victims of injustice. I and we are particularly vulnerable. I and we cannot trust those who are not like us. I and we cannot do anything to change the situation." Significant insights become apparent in the telling of our stories. Chapters in an era of world conflict are called to attend afresh to the cry of the poor within and beyond the congregation. Those whose daily ministry affords them intimate interaction with the suffering Christ have stories that can lead to new life in the con-gregation. So can the stories of those who feel the dull pain of not having such opportunities. The challenge of chapter is that of evoking and attending to all these voices and recognizing the promised Spirit within them. From Our Stories to Our Story The current ages of those telling their stories can affect the themes that arise within the group. For exam-ple, a congregation that has numbers of older members and fewer young ones may find itself discussing genera- Revlew for Religious tivity (vs. stagnation) and integrity (vs. despair) and may be left with little time or energy for issues of identity, ministry, and intimacy, issues likely to concern the younger members. Accommodations may need to be made to assure that the group story will include the graces and struggles of all the members, not just the majority. Erik Erikson was in his eighties when he published a revision of his influential description of the life cycle. He focused on the way that personal identity, the "I," becomes ever more fully integrated into a "we." He said, "The sisterhoods and brotherhoods of the 'we' come to share a joined identity experienced as most real.''s A chap-ter needs to hear the congregation story as it is expressed anew in the lives of individuals and groups within the congregation. Not all the results will accommodate tran-scription onto paper or into electronic storage. Certain matters need to be transcribed. Constitutions and statutes govern the lives of the congregation's mem-bers. The approval process needs to be enlightened with all of the knowledge, wisdom, and grace available to those whose vote on specific matters will affect the future of all of their brothers or sisters. Records of valid voting procedures legitimate the transfer and continuity of lead-ership. Accounts and decisions concerning the patrimony of the congregation affect mission feasibilities and mem-bers' welfare, and they require skilled attention. All such matters are guided by canon law and by the law and cus-toms of the congregation. The experience of chapter, of specially shared broth-erhood or sisterhood and of the participants' careful pro-cedures and conscientious voting, is not easy to share with those who were not present. When words no longer adequately describe the lived reality of our being and doing, we struggle to find new words. We have a shared understanding of our collective story, about which words 63.2 2004 Moffett ¯ Viewing ~hapten The experience of chapter is not easy to share with those who were not present. fail, but the story is accurate. We measure other stories against that one. We likewise have intuitions of ourselves and of one another. By such intuitions we know for our-selves and others what is individually appropriate or not. Some words could be mine but not yours, some clothing would be comfortable for you but not me. In music, art, recreation, and so forth, in some way all that we become engaged in carries our unique signatures. Our collective images are shared. We can identify what is Franciscan, Dominican, Jesuit, typically Christian Brother, Mercy, or CND. Every document that is "ours" will have to fit within the domain of this collective vision. No document will ever capture it fully. As most of us sur-vive quite well without a definitive autobiography, so too our congregations. While described in a plethora of his-torical documents, as long as the congregation lives in its members, the story remains "in process." On the mountain Peter offered to capture in a build-ing project the brilliant manifestation of Jesus with Moses and Elijah. John probably had in mind a first draft of the account he never needed to write. James? For cen-turies great numbers of pilgrims to Compostela in Spain have touched into stories of this apostle's own manifes-tations. They speak of conversion and special graces. Yet all we know with some degree of certainty is that this James earned the crown of martyrdom in Jerusalem early in the story of the infant church (Ac 12:1). The words of Jesus reported in the synoptic accounts of his transfiguration suggest that each of the chosen delegates took from the mountain something to be cher-ished unspoken until it was time to proclaim the Son of Review for Religious Man's resurrection. Their privileged vision was not of something that was to come, but rather of that which always is. Together they beheld for a moment the light of the one God in whom they live and breathe and have their being. Such are our chapter stories. Notes t Dan P. McAdams, The Stories We Live By (New York: Wm. Morrow and Company, 1993); David Bakan, The Duality of Human Existence: Isolation and Communion in Western Man (Boston: Beacon Press, 1966); P.S. Moffett, "Promoting Agency among Children and Adolescents at the Margins" (invited address, American Psychological Association), Journal of Pastoral Counseling 30 (1995). 2 Taken from The Writings of St. Francis of Assisi, trans. Benen Fahy OFM (London: Burns and Oates, 1964), pp. 104 and 108. 3 Perfectae caritatis, Decree on the Appropriate Renewal of the Religious Life; Instruction on Essential Elements in the Church's Teaching on Religious Life as Applied to Institutes Dedicated to Works of the Apostolate, Congregation for Religious and Secular Institutes, 31 May 1983; lHta consecrata, apostolic exhortation of Pope John Paul II, 1996; Ytarting Afresh from Christ: A Renewed Commitment to Consecrated Life in the Third Millennium, CICLSAL, 19 May 2002. 4 Roy J. Eidelson and Judy I. Eidelson, "Dangerous Ideas: Five Beliefs That Propel Groups toward Conflict," American Psychologist 58, no. 3 (March 2003). s Erik Erikson, The Life Cycle Completed (London: W.W. Norton and Co., 1982). May Drunk on the wild plum, heady with endless stretches of bluebells surrendered to the woods (such are spring's goods, not to sell, but to sate novice eyes so long accustomed to the late gray winter's moods); all, all is given from these places where you, 0 Trinity, hide your faces. Eileen Haugh OSF 63.2 2004 J. THOMAS HAMEL Our Lady's Presence in the Spiritual Exercises gnatian tradition The first mention of our Lady in the Spiritual Exercises is in the first exercise of the First Week. "Preamble 1. This is the composition, seeing the place., the material place where the object I want to contemplate is situated . By 'mate-rial place' I mean, for example, a temple or a mountain where Jesus Christ or our Lady is to be found, according to what I want to contem-plate." ~ Is it by chance that the two examples given are a temple and a mountain? Major events took place in the temple (finding the lost twelve-year-old there) and, twenty years later, at the mount called Olivet (Jesus' ascension)--and who can doubt that our Lady was among the disciples there? (Lk 24:50-53; Ac 1:12-14). As a young child Mary was presented in the temple accord-ing to legend, even as later she presented her newborn to the Lord (Lk 2:22). Temple and J. Thomas Hamel SJ does spiritual direction and lives at College of the Holy Cross; 1 College Street; Worcester, Massachusetts 01610. Review for Religious mountain bring to mind what scripture scholars have long noted, that Mary was the only human person pre-sent to Jesus' life from beginning to end. The same is eminently true of her presence in the Spiritual Exercises. The first contemplation of the first day of the Second Week, on the incarnation, not only embraces the sacred event itself, but even invites retreatants to speak to "the eternal Word [so altogether newly] incarnate" in Mary's womb (§109). All of a sudden her womb is sacred space, a living temple. On the same first day, the presence and activity of our Lady is highlighted in the three points on our Lord's birth (§264). The second point simply quotes St. Luke: "She bore her firstborn son and wrapped him in swad-dling clothes and laid him in a manger" (Lk 2:7). In the third point the angelic choir sings "Glory to God in the highest" for Mary and Joseph and the child lying in the manger. (Ignatius conveniently forgets that the angels sang to the shepherds.) Putting her Son in a manger is our Lady's way of presenting him to the world. We can assume that Ignatius thought of that, and that the thought included a loving gaze at Jesus' entire life, the Life of the world. So aware of Jesus' birth in utter poverty, Ignatius recalls the arduous journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem. Ignatian contemplation is the exercise of being present first of all to details of some material things: the width of a road, its length, its smoothness or roughness, the width and depth of a cave, the size of a manger or trough, the height of a hill like Calvary. Imagined details about the route to Bethlehem invite us to be aware of the child pre-sent in Mary's womb on that long and arduous journey-- a prelude to journeys from Bethlehem to Egypt, and back to Galilee, later to the Jordan, to Samaritan territory, to Judea and Calvary. Jesus in the manger under his mother's care was the visible beginning of our finding our Savior 63.2 2004 Hamel ¯ Ou~ Lady's Pre~ence present everywhere in the world. Such is the way of the Holy Spirit at work in Ignatian contemplation. Our Lady's offering of her Son to the shepherds and to the world was a revelation, the source of Ignatius's own mysticism of apostolic gervice. Ignatian retreatants are invited to serve the needs of the mother, of Joseph, and the servant girl (§114) and, following the contem-plative gaze of Ignatius, are led on a journey that includes Christ carrying his cross to Calvary (§ 116). The mys-tery of the birth of Christ our Lord, or rather the mys-teries surrounding his birth, glow with something mystical. How else explain what Ignatius did when it was no longer possible for him and his first companions to go to the Holy Land? Thirteen months after his ordination to the priesthood, he celebrated his first Mass in the Church of St. Mary Major on 25 December 1538 at the altar of the manger in which Christ was said to have been placed. Once again Ignatius was reliving that sacred moment when our Lady placed her Son in the manger. Was the manger all along a kind of mystical manger which later prompted that long-standing desire of Ignatius that our Lady be pleased to place him with her Son? It is no sur-prise that her response was the mystical vision of La Storta in November 1537: He had resolved to remain a year, once he became a priest, without saying Mass, preparing himself and praying our Lady to be pleased to put him with her Son. And being one day

Issue 62.4 of the Review for Religious, 2003. ; Church Dii~ection D evo tion a 1 Life Religious Life Pers 3ectives QUARTERLY 62.4 2003 Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bimonthly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Telephone: 314-977-7363 ¯ Fax: 314-977-7362 E-Mail: review@slu.edu ¯ V~Zeb site: www.reviewforreligious.org Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ° St. Louis, MO 63108-3393 Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP Mount St. Mary's Seminary; Emmitsburg, Maryland 21727 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©2003 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for th~ personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. MI copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the crehtion of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. fo r religious LIVING OUR CATHOLIC LEGACIES Editor ¯ Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming sJ Clare Boehmer ASC Philip C. Fischer SJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Judy Sharp Sr. Raymond Marie Gerard FSP Eugene Hensell OSB Ernest E. Larkin OCarm Louis and Angela Menard Bishop Carlos A. Sevilla SJ Miriam D. Ukeritis CSJ QUARTERLY 62.4 2003 contents 340 church direction Alphonsus's Perspective in the Post-Vatican II Church Nihal Abeyasingha CSSR highlights the God-given perspective of St. Alphonsus Liguori and suggests that such a perspective can be pgeserved even though the content of the Christian message has new dimensions after Vatican II. 354 Belief, Augustine, and the New Religiosity Paul Graham OSA enters us into a reflection on the shape of our faith, as opposed to its content, in contemporary Western society. devotional life 363 Rediscovering the Rosary Dennis J. Billy CSSR reviews the pope's apostolic letter on the rosary as a venerable form of prayer that will help Christians "to contemplate with Mary the ffice of Christ." 37O Mirroring Jesus: The Luminous Mysteries and Religious Life Mary Joseph Schultz SCC reflects on the luminous mysteries of the rosary not only as a new graced opportunity to deepen our faith by bringing the public life of Jesus into the rosary, but also as a special gift to vowed religious to reflect on essential elements of consecrated life. Review for Religious 379 reOi ious perspectives Why Newly Professed Religious Leave Peter Cantwell OFM reflects not only on what younger people are disillusioned by in religious life but also on what current members might provide as helps in a mutual effort to live the charism. 402 Ignatian Insights into Evangelical Poverty Donald C. Maldari SJ explores the richness and relevance of evangelical poverty and its relationship to theological hope in the spirituality of St. Ignatius Loyola. departments 338 Prisms 423 Canonical Counsel: Papal Enclosure 431 Book Reviews 440 Indexes L33-7-- 62.4 2003 Te naturalized British writer Hilaire Belloc (1870-1953) came to the United States for the first time with hope of winning a young lady's hand. He had met her and her mother earlier, when they were visiting England. Sometime during his unexpectedly 16ng and difficult land trip west to California to propose to her, Belloc was stimulated to write the following light verse: Kings live in palaces, pigs in sties, youth in expectation. Youth is wise. Despite Belloc's idealistic inspiration, we might hesitate to agree that such youthful expectation is wise. When our hopes, our expectations, are not realized, we can become disillusioned or bitter and angry or, perhaps, if we have a certain psychological makeup, resilient. As it happened, Belloc's marriage proposal was rejected by the young lady's mother, but he returned to England with his expectations intact. A year or so later, he took another trip to the United States with the same purpose in view, and this time he was successful. He married the young lady. Undoubtedly he felt that he had made his own the truth he had expressed in his verse. Our Catholic faith seems to agree with youth, even finding that living in expectation is a divine way of living. Jesus, after all, taught us to Review for Religious pray daily "Thy kingdom come." Certain times of the year, like Advent, and holy days like All Saints, All Souls, and Christmas highlight for us the virtue of hope or expectation. God has such divine expectations of each one of us that there is no limit to how often he forgives our wrongdoing. Likewise there are no restrictions on the graces of God's intimacy with his sons and daughters in Christ. Scripture would have us believe that God expects to delight in us. Expectation, then, considered in a Christian light, is not just for the young, but it is the graced quality of those who are called to be young in heart by their Christian baptism. Living in expectation, we look forward to growing in holiness. We have expectations about ourselves as saints, just as God does. Living in expectation, we look for the ways that God shines forth in the world he created and leads us towards God's reign. Entering into St. Paul's heart, we have expectations that God keeps working at the century-by-century fulfillment of his creation in Christ. We as members of Christ's Body expect to play our own part, with God, in bringing about this fullness of redemption. Of course, we all have our natural fear of dying, especially faced with its unknown pain and circumstances. But we as Christians can at the same time look towards death with expectation, welcoming our further identity with Christ in receiving death as one more gift of the Father so that we can rejoice in resurrected life forever. As we say in our Creed, we expect the res-urrection of the dead and the life of the world to come. Yes, to live in expectation is a profound Christian calling. Such living is rooted, not in youthfulness, but in God, and is sustained by God. We the baptized are meant to live in expectation. We devoutly pray for God's presence gracing us in this way. Then we are youthfully wise. David L. Fleming SJ 62.4 2003 church NIHAL ABEYASINGHA Alphonsus's Perspective in. the Post-Vatican I! Church direction Redemptorists were for a considerable period of their history called "hellfire preachers." And so indeed they were. At the time of Alphonsus Liguori, the founder of the Redemptorists, the preaching was accompanied by "audiovisuals" that would be considered macabre today--the exhibition of a skull, an imaginary dialogue with a damned soul, and thepreachers going around the town in the dark crying out "Save your soul!" Obviously, these procedures cannot and should not be duplicated today. But, if what he did represented a God-given perspective, I think it would be a pity to lose the perspective even today. In this article I intend to highligh,t Alphonsus's perspective and suggest tentatively that it can be preserved even though the content--or the awareness of the content--of the Christian message has new dimensions after Vatican Council II. Nihal Abeyasingha CSSR lives at 454/9 Piachaud Gardens; Peradeniya Road; Kandy, Sri Lanka. Review for Reli~ous Background of the Ministry of Alphonsus The Council of Tren.lt (1545-1563) met to counter the effect that Luther's andI other Reformation perspectives were having on the church. The perspectives were primarily doctrinal. They had serious implications, however, for the institutional and disciplinary structure of the church. There was pblarization: Scripture alone versus Scripture and Tradition;'I faith as commitment alone (tides fiducialis) versus faith ificluding content; only God and grace versus God in Christ acting through human ministry and grace being mediate.d through the church. When the council met in 1545, the attendance was poor, some forty bishops, most of the~m Italian. They began with disagreement, but by 1546 they decided to deal simulta-neously with both doctrifial and disciplinary issues. . The shadow of thel Reformation cast a permanent shadow on the council's deliberations. The result was an emphasis on 'what the Reformers had gotten wrong by Catholic criteria, ignorin, g altogether what they got right. (In the words of G.K. Chesterton, every heresy is the revenge of a forgotten ~r_~-uth.) Among other things, Trent stressed the veneration iof the saints, devotion to Mary, the Mass as sacrifice, th~ importance of suffrages for the dead, and other matters! against the Reformers, Spin-offs of these lines of thought in Catholic culture included stress on Euchanstac ad.orataon, a deemphasls of the role of the laity, and undu~e emphasis on the role of the . ordained minister who c.onfects the Eucharist. In the Catholic trad, ition the theology that followed was highly systematized, the disciplinary structure rigid and centrahzed. But the, ology also reflected attempts to find places of accord with Luther. For example, Michel de Bay of Louvain (+1589) thought of original sin as depriving human beingi of what constitutes the human condition--another vergion of Luther's understanding of humanity's "radical corruption." Bay's position was 62.4 2003 Abeyasingba ¯ Alpbonsus's Perspective Alphonsus's ministry was "popular," directed to the masses who lacked competent pastoral care. defended by Cornelius Jansen (+1638). Even though views such as these were repudiated by the church, they had effects on requirements for receiving the sacraments. I suggest that Alphonsus used the "last things" (death, judgment, heaven, and hell), which had a major impact on Luther, as a call to conversion for those in sin. The response of conversion that he sought was oriented towards the sacraments of recon-ciliation and the Eucharist, the ecclesial communion that is based on the true faith and true sacraments. Alphonsus's ministry was "popular," directed to the masses who lacked competent pastoral care. These people were steeped in superstition and magic, and lived in fear of frightful evils such as the devil coming into their lives. That is where Alphonsus started; he addressed their emotion of fear by proclaiming the last things. Beginning his preaching of the Christian message here, he le~l individuals to the sacraments. He wanted to make it as easy as possible for sinners to confess to a priest (in contrast to the Reformers' idea of confessing directly to God). He advocated a gentle manner with those who committed sins by almost unconscious habit and with those who fell again and again into the same sin (consuetudinarii and recidivt). In his time the laxist view allowed absolution as often as penitents confessed, while the rigorist view demanded thorough amendment of life before they could receive absolution. Mphonsus proposed a middle path of sound common sense. He said that absolution should be refused to consuetudinarii and recidivi unless there were clear signs of repentance, which he listed: tears, weeping, a lessening of the number of sins, notable efforts at amendment such Review for Reli~ous as fasting or almsgiviOg, evidence of a search for new means of improvement, spontaneous confession, special motivation such as the fear of some impending disaster, confession of sins previously and culpably omitted, prior restitution, new awardness, of guilt. He advocated that absolution be deferred only when the confessor was morally certain of the penitent's wrong disposition; that is, .for deferral he needed to make a prudent probable judgment about ,tpheen'i te"n t s' fundamental lack of sorrow. He said, too, ~at absolution is not to be deferred if there is danger of more harm than good being done.1 Through reconciliation followed by the Eucharist (the emphasis more on Holy Communion than on the Mass), people were weaned ,away from sin. What was taking place is pictured on thd cover Alphonsus designed for his book Selva: The Digni~ and Duties of the Priest. The priest is hearing confession .'in front of a large crucifix. Rays from the crucified Lo,"rd stream towards the penitent. Alphonsus's pastoral r~alism saw God's action in Christ reaching penitents thro.'ugh the sacramental mediation of the church. The perspelctive is close to that of Irenaeus of Lyon (+202): "God is~ man's glory, but it is man who receives the effect of Gbd's activity, who is the recipient of all God's wisdom and power. Just as a doctor proves himself in his patients, ~o God reveals himself in men." 2 Alphonsus facilitated reconciliation with a bias in favor of penitents because of his own trust in the power of God's grace. He-k~ew that generally the habitual sinners would fear death, judgment, hell, and the loss of heaven and so would approach sacramental recon-ciliation. He knew thht fear as a motive does not last long. He knew that "~erfect love casts out fear" (1 Jn 4:18). So, to lead therfi beyond fear and enable them to remain converted, to p'ersevere, he offered the motive of love and a support structure of prayer and fellowship, namely, confraternities. 62.4 2003 Abeyasingba * Alpbonsus'sPer~ective To sustain people's effort and stir up love in them, he presented considerations that would naturally lead to love. Look how much God loved you, sending his Son in human .form; that Son died for you amid unspeakable suffering; that intense love continues in his abiding presence, especially in the Eucharist. Will you not return love for love? In such works as The Practice oft be Love of Jesus Christ, he would go further into the qualities that true love for Jesus entails. He knew, of course, the sinner's obvious objection: I am too weak to respond with any degree of intensity of love. He forestalled that objection by his teaching on prayer. Christ has said, "Ask and you shall receive." Ask God--that is prayer. Because God has said it, you will receive. Everyone and anyone can do this much. He bolstered this position by citing respected authors and by telling stories of how sinners who did not stop praying " received a final chance to repent and be saved. Even daough many of the stories would be laughed at today, in those days they made his point effectively. Parish missions were considered finished only when all had had an opportunity for confession. After the mission Alphonsus established some ongoing programs: regular mental prayer in the church and confraternities where people supported one another with fellowship, prayer, and regular instruction to stay on the path of their conversion. There is a clear overall perspective in these programs. Today one can object that in this model popular piety and liturgy merely coexist and that the former can even take precedence over the latter.3 It is likely that Alphonsus knew of Ludovico Antonio Muratori, a 17th-century writer who in Della Regolata Devozione dei Cristiani (Norms for Christian Devotion) proposed a religiosity that drew from the liturgy and the Scriptures to offset superstition and magic, and that he also knew of Benedict XIV's important initiative of permitting the use of the Review for Religious Bible in the vernacular. But Alphonsus did not bring these perspectives into his work for the pastorally most abandoned, chiefly uneducated people inclined to superstition. It would make little sense. They might give a symbolic assent to the matter presented and engage in a symbolic act of conversion, but their lives would not be much changed. Alphonsus said that the test of a good sermon is when the people leave the church striking their breast and not talking about the preacher. A New Context As the church in mid-20th-century Europe was facing something of a crisis of neglect and indifference, some new theological perspectives and initiatives in Scripture, catechesis, and liturgy were appearing. Without intend!ng to imply that Redemptorists were in the forefront of the pre-Vatican II theological scene--in fact, they were not--I venture to suggest that two Redemptorists made a significant contribution to this evolving theology. They did this by examining the existing perspectives in the light of Alphonsus's call-response perspective (fear as initial stimulus leading to love in the long term). This was obvious in the German Bernard H~iring.4 EX. Durrwell, from France, highlighted the grandeur of the resurrection in God's redemptive plan so that believers could more attractively show those who were ignoring the Christian message the way to conversion and growth.5 After all, the motto of the Redemptorist congregation is "With him is plentiful redemption." Paul Hitz CSSR, of Switzerland, even though he did not receive much international notice, contributed to catechetics, which too is a call to grow as believers. Vatican II bro,ught into focus several aspects of theology for which 'Isome theologians had been disciplined. It rediscove~'ed the paschal mystery and, with that, found a new view df the ¯church: its being sacrament, I 62.4 2003 Abeyasingha ¯ Alphonsus's Perspective the common priesthood of all Christ's faithful (and some consequences of this), and a renewed liturgy.6 Alphonsus's Perspective in a Post-Vatican II Context Can Mphonsus's perspective fit in this post-Vatican II context? I do not know whether this question has been posed in this way. It is claimed that Alphonsus's perspective is embodied in a story that is loved, remembered, and lived by Redemptorists. Without assessing that claim, perhaps articulating some contemporary dimensions may not be out of place. In his Confessions Augustine (+430) made this prayerful observation: "Since the time I first learned of You, there is nothing of You I have discovered that I have not discovered by remembering." And what he discovered in responding to the Manichees, Donatists, and Pelagians of his time has influence even in our day. Perhaps one may suggest that a hint of a Vatican II perspective was already present in Alphonsus. In his Duetto (Dialogue with the Soul) he imagines a soul meeting Christ going to his death. The soul asks: "Where ¯ are you going?" Jesus replies: "I am going to die." The soul wants to follow him. Jesus asks the soul to give him his heart and then go and live, always remembering his (Jesus') love." In practice, one emotion seems dominant in the Redemptorist recognition of, and conversion from, sin, and that is joy, thankfulness that one is forgiven. "Father, you show your almighty power chiefly in your mercy and forgiveness" (opening prayer, 26th Sunday, Ordinary Time). Put this grateful joy felt by Redemptorists into the picture of alertness for clear signs of repentance--fear as a starting point of conversion, tears, fewer sins, fasting or almsgiving, seeking new ways to improve, and so forth--and perhaps you have something that at least resonates with the perspective of the Exsultet of the Easter Vigil, stemming from well Review for Religious before Vatican II: 'iWhat good would life have been for us had Christ not come as our Redeemer? Father, how wonderful your care for us! How boundless your merciful love! To ransom a slave you gave away your Son. O happy fault, O necessary sin of Adam, which gained for us so great a Redeemer!" Does this Redemptorist picture from before Vatican II fit in with post-Vatican II theological reflection? I think it does. After being careful to identify those who are in the greatest pastoral need, we must remember a few basic principles. First, it is important to touch people where they are. Where Muratori proposed drawing popular piety from Scripture and the liturgy, Alphonsus's program was to meet people where they were and then lead them beyond it. Second, a clear distinction needs to be made between stimulating conversion in the short term (Alphonsus used fear for this) and maintaining conversion in the long term. (For the latter, Alphonsus had only one prescription: love.) Third, how does one propose love? The short answer is: as a call that evokes a response, or an offer that invites acceptance. It is important to keep God's initiative in mind, as in the picture of rays from the crucified Jesus shining on the penitent. Alphonsus's call to love focuses on Jesus' passion: "Greater love than this.no one has, than that a person lay down his life for his friends." But this emphasis should include the following: "Therefore does the Father love me, because I lay down my life that I may take it up again" On 10:17-18). Death and resurrection are inseparable. Psychologically, selfless suffering unto death is deeply evocative of response, but it is not complete by itself.7 Rather than being isolated from the resurrection, Jesus' passion should be presented as a step on the journey to fullness of life. "The glory of God is man fully alive, and the life of man is the vision of God," says Irenaeus of 62.4 2003 Ab~yasingha ¯ Alphonsus'sPerspective Lyon. Incorporation into Christ's deat[h and resurrection in baptism should be the basic paradigm for preaching about death and resurrection. For there to be resurrection, there must be passion (suffering) and death; one chooses this journey because of the hope of resurrection. "Christ has passed beyond our sight, not to abandon us, but to be our hopE. Christ is the beginning, the head of the church; where he has gone, we hope to follow" (Preface 1, Ascension). The grandeur of that goal makes the call to conversion attractive today: "With him is plentiful redemption." It is well to remember that even on Good Friday, when the liturgy focuses on the suffering and death of Christ, it is not separated from the resurrection. (The Via Lucis, Stations of the Resurrection, may be one way to maintain the link between death and resurrection.) Note, too, that the apparitions of the risen Lord involved some renunciation (of previous expectations) and often a call to mission as a condition for recognizing the "stranger" as the very Jesus whom the disciples had known. This is the version of the resurrection as call to death and call to love that needs to be worked out in popular idiom for people today. The resurrection is contingent upon the Son's having taken human flesh. If the incarnation had not taken place, no death-cum-resurrection would be possible. This mystery highlights the incarnation as an emptying (Ph 2:6-11), the rich one becoming poor for our sakes (2 Co 8:9). Jesus' life in the flesh meant sharing our condition and emotions. But, because it was not a life limited to the flesh, he was raised to life in the Spirit (Rrn 1:1-4). In the liturgy we pray, "May this sacrament [Eucharist] restrain our earthly desires and enable us to grow in love of the things of heaven" (After Communion, Tuesday, First Week of Lent). The child Jesus shared in the development that every child goes through--from the first stages, whei'e self- Review for Religious reference is the norm, to the point of total unselfishness in love ("He loved them to the end" Jn 13:1). The incarnation is the call to grow. Here one does well to keep in mind that excellent training in a particular discipline (medicine, accountancy, or whatever) does not automatically mean that one is an adult in regard to one's religious growth (the commitment based on content that Catholic faith requires). Many adults remain at the level of children (often the faith content they had at confirmation) and think that a vague "feel good / do some good" religion is growth. God's invitation is to deeper growth, an incar-national growth guided by the Spirit. The journey from the Father to this world and back to the Father is the program for all Christians. It is eriacted (as a "today") in the Eucharist. There is a continuing call to recommitment, to baptism's death and resurrection themes. The Eucharist is a third focus of Alphonsus. For him, Jesus is the prisoner in the tabernacle, awaiting, calling, and welcoming those who come to visit him. But the Jesus of the tabernacle is first the Jesus who was born, lived, died, and rose again, who celebrated that Passover with his disciples and continues to do so in the community of believers. And this is perhaps the high point of the call: to recognize that we are betrayers who are called by the one betrayed (Jesus) to share a meal with him. For this he accepts what we offer (bread and wine, products of the earth and of human hands) and returns them to us transformed (his risen body and blood, the new creation). One can add some glosses to the Eucharistic narrative to highlight this perspective: "On the night he The journey from the Father to this world and back to the Father is the program for all Christians. 62.4 2003 Abeyasingba ¯ Alpbonsus's Perspective was betrayed [by his disciples, with whom we are all complicit], Jesus took bread [that supports life---he was not seeking revenge] and gave thanks [for everything, including the betrayal, life and its support, death, because this is the prelude to resurrection and glory] and shared it with his disciples [betrayers become .companions, "bread fellows"], saying [not only in word but in deed]: 'This is my body, which is broken for you' [the principle enunciated in the Gospels: 'Unless .the grain of wheat dies' and 'Take upyour cross']. Do this in memory of me [the call addressed to all his followers, sinner and saint alike, a call to 'do this' not only in word but also in deed].''8 Finally, for continuing the journey of conversion over the long haul, Alphonsus proposed a program of prayer. He emphasized, not the amount of prayer, but fidelity to it. A short prayer every day is better than a long period of prayer occasionally. Prayer means recognizing one's limitations, acknowledging one's need for God. Beginners in mental prayer need some method, but, as they grow, they should not let the method become a hindrance to prayer. When difficulties arise, they can fall back on the method. This advice of Alphonsus remains valid and relevant in our day, but support groups are needed too. For the community as a whole, Alphonsus proposed confraternities, which were support groups. Today's psychological research has identified the roots of various problems. Lay people should be encouraged to use .their skills to help others in various difficulties, even if it means merely lending an ear to one other person. When people feel that they havebeen heard and understood, they are often able to work their way through their own problems. Such support is very much in the competence of laypersons, and those devoted to pastoral care would do well to keep encouraging them to fulfill their special role in the world. Review for Religious Charisms as Life-Giving Roots The present article indicates the need for religious institutes not to take their agendas from current theology. Theology has its place, but institutes have their own particular orientations and perspectives. It is in rediscovering and living according to their foundational perspectives that religious institutes can make their authentic contributions. These solidly rooted agendas are indeed their very reason for existence. When Cyprian (+258) became bishop of Carthage, he made it a rule to do nothing on his private opinion without the counsel (consilium) of the presbyterate and the agreement (consensus) of the people. The two Latin words are significant. As the one who presided over the presbyterate, Cyprian needed their counsel. Often it would be far more "advanced"--aware of many more theological perspectives, one could say--than the laity. But he also wanted to have the consensus of the people, a fellow feeling of where they were. I suggest that Alphonsus started with the consensus of the laity and, as preacher of repentance, led them to commit their lives in love to Jesus, supporting one another along the journey. The challenge is to be "popular," to meet people where they are, but also to lead them beyond, in terms of call and response, invitation and acceptance. There will be changes in the content and style of post-Vatican II proclamation and ways of celebrating the sacraments, but the apostolic perspectives of Alphonsus and other founders can, I am convinced, well remain unchanged. Notes ' See Raphael Gallagher, "The Fate of the Moral Manual since Saint Alphonsus," in Histo,3v and Conscience: Studies in Honour of Father Sean O'Riordan CSSR, ed. Raphael Gallagher and Brendan McConvery (Dublin: Gill and Macmillan, 1989), pp. 212-239. 2 Irenaeus, Adversus haereses, 3.20.2. 62.4 2003 Abeyasingba * Alpbonsus's Perspective 3 See Directory on Popular Piety and the Litu'rgy: Principles and Guidelines (Vatican, 9 April 2002), §41: "The 'popular missions' emerged at this time and contributed greatly to the spread of the pious exercises. Liturgy and popular piety coexist in these exercises, even if somewhat imbalanced at times. The parochial missions set out to encourage the faithful to approach the sacrament of penance and to receive Holy Communion. They regarded pious exercises as a means of inducing conversion and of assuring popular participation in an act of worship." 4 See Bernard H~iring CSSR, The Law of Christ, 3 vols. (Westminster, Maryland: Newman Press, 1961o1966), and his later work, which is more diffuse and wide-ranging, Free and Faithful in Christ, 3 vols. (New York: Century, 1979). 5 EX. Durrwell CSSR, The Resurrection (London: Sheed and Ward, 1960). 6 See Directory, §§48-49: "History shows, first of all, that the correct relationship between the Liturgy and popular piety begins to be distorted with the attenuation among the faithful of certain values. essential to the Liturgy itself. The following may be numbered among the causes giving rise to this: ¯ a weakened awareness or indeed a diminished sense of the" paschal mystery and of its centrality for the history of salvation, of which the Liturgy is an actualization. Such inevitably occurs when the piety of the faithful, unconscious of the 'hierarchy of truths,' imperceptibly turns towards other salvific mysteries in the life of Christ, of the Blessed Virgin Mary, or indeed of the angels and saints; ¯ a weakening of a sense of the universal priesthood, in virtue of which the faithful offer 'spiritual sacrifices pleasing to God, through Jesus Christ' (1 Pt 2:5, Rm 12:1), and, according to their condition, participate fully in the church's worship. This is often accompanied by the phenomenon of a Liturgy dominated by clerics who also perform the functions not reserved to them and which, in turn, causes the faithful to have recourse to pious exercises through which they feel a sense of becoming active participants; ¯ unfamiliarity with the 'language' of the Liturgy--that is, its language, signs, symbols, and ritual gestures---causing much of the meaning of the celebration to elude the faithful. This unfamiliarity can even make them feel like outsiders to the liturgical action, and so they are quick to manifest their preference for pious exercises whose 'language' is closer to their own cultural development, or Review for Religious else for private devotions more in keeping with the details and demands of their daily life. "Each of these factors, and both in certain cases, not infrequently produce imbalances in the relationship between the Liturgy and popular piety, to the former's detriment and the latter's impoverishment. These should therefore be corrected through careful and persistent catechetical and pastoral work. "Conversely, the liturgical renewal and the heightened liturgical sense of the faithful have often recontex~ualized popular piety in its relationship with the Liturgy. Such should be regarded as a positive development and in conformity with the most profound orientation of Christian piety." 7 See Sean O'Riordan, "The Human Psychology of Repentance," Studia Moralia 21 (1983): 79-102, and "The Nature and Function of Pastoral Psychology," Studia Moralia 1 (1963): 348-387. 8 Karl Rahner, "The Episcopate and the Primacy," in Karl Rahner and Joseph Ratzinger, The Episcopate and the Primacy (New York: Herder and Herder, 1961), p. 25: "Essentially the church is the historically continuing presence in the world of the incarnate Word of God. She is the historical tangibility of the salvific will of God as revealed in Christ. Therefore the church is most tangibly and intensively an 'event' where (through the words of consecration) Christ himself is present in his own congregation as the crucified and resurrected Savior, the fount of salvation; where the redemption makes itself felt in the congregation by becoming sacramentally visible; where the 'New and Eternal Testament' which he founded on the cross is most palpably and actually present in the holy remembrance of its first institution. Therefore the celebration of the Eucharist is the most intensive event of the church." I would add that the consequence is that every word in the church must be understood in connection with the memorial dimension of the Eucharist (see I Co 11:26). It is like the prism which separates light intoits constituent colors and also refocuses the different colors into a unity. 62.4 2003 PAUL GRAHAM Belief, Augustine, and the New Religiosity ~/ nd what remains when disbelief has gone?" That striking line from Philip Larkin's poem "Church Going" poses a question that is characteristic of the times we live in. The problem today is not so much disbelief or unbelief, but belief. The onus is now on those who claim they do not believe in God. According to the European Values Study for 1999/2000, 77.4 percent of the sample surveyed believe in God. Even in secular Sweden, which has the lowest number of believers in God in Western Europe, the number is 53.4 percent. Clearly, unbelievers are in the minority. The agnostics, according to this scenario, are not those who are unsure about their belief in God, but those who are not sure they disbelieve. The line from Philip La~'kin's poem cap-tures beautifully the anxiety of the unbeliever who has a nagging suspicion that perhaps there is a God after all. The present-day anxiety, the anxiety of a post-Christian society, is in the possibility that there is a God. Paul Graham OSA is provincial of the English-Scottish province of the Augustinians. His address is Provincial Office; 15 Dorville Crescent; London W6 0HH; United Kingdom. Review fbr Religious In these circumstances, those of us who through our faith have been freed from the burden of unbelief--and it is a burden--have a corresponding responsibility not to take our belief for granted. Belief is something that grows and deepens; it is not static. In the famous words of St. Augustine: "Make progress, my brothers and sis-ters, examine yourselves honestly again and again. Put yourselves to the test. Do not be content with what you are, if you want to become what you are not yet . Always add something more, keep moving forward, always make progress" (Sermon 169). An important part of reflection on faith is its social context. The shape of our belief, as opposed to its con-tent, is influenced by the world around us. If we lived in 13th-century Italy, for instance, unbe-lief would not have been a problem; even the gross sinner would be expected to believe in God. Faith was characterize~l by an intense devotion to the person of Christ in his passion and in the Eucharist. Belief had a tangible feel about it then, and peo-ple were not afraid to express it publicly. In Poland during the Communist times, faith was shaped by the need to take a firm stand against state-controlled atheism. Belief in God was caught up in nationalism: to be Polish was to be Catholic, as being Irish in Ireland was until recently. The object of faith in these differenttimes and places remains the same: God in Jesus Christ. This leaves us with the question: In contemporary Western society, what is the shape of our faith? It is now fashionable to have a "spirituality" in these 2 l st-century "postsecular" times. The problem is not so much religious belief as what to believe in. People today have become spiritually gullible. G.K. Chesterton noted perceptively that, when people stop believing in the true People today have become spiritually gullible. 62.4 2003 Graham ¯ Belief, Augustine, and the New Religiosity God, they start believing in anything. One of the charac-teristics of this new religiosity is its individualism. People now pick and choose the bits of religion they want to believe in and reject the distasteful parts. It has become a lifestyle choice: a bit of Zen here, a bit of Feng Shui there, a touch of white magic perhaps, and even some aspects of Christianity--the nice bits. This is nondemanding, non-threatening religion, a pick-and-mix spirituality. It has become fashionable to make a distinction between "religion" and "spirituality." By "religion" is meant institutional religion, the church; by "spirituality" is meant the "good" things about religion without the awkward bits like the hierarchy and the church's teach-ings. One can now have a spirituality, even if it means rejecting or sitting loose to the institutional form of the church. The problem is, once you detach spirituality from religion, it can quickly become self-seeking and inward-looking. Belonging to the church prevents that from happening. The Latin word religio implies "ties," ."obligations." We are bound to one another and to God, in the church. Jonathan Sacks, the chief rabbi of Great Britain, has an interesting observation to make here (see Credo in The Times, 24 August 2002). He challenges those who claim to have a "spirituality" but reject organized reli-gion. Spirituality, he says, marks the beginning of a search for God, leading on to religion, to belonging to a community of believers; otherwise it tends to be escapist and self-indulgent. He illustrates this by referring to Robert Putnam, the Harvard sociologist, whose recent book Bowling Alone (2000) is about the breakdown of community in the United States as a result of growing individualism. The metaphor for this breakdown is to be found in ten-pin bowling. In the 1950s bowlers belonged to leagues and clubs and went bowling together, as teams. Today those leagues are no longer so Review for Religious popular, and people prefer to go bowling on their own. Sacks therefore declares, "Spirituality is what happens to religion when it goes 'Bowling Alone.'" Britain faces a similar problem of individualism. A recent sociological study (Changing Britain, Changing Lives, (London: Institute of Education, 2003), involving three birth-cohort studies of people born in 1946, 1958, and 1970, found that in the last fifty years there has been a marked decline in social cohesiveness and awareness, evidenced in the universal decline in voting, community activity, and church activity. The political philosopher Eric Hobsbawm is quoted in this study as saying, "Prosperity and privatization broke up what poverty and collectivity in the public place welded together" (p. 9). This individualizing tendency in society as a whole, I suggest, is influencing deeply the way we believe. St. Augustine understood this very well. Father Tom Martin OSA, in Our Restless Heart: The Augustinian Tradition (London: Darton, Longman and Todd, 2003), takes up this issue: "Does Augustinian spirituality lead to a privatized spirituality? While it is clear that Augustine privileges the heart and the journey within, he would be the first to decry any reading of him that would turn the Christian life into a solitary journey. It is always a shared pilgrimage, a community of fellow believers on a journey of faith to God" (p. 47). In another passage, speaking of the need to "return to one's heart," he says: "Yet for all this talk of 'heart,' this empl~asis on interiority, its inten-tion is never meant to lead to an introverted spirituality. What is fundamentally interior to me is, for Augustine, the point where I am also closest to my brothers and sis-ters in the human family. From the heart I come to Christian faith, become a member of the church, the Body of Christ . [Augustine's] insistence upon the heart is thus not a self-serving escape from responsibil-ity into interior religion and privatized faith" (p. 43). 62.4 2003 I believe this to be one of the greatest challenges to Christian faith today, the challenge posed by the privatization of belief. I have labored this point because I believe this to be one of the greatest challenges to Christian faith today, the challenge posed by th4 .privatization of belief. As Cardinal Hume once said, "faith is always personal but never private." Augustinian spirituality is one of the greatest safeguards we have. However, because of its emphasis on interiority and the need to find God within, it can very easily be hijacked by the "privatizers" of faith. Martin makes it quite clear that such an interpretation of Augustine is a distortion of his spirituality, which is at all times ecclesial, rooted in community, rooted in the church. "To remove or isolate or separate God or self or community within the thought of Augustine," he says, "would only result in a profound distortion of his spiri-tual vision" (p. 49). So, as we struggle with belief ina society that wants to reduce everything--whether fast food or spirituality-- to individual choice, Augustine provides us with a nec-essary corrective to the "McDonaldization" of religion, as a Scottish theologian calls it (John Drane, The McDonaldization of the Church, London: Darton, Longman and Todd, 2000). Return to your hearts by all means, but not to stay there, rather to encounter the God who opens up our hearts to those around us. Augustine himself was only too aware of the temptations of interiority. His first experiment in community life was with like-minded friends near Milan just after his bap-tism. He established a community apart from the hustle and bustle of life in order to spend time in contemplation and reflection: otium sanctum, "holy leisure." He brought Review for Religious this idealized form of Christian community back to North Africa, to Thagaste, where he established a lay community, but he had a.rude awakening. Visiting a church in Hippo one day to look for a candidate for his community, he was grabbed by the congregation and presented to the aging Bishop Valerius for ordination to the priesthood--and he wept. Augustine knew that from then on his life would no longer be his own. Gone for the rest of his life was any notion of otium sanctum. The life of contemplation would lead him now to share that contemplation with others. It is a paradox of his life, and indeed of the Christian life in general, that the journey within becomes at a certain point a journey outwards, to God and to others. Hence his famous observation in the City of God: "For no one ought to be so leisured as to take no thought in that leisure for the interest of his neighbor, nor so active as to feel no need for the contemplation of God" (xIx. 19). The current resurgence of interest in religion and spirituality is evidenced in the number of books in the "Mind, Body, and Spirit" sections in most bookstores. Often the Christian section is quite small in relation to other religions. Clearly, many are hungry for a spiritual view of life. It has become obvious that people cannot survive for long on unbelief and on a purely secular view of the world, in spite of the predictions of the proponents of the "theory of secularization," who are now eating humble pie. Harvey Cox has said: "Today it is secularity, not spirituality, that may be headed for extinction" (Fire from Heaven, London: Cassell, 1996, p. xv). People yearn for enchantment. Secularity does not feed the human spirit, which is made for God. The Vatican has responded to this phenomenon by publishing Jesus Christ, the Bearer of the Water of Life: A Christian Reflection on the "New Age" (Pontifical Councils for Culture and Interreligious Dialogue, 2003). It 62.4 2003 Graham ¯ Belie, Augustine, and the New Religiosity This new religiosity is largely non-Christian. acknowledges that this renewed interest in spirituality and religion in general is evidence of a spiritual hunger in the contemporary world. There is in people a deep desire for the transcendent. "Our hearts are restless," says Augustine, restless for the true God (Confessions, I. 1). The document sees in this new religiosity "a genuine yearning for a deeper spiritu-ality, for something that will touch their hearts, and for a way of making sense of a con-fusing and often alienating world" (1.5). It also notes many positive aspects of this religiosity: its criticism of materialism, its sense of the sacredness of life, and its concern for the environment. But there is a difficulty. This new religiosity is largely non-Christian. As the document says, "it is on the wh61e difficult to reconcile it with Christian doctrine and spir-ituality" (2). It is important to remember that we are all subject to these influences in society at large. One has only to mention the example of Cherie Blair, the wife of the British prime minister, who has publicly declared her allegiance both to the Catholic Church and to forms of New Ageism, such as the use of crystals. I have no wish to judge an individual case, merely to cite her as a very public example of what I believe to be a common misapprehension: that you can mix Christianity with alternative spiritualities and think there is nothing amiss. Some of it may be harmless, but one needs to be dis-criminating. The current tendency towards the privatization of faith and spiritual individualism is also picked up by the Vatican document, which refers to "spiritual narcissism" and the "private world of ego-fulfillment," quoting a well-known commentator On New Age (3.2). It also cautions against looking for religious experiences "engen- Review for Religious dered by turning in on oneself." This leads on to the fundamental point that "Christian prayer is not an exer-cise in self, contemplation, stillness, and self-emptying, but a dialogue of love" (3.4). Certain kinds of religion can easily become an ego trip, and this document is not afraid to say so. Augustine's search for God, expressed in his Confessions, appears on one level to be the classic "journey within," and indeed he gave succeeding generations the spiritual vocabulary for that necessary journey. But he is at pains to point out that, unbeknownst to himself, God was with him at all times on that journey. It was not so much a search for self as a search for the Truth outside of self. In a sense, it was God who went in search of Augustine, not the other way round. It was grace that prompted him to seek God in the first place: "You were within me, and I was in the world outside myself . You called me, you cried aloud to me, you broke the bar-rier of my deafness" (X.2 7). As Jesus says in John's Gospel, "you did not choose me; no, I chose you" (Jn 15:16). It is important to mention this, as Eastern forms of prayer and meditation are very popular. While there are many rich insights to be gained from these traditions, like the need for stillness and proper bodily posture, one has to remember that these are not Christian forms of prayer. They are mainly exercises to bring about an expe-rience of peace and enlightenment. But Christian prayer is not fundamentally about such experiences, unless they come as a grace from God. It is a relationship more than an individual experience of heightened consciousness or awareness. As the Vatican document points out, "life in Christ is not something so personal and private that it is restricted to the realm of consciousness. Nor is it merely a new level of awareness" (3.5). To quote a contemporary theologian speaking about Augustinian interiority, Christian prayer is not a "diving expedition into the soul" 62.4 2003 Graham ¯ Belief, Augustine, and the New Religiosity (John Milbank, Theology and Social Theory, London: Blackwell, 1990, p. 291), but an encounter with the living God in the person of Jesus Christ, the bearer of the water of life. Dry Rain It is as if a great party is under way: with every wind falling leaves, multicolored, natural confetti, gigantic golden snowflakes fr6m a sycamore. Autumnal dry rain in its festive, roundabout fashion waters next spring's growth, rots its way to fruitfulness, an ordinary embodiment of mercy, another promise of life from death, another reason to hope. Bonnie Thurston Review for Religious DENNIS J. BILLY Rediscovering the Rosary On 16 October 2002 Pope John Paul ~I promul-gated an apostolic letter on the rosary titled Rosarium Virginis Mariae. The purpose of the letter is to help Christians rediscover the rosary as a venerable form of prayer that will lead them "to contemplate with Mary the face of Christ" (§3). Addressed to the church's bishops, clergy, and faithful, the letter is continuous with the pope's earlier reflections in his apostolic letter on the new millennium, Novo millennio ineunte, where he insists on the importance of developing "schools of prayer" for helping the members of Christ's body to "set out in deep waters" (duc in altum) and experience the fullness of the gospel message. "With the rosary," the pope says, "the Christian people sits at the school of Mary and is led to contemplate th6 beauty on the face of Christ and to experience the depths Of his love" (~1). In order to help this process of reclaiming along, he has officially proclaimed a "Year of the devotional life Dennis J. Billy CSSR writes again from Collegio Sant'Alfonso; C.P. 2458; Roma 00100; Italy. 62.4 2003 Billy * Rediscovering the Rosary Rosary" spanning from October 2002 to October 2003 (§3). A Path of Contemplation In this letter the pope reiterates a statement he made in his letter on the new millennium: "What is needed is a Christian life distinguished above all in the art of prayer." He presents the rosary as a "path of contemplation" that developed in the West and represents a counterpart to Eastern Christianity's "prayer of the heart" or "Jesus Prayer." It numbers "among the finest and most praiseworthy traditions of Christian contemplation" (§5). !n order to reclaim its full meaning, however, the rosary must be prayed meditatively against a backdrop of solitude. It sustains rather than conflicts with the liturgy. If properly revitalized, the prayer will be in touch with its Christological center and will aid rather than impede ecumenical efforts (§4). The rosary, moreover, is proposed as a preeminent prayer for peace and as a way of helping families cope with the forces of disintegration that threaten them on both the ideological and practical levels (§6). Mary is presented in the letter as the model of Christian contemplation par excellence: "No one has ever devoted himself to the contemplation of the face of Christ as faithfully as Mary." Mary's gaze would at times be % questioning look," as when she found Jesus in the temple (see Lk 2:48). It would also be % penetrating gaze" capable of understanding Jesus and possibly even anticipating his decisions, as at the wedding at Cana (see Jn 2:5). It could also be % look of sorrow," as when she stood beneath the cross (see Jn 19:26-27) or % gaze radiant with the joy of the resurrection," as on Easter morning, or "a gaze afire with the outpouring of the Spirit" (§10), as on the day of Pentecost (see Ac 1:14). Re'levy for Religious Because the rosary starts with Mary's experience, the pope describes it as "an exquisitely contemplative prayer." Without this contemplative dimension, it would lose its meaning and risk becoming nothing more than "a mechanical repetition of formulas" (§12). When prayed with reverence and a reflective heart, the rosary enables believers to remember Christ with Mary, to learn Chris~ with Mary, and to be conformed to Christ with Mary, to pray to Christ with Mary, and to proclaim Christ with Mary (§§13-17). A Compendium of the Gospel "The rosary," for John Paul, "is one of the traditional paths of Christian prayer directed to the contemplation of the face of Christ" (§18). It is sometimes referred to as "a compendium of the gospel." To further emphasize its Christological depth, the pope has proposed five new mysteries, from Jesus' public life. In addition to the traditional joyful, sorrowful, and glorious mysteries, these "mysteries of light" are "(1) Jesus' baptism in the Jordan, (2) his self-manifestation at the wedding of Cana, (3)' his proclamation of the king-dom of God, with his call to conversion, (4) his transfiguration, and (5) his institution of the Eucharist, as the sacramental expression of the paschal mystery" (§21). These mysteries span Jesus' public ministry. The first is traditionally understood as the first action of his public ministry. The second and third present him respectively as a miracle worker and as preaching and teaching with The five mysteries lead us from the beginning to the end of Jesus' public ministry and focus on the key elements of his message. 62.4 2003 Billy * Rediscovering the Rosary authority. The fourth foreshadows the resurrection and presents Jesus as the culmination of the Law and the Prophets. The fifth is traditionally considered the last action of his public ministry. The five mysteries lead us from the beginning to the end of Jesus' public ministxy and focus on the key elements of his message. As prophetic actions that effect what they signify, Jesus' baptism and his institution of the Eucharist encapsulate the whole of his ministry and serve as fitting bookends for all that comes between. Although the pope leaves people free to follow the traditional format (§19), he is quick to point out that these five new mysteries round out the contemplative focus of the rosary by adding Jesus' .public life to the profound mysteries of the incarnation, the passion, and the resurreEtion that the other three series highlight. In doing so, he roots the rosary even deeper in the Gospel narratives and encourages the faithful to see the intimate unity of the whole of Jesus' redemptive mission. Because the mystery of Christ also reveals something "about the mystery of man, the pope goes on to point out the important anthropological significance of the rosary for believers: "Contemplating Christ's birth, they learn of the sanctity of life; seeing the household of Nazareth, they learn the original truth of the family according to God's plan; listening to the Master in the mysteries of his public ministry, they find the light which leads them to enter the kingdom of God; and, following him on the way to Calvary, they learn the meaning of salvific suffering. Finally, contemplating Christ and his Blessed Mother in glory, they see the goal toward which each of us is called, if we allow ourselves to be healed and transformed by the Holy Spirit" (§25). When reflected upon with care, each of the mysteries of the rosary says something significant about the mystery of human existence. Review for Religious Assimilating the Mystery The.pope also devotes considerable space to how believers should pray the rosary. He highlights the constituent elements of this method of contemplation, one rooted in "the inner logic of the incarnation," namely, that in Jesus God wanted to take on human features. It is well to announce each mystery, perhaps with a suitable icon that will open up the biblical scenario for those praying. The announcement is meant to lead the imagination to focus on a particular moment in the life of Christ (§29). A reading from Scripture, long or short depending on the circumstances, can follow, and then a brief period of silence (§§30 and 31). After these preparatory exercises, those praying lift their minds to the Father with the words of the Our Father. Then come ten Hail Marys followed by the Trinitarian doxology (and sometimes a short prayer) to conclude the decade (§§32-35). Beginning and finishing the rosary as a whole is done in a variety of ways. Some people begin with a verse of Psalm 70: "O God, come to my aid; O Lord make haste to help me." Others begin with the Creed, an Our Father, and three Hail Marys (§37). Some people habitually pray all twenty decades of the rosary in a single day. For those who say five decades a day, the pope suggests the following format: the joyful mysteries on Monday and Saturday, the sorrowful mysteries on Tuesday and Friday, the mysteries of light on Thursday, and the glorious mysteries on Wednesday and The rosary invites believers to open their hearts with Mary to the Word of God seeking to be born within them. 62.4 2003 Billy ¯ Rediscovering the Rosary Sunday (§38). The beads themselves are more than a mere counting device. Flowing from and converging upon the crucifix, they remind believers that their lives must be centered on Christ, and can be seen as "a chain which links us to God," a symbol of "the bond of communion and fraternity which unites us all in Christ" (§36). The pope makes one point very clear: "Although the repeated Hail Mary is addressed direcdy to Mary, it is to Jesus that the act of love is ultimately directed, with her and through her." The repetition suggests our ongoing desire "to be conformed ever more completely to Christ, the true program of the Christian life" (§26). As a "method of contemplation," the rosary invites believers to open their hearts with Mary to the Word of God seeking to be born within them. Like the liturgy, it is a prayer which engages "the whole person in all his complex psychological, physical, and relational reality" (§27). Ten Purposes The pope's apostolic letter serves ten basic purposes: (1) it provides a fitting Marian complement to Novo millennio ineunte, his earlier apostolic letter on the new millennium; (2) it emphasizes the contemplative dimension of the rosary and encourages believers to use it "to contemplate with Mary the face of Christ"; (3) it reviews the method typically used when praying it and shows how it corresponds to the inner logic of the incarnation; (4) it draws out the Christological basis of the rosary and asserts that, when used appropriately, it will further rather than hinder ecumenism; (5) it highlights the anthropological dimensions revealed in the various mysteries and shows how the rosary can lead to a deeper understanding of human, existence; (6) it affirms that the rosary sustains the liturgy rather than being in conflict with it; (7) it breathes new life into the rosary by adding new mysteries that will root it even more deeply Review for Religious in the Scripture; (8) it shows parents that the rosary can help hold their family together in the faith and can foster their children's spiritual growth and development; (9) it presents the rosary as a prayer that by its very nature can advance peace in the world; and (10) it designates the year October 2002-October 2003 as a special time for rediscovering the power and beauty of this ancient and venerable form of prayer. The goal in all of this is to help the faithful recognize the grea( gift they have in the rosary and use it in new and creative ways as they face the challenges ahead of them. In his conclusion, the pope asserts that the rosary is "a treasure to be rediscovered." It has something to offer to everyone: bishops, priests, deacons, religious, and laypersons. He asks all members of the church to take this old and venerable form of prayer once again to heart: "I look to all of you, brothers and sisters of every state of life, to you, Christian families, to you, the sick and elderly, and to you, young people: confidently take up the rosary once again. Rediscover the rosary in the light of Scripture, in harmony with the liturgy, and in the context of your daily lives" (§43). soundings for one of the sisters in the infirmary little does she know she teaches me how to eclipse her deafness. i am brief, no, spare in my attempts. at eighty, she is the poem: words are few mixing with her grief which ebbs like the tides at twilight Lou Ella Hickman IWBS 62.4 2003 MARY JOSEPH SCHULTZ Mirroring Jesus: The Luminous Mysteries and Religious Life TRhosea rHy-o-lOyc Ftoabtheer r2'0s0 n2a tmo iOncgt oobfe trh 2e0 Y03e-a-cr aomf et,he certainly not coincidentally, during a time of profound unrest, conflict, and anxiety. Our world and our church are in labor, struggling for a birth, a release, new life, The feelings of fear, hopelessness, and anxiety that have invaded the lives of all of us call for healing and a new vision. The luminous mysteries of the rosary offer all Christians a new perspective, a new graced opportunity to deepen our understanding and love of our faith, namely, by bringing the public life of Jesus into the rosary. Here we can find refreshment for our souls in these complicated and strife-filled days. We can also find here an additional special gift as vowed religious. I would like to examine the new mysteries in relation to ~onsecrated Mary Joseph Schultz SCC is president of Assumption College for Sisters, the only rerfiaining sister-formation college in the United States. Her address there is 350 Bernardsville Road; Mendham, New Jersey 07945. Revie-w for Religious life, reflecting on how each one can be linked to an essential element of it. The Baptism of Jesus--"You are my beloved Son. On you my fax;or rests" (Mk 1:11). Baptism the Foundation of Religious Life. By virtue of our baptism, all Christians are consecrated for evangelization. We are reborn in Christ; our life is no longer our own. This exalted reality of the indwelling, always challenging and sometimes downright scary, takes a lifetime, indeed an eternity, to grasp. We have been chosen by God to take on the image of his Son, to be his child in our world today. And naturally we cannot attempt this alone, but God's abiding presence, the surpassing gift of grace, enables and ennobles us from within. What does being reborn in Christ imply, particularly for a religious? We are doubly chosen. Cradle Catholics were first called by God through our own particular birth circumstances; converts to Catholicism followed a circuitous adaptive route to being cleansed, empowered, Christified. Whatever the circumstances of our baptism, we have been called and sent, challenged by the Spirit to put on Christ. But as religious our further call is yet more radical. By our call to religious life, the fire that burns in the heart of all Christians is ignited into a new flame of desire for deeper union, deeper consecration, through the gift of our lives. As John Paul II tells us in Vita consecrata, "in such a life baptismal consecration develops into a radical response in the following of Christ through acceptance of the evangelical counsels" (§14). Apart from the consecration of our baptism, it is unlikely that we would .have heard any call to religious life. It is baptism's sacramental spark that ignites the steady flame of Christianity. But, for the steady flame to be strong, it requires of everyone the living of the evangelical counsels. For religious there is a renewed 62.4 2003 Scbultz ¯ Mirroring yesus commitment to them. This is a new source of fuel, our life newly offered to God in all its aspects, like so many grains of incense. The religious life, often symbolized by burning candles too, takes on a new intensity and brings the baptismal vows into a concentrated focus. Perhaps this is why the profession of the evangelical counsels has never been elevated to being a sacrament in the Catholic Church (which some have proposed). It is so obviously an efflorescence of the permanent sacramental character of baptism already present. It is also a deepening of that already living root. The Wedding Feast of Cana--"Do whatever he tells you" (In 2:5). Obedience. In this wonderfully human and touching scene from the life of Jesus, we hear the only recorded words spoken by Mary during the public life of her Son: "They have no wine" and "Do whatever he tells you." Indeed, these words inaugurate his public life. And, for religious women and men, this scene and these words teach a lesson on the vow of obedience. During the thirty years or so since I began learning about the vows in the novitiate, obedience, of all the vows, has undergone the greatest transformation. It has also held the most difficult challenges. (As in most paschal realities, these are not unrelated developments.) My juvenile understanding of "blind" obedience and merely "doing what your superior tells you" has unfolded into a passionate desire to seek the will of God in all its manifestations. Let us face it, how many direct injunctions do community leaders issue during a year to the group as a whole or to me individually? My obedience must be daily and personal. It cannot be relegated to a once-a-year acceptance of my assigned apostolate, though that has sometimes been traumatic enough. Because of the gift of my vow of obedience, I Review for Religious must strive each and every day to hear God speaking to me in a multitude of people, places, and circumstances. I must keep my heart attentive to all of God's calls and then responsive, doing "whatever he tells you." The response could be as small as picking up the phone when I am already engrossed in another task, or lovingly setting aside my own agenda when a sister needs my help. It could be as large as accepting a call to community leadership, or adjusting to the death of a loved one. I laid down my will at my profession. The "freedom" I renounced back then has given rise to a new deeper freedom of spirit. I am free to pursue holiness through the directives of God mediated by my community leadership, other community members, and the circumstances of my life. United with my sisters in community, I stand before God's will, ready to discern and accept. This requires an ongoing grace of faith, a sense of responsibility for myself and others, and a growing awareness of my gifts and limitations. In due time Jesus takes the water of my desire and turns it into the wine of his desire for me. Because of the gift of my vow of obedience, I must strive each and every day to hear God speaking to me in a multitude of people, places, and circumstances. Proclamation of the Kingdom--"The kingdom of God is at hand" (Mk 1:15). Chastity. In the eyes of society today, chastity for the sake of the kingdom is perhaps the most mystifying and countercultural of the three vows. It has been much written about in the past two years alone. Vv'hy give up marriage and the practice of a holy sexuality when it is 62.4 2003 Scbultz ¯ Mirroring yesus such a gift of God, when the witness of true marital fidelity is so sorely needed in today's world? Precisely to proclaim the kingdom! As John Paul II tells us in Vita consecrata: "Yes, in Christ it is possible to love God with all one's heart, putting him above every other love, and thus to love every creature with the freedom of God!" (§88). Not only is it possible, if one has really been called to it and possesses the graced capacity for the vow, but it is a most powerful means for proclaiming the message of the kingdom. The pure love called forth by this vow flows .from the very life of the Trinity, a communitarian life and love revealed to us in Christ. This life, this very same love, is the "stuff" of the Good News that we are called to proclaim, first by our lives, then by words if necessary, as St. Francis would say. By the evangelical counsels consecrated persons are immersed in the life of the Trinity, freed from the constrictions of an exclusive love, able to be totally available for the mission of the church as lived according to the particular community's charism. My chastity enables my obedience to come to fruition as I am called from one ministry to another, one house to another, even from one moment to another. I can and should live my life unattached, in the light of faith, with the joyful freedom of the new heavens and the new earth (see Rv 21:1). I have died and risen with Christ, and I am called to live in the now of the kingdom. The life of a religious man or woman symbolizes what it in fact is, a contact point between Christ and his church--and God's kingdom is truly at hand. The Transfiguration--"And he was transfigured before them" (Mt 17:2). Poverty. This mystical event in the life of Jesus gives his three apostles a glimpse of who he really is. His Review for Religious divinity shines forth, and they behold the glorious face of the Son of God. In reflecting on this incident afterwards, did it not strike them over and over what a tremendous emptying had taken place when Jesus assumed our human nature and for thirty-three years walked the earth as ordinary as themselves? These apostles, unlettered though they were, could not help reflecting on what they had witnessed. They were able to surmise the real identity of the One who called them to follow, the One for whom they too were emptying themselves, relinquishing things in their discipleship. During the vision Peter had exclaimed, "Lord, how good that we are here!" (Mt 17:4). Then he wanted to install three tents and make the experience a more permanent one. Jesus, however, drew them out of their mystical reverie: "When they raised their eyes, they saw no one else but Jesus alone" (Mr 17:8). He walked with them down the mountain, back to ordinary reality. This was the ordinary-looking Jesus, the man they knew and were used to, the friend they were leaving their ordinary lives to follow. He was "himself" again, and asking them to say nothing of what they had seen. For religious women and men who have left all things to follow the Master, the transfiguration can serve as a meditation on our vow of poverty. Jesus in his divine frugality "left behind" his Godhead to assume humanity, but how divine this poverty is, this incarnation, this "taking the form of a slave and being born in the likeness For religious women and men who have left all things to follow the Master, the transfiguration can serve as a meditation on our vow of poverty. 62.4 2003 Scbultz ¯ Mirroring Jesus of men" (Ph 2:7)! While on his earthly mission, Jesus downplayed his divinity or kept it to himself except for this sacred moment when his human poverty became apparent by contrast. Later Calvary was seen as the ultimate of human pain and humiliation, not by contrast as on Tabor, but in the depths of its willing self-sacrifice. By religious poverty we voluntarily give up personal accumulation and full personal use of worldly goods, even such things as time and talent. This emptying for the sake of Christlike availability is a way of doing something radical for God. It is true imitation of Jesus, "who made himself poor though he was rich" (2 Co 8:9). Where better do we see this stark reality than on Tabor? Living this vow, following the pattern of Christ, calls us to be poor in fact as well as in spirit. Religious need to give evidence of a simple lifestyle, with variations according to community charisms. We need to follow the call to empty ourselves radically, in imitation of the One who for our sake modeled a life of emptiness perfecdy. We face the challenge, especially in a materialistic society, of opting not to have, not to be caught up in the consumer mentality that is so suffocating and numbing. This voluntary self-renunciation makes sense only with the humble Christ before our eyes as ideal and strength. The Institution of the Eucharist--"This is my body to be given for you" (Lk 22:19). Community and Holiness. Religious life without a focus on the Eucharist is, to me, unthinkable and unlivable. How better can we be Christ, fulfill our baptismal consecration, and live the evangelical counsels than by daily receiving our nourishment from his very body and blood, by becoming what we eat? The gift of the Eucharist is the divine imagination's chosen way to be with us always, even to the end of time. Tending toward the holiness to which all founders and foundresses Review for Religious aspired, whatever their historical milieu, the members of religious communities must seek the Source of their graced desire for holiness in their Eucharistic communion. Finding it there, they also nurture one another. The bond of community is one of the distinguishing marks of religious life. We came to accomplish together what none of us can do alone. As members of the Mystical Body by virtue of baptism, we draw strength, light, and urgent zeal for evangelization from the sacramental Christ. "In the celebration of the mystery of the Lord's body and blood, the unity and charity of those who have consecrated their lives to God are strengthened and increased" (Vita consecrata, §95). In communal worship, community members reflect on Jesus' act of servitude in the washing of feet, his giving of himself in service. Turning to one another, we daily echo his words about his body being given for us (see Lk 22:19). To you, my sister, to you, my brother, in community, I give the gift of my personhood. Becoming bread and wine for the world, becoming nourishment for God's pilgrim people through our various ministries, is what consecrated persons are called to. No matter what our apostolic works entail, no matter where or how we minister to God's people, whether through prayer or action, we as religious are called and consecrated for holiness. We owe it to the Mystical Body. We owe it to the world. Our call, though individually discerned and individually professed, is lived in common. Our holiness can never be a private matter. We must be and become ever more really what we have publicly professed. While I am by no means suggesting that religious are on a pedestal, we surely are in a fishbowl, especially in the last few years. We must be who we say we are. Today's people have the right to expect that, when they look at religious, they will truly catch a glimpse of 62.4 2003 Schultz ¯ Mirroring Jesus Christ and the gospel values he preached and lived. It is he who must shine forth publicly. It is he who mysteriously and subdy works thi'ough our dull and sinful human selves, alone and in community. For putting on Christ, for living our vows and making ourselves receptive to communal Eucharistic holiness, we can hope to find the rosary's luminous mysteries providing us with fresh encouragement. Mary, our mother and guiding star, will be there as we begin, and at the end, and in between. Exchanging Gifts Even then, in that first star-guided Giving of gifts imported from lands afar: Not the most practical or the most useful For a young household, those gifts are That they offer: gold (of course, money Matters at any season of any year), . But however richly boxed, their potpourris Of high-priced frankincense and myrrh Fail to feed a family; still, nothing At all was ever expected in return, Unlike our ritual passings back and forth Of pricy imports and baubles, meant to earn More than mere admiration: the like exchange Endlessly of acquisitions from off the shelves Of shops, while that first starlit gift-recipient Gives us back endlessly our ransomed selves. Nancy G. Westerfield Review for Religious PETER CANTWELL Why Newly Professed Religious Leave This article was written to assist Franciscan lead-ers. They and others found it helpful.Without rewriting .it at the risk of losing some of its orig-inal flav~r, I offer it to other religious in the continuin~ conversation about this vital issue. As Francis of Assisi neared death, he said to his brothers, "I have done what is mine to do; may Christ teach you what is yours to do.''1 Implied in these words is a challenge for his followers to discover anew in each generation how to express his ideals. There can never be one fixed expression of such a rich gospel charism, nor should there be. Every age, every season of life, and every culture requires us to dig deep into the gospel as Franci~ read it and find new ways to live his simple but demanding religious perspectives Peter Cantwell OFIM, a Franciscan friar, has been a lecturer and practitioner in individual, couples, and family therapy for thirty years, and is director of ongoing formation for the Australian Franciscan province. His address is St. Francis Xavier Church; 1087 Whitehorse Road; Box Hill, Victoria 3128; Australia. 62.4 2003 Cantwell ¯ Wby Newly Professed Religious Leave message. Failure to take up that challenge condemns us to irrelevance and extinction. Over recent years I have often reflected on why some young friars who join us with enthusiasm and excitement depart from our community soon after final commit-ment. Just at that moment when possibilities for min-istry open out, when there is the exciting chance to walk the path of Francis in our world, some choose to leave us. (Incidentally, I believe the following reflections also apply to why more young men do not join us.) These are my own personal musings on this vexing question, musings with which you, the reader, might dis-agree. Behind them lie some of my own story in the Franciscans and several of my deeply held beliefs about our life. For thirty years I have been involved in renewal programs for religious and in the screening program for candidates for our Australian province. As a professional counselor I have helped many religious and priests at the moment of their departure. Visiting other provinces of the order, I have observed similar phenomena. My teaching of counseling in secular and religious tertiary settings has enabled me to talk with adults about how they see religious life. Behind my reflections are one deep personal convic-tion and one fact. My conviction is that the message and ideals of Francis--of bringing the gospel's peace mes-sage to the world, of seeing beyond the allurement of consumerism, of having a special concern for the poor-- are what is most needed by today's world, particularly today's youth. There is no malaise in the ideals proposed to us by Francis. They are as radiant and relevant as ever they were. The fact about Franciscan religious life today is that there is a gap--though perhaps it is narrowing-- between Francis's ideals for us friars and the lived real-ity of our fraternal lives and ministries. We express 6ur ideals in ways that have lost their relevance. Because of Review for Religious this, some young religious cannot recognize the fire of Francis in our daily structures, and they seek to imple-ment their ideals elsewhere. I do not share the pessimism of friars who say they would not invite young people to join us. I find such defeatism thoroughly unlike Francis; it betrays an unwill-ingness to make changes that we need to make. I write these reflections with hope and rising excitement. Hope and possibility are being shown by those with daring and vision. Baggage We Still Carry with Us In thinking and (alking about why young friars leave, we have often focused on only part of the picture. Thus, some have said that young friars leave because their gen-eration is selfish and not willing to make a commitment. Recent developments in family therapy suggest looking to the big picture--the whole family or, in our case, the whole "system"--for the cure. Formerly, acting-out ado-lescents were usually treated with individual therapy, on the theory that there was something wrong within the adolescent: correct that and all would be fine. But often there was a relapse. Therapy began to realize that the problem might be a reflection of what was happening in the entire family--and that the entire family might need to change its way of operating. Certainly there are times when the difficulty is mostly within the individual, but people cannot not be affected by the systems in which they live. Can these insights help us understand why some friars leave? Is saying that young brothers leave because their generation is "selfish and unwilling to make com-mitments" being fair about the part the system of reli-gious life plays in their departure? When I joined religious life in the mid 1950s, it somewhat resembled what is sociologically called a "total 62.4 2003 Cantwell ¯ Why Newly Professed Religious Leave Francis founded his brotherhood as complementary to the monastic movement. institution," one where the identity of the institution assumes priority Over the identities of the individuals who make it up. We dressed identically; we were exhorted to behave the same. To stand out or be "sin-gular" might indicate pride. Community life was the con-veyer of grace, so conformity to a detailed daily regimen was expected. Personal relationships were discouraged because they endangered celibacy: We were trained to be self-contained and to let our conformity and work express our commitment. Though much is now chang-ing, the nonrelational tone of some communities can cause isolation in young friars. Contemporary research says that religious life had become caught in a monastic lifestyle that many founders did not want) Francis founded his brotherhood as com-plementary to the monastic movement. He deliberately did not want to be absorbed into monasticism. He founded us to be a stark challenge, even a shock, to both civil and ecclesiastical society through living the gospel in a radical and transparent way. After his death the brothers, channeled into the monastic movement, lost mobility, lostpublic visibility, and lost a credible lifestyle. One writer says that we were tamed by the insti-tutional church. We do not live on the edge anymore except by courageous individual choice.3 Young friars find these monastic remnants quaint and a block to their ide-alistic vision. Do we provide opportunity for them to live out their dreams, or are they merely educated to fit in? After the departure of a young brother, I have heard such remarks as "He lost his vocation. I could see it coming. He had all those friends outside community." l~eview for l~etigious These words may reflect a theologically crass way of describing a vocation, absolving the community of any contribution to the departure. The vocation seems to be pictured as something in a hermetically sealed container, given to the recipient by God, and totally immune to and separate from fraternal influences. On one level there is nothing mysterious about the growth of a vocation. I had never met a Franciscan till I did a retreat during the last year of high school. I was impressed by the Franciscan who gave the retreat. He had been a professional reporter with a bright economic future, but he gave it up to be a friar. I thought there must be something pretty good in that life. I approached him. He was interested in me, came to visit my family, kept contact, became a friend (with a big age difference). He nurtured my interest and fanned the small flame of inquiry. He gave me literature on Francis, and I discov-ered that Francis had made a similar decision seven hun-dred years earlier. Francis had everything he wanted, but realized it was not enough. Wow! I could feel excite-ment when I left home to join thefriars. My three broth-ers had all married and were pleased with their choices. I felt I was making an equally exciting choice. It was the start of an adventure, an adventure that has never stopped. Friars supported me and cared for me; I formed deep friendships over the years. These friends offered me opportunities, and they challenged me to live the life. Would my vocation have .grown without them? Could I have nurtured my personal "grace of vocation" without them? I doubt it. A vocation is a delicate seed. It needs warmth and careful watering, especially during the early days. The atmosphere, the environment, affects its interior and exterior development. In a recent article a young per-son says that "true rapport, indeed a real friendship, with one religious is more valuable in discernment than one 62.4 2003 Cant'well ¯ Why Newly Professed Religious Leave IIll hundred religious asking me if I am interested in their order . It is very important that religious communi-ties develop friendships with us that nurture growth in faith and commitment to God.''4 In looking at the place of larger systems in the devel-opment of a vocation, we must say a word about the church. As is the case in the order, there are many seeds of hope within the church today. But ~here is something else as well. In a secular university where I teach coun-seling a couple of days a week, I have wonderful students on the whole, postgraduate students of mature age. About a third of them are nonpracticing Catholics. We often have interesting discussions at lunch breaks. They find it hard to understand how someone who is more qualified in their profession than they are can be both-ered being highly involved in church matters. They are not angry with the church. They just find the church irrelevant. The church sometimes gives the impression that it does not need to listen to people's .needs, that it knows the questions they should be asking. But, as Giacomo Bini says, the church can spend its time answer-ing questions that people are not asking. A Change of Culture The worst way we friars can live our Franciscan com-mitment is to ape in our time what Francis did in his. Our age presents challenges different from his, and here lies the rub. As friars we are called to be mobile, not only with our dwellings and our phones, but with our thinking. Change is of the essence of decent physical, emotional, spiritual, communal growth. The strange thing is not that yeligious life is changing, but that it managed to stay the same for so long. "It is equilibrium, not change, that is fatal." 5 The challenge is that we need to change. Are we Willing? The following thoughts try to catch the spirit of our Review for Religious times, point out the needs that we have to answer, sketch the cultural milieu to which we have to be relevant with our exciting Message. To be relevant, we will have to make 180-degree turns in many areas. Years after we ourselves grew up, what are some of the characteristics of the culture in which our new friars have grown up? One dramatic change in today's society is a shift from a work world to a relational world. Recent research in Australia society shows that around one-fourth of the people between the ages of thirty and sixty are "down-shifters"; that is, they have changed careers or reduced work hours and taken a pay cut in order to have more time for family and friends: "The lifestyle has given them a wealth of new friends from a wide cross-section of backgrounds, and the dis-tinction of knowing the names 0f everyone who lives in their street.''6 Obviously not all people are choosing to make this shift, nor should they, but it represents a new emphasis in modern life, a move away from workplace efficiency toward the full growth of the human person. The young writer quoted earlier supports such adaptation: "One of the most com-monly found features of Generation X is its sense of iso-lation and its yearning for stable companionship . We Xers are drawn wherever we feel welcome and find friendship.''7 "Intimacy" (how I relate to another human being) is an important element of human growth, occurring in early adulthood and building on people's sense of iden-tity (who I am). In popular parlance, intimacy is often wrongly identified with sexual intimacy. Intimacy tech- One dramatic change in today's society is a shift from a work world to a relational world. 62.4 2003 Cantwell ¯ Why Newly Professed Religious Leave nically means the capacity to function "up close" to another person in any situation of life. There is no evi-dence that physical sexual intimacy is "necessary for mature development, but there is a wealth of evidence that having close friends, feeling cared for and loved, and being able to relate to others without unnecessary barriers are central to happiness. Closely allied to having healthy relationships is the search for true community. More so than previous gen-erations, today's young people meet many of their inti-macy needs by belonging to a group. A young person observes that in his view "religious life is special in pro-viding everyday community practices that foster spiri-tual growth in ways that are difficult to find on one's own.''8 The young today value being in a supportive envi-ronment more than having job security. The breakdown of traditional neighborhoods and the mobility of Western populations are the causes of much loneliness and isola-tion. The multitude of support groups--from therapy groups to reading groups--witnesses to contemporary culture's hunger for community. Young adults do not Seek community as a soft option: "We do not want community just to comfort, us and give us a sense of security. We want to be stretched and chal-lenged to serve God and others with the community life serving as a support that allows us to reach beyond our-selves in the service of God through prayer and works.''9 And they actually seek structures in community, but ones that are alive and thoughtful and provide human and spiritual support. Among the tertiary students I teach, I find it.easy to initiate a discussion on "spirituality," but mention the word religion and the energy for the discussion dimin-ishes. "Religion" is seen to be connected to mainstream churches, which are often experienced as irrelevant. The young seek a spirituality that builds on human whole- Review for Religious ness. For them being "fully spiritual" is being "fully human." They often experience mainstream church life as a spiritual desert. "Xers are known for their great spir-itual hunger. When this deep hunger for religious mean-ing has not been satisfied within the religious practice of families, many of us have looked outside of the tradi-tional familial practices to come into contact with the transcendent meaning that we crave." 10 Young adults today are perceptive about genuine-ness: the medium is the message. "Religious need to present, themselves as people who have benefited immensely from their vocation and have found peace, mission, love, and a passion for the gospel and for God through their decision."11 The culture of the young has little time for the phony, for performance that does not come from the heart. They are very sensitive to any gap between what we ask them to profess and what they observe us living. Do we ask them to profess "poverty" and then live like upper-middle-class people? "In sum, Xers are not going to make a radical countercultural decision unless they see a radical lifestyle being lived out, one that has benefits that married life does not.''12 We ask them to give up everything. What is the excit-ing challenge we offer them? I am convinced that the issue for today's world is "justice," especially for disenfranchised groups and par-ticularly those without a social voice. Issues of church dogma--while not in any sense unimportant--evoke lit-tle energy compared with issues of people's rights to just treatment. Daily newspapers are full of human-rights and justice issues. "Experience indicates that [young adults] have a very strong sense of the common good and of collective social and civic responsibility.''13 They have little truck with cover-ups and social dishonesty, and find the behavior of some church officials in recent sexual-abuse issues obnoxious. 62.4 2003 Cantwell ¯ Why Newly Professed Religious Leave Today's young adults demand authenticity of person and action. Seeds of New Life My hope for the future of our brotherly life comes from my conviction that Francis calls us to a style of fra-ternal living and mission for which there is a thirst in our culture. If our young adults are calling for transpar-ent authenticity in personal life, for communal life that is supportive and challenging, for relationships rather than material efficiency, for spiritualwholeness, and for engage-ment with justice and peace in our world. Are these things not the message of Francis of Assisi and the ideals that today's Franciscans have at heart? It would take us beyond the present article to elabo-rate on these five emphases, nor is it necessary. I would like simply to quote from our Rule, from the contem-porary document Priorities of the Order, and from sev-eral other sources to show that what the young seek has always been and is now central in theory to our life. Today's young adults demand authenticity of person and action. Nothing characterized the life of Francis more than his untiring personal conversion, his belief that the best message he could offer to people was the transparency of his own life, being a "living memory of the gospel ofJes.us.''14 His journey to La Verna was a call to purify his own life, to make it as close to his Lord's as possible. The stigmata was the recognition, the physical manifestation~ of the union of Francis's spirit with that of his Lord. For Francis, fraternity is the first witness of the apos-tolate. For him, our relationship with our brothers and, of course, with God is the foundation of our way of life. What statement on fraternity could be better than the one in our Rule (chapter vI)? "And wherever the broth-ers may be together or meet [other] brothers, let them Review for Religious give witness that they are members of the one family. And let each one confidently make known his need to the other, for, if a mother has such care and love for her son born according to the flesh, should not someone love and care for his brother according to the Spirit even more diligently? And, if any of them become sick, the other brothers should serve him as they would wish to be served themselves." 15 The recent publication from our general chapter offers the same challenge for fraternity: "The Project of Fraternal Life. should be drawn up. so as to help the ministers, guardians, and friars to build up a real and profound fraternal life, to cultivate human values like dialogue, deep-level communication, a family spirit, mutual friendship, courtesy, willingness to serve, joy, jus-tice, transparency." 16 And Giacomo Bini says: "What a paradise . . . the atmosphere of the community becomes when the mem-bers have learned how to get to know one another and to engage in dialogue with themselves, with God, and with the others . We must therefore invest all our talents in promoting a formation to fraternal relationships and to relations with God. No excuses are acceptable: neither age nor temperament nor 'venerable' tradition can dis-pense us from this duty.''~7 One of the most delightful characteristics of both Francis and Clare was their abil-ity to relate to the high and the lowly, the rich and the poor, the powerless and the powerful, with equal com-mitment of spirit. The primacy of the spiritual in young people's search is highlighted in one simple quotation from Francis's Rule: "Those brothers to whom the Lord has given the grace of working should do their work faithfully and devotedly so that, avoiding idleness, the enemy of the soul, they do not extinguish the Spirit of holy prayer and devotion to which all other things of our earthly exis- 62.4 2003 Cantwell * Wb~ Newl~ Professed Religious Leave tence must contribute." 18 And in Priorities of the Order we are told: "The contemplative dimension must be that priority which orientates and animates our whole life: the manner in which we seek and live the presence of God in every day also determines our concrete style of life and our manner of pastoral action in the Fraternity.''19 Francis has been strongly identified with the peace movement, and his peace prayer is recited by many inside and outside the church. Francis devoted his energies to the justice and peace issues of his time. His attempts to mediate between local warring towns and his journey to speak with the Sultan of Egypt are just some examples of his commitment to and preoccupation with peace between peoples. The present pope gathered religious leaders in Assisi when he wished the world to pray for peace. The increasing concern with justice and peace throughout our order--seen in recent publications from our JPIC office in Rome and in the heavy involvement of friars in different parts of the world--witnesses to the clear focus of our communities on these issues. Priorities of the Order sums up the same idea: "The friars in their lives and in their words should be promoters of justice, and heralds and builders of peace and reconciliation, so as to be prophetic signs which fearlessly denounce all that which destroys the dignity of man and of creation." 20 How We Can HelpClose the Gap I believe that some friars leave our fraternity soon after final commitment because the gap between the "lived experience" of fraternal life and ministry and the ideals that were fostered and experienced during initial formation becomes too broad. Great work has been done on initial formation in our order over recent decades, but with final commitment the friar experiences the more ordinary lifestyle of the brotherhood. This older system with its more impersonal tone, overly routinized prayer Review for Religious life, and rugged individualism leaves them feeling iso-lated and unsupported, and they become work-oriented. After years of counseling numerous religious who have left, it is hard for me to remember someone who departed because interesting ministry was unavailable. The common comment has been that life became "too damn lonely." How can the different parties help to close the gap in this time of transition? Times of transition involve cri-sis, and any crisis has two possibilities: opportunity if the crisis is faced, danger oth-erwise. Facing the crisis means avoiding any split by keeping the conversation going, talking of differences and commonali-ties. No one side ever has the whole truth; the truth is a shared truth. I note much good-will on the part of older friars and enthusiasm on the part of the younger ones. There is much "good wine" in both generations. Given this good environment for cooperation, how can we work together? Are there practical moves we can all make? The follow-ing are some of my random suggestions, and maybe you can come up with others: We need to continue moving away from monastic-style buildings towards more ordinary homes. We need to find more visible, credible, and transparent ways of living. For many friars brought up on the older model, where relationships were discouraged and closeness was taboo, this change could present challenges. Contemporary research on religious life indicates that there is a move towards small groups immersed in local communities where there can be a more relational life. "We have need in our society for a countercultural way of life that wit- No one side ever has the whole truth; the truth is a shared truth. 62.4 2003 Cant'well ¯ Why Newly Professed Religious Leave nesses to the gospel call to transcend hedonism, greed, and the desire to dominate.''21 Living in more ordinary houses also makes us more mobile. If we need to do something different, we just sell and buy an ordinary house and are not stuck with a monastery to sell. But young friars .are often looking (like Francis) for a deeper challenge than "living in ordinary houses." They would like to live more simply than their ¯ surrounding culture. They are looking for a palpable sacrifice expressed in our way of living. Smaller houses also demand some of the ordinary decencies of day-to-day living that can be avoided in large houses: "How was your day?" "Sorry!" "Thank you." "May I--?" (Incidentally, the increasing tendency for religious to live alone in ordinary dwellings avoids, in my view, one of the fundamental witnesses of religious commitment.) My own picture of future community life has us liv-ing in ordinary houses and going from there to work. This provides some kind of boundary between work and fraternity. The very acts of leaving home for work and returning home after work are important symbolically. There is no reason why a parish community could not live in an ordinary house within the parish. Friars whose ministry is giving retreats or giving parish missions or working with the poor in the immediate neighborhood or teaching in a nearby school could live fraternally in an ordinary house. We should be slow to build homes or offices specifically for ourselves. If we need office space, we can always buy or rent--then move more easily if the need arises. The move to smaller community living requires more "conscious formation in relationships. Many of the broth-ers in my age group missed out on the "intimacy" stage of formation. There was no encouragement towards friend.ships, towards closeness, towards just ordinary con-nection with other friars. Often those who joined reli- Review for Religious gious life as late vocations have already experienced this stage of development. Gentle encouragement for older religious towards a more relational life can be a big help. Larger communities are sometimes necessary, espe-cially for those who are ill or need more attention, but a large building does not have to impede good fraternity. Attitude is the ruling factor. For instance, even a large din-ing room can be made homey through the use of smaller tables and random seating. House meetings can address, besides strictly busi-ness agendas, matters such as "How are we with each other?" Simple questions like "What is going well in the community?" and "What needs to happen for our life together to be even better?" focus on the positive and require friars to look ahead rather than grumble about difficulties. Such questions create space for friars' needs to be attended to regularly--a good principle of group dynamics. Having a community night--no scheduled work and no work" unless urge.nt--can really help to build frater-nity. Make the night a little special. The meal might be special or served differently or eaten later. The spiritual aspect of our lives should be present. A Eucharist that is thoughtfully prepared is one option, or a special variation on the prayer of the breviary. We need to keep reviewing our commitment to our min-istries, Youth are looking for an exciting ministry that gives witness to our Franciscan values. No ministry is excluded for us, but each ministry must flow out of who we are. The area of our lives which has been most tamed by the institutional church is that of ministry. We have become very mainstream. "Is the societal need that moved us into these works many years ago still relevant? Is the countercultural stance that characterized the socially radical and politica!ly subversive vision of the founders still operative?''22 62.4 2003 Cantwell ¯ Why Newly Professed Religious Leave Why are we doing what we are doing? One reason offered is "We have been doing it for a long time." Not good enough. Another is "We are doing good work and the people love us." I hope that the people will always love us, but that is not a sufficient reason to stay or.go. One danger is that, as priests become fewer, we will be tempted to fill slots for demanding bishops. We speak much about preferential option for the poor. Some of the exciting ventures in our order--and quite ordinary ones as well--are focused on this societal need. In my own province we have a small community of friars living in a housing settlement. They are doing great work in ordinary ways: forming neighborhood groups to keep the suburb clean, finding furniture for the needy, helping build local community support groups, being resources for addressing neighborhood troubles. Young men who are thinking of joining us rightly ask: "Why are you Franciscans doing that particular min-istry?" Can we answer them? I believe the recently introduced custom of mentoring younger friars is an excellent idea that deserves being imple-mented. Being a mentor has been challenging for me, and I believe that it has helped build bridges. Being mentored by more experienced friars has helped me enormously. Meetings of young friars and even meetings, of young reli-gious from different congregations provide support through the sharing of experiences and thus getting a sense of solidarity in a common venture. When the meeting has involved only friars, they have appreciated the presence of the provincial administration for some of the time during the meeting. Meetings of friars in which the experiences of the differ-ent age groups are shared can help build bridges. Recently in my province we asked our two newly professed friars, who had completed a very good novitiate in another Review for Religious pro-~ince, to share with us their experience of the novi-tiate. The theme was expanded to include what young people seek in religious life. Young and old enjoyed the experience. Often what seems like bad will is lack of information. I believe that young friars benefit enormously from hearing the experiences of the older friars, and that sharings like these help close the gap between generations. The proviso is always the priority on listening, coming to learn and understand, rather than being a know-all on either side. In particular, are we attentive to the promptings of the Spirit in the young friars? Do their contributions have their rightful effect on policy decisions? Have we helped them to be skilled at the culture gap? I want to make special mention of the great wisdom and contribution of the older friars. Often in this paper I have referred to age gaps. More correctly, they are cul-ture gaps. Some of the most up-to-date, psychologically flexible, and spiritually wise friars are those who have borne the heat of the day and who are able to offer their wisdom to any who listen. Keeping the conversation going between the different age groups is important in a time of transition. If we do not talk to each other, we build up fantasies of what "that other group" is thinking or doing. I believe we all have lo~s of goodwill, and behind our unwillingness is often fear. When I was prenovitiate director, I used to invite any friar who was passing through the area to "come and talk to the prenovices." The common worry was: "What will I talk about? I don't understand young people?" My response was: "Simply tell them what it has been like for you to be a follower of Francis." We had many enjoy-abl. e evenings, and imagined barriers were broken down. A prayer life that is simple but refreshing is the core of my fraternal life. There are many simple ways to vary common prayer: sing the hymn or play a CD, have some-one read the canticle reflectively, have silence instead of 62.4 2003 Cantwell * Wby Newly Professed Religious Leave Youth hearken to religious callings that offer a countercultural witness to the cultural trends of greed, power, consumerism, individualism. one of the psalms, omit a psalm and have a longer gospel reading or a nonscriptural reading. These suggestions do not require hours of preparation, but they draw us out of a numbing routine that certainly does not refresh my spirit. Faith sharing, too, deepens the experience of fraternity. There is often fear when faith sharing is mentioned: par-ticipants feel they will be asked to bare their souls before the brethren. I like to begin such sessions by saying that it is fine for any friar to be totally silent if that is his wish. One group with which I meet has a simple shared prayer that goes like this. First of all a text is read, usually from the Scriptures. After a short silence anyone who wishes shares just a phrase or word that stood out for him (no embellishment). The text is read a ,second time followed ¯ by a few minutes of silence. Then anyone who wishes . tells briefly what that text means to him or her. Finally we round off with a prayer. I always come away with some small inspiration. We will probably become poorer as a fraternity. Youth hearken to religious callings that offer a countercultural witness to the cultural trends of greed, power, con-sumerism, individualism. One of the most difficult chal-lenges I personally find is not taking the standards of average Australian society as the ones-for my own life. Some young friars have said that, when they joined the order, they went "up" in their standard of living. Can I live in such a way that, when lay people visit the com- Revie~ for Religious munity (or my room), they would find a simplicity of lifestyle that would make them think? Can we use for others the money people generously give us for our min-istry- and maintain a simple lifestyle in our fraternities? I believe Francis would want us to. As our numbers become smaller, we will probably become poorer as an order. I believe that will not do us any harm. When people--of whatever culture or race-- find that we are actually living side by side with them and are in need, they will provide for us. Finally, dare we do something new and exciting when numbers are going down--or even because numbers are going down? If young friars experience only the closing down of houses and nothing else, they might just feel they are on a sinking ship. If I Were a Young Man. If I were a young man with many bright opportuni-ties in Life before me, what kind: of Franciscan religious life would inspire me to join the fraternity? ¯ When I met individual friars, I would want to see the light in their eyes (like I found in the first friar I met) that would tell me they lived life with a passion. ¯ When I visited the communities~ I would want to feel genuinely welcomed (and I reckon I would quickly work out whether it was genuine, or not), not just another statistic. As I joined in community prayer, I would hope to find it fairly simple and thoughtful, not a rushed ver-sion of monastic prayei'. I would not want a lot of prayer--rather a quality about what I experience. And a certain atmosphere of silence at some times of the day would appeal to me. ¯ At recreation I would want to feel that the friars really wanted to have fun together and were not just going through another routine. I would be listening for such ordinary comments as "How was your day? What 62.4 2003 Cantwell ¯ Why Newly Professed Religious Leave were the results of Brother Juniper's visit to the doctor? Who has a new joke to tell?" ¯ I would want to talk to the older friars, to find out how they had experienced following Francis, to learn from their endurance and patience. I would want them to pray for my young journey and have confidence that I could make a contribution, even though different from theirs. I would want them to listen to my hopes, and I would want to hear theirs. Could they translate their struggles into something meaningful to me? ¯ I would hope the kitchen is a place where we all contribute--simple good food and good wine being essential to life. ¯ When they told me about their works, however simple, I would want to ask them why they did those particular things. How does the fire in their belly moti-vate what they do? I would be particularly excited about working for justice, for those without a social voice, for those who feel abandoned by our society. ¯ I would want to experience a rich diversity of min-istries: parishes (why this parish?), retreat work, work with the disadvantaged, skilled individuals doing some unusual ministries. The common denominator v~ould be the "Franciscan need." ¯ I would want to think that there is a certain mobil-ity about the brotherhood, that the friars have their ears to the ground ready to respond to new needs. ¯ I would want the accommodations to be simple yet comfortable--and that the rooms not be so self-contained as to be able to survive a nuclear attack. I would want the neighbors to call in when they think it important--and to be able to share our prayer life. But I would also hope there was a certain sacred space just for the community. ¯ I would want to feel encouraged to give rein to my dreams, to feel there is space for new wine as well as old. ¯ I would be most affected by friars who palpably Review for Religious enjoyed and passionately lived their lives, and who felt fulfilled as human beings and followers of Francis. Franciscan Fire I believe our world today is crying out for precisely those human and spiritual attitudes that Francis of Assisi lived so courageously. Through no bad will, we seem to have lost some of Francis's fire through excessive struc-tures and institutionalization. There is excitement in rediscovering it today, seeing the spark in people's eyes when they hear of Francis. Why do young friars leave? The ultimate answers are all individual. But some leave because the gap between the ideals of Francis and the lived experience of Franciscan life is or appears too great. Rather than blame either side--for blame simply darkens the space between us--can we see these departures as a call to stir the fire in our own lives? Numbers do not really mat-ter. Whether we are few or many is irrelevant, provided that friars are not leaving our midst because we are uncertain trumpets of truly good news. Our task is to echo credibly the ringing values of the poor man of Assisi. Francis and Clare became living and prophetic words to the people of their time. We are challenged to do the same, not alone but in tune with the Spirit. Let the last word be Oscar Romero's: This is what we are about. We plant the seed that one day will grow. We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise. We lay foundations that will need further development. We provide yeast that produces effects far beyond our capabilities. We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that. 62.4 2003 Cantwell ¯ Why Newly Professed Religious Leave This enables us to do something, and to do it very well. It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way, an opportunity for the Lord's grace to enter and do the rest. We may never see the end results, but that is the difference between the master builder and the worker. We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs. We are prophets of a future not our own. Notes 1 Murray 8odo, The Way of St. Francis (Cincinnati: St. Anthony Messenger Press, 1995), p. xvi. 2 Michael J. Breen (ed.), A Fire in the Forest: Religious Lift in Ireland, survey by John A. Weafer (Dublin: Veritas, 2001). 3 Johannes Baptist Metz, Followers of Christ: The Religious Life and the Church, trans. Thomas Linton (New York: Paulist Press, 1977). 4 Matthew T. Eggemeier, "Generation X and Religious Life: A Personal View," Review for Religious 59, no. 5 (September-October 2000): 485 and 484. s Breen and Weafer, Fire, p. 61. 6 Sydney Morning Herald, 11-12 January 2003, p. 12. 7 Eggemeier, "Generation X," p. 482. 8 Eggemeier, "Generation X," p. 482. 9 Eggemeier, "Generation X," p. 483. 10 Eggemeier, "Generation X," p. 481. 11 Eggemeier, "Generation X," p. 486. 12 Eggemeier, "Generation X," pp. 486-487. 13 Lori Spanbauer, "Snapshot of the Millennial Generation," Horizon 27, no. 2 (2001-2002): 15. ,4 Giacomo Bini, Clare of Assisi: A Song of Praise (Rome: Franciscan Press, 2002), p. 15. is Rule and General Constitutions of the Order of Friars Minor (Pulaski, Wisconsin: Franciscan Publishers, 1974), p. 29. 16 Priorities of the Order, General Chapter 1997 (Rome: Franciscan Press, 1998), pp. 8-9. 17 Giacomo Bini, Clare, p. 55. Review for Religious 18 Rule and General Constitutions, p. 28. ~9 Priorities of the Order, p. 6. 2o Priorities of the Order, p. 11. 2~ Breen and Weafer, Fire, p. 68. 2~ Breen and Weafer, Fire, p. 106. Seminary Woods The oak leaves quietly drift from the tall trees, landing softly on the lake, their edges curled skyward as they float along, blown by a gentle breeze. Father, may my hands ever be lifted to you in prayer, as I am blown about life's surface, a little leaf made to glorify your Name. Christine Diensberg OSF 62.4 2003 DONALD C. MALDARI Ignatian Insights into Evangelical Poverty Over the centuries Christian spirituality has, ironically, valued the practice of poverty as an aid to becoming rich in holiness. The inspiration for this evaluation of poverty comes first from its most limpid example, that of the kenosis (emptying) of the Son of God in the incarnation (Ph 2:7) and then from the lives of every person whom Christianity considers a saint. Catholic tradition recommends the practice of the "evangelical counsels" to all Christians as aids in their growth in holiness.~ They are manifold ascetical practices, especially obedience, poverty, and chastity, designed to counter sinful tendencies. They aim at checking human delusions of independence from God, such as pride and self-centeredness. They promote a relationship with God animated by the theological virtues of faith, hope, and love.2 They all appear oddly paradoxical, like pursuing wealth by way of poverty. Ignatius Loyola's spirituality sheds light on this paradox for all struggling to find hope. The young Ignatius sought fulfillment in the ways that conformed to the values of his or really any Donald C. Maldari SJ is an assistant professor in the Department of Religious Studies; Le Moyne College; Syracuse, New York 13 214. Review for Religious materialistic society: in riches and honor. His life was driven by the pursuit of courtly honor and of physical gratification. His convalescence from a serious wound at the battle of Pamplona forced him into a poverty of sorts: a lack of distractions that afforded him the opportunity to find authentic fulfillment in a newfound relationship with God. Upon reflection Ignatius concluded that the riches and honors that people seek may lead to a pride that is self-destructive. This pride obstructs a life-giving relationship with God. In order to battle against the suicidal temptation to self-sufficiency that riches, honors, and pride offer, Ignatius turned to evangelical poverty. Along with the great tradition of Christianity, the mature Ignatius understood evangelical poverty neither as destitution nor as austere disdain for material goods to earn divine favor. Destitution wounds the inherent dignity of human persons by depriving them of what they require to develop as God desires. Disdain for material goods denies the goodness with which God endowed creation. As is evident from the First Principle and Foundation of his Spiritual Exercises, Ignatius, on the contrary, rejoiced in the vocation to fulfillment that God extends to all people and recommended using created things for that purpose (SpEx §23). He grew to understand evangelical poverty as a spiritual attitude and material lifestyle that promotes the most fulfilling creaturely relationship with the Creator. That relationship is made possible by the life that flows from God to creatures, that is, by grace, and the hope that animates creatures and draws them into participation in the very life of God. There appears, therefore, to be a relationship between evangelical poverty and theological hope in the spirituality of Ignatius. Ignatius pursues evangelical poverty as a means of cultivating theological hope. This hope puts Ignatius in direct contact with God, as is 62.4 2003 Maldari ¯ I~natian Insights into Evangelical Povert~ Ignatius's spirituality of poverty and hope is countercultural, as is Christianity itself. characteristic of the theological virtues. One can trace the development of Ignatius's embrace of evangelical poverty in his Autobiography, and one can glimpse the results in the fragments of his Spiritual Diary that have survived. In these fragments one is privy to Ignatius's growing relationship with the Holy Trinity, which he perceives as a community of love that shares all it is and has. It, too, lives evangelical poverty! In his Spiritual Exercises Ignatius invites exercitants to develop their own relationships with the triune God. Ignatius's spirituality of poverty and hope is countercultural, as is Christianity itself. The Gospels assert that those who wish to live authentically need to lose their lives whereas those who selfishly cling to their lives destroy them. Sacrifice, the root meaning of which is "to make holy," seems inevitably to involve some sort of renunciation. The Christian tradition believes that this renunciation is necessary because of the sinful and selfish inclinations of humankind. Evangelical poverty is one of the sacrifices which Christianity values. The hope which it cultivates nourishes people, allowing them to participate even now in the life of God. Ignatius's Understanding of Evangelical Poverty Ignatius's Autobiography reveals a man who grows in his love for God. He attributes to God the initiative in their relationship, but recognizes that people can cooperate with God by taking graced action in developing the relationship. Ignatius grew in his recognition of the Son, the Second Person of the Trinity, as the mediator between God and humanity. He encounters the Son in all creation, Review for Religious which, created through him, is charged with his presence. He encounters him in a privileged way in the incarnate Christ, the fullness of the revelation of God. In Christ Ignatius experiences the dynamic of salvation: the descent of the Son into the human situation in order to effect the ascent of humanity into the life and work of God. As mentioned above, Ignatius relates to God not only in his divine unity but also as the divine community of the Holy Trinity. Poverty, which he refers to as a "mother," plays a crucial role in the development of Ignatius's relationship with this community (Constitutions, §287). As Maurice Giuliani opines, he even recognizes it in the Holy Trinity and in each of its members: The poverty of Jesus who does the work of his Father, the poverty of the divine Persons whose richness is the love which they have for each other, the poverty of the creature who wholeheartedly desires "reverence and respect" along with fidelity and service. How could Ignatius, thus interiorly instructed, henceforth choose anything else but this way of material poverty, a visible sign of human poverty vis-a-vis God and participation in the poverty of God himself?.3 Poverty was an ascetical practice for Ignatius. He understood asceticism as the exercise a person undertakes to attain a goal. His understanding of it developed from an integration of the insights of Christian tradition with insights drawn from his own experiences.4 He used it as an aid to his relationship with the Trinity.5 Javier Osuna Gil suggests that one consider Ignatius's understanding of asceticism from three perspectives: (1) as an effort to remove all disorder, all impediment, whatever makes us less free to receive the transforming action of God, who embraces us with his Love; (2) as a task for transforming oneself into an agile and flexible "instrument" of God, 62.4 2003 Maldari ¯ Ignatian Insights into Evangelical Poverty with increasing availability; and (3) as a way of "carrying the cross," the necessary cost of the historical impact between the project of Jesus and the project of this world.6 Ignatius uses ascetical practices in order to promote the disposition of sinners who seek to respond to Jesus' invitation to follow him and to cooperate in his mission.7 The Spiritual Exercises themselves are ascetical in character in that they are means of preparing and disposing our soul to rid itself of all its disordered affections and then, after their removal, of seeking and finding God's will in the ordering of our life for the salvation of our soul. (SpEx §1) They propose to facilitate the self-communication of God to the exercitant (SpEx § 15). In 1544 Ignatius penned a short document titled The Deliberation on Poverty that provides an insight into his discernment regarding the prescriptions on poverty in the Constitutions of the Society of Jesus. In this document one perceives Ignatius's use of evangelical poverty as an ascetical practice intended to promote his relationship with Christ. Manuel Ruiz Jurado distinguishes three motivations for Ignatius's choice of absolute poverty in this text: ascetic-mystical, apostolic, and Christocentric. The ascetic-mystical reasons include the recognition that poverty promotes absolute hope only in God because it separates one from reliance on secular things.8 The apostolic reasons include giving greater edification through example, having freedom to travel in imitation of Christ and the first apostles, whom Christ charged to live in poverty, and relying for consoling hope, not on secular goods, but on God alone.9 The Christocentric reasons include the desire to imitate Christ, who was poor and faced great adversities and who contin

Issue 61.1 of the Review for Religious, 2002. ; ,2002 VOLUME 61 NUMBER'1 Review for Religious helps people respond and be faitlsful to God's universal call to tsoliness by making available to them the spiritual legades tbat flow from the cbarisms of Catholic consecrated life. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bimonthly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Telephone: 314-977-7363 ° Fax: 314-977-7362 E-Mail: review@slu.edu ¯ Web site: www.reviewforreligious.org Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393 Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP Mount St. Mary's Seminary; Emmitsburg, Maryland 21727 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ° P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©2002 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be consi~tered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. .for religious LIVING OUR CATHOLIC LEGACIES Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Advisot7 Board David L. Fleming SJ Clare Boehmer ASC Philip C. Fischer SJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Judy Sharp Jame~ and Joan Felling Adrian Gaudin SC Sr. Raymohd Marie Gerard FSP Eugene Hen,sell OSB Ernest E. Larkin OCarm Bishop Carlos A. Sevilla sJ Miriam D. Ukeriti~ CSJ JANUARY FEBRUARY 2002 VOLUME 61 NUMBER 1 contents 6 religious culture Teresa: Story Theologian and Transforzner of Culture Mary Frohlich HM provides a different lens for reading The Book of Her Foundations by Teresa of Avila in order to find some of Teresa's most profound teaching about the potential fruits of the contemplative life. 23 Instilling Christian/Religious Culture: Instinct and Connaturality Nihal Abeyasingha CSSR envisages a rationally planned and directed program for the transmission of the "subculture" of religious life and the "culture" of the Christian life to new entrants. 39 Conversion: A Summons from the Word of God 51 Kathleen McMpin RSM explores how the word of God comes to us through daily life experiences, calling us to an ongoing conversion that leads to mercy as justice. Seminary Formation and Lonergan's Conversion Theory Steve Wlusek uses Bernard Lonergan's theory of conversions to illuminate personal development in seminary formation. Review for Religious 57 moral insight The Workers in the Vineyard: Insights for the Moral Life Patricia Ann Lamoureux and Paul Zilonka CP reflect on one Gospel parable as an example of how to develop moral theology in accordance with biblical vision. 70 Creative Response to Racism Mary Alice Chineworth OSP shares her experiences of racism within the religious-life context. adaptive prayer 75 Lectio Divina: A Means to Wholeness Mary Ren~e Nienaber SND reviews the six parts that make up the practice of lectio divina, which fosters a spiritual-life wholeness. 84 St. Albert's Method: 19th-Annotation Retreats at Parishes and Schools Hank Hilton SJ shares an adaptation of the retreat method according to the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius for larger group settings in a parish or school situation. departments 4 Prisms 97 Canonical Counsel: Transfer 104 Book Reviews January-February 2002 prisms ¯ I .l.s we enter into the second year of this new millennium, the world presents us with a different face. The September 11, 2001, events that took place in the United States brought about a coop-erative stance of many of the world's nations against a terrorism grown to huge and horrendous proportions. Many agree in perceiving that terrorism breeds in behav-iors that denigrate others, in poverty that dehumanizes, and in politics that canonizes a status quo. Throughout history, there have been wars of religion, but today peo-ple question whether any war can be valued as religious or justified as just. No one could have suspected that the call which Pope John Paul II made only a year ago in his apostolic letter "At the Beginning of the New Millennium" would ring out with even greater challenge. The pope signaled our approach to this new age in the gospel words of Jesus "duc in altum," "put out into the deep" (Lk 5:4). He saw the new millennium as a vast ocean onto which the world's peoples were setting sail. We needed to hear God's call to set forth--fearlessly--because we often prefer to live with what is known, the past and the pre-sent. It is truly difficult, and sometimes fearful, to move into a future unknown and uncontrollable. Beyond our imagining, this is where we find ourselves as we begin the new year. John Paul II talked about a new face of Christ with which we refamiliarized ourselves as we entered into this Review for Religqous new millennium--a face that we had been contemplating in three preparatory years. When the pope had us focus on the face of Jesus in sorrow, we little realized that we would see that face in image after image during the final months of this past year. Where the pope turned our attention also to the face of Jesus who is risen, we found many weary faces of hope and help that became a part of our international drama. Beyond all our imaginings, we have been given a Pauline conversion moment in seeing Christ. This face arouses no fear, but rather leads us only to new ways of living, loving, and working. The pope challenged all Christians to be, and so to act as, "agents of communion." Being agents of communion is a necessary identity of being Christian in this age calling for a new evange-lizatiofi. The continuing public cooperation of many leaders of the various world religious traditions, especially Christian, Jewish, and Muslim, concretizes for us what an agent of communion attempts. Never have Jesus' directions about praying for our ene-mies and for those who do us wrong been writ so large and clear on the screen of our consciousness. Religious services, both in the public forum and in the neighborhood .church, have incarnated Jesus' injunction and continue to feed personal ways of praying. Humanitarian efforts to help the Afghan people in the midst of a wartime effort against their nation's ruling power are also an action of agents of communion. If images played out so vividly on the world stage call forth such prayer and action, we cannot fail to examine ourselves anew in our own little world of prayer and relationships. How does our prayer need to be enlarged beyond our narrow focusing on self, those dear to us, and our local concerns for well-being? What are the deeds we do that bring about a greater sense of community, of people working together, of a reaching out to the forgotten and neglected? Yes, the face of our world has changed, we say. But does this new face not give us the opportunity to see the face of Christ more clearly and to act, like Christ, as agents of communion? The Greek word kairos signified not ordinary measurement of time (chronos) but rather the special time of encounter with God. This kairos moment challenges us to set out fearlessly into the deep, "duc in altunl. " David L. Fleming SJ January-February 2002 MARY FROHLICH Teresa: Story Theologian and Transformer of Culture Even among fans of Teresa of Avila, comparatively few have read The Book of Her Foundations. Why has Foundations been comparatively neglected in relation to Teresa's other works? Probably because it has a rather different character. Although Teresa can never be accused of being a "systematic thinker," her other three books (the Book of Her Life, the Way of Perfection, and the Interior Castle) offer more or less organic overviews of contemplative life and development. If one looks for the same in the Foundations, one is likely at first to be disappointed. Here, however, I will pro-pose that, by reading with a different lens, we may find in this book some of Teresa's most profound teaching about the potential fruits of the contempla-tive life. ¯ Through the lens I experiment with here, Teresa can be seen as what Terrence Tilley calls a "story the-ologian." In 1972, when Teresa was named one of the first two female doctors of the church, the question arose how someone who was clearly not a systematic theologian, but rather an image-smith and a story- Mary Frohlich HM is associate professor of spirituality at Chicago Theological Union; 5401 South Cornell Avenue; Chicago, Illinois 60615. Review for Religi'ous teller, could attain this title. Since that time, awareness has grown that, in fact, stories and images are at the grass roots of all the theology that has ever been created and communicated. The example par excellence of "story theology" is the Bible. In his book Story Theology, Tilley proposes that theology in this genre has three major tasks: (1) to tell new and flesh stories which show a new era what the key Christian words mean, (2) to transform creatively the narratives handed down by tradi-tion, and (3) to proclaim and manifest the Good News in a way that speaks to and transforms the heart of a culture) In this article I explore Teresa's Foundations as an example of story the-ology that has a remarkable capacity to transform the heart of her culture and, as a classic, all cultures. The Text and Its Context The thirty-one chapters of the Foundations recount, in vary-ing degrees of detail, the circumstances and efforts pertaining to the founding of seventeen Discalced Carmelite monasteries. The text consists mainly of stories--some humorous, some poignant, some edifying, some pretty incredible--interspersed with shorter or longer asides of sage advice for her nuns and especially for her prioresses. Other features include several hagiographical accounts of the remarkable lives and deeds of individual nuns, friars, and benefactors and, of course, a good deal of autobiographical information about Teresa's attractions, friendships, physical sufferings, and moods. In short, the Foundations is decidedly not an organic presentation of spiritual principles, but rather more of a "down and dirty" chronicle of what happens when one tries to do God's work in this raucous and resistant "real world" in which we live. And that, I think, is why at this time in my life I am so strongly drawn to the Foundations. It is certainly not because I am any less interested in the interior life, but because I am now even more interested in what difference it makes. By that I do not mean taking a utilitarian approach to prayer, as if it has no value unless one can immediately see its fruits. I mean something more like what Teresa says at the end of the Interior Castle (VII.4.6): "This is the reason for prayer, my daughters, the pur-pose of this spiritual marriage: the birth always of good works, January-February 2002 Frohlich ¯ Teresa: Story Theologian The Foundations is the "first fruit" (literarily speaking) of Teresa's spiritual marriage. good works." In the Foundations we see what that statement meant, concretely, in Teresa's own life. Like the apostles in Acts, Teresa in the Foundations is a woman of mission, sent forth into the hurly-burly of the real world to Fooperate with the Holy Spirit in the construction of multiple "dwelling places of God," places that are not only interior but also physical and social and political, places in which deep interiority can find a home and can continue to be propagated far and wide. In view of this, it is helpful to note where the writing of the Foundations occurred in Teresa's life. Teresa was forty-seven years old when, in 1562, she made her first Discalced founda-tion at St. Joseph's in Avila. Over the next four years, she wrote her Life and the Way of Perfection and ¯ then began the whirlwind of founding activity that would continue until the end of her life. Nine new Discalced monasteries had already been established by the time Teresa received the grace of spiritual marriage on 18 November 1572 at age fifty-seven. It was about nine months after this breakthrough spiritual event that she began to write The Book of Her Foundations. Work on this text con-tinued intermittently until November 1576, by which time she had completed twenty-seven chapters and made four more foundations. Between June 1577 and November, right in the midst of one of the most intense periods of squabbling and harassment related to her reforming activity, she wrote the entire text of the Interior Castle. Finally, between 1580 and 1582, she made four more foundations and added their stories to the text of the Foundations. Chapter 31 and the epilogue were completed only a few months before her death on 4 October 1582 at age sixty-seven. Two things are interesting to note here. One is that this book, the Foundations, is the "first fruit" (literarily speaking) of Teresa's spiritual marriage. The other is that the first and last parts of the Foundations form a kind of sandwich around the Interior Castle. These two books are closely related to each other. Together--not separately--they are the fully developed fruit of -o°-j Teresa's human and spiritual maturity. And so, before delving Review for Religqous more deeply into the Foundations, let us review what Teresa says about the spiritual marriage in the Interior Castle. Spiritual Marriage: At One with God, Sell and World In the Seventh Dwelling Places of the Interior Castle, Teresa teaches that the soul that receives the culminating grace of the spiritual marriage is brought fully into its own center, where God alone dwells. Like a river that has flowed into the ocean, the soul now is completely and unchangeably at one with God. This differs from earlier stages of union and rapture in that here the faculties are not lost. That is, one retains the ability to understand what is happening and to carry on external activities even while in this form of union. This latter is especially impor-tant: Teresa repeatedly emphasizes that the purpose of the spir-itual marriage is not rest and delight, but to be joined to the sufferings of Christ and to spend oneself on behalf of souls. She describes the typical condition of such a person as consisting of deep interior peace while enduring extremes of exterior per-secution, struggle, and hard work for the sake of the gospel. When we put the stories told in the Foundations next to this, Teresa's astute but rather decontextualized description of spir-itual marriage takes on life. The stories reveal to us how Teresa's transformed interior self was united not only with God, but also in a transformative way with the physical, social, cultural, and ecclesial world in which she lived. In other words, the stories both depict and enact the way persons in spiritual marriage gain the capacity to transform their cultural world at its heart. Most obviously, the stories about Teresa herself depict a union of the divine and human, played out in this feisty, witty, and indomitable woman's adventures in living her gospel mission amidst the gritty reality of business affairs, human squabbles, stress, and struggle that looks a lot like what we all deal with in our day-to-day lives. But it is in Teresa's minibiographies of holy Christians--most of them women--that she expresses most fascinatingly for the heart of her culture the explosive truth of the gospel. It is by a deep reading of these stories that we may begin to get a glimpse of what it means to call Teresa a "story theologian and transformer of culture." January-February 2002 Froblicls ¯ Teresa: Story Theologian A "Little Story": The Testimony of a Female Infant Let us listen, then, to Teresa's stoW about Dofia Teresa de Layz, founding benefactress of the monastery at Mba de Tormes. As the fifth daughter of parents who desperately wanted a son, she was such a disappointment to them that--although they took care to have her baptized at once--they left her alone all day "as if she mattered little to them." The stoW continues: When at nightfall a woman came who was taking care of the baby and found out what was going on, she has-tened to see if the child was dead . Weeping, the woman took the baby into her arms and, complaining of the cruelty, said: "How is it, my daughter, are you not a Christian?" The baby girl lifted her head and answered, "Yes, I am," and spoke no more until reach-ing that age at which all children begin to speak. (20.4)2 At first glance we may find this story a bit. incredible. It is what Alex Garcfa-Rivera, in his recent book about the mulatto saint Martin de Porres, calls a "little story.''3 While "big stories" aim to speak universal truth and are acclaimed by those belonging to dominant cultures, "little stories" like this give the appearance of just being naive or superstitious tales aimed at the poor and uneducated. For example, many "little stories" about St. Martin de Porres tell of the saint healing animals and speaking with them as if they were human persons. Garcfa-Rivera shows how, despite their lowly appearance, "little stories" like those may actually convey potent gospel messages of the reversal of values. In a culture where those (such as Martin) with Indian or African blood were regarded as "like animals," the stories of him treat-ing animals "like humans" imaged a shocking upending of all-too- common assumptions. Garcfa-Rivera shows how in such popular "little stories" marginalized people not only express their conflicted position within cultural and religious systems of power, but also challenge and reinterpret those systems within a faith context. Tellers of "little stories" are ci'eatively working out painful personal struggles for meaning and identity and at the same time are offering their culture something new and potentially transformative.4 In view of this, there may be a lot more being conveyed by Teresa's "little stow" of the abandoned infant who speaks up Review for Religious for herself than we would see with only a superficial reading. Teresa is graphically expressing what was probably the most painful fact affecting her own struggle for meaning and identity, namely, the extreme devaluing of the female sex within the Spanish culture of that time. This poignant story of child aban-donment impresses readers with the death-dealing consequences of that devaluation more than any bare assertion ever could. There is more, however, in this story. The newborn female child miraculously speaks, testifying that she is a Christian. Teresa expresses deep irony here, for within the cultural mentality of the time it was as incredible for any female to speak in the name of the gospel as it would be if a newborn infant spoke intelligibly. Thus, through her "little story," Teresa artfully but quite potently affirms women's God-given vocation to proclaim the gospel. In fact, she is claiming that females and others who are cultur-ally regarded as valueless may be even more gifted by God than those who have been accorded an approved voice.5 Tellers of "'little stories" are offering their culture something new and potentially transformative. The Challenges of Teresa's World The stow, then, indirectly but powerfully presents a gospel perspective on the sociocultural and historical situation in which Teresa found herself.6 Let us review the characteristics of that situation and the very serious risks it posed for Teresa and her mission. Throughout the 16th century the Spanish Roman Catholic hierarchy was becoming increasingly rigid and con-trolling towards a series of perceived thi'eats to its authority. The first perceived threat was that of "judaizing" tendencies among those whose ancestors had been forced to convert from Judaism to Catholicism in 1492. Teresa came from such a con-verso family, a fact she always had to conceal, but which was probably known or suspected by many of her contemporaries. In this milieu those with Jewish blood were always considered sus-pect, regardless of their personal belief and behavior. Teresa, January-February 2002 Frohlich ¯ Teresa: Story Theologian The pain that led to Teresa's transformative storytelling was the spiritual anguish of one with a soul-hunger for God. therefore, was deeply sensitive to all forms of marginalization. The story of the child unwanted by people but gifted by God is about women, but it is. also a basic gospel message applicable to all who are devalued in human eyes. The second perceived threat of that era was the so-called "Lutherans," a category that expanded to include anyone who appeared to express any lack of respect for the pope, the priesthood, or the sacraments. It is noteworthy that, in the story of the infant Teresa de Layz, Teresa makes a point of saying that she was baptized, thereby depicting the child's amazing testi-mony not as a random outbreak of the supernatural, but asthe miraculous fruit of sacramental initiation. This is an important nuance, and typical of Teresa's careful balance in relation to the concerns of her environment. The third perceived threat of the time was a growing wave of illuminists or alumbrados, who claimed special spiritual author-ity on the basis of their mystical experiences and visions. Many of the alumbrados who were prosecuted by the inquisition were women; in the mentality in Spain at the time, women's assumed inferior intelligence made them particularly susceptible to being seduced by the devil. This pr6blem was exacerbated by the Index of 1559, which made most Spanish-language books on prayer and spirituality unavailable and thus prevented women--very few of whom were trained in Latin--from having access to the technical vocabulary and the theology of the spiritual life. Thus, throughout her life but espe.cially during the peak period of her activities of founding and writing, Teresa faced a huge personal and political challenge. Her culture insisted that no mujercita or "little woman"--particularly one of converso back-ground-- should be teaching others about the spiritual life, let alone doing so on the authority of her own spiritual experiences. In view of this, the.seemingly innocent "little story" of the baby Teresa de Layz speaks volumes to those who can read between Review for Religious the lines. Far from being merely a cute and improbable anec-dote suited to the low intellectual capacities of the mujercitas, it is a subtle and explosive parable aimed directly at the very heart of the antigospel forces that impinged upon Teresa's vocation to live out the full effects of her spiritual marriage. What Fueled Teresa's Imagination? In the story of Teresa de Layz, we see Teresa doing exactly what Terrence Tilley describes as the mandate of "story theol-ogy," namely, creatively telling the gospel story for her own culture. But where did Teresa's creative genius as a "story theologian" come from? Elaine Scarry's book The Body in Pain proposes that the basic motivator of creative imagination is pain? A simple, everyday example is the pinch of hunger, which moves us to creatively find a way around any obstacle that is preventing us from getting food. Several recent feminist inter-preters have taken a similar perspective on Teresa, proposing that her creative activity as writer and foundress was primarily a way of subverting the painful limitations imposed on her by her status as a woman in a repressive patriarchal milieu.8 There is an important element of truth here, yet it only goes halfway. The pain that led to Teresa's transformative sto-rytelling was not only social and cultural; it was the spiritual anguish of one with a soul-hunger for God. Above all, Teresa felt herself called to pursue the life of mystical union in its fullness, and to cooperate with God in creating the best possible condi-tions and guidance for others to do the same.9 Yet, as we have seen, there were many serious cultural obstacles to her doing this. She contended, then, with two sources of pain: both the interior rending that resulted from her hurtling into God and the exterior conflict stirred up by her determined efforts to live out her call to be a woman of God, a preacher of the gospel, and a foundress. Let us look at another story to see bow Teresa wrestled creatively and imaginatively with these inner and outer conflicts. "Uppity Women": Catalina Godlnez and Teresa This is Teresa's account of the sudden conversion of Catalina ~1~3~ .~anuary-February 2002 Froblicb ¯ Teresa: Story Theologian Godfnez, founding benefactress and one of the first to enter the monastery at Beas: [Catalina] had been thinking of a marriage that was being sought for her, which was better than she could have hoped for, and saying to herself: "With what lit-tle my father is content, that I.become connected with an entailed estate; I am thinking of becoming the ori-gin of a new line of descendants." She was not inclined toward marriage, for she considered it demeaning to be subject to someone; nor did she know where this pride came from . The moment she read the inscription [on a nearby crucifix], it seemed to her that, just as sunshine enters a dark room, a light came into her soul by which she understood the truth . Thus she began to despise herself, to have .great desires for penance, which after-ward she put into effect. She at once promised chastity and poverty and wanted to see herself so subject that she would have rejoiced to be carried off then to the land of the Moors and remain there. All of these virtues lasted in her, so that the experience was clearly seen to be a supernatural favor from our Lord. (22.5-6) The story continues on for many pages, recounting an uproar of demons disturbed by Catalina's conversion, then her conflicts with her parents, who refused to give her permission to become a nun, her extreme penances and illnesses, and finally her dra-matic challenge to her relatives and to God that, if she were healed by a certain day, she should be permitted to become a nun. Sure enough, on the appointed day she rose from her bed, ready to assist Teresa in founding the monastery of Beas. Some feminist interpreters have pointed out the fascinat-ing tension he?e between Teresa's delight in portraying Catalina's feisty statement of her desire to "found her own lineage" and not to be subject to anyone and her equal delight in portraying Catalina's conversion to fervent desire for suffering and sub-jection. The dramatic tension between willfulness and obedi-ence continues to play out in the story as Catalina steadfastly refuses to be subject to the wishes of her parents or relatives and then endures years of extreme physical suffering while stub-bornly holding out for fulfillment of her personal vision. It is a Review for Relig4ous great story in itself, and it is a prime illustration of a tension, at the heart of Teresa's story theology, between her culturally sub-versive claim for female authority and her acceptance of abso-lute obedience to God. In the eyes of her culture, Catalina Godfnez was, like Teresa, an "uppity woman." When Catalina dares to say in so many words that she wanted to "found her own lineage" and be sub-ject to no one, one can hardly help hearing Teresa behind her saying, "And look at me! In making these foundations I am actually doing it! I am founding my own female lineage!" Yet, in the next few lines, Teresa successfully dissociates her-self from the "pride" of such a statement as she affirms that God has supernaturally transformed Catalina so that she now desires to be subject to everyone and to be humiliated with Christ cruci-fied. It is as if Teresa is saying, "This is the way my new female lineage will be founded: not in pride, but in humble union with God." While some feminist interpreters have presumed that Teresa's frequent protestations of humility and obedience are largely a smokescreen thrown up to obscure her real goals of female power, my interpretation would be that her commitment to humility and obedience in relation to God was indeed radi-cal. For example, at the heart of all Teresa's stories about her founding activities is the conviction that God is the real founder. She repeatedly says things like "I want our Lord to make known to everyone how in these foundations we creatures have done next to nothing. The Lord directed all by means of such lowly beginnings that only His Majesty could have raised the work to what it now is" (13.7). Although her words about doing "next to nothing" are somewhat hyperbolic, her core conviction is clear: both the initiative and the ultimate success of her found-ing activity come from God. Indeed, it is exactly because she believed her commission for this work came from God that she was willing and able to take such great risks on behalf of estab- At the heart of all Teresa's stories about her founding activities is the conviction that God is the real founder. January-Februa~y 2002 Froblicb * Teresa: Story Theologian lishing the authority and lineage of women. Radical Obedience and the Lineage of Women The next story is one example of these linked commitments to radical obedience and to the spiritual lineage of holy women. In chapter 28 she recounts at great length the story of Dofia Catalina de Cardona,who left her life among the nobility for a hermitage, where she wore coarse cloth, ate only every third day, took the discipline with a heavy chain, and practiced many other harsh austerities and virtuous acts. Later on she suffered greatly in order to found the Discalced friars' monastery at Pastrana. One day Teresa, after Commu'nion in the church there (which was on the site of Dofia Catalina's original hei'mitage), experienced a "suspension." She states: In this suspension, through an intellectual vision, this holy woman appeared in a glorified body and some angels with her. She told me not to grow weary, but that I should strive to go ahead with these foundations. I understood, although she did not indicate this, that she was helping me before God. She also told me something else, but there is no reason to put it here in writing. I was left very much consoled and with a great desire to work hard, and I hope in the goodness of the Lord that with help as good as these prayers of hers I will be able to serve Him in some way. (28.36) In this story Teresa not only explicitly claims the patronage of a holy female spiritual ancestor in her work of founding, but also implicitly affirms what Gillian Ahlgren calls the "visionary epis-temology" that, for at least four centuries before Teresa's time, had been the primary path to spiritual empowerment for women,l° A visionary epistemology asserts that real knowledge of God and real wisdom in relation to the world are conveyed through visionary experience. Throughout the Middle Ages, when women were systematically denied access to theological education and to positions of ecclesial power, the main route by which women could gain religious status and voice was by claim-ing to have visions or locutions in which God communicated directly with them. This was always a dangerous path, subject to suspicion and curtailment from powers that felt threatened. But Review for Religious in Teresa's time it was even more dangerous because of the inten-sive inquisitorial campaign that was being waged against the alumbrados, who claimed special religious experiences. It is quite remarkable that Teresa and her claims to special knowledge through visions not only survived in this atmosphere, but actu-ally thrived. To see how she did it, let us look again at her account of her vision of Dofia Catalina de Cardona. Teresa states, first, that the vision took place immediately after Communion, thus affirming an intrinsic connection between her experience and the church's sacraments. She states, second, that it was an intellectual vision, not an imaginative or bodily one. Although all visions were suspect, those involving less of the sensual component were slightly less so. Over time Teresa became increasingly adept at making this kind of tech-nical distinction, helping to allay the fears of her learned cen-sors. Third, her main emphasis in this story is on the good effects of the vision: it encourages her to dedicate herself even more firmly to serving God and building up the church through making monastic foundations. Gillian Ahlgren notes that, while in her earlier writings Teresa lingers longer over the experien-tial aspects of her visions, in later writings she focuses much more on how to discern their authenticity; and her key test was usually to note their effects)1 Thus we see in this story, written very near the end of Teresa's life, the masterful way in which she tiptoes through the minefields of criticism that could easily have doomed her and her projects. And once again we see how she manages to accom-plish two seemingly contradictory goals at once: reaffirming her humility and obedience to the purposes of God and the church and presenting herself as a uniquely favored female apos-tle and heir to a powerful female spiritual lineage. Troubling and Transforming the Status Quo With hindsight we kntw that, despite her radical and auda-cious vision, Teresa not only succeeded in her life's mission but even became a canonized saint and a doctor of the church. Yet, as the Foundations makes abundantly clear, Teresa's founding activities faced formidable obstacles and often stirred up intense opposition. There is high drama in the stories of Teresa push- January-February 2002 Froblicb ¯ Teresa: Story Theologian ing indomitably forward while bishops and religious superiors balk, wealthy people or town councils demand conditions she cannot accept, the owners of desired houses refuse to negotiate or their tenants refuse to vacate the premises, nuns and friars lose heart or get into squabbles with one another, and even the weather, the roads, and her aging body seem increasingly to conspire against her. In all this, Teresa usually attributes any form of suffering or resistance to the devil's opposition to her "good works." But, as Alex Garcfa-Rivera notes in relation to St. Martin de Porres, stories about troublesome demons always seem to appear exactly at the place where the symbols most cherished by cult-oral and political powers are being challenged. In Teresa's case, as we have seen, both her activity of founding and her written works artfully contested some of the key assumptions of the cultural and ecclesial status quo: namely, that women cannot teach or lead, that knowledge of God must come in an institutionally approved package, and that money, pedigree, and "pure blood" are the determinants of honor. It seems that in her spiritual marriage Teresa's ability to speak troublesomely and transfor-matively to the very heart of her culture came to fullness. "Water for All Our Needs" As a way of summing up the gist of the perspective pre-sented here--and, more importantly, of Teresa's key spiritual insights--let us listen to one more "little story" from the Foundations. Teresa recounts what transpired when, in the newly founded monastery at Medina del Campo, the nuns suffered from lack of good water: When I called some workmen to dig a new [well], they laughed at me as though I were wanting to throw money away. I asked the sisters what they thought. One said that it should be tried, that since our Lord would have to provide someone to bring us water as well as food, it would be cheap.er for His Majesty to give us the well on the grounds of the house and that thus He would not fail to do so. Observing the great faith and determination with which she said it, I became certain. And, contrary to the opinion of the Review for Religious one who understood all about founts and water, I went ahead. And the Lord was pleased that we were able to put in a conduit which provided enough water for our needs, and for drinking, and which we now have. (1.4) Once again, we see the mujercitas, the foolish little women who have nothing but their faith, being justified over those who sup-posedly "understood all about founts and water." But there may be more in this "little story," particularly when we recall the importance of the imagery of water, wells, and founts in each of Teresa's major books.~3 Given my original premise that the Foundations needs to be interpreted as a sort of"first fruit" of Teresa's spiritual marriage and as having a special relation to the Interior Castle, around which it forms a sandwich, I think we need to place Teresa's "little story" of the well next to this text from the Seventh Dwelling Places: For from these divine breasts where it seems God is always sustaining the soul there flow streams of milk bringing comfort to all the people of the castle. It seems the Lord desires that in some manner these oth-ers in the castle may enjoy the great deal the soul is enjoying and that from that full-flowing river, where this tiny fount is swallowed .up, a spurt of that water will sometimes be directed toward the sustenance of those who in corporeal things must serve these two who are wed . For just.as a great gush of water could not reach us if it didn't have a source, as I have said, so it is understood clearly that there is Someone in the interior depths who shoots these arrows and gives life to this life. (VII.2.6)14 This text from the Interior Castle is clearly talking about the mystical life. Teresa mixes several biblical images with long his-tories of use by mystical writers, such as the "divine breasts," "streams of milk," and "arrows." But Teresa's central image for the welling up of God's lif( in our interior depths is, as usual, water. Here she proclaims that the water of mystical union does not simply remain in the center of the soul, but gushes abun-dantly outward to sustain, enrich, and heal the whole bodily and psychological person. Yet I believe we can take the image one step further, especially if we understand the human person as an intrinsically relational and social being. After all, it is only January-February 2002 Froblicb ¯ Teresa: Story Theologian a few pages further on that Teresa makes her well-known affir-mation that the purpose of the spiritual marriage is not simply to rest in delightful interiority, but to share those riches with others through "good works." The "little stow" of the well at Medina del Campo is a very concrete, down-to-earth vignette of how the life of mystical union which it is Teresa's mission to promote bears fruit. Here it is physical water that gushes up because of the nuns' faith, providing abundantly for their bod-ily needs. The "spiritual marriage" is complete: divine and human, mystical and physical, are at one. Yet this reading of the Foundations suggests that the outflow of the spiritual marriage goes even further. The nuns' miracu-lous well is also a public testimony to the presence and activity of God in those whom society regards as mere mujercitas, foolish little women. The water of God that gushes up in the spiritual marriage works to sustain, heal, and transform not only the indi-vidual person, but her whole social and cultural world as well. For a perspective on this that is from a completely different tradition, yet is remarkably consonant with Teresa's spiritual insight, listen to this poetic text fromthe Chinese Tao-te- Ching:ts The highest motive is to be like water. Water is essential to all living things, yet it demands no pay or recognition. Rather it flows humbly to the lowest level. Nothing is weaker than water, yet, for overcoming what is hard and strong, nothing surpasses it. It seems that in The Book of Her Foundations Teresa teaches, through her consummate "stoW theology," that the gift of union with God in the ~piritual marriage indeed makes a person like water. Such a person flows humbly to the lowest level and is rad-ically obedient to the direction of her own and others' thirst for God. In this way she unites herself intimately with the heart of her culture and can ov4rcome that in it which is hard and strong. Notes Terrence W. Tilley, StoO, Tbeolog~ (V~lmington: Michael Glazier, 1985), pp. 11-16. All quotations from the Foundations are from The Collected Works Review for Religious of St. Teresa ofAvila, Vol. 3, trans. Kieran Kavanaugh and Otilio Rodriguez (Washington, D.C.: Institute of Carmelite Studies, 1985). 3 Alex Garcfa-Rivera, St. Ma~-tin de Porres: The "Little Stories" and the Semiotics of Culture (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1995). 4 As several commentators have noted, Teresa's style of rhetoric is "women's language"; that is, not only is it the vernacular instead of Latin, but it is conversational, imagistic, elliptical, and aimed at the general populace rather than an elite. See, for example, Elias R. Rivers, "The Vernacular Mind of St. Teresa," Carmelite Studies 3 (1984). In recent years feminist analyses have revealed how this "women's lan-guage" is far more sophisticated than it first appears; it often functions as a sort of "Trojan horse" strategy that lets Teresa speak in places and ways that would otherwise be closed to her. See especially Alison Weber, Teresa of Avila and the Rhetoric of Femininity (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1990), and Carole Slade, St. Teresa of Avila: Author of a Heroic Life (Berkel.ey: University of California Press, 1995). s See Antonio P~rez-Romero, Subversion and Liberation in the Writings of St. Teresa of Avila (Atlanta: Rodopi, 1996). 6 For an overview of these trends, see Te6fanes Egido, "The HistoriCal Setting of St. Teresa's Life," trans. S. Payne and M. Dodd, Carmelite Studies 1 (1980); also Gillian Ahlgren, Teresa of Avila and the Politics of Sanctity (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1996), especially chap. 1. 7 Elaine Scarry, The Body in Pain: The Maki~zg and Unmaking of the World (New York: Oxford University Press, 1985). 8 See Weber, Slade, Ahlgren, and P~rez-Romero. 9 Among the above commentators, Ahlgren and P~rez-Romero offer an interpretation of Teresa's motives that is similar to my own. 10 Ahlgren, chap. 7. On the tradition of women visionaries, see Elizabeth Alvilda Petroff, Medieval Women's Visionary Literature (New York: Oxford University Press, 1986). 1, See Ahlgren, especially p. 10 I, for discussion of Teresa's devel-oping theology in relation to visions. ,2 Garcfa-Rivera, p. 36. ,3 In the Life, chaps. 11-22, she wrote of the "Four Waters," and in the Way, chaps. 19-21, of the "fount of living water." In the Interior Castle the same imagery appears, most prominently in the First, Fourth and Seventh Dwelling Places. 14 The Collected Works of St. Teresa of Avila, Vol. 2 (Washington, D.C.: Institute of Carmelite Studies, 1980). ,s Having been given this quotation on a prayer card, I consulted several English versions of the Tao-te-Ching without being able to locate this specific translation. I was able to determine, however, that .~anuary-February 2002 Frohlich ¯ Teresa: Story Theologian the first half of the quotation comes from poem 8 and the second half from poem 78. The Beast of Contemplation I walked past someflattened grass behind the house this morning, where an animal had lain in the night, touching a mystery by touching the fringe of the turf where something wild had passed and paused and passed again. What did the animal lying in that place think (or not think) in the otherness of its sojourn there? I ask this, even as I know the wild creature lying behind the house to be none other than myself. This, after all, is the patch of grass where I sprawl under the stars each night, sometimes lost in contemplation, other times in sleep. Them is an animal of God that makes its lair in me, some distance, often,from my mind. It comes as stranger, glimpsed in a vestige of presence, a pressed-smooth swath ofunmowed lawn. I marvel at the wildness of this elusive beast, leaving only the bay of its body at the place where God has passed and paused and passed again. Belden C. Lane Review for Religious NIHAL ABEYASINGHA Instilling Christian/ Religious Culture: Instinct and Connaturality At on the Internet, there is a link to Chimpanzee Cultures Website. Accustomed to speaking of culture as a human creation, one wonders how it might apply to the animal world. In fact, given that there are certain characteristics common to an entire species in the ani-mal world and that there are variants identifiable within the species, there is some evidence that one animal's "discovery" can gradually spread to other animals of the same species) The key words here--common, variants, spread--contain concepts to consider in discussing culture in human societies. The pre-sent article will use those concepts in looking at the culture of religious life. Religious or consecrated life has not been of a single mold through history. Common to it always and everywhere is the following of Christ in accord with one's baptismal commitment. Variants include hermit life and common life, enclosed monas-tic life and mendicant life, institutes of apostolic life and secu-lar institutes. Religious life that sprang up in one set of circumstances has often spread to other circumstances, and today religious life cannot hold itself entirely aloof from the many rapid changes occurring differently all over the world. Nihal Abeyasingha CSSR wrote for us twice in 1999. His address is 454/9 Piachaud Gardens; Peradeniya Road; 20000 Kandy; Sri Lanka. ~-2~ --- 2- January-February 2002 Abeyasingba ¯ Instilling Christian/Religious Culture The present article makes two proposals. First, if there is transmission of a common way of life all through a group and if innovations can be spread within a given species in the animal world, one can envisage a rationally planned and directed pro-gram for transmitting to new entrants the culture of the Christian life and the subculture of religious life. Second, I pro-pose certain "settings" where new entrants might be placed, where their religious instinct and sense of connaturality could be fostered. How Transmit Culture? Culture can be considered as the behaviors, skills, and knowl-edge that you acquire from and share with others of your species, but that differ from the way of life lived by members of your species elsewhere. This culture is neither acquired genetically nor compelled by the environment, but neither can it be taught-- it has to be caught. In odaer words, there is a memory (one could call it "institutional memory") that the older generation of a species embodies and carries. In associating with that genera-tion and experiencing various of its devices, the younger gener-ation comes to share in the culture. These younger members do so not by compulsion, but because that way of doing things is "connatural" to them. They do it because they want to do it. John Henry Newman (1801-1890) suggested "that our most natural mode of reasoning is, not from propositions to propo-sitions, but from things to things, from concrete to concrete, from wholes to wholes.''2 He says that, as regards "the great fun-damental truths of religion, natural and revealed, and as regards the mass of religious men, these truths, doubdess, may be proved and defended by an array of invincible natural arguments, but such is not commonly the method in which those same logical arguments make their way into our minds. The grounds on which we hold the divine origin of the church and the previous truths which are taught us by nature--the being of a God and the immortality of the soul--are felt by most men to be recondite and impalpable, in proportion to their depth and reality.''3 Animals seem to have this concrete kind of "reasoning." Endowed with a natural sense, they learn their "culture" by liv-ing it and doing the things that accord with it. People are born Review for Religious with natural instincts and reason; they learn to be human beings within a culture somewhat as animals do. But, because of their reason and free will, they are not determined by their instincts. Yet--and here we enter the sphere of religion--the human being cannot be satisfied with the material. "Our hearts are made for you, O Lord, and they are restless until they rest in you" are the famous words of Augustine of Hippo (354-430). Religion provides for the restlessness of the heart. Some indi-viduals experience that restlessness more intensely, and often with particular nuances. This leads them to seek rest for their restlessness not only in Christian living within the broad framework of the church, but along a specific way of following Christ closely. This they find instinctively in a par-ticular religious congrega-tion. When asked why they entered this one and not that, they have their own idiosyncratic modes of saying so. But most impor-tant is that they feel at home in the institute and are happy in its life and apostolate. Today's religious come from a different social background from the religious of the first half of the 20th century. Ministering to Today's World Feeling at home and happy does not mean that they have reached the end of their journey. In fact, they have only begun. And that is why I suggest that there must be some way in which they can be helped to grow. Instinctively and by way of con-naturality, they should be assisted to grow, incorporating what is in accord with their quest and rejecting what is contrary to it. Today's religious come from a different social background from the religious of the first half of the 20th century.4 They bring with them a certain culture and the popular piety with which they have grown up in their homes. During the training period they are filled with a whole range of knowledge. But, once the period of training is over, they try to use as the basis of their ministry the popular piety they carried with them at their entrance.~ This does not work. ~tanuary-February 2002 Abeyasingba ¯ Instilling Christian/Religious Culture Change (rapid, radical, in almost every sphere) and diversity (abundant and bewildering) are unavoidable present-day reali-ties, but Christians have no cause to fear them. By baptism (see Rm 6:3-11) we are participants in the most radical of changes, the death and resurrection of Christ, phenomena that express themselves in a never-ending variety of ways. This reality, how-ever, needs to be instilled more and more into the life and min-istry of religious. In other words, in their response to problems related to all the change and diversity in the world, Christians and especially religious are continually called to return to the Christian mystery of Christ's death and resurrection. Popular piety is inadequate to face the modern world. Popular piety can be seen as "contractual": if one fulfills certain set obligations, then one will grow as a Christian and attain sal-vation. Sometimes this piety may border on the magical: if one does certain things in a certain way, then various desirable results will follow. This approach, still present in the life of many peo-ple, has helped many on the path of holiness. But is it the answer to today's problematic of change and diversity? Is going with the practices of many a help or a hindrance for religious in their life and work with and for others? Today's change and diversity have far-reaching effects. The Christian perspective on this situation might be stated briefly as follows: Human freedom is used and abused, but, no matter what, God remains faithful. The death and resurrection of Christ shows this, and Christians share in it. Their share is in what they do, not merely what they talk about. Jesus, knowing who would betray or deny him, shared a special meal with them. The church continues to remember that, on the night he was betrayed (by his disciples and by us), he took bread and said "Take and eat . " This meal shared with his betrayers--and continued by the community of believers--is the place where we learn how to handle the world in which we live. We learn, not by study, but by doing.We learn, not bj~ logical reasoning so much as by a kind of instinct and connaturality. This doing (in memory of him) is the source of knowledge, knowledge of a unique opportunity for us to turn to the pure victim of our betrayal and find both salvation for ourselves and cordial reciprocity with one another. If we learn by what we do, it follows that there can be no Review for Religious predetermined curriculum. We can only seek or provide set-tings where connaturality and the religious instinct can be evoked and then try to adopt or inculcate a "rationalized asceti-cism," that is, a commitment to continual self-control and dis-cipline over what does not serve our vocation as religious--in other words, engagement in ongoing discernment. The religious instinct and discernment need to work in har-ness. In a variety of settings, rationalized asceticism is only a means. What is primary is the goal, namely, following Christ according to the particular focus of one's institute. A kind of rationalized asceticism, however, could function, not so much by logical reasoning as by instinct and connaturality. The one who joins an institute feels "at home." In that situation, one is helped to rationally understand and discern one's way in the actual world where one lives. Gradually, feeling at home takes on a focus and content. Settings Where Connaturality Can Function By a setting I mean something on the lines of the Santiniketan, the school established in 1901 by Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941). That school was meant to be a place where students could absorb the Indian spirit. It was out of the ordi-nary; it had eminent teachers, but few pupils. Yet those few learned something which others did not and made a contribu-tion to India as a whole. Times have changed, but the need remains for us to experience the world existentially and to work out our response in accord with the gospel and the charism of our institute. The extraordinary, if it happens, is something to be thank-ful for. Normal growth takes place in the ordinary situations of life. Growth in religious life occurs best, I think, when religious envision their own life stories (with their own memories, behav-iors, skills, and knowledge) against their faith-vision of their baptism--which made them sharers in the mystery of Jesus Christ dying and rising again. A certain interpretation and synthesis of his own life can perhaps be detected in Pope John Paul's first encyclical, Redemptor hominis (§ 14): Man in the full truth of his existence . . . --in the January-February 2002 Abeyasingba ¯ Instilling Christian/Religious Culture sphere of his own family, in the sphere of society and very diverse contexts, in the sphere of his own nation or people, and in the sphere of the whole of mankind--this man is the primary route that the church must travel in fulfilling her mission: he is the primary and j~tndamental way for the church, the way traced out by Christ himself, the way that leads invariably through the mystery of the incarnation and the redemption. In 1979 (within the first year of his pontificate), during the Mass celebrated in the Oswiecim-Brzezinka (Auschwitz- Birkenau) concentration camp, he said: Can it still be a surprise to anyone that the pope born and brought up in this land,, the pope who came to the See of St. Peter from the diocese in whose territory is situated the camp of Oswiecim, should have begun his first encyclical with the words Redemptor hominis and should have dedicated it as a whole to the cause of man, to the dignity of man, to the threats to him, and finally to his inalienable rights that can so easily be trampled on and annihi-lated by his fellow men?6 John Paul II lived and was educated in the West. Naturally his categories of thought are derived from the Western tradition. Is it not possible, though, for people of the East as well as the West, to see beneath these thoughts of his the process by which he worked through various situations and reached a synthesis that was connatural to him? That is, to see his experience of life in Poland (as worker, stage actor, writer, and so forth), the experience of the concentration camps, the search for the "causes" of the concentration camps, the articulation of the principles of his life, and finally, the synthesis of Christ, the church, and man as all interrelated.7 And this in the first year of his papacy! And now the evening of his life is filled with sym-bolic gestures flowing from that same synthesis--attempts to bring about reciprocal relations among human beings, Christ, and the church--a visit to a synagogue in Rome and to a mosque in Syria, asking pardon of God and of fellow human beings for the sins committed by the church and tendering apologies to the Greek and Ukrainian churches. Review for Religious Experience and Exemplary Religious Behavior Popular piety, as I have said, cannot respond to the present world with its change and diversity. No matter how much one repeats this to new entrants, the response is to point to how well popular piety is doing in pilgrimage centers, among a high percentage of regular churchgoers, among the Christian right, and in various emerging movements. Perhaps they are correct. The majority of Christians are rooted in popular or traditional piety. But is that the climax and high point of the following of Christ? Hardly. Without the interaction of popular piety with its roots in the Christian tradition in a context of continual conversion, does popular piety not dete-riorate into the justification and ratio-nalization of the baser instincts? Well-known preachers advocating a pop-ular and populist piety have been dis-covered to have been leading double lives. Corruption and violence are known as much among "practicing" Christians as among the general population. Religious, too, may experience a dichotomy between their piety and their work, between what they do in church and what they do outside. It can be valu-able to experience it, to have an ordinary job while at the same time trying to fulfill the obligations of a religious.8 This is a common situation for ordinary Christians-- the need to combine work with family life. In ordinary work-places, individuals claim no privileges, but simply share the lot of the others. In such circumstances, people discover the pres-sures that flow from the pace of change and the range of diver-sity that has to be confronted. Confronting the real world of jealousy, fraud, cutthroat com-petition, and intrigue provides an opportunity to reflect care-fully on one's behavioral response in the light of one's Christian commitment. In a study of the attitudes of people working in several private-sector companies in Sri Lanka, the following atti-tudes were measured (on a scale of ten): Among superiors: authoritarian 8, egalitarian 2, and permissive 5; among subor-dinates: rebel i0, cooperation 1, ingratiator 5.9 It is highly likely Popular piety, as I have said, cannot respond to the present world with its change and diversity. January-February 2002 Abeyasingba ¯ Instilling Cbristian/Religious Culture that Christians and religious in similar work situations have adopted similar behavioral patterns. How does such behavior fit in with gospel norms? Is equality not implied in baptism, the root of the religious vocation and of cooperation in the mission of a religious institute? Does the high score for authoritarian attitudes not imply that Jesus' exhortation about the greatest and the least, about the master washing the feet of his disciples, has been forgotten? The question arises: Can a process of"con-scious reflection" for religious be initiated on these lines? Conscious Reflection When young people tell Archbishop Rembert Weakland of Milwaukee that they are having a difficult time understanding what it means to be a Catholic,-he tells them to participate in the Eucharistic celebration with the same parish community every Sunday for six months and, during the same six-month period, to work in a soup kitchen. If they follow these two prac-tices, they will see for themselves what it means to be a Catholic.1° The question posed is conceptual ("understanding"); the remedy suggested is an existential commitment (the Eucharist in the same community, the same soup kitchen, for six months). It leads to a realization that Christian life is about worship and service. Commitment to the same group--but why? Because then one works one's way beyond immediate emotions (sense plea-sure), beyond the true-false dichotomy (intellectual pleasure), and beyond control-or-be-controlled situations (the pleasure of power), towards accepting realities for which no words can be found and tasks which are not directly pleasurable--but all of which, at a deep level, give satisfaction and joy. Following that advice, one avoids a "shopping" mentality; one learns through the drudgery and happiness of one's commitment. Oliver Goldsmith implies this about the parson in his "Deserted Village": "All his serious thoughts had rest in heaven. / As some tall cliff, that lifts its awful form, / Swells from the vale, and mid-way leaves the storm, / Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread,/Eternal sunshine settles in its head" (lines 188-192). The "eternal sunshine" 6f a holiness that brings joy and fulfillment is for all. Religious are meant to pursue holiness Review for Religious with great intensity in the service of all Christians. In the Middle Ages, religious were more prominent in the guidance and accompaniment of the faithful in holiness than priests were.~L "All the faithful of Christ of whatever rank or status are called to the holiness of the Christian life and to the perfection of charity" (LG §40). "Mother Church rejoices at finding within her bosom men and women who more closely follow and more clearly demonstrate the Savior's self-giving by embracing poverty with the free choice of God's sons, and by renouncing their 6wn wills . . ." (LG §42). The point of the "specialized" pursuit of holiness is to bear witness among the followers of Christ that everything should not be cut down to the size of the self, but rather that the self needs to be expanded to recognize and embrace the glory of God man-ifested in the world, in one's fellow humans, and in Christ. Religious Cultural Literacy In the Catholic tradition, faith is a personal adherence to God that involves, inseparably, "free assent to the whole truth that God has revealed" (tides quae). It differs from faith in the Reform tradition, which emphasizes trust and commitment (tides fiducialis). Sometimes the distinction is forgotten. It is important to maintain the difference if one wants to remain rooted in the Catholic tradition. Thus a first requirement would be cultural literacy~2 within the Catholic tradition--in church doctrine, in religious life in general, and in one's own institute in particular. What is needed is a clear and accurate understanding of the truths that one's community shares and the standard of behavior that community members together endorse, as approved by the church. This is not expert knowledge, but simply accurate knowledge. Accuracy is, I think, not too much to ask in an age of computers, where email addresses and Web sit~s have to be keyed in without an error of even a single letter. Beyond an accurate minimum, one can and should, of course, increase one's knowledge, while not necessarily claiming that one always practices the behavior that one endorses. This knowledge and these standards of behavior must, however, be understood as constituting the bottom line without which the present collectivity will not survive as a group. January-February 2002 Abeyasingha ¯ Instilling Christian/Religious Culture This minimum has to be learned by rote. "Learning by heart" is one of the most popular techniques of education in Asia. It has to be tested not just once but periodically. This knowledge and these behavioral standards should be the content of discussions, decisions, and vision statements. Otherwise, indi-viduals might interpret the words to mean exactly what serves their own personal interest within the existing network of roles and relationships. Before entering the novitiate, candidates should be able to move easily and accurately within the idiom and grammar specific to the Catholic tradition. Afterwards, in the novitiate, they can learn the idiom, grammar, and standard of behavior specific to the institute. The Eucharist as Cultural Activity The great formative influence in Christian living and a for-tiori in religious life is the Eucharist and the other sacraments. There is a constant danger in Asia that these sacramental rites may be reduced to the level of popular religion and sometimes even of magic. Two aspects of the Eucharistic celebration are relevant here. First, people should have a basic knowledge of the elements that come together in the liturgy.~3 Second, but far more important, is the actual celebration of the Eucharist. Every Eucharistic celebration includes the great metaphors and images of Christianity. Every celebration has at least seven points of reference--assembly and gathering, table of the word, memo-rial, sacrifice, food for the journey, eschatological reality, and cosmic transformation.~4 Every celebration cannot highlight all these, but the meaning of the celebration is in the reality that is done by the group of believers. The liturgy is not an act of per-sonal piety or a situation for personal devotion. It is of its very nature community building. Even these ordinary actions and realities are sacred, binding the group together in Christ as they do. In Christ, the Eucharist makes the church and the church makes the Eucharist. This imposes a certain style and spirit on the participants.~5 Linked to this style and spirit is a rationalized asceticism, a renunciation of self in order to share the celebration with others. This elementary structure, idiom, and grammar of the liturgy needs, then, to be understood and the liturgy's forma- Review for Religious tive process realized. This formation is also a journey. Its out-line is the Rite of Initiation of Adults,16 which consists of our personal pilgrimage to know ourselves, reflection on the story of other Christians, purification and enlightenment, accepting the mystery, reflecting on the mystery and renewing our lives. Here, in the context of the metaphors and images of the Christian faith remembered and celebrated in the liturgy, can-didates move to total conversion: intellectual (without which there is no growth in under-standing the Christian mystery), moral (with-out which one does not seek to improve one's life), and religious (without which one makes no judgment about the condition of one's own faith). One learns from what one does (the way of action). This has a knowledge dimension in which the memory is recalled and cel-ebrated, a pledge of future glory is given, and devotion is nour-ished for continued Christian living. Christian cultural literacy provides one with the language and communication needed to be part of the Christian tradition as it is at this time in history. Lamentation about what might have been serves little purpose. What possibilities exist within the Asian tradition for carrying the Christian tradition further? While the idiom and grammar of the Christian tradition can be stated and understood briefly, there is a richness of imagery that aims at evoking faith beyond some brief concepts. Take the language of the creed: "I believe in Jesus Christ, [the Father's] only Son, our Lord. He was conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit and born of the Virgin Mary. He suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried. He descended into hell. On the third day he rose again. He ascended into heaven and is seated at the right hand of the Father. He will come again to judge the living and the dead." Clearly, this profession of faith includes more concrete images than abstract Before entering the novitiate, candidates should be able to move easily and accurately within the idiom and grammar specific to the Catholic tradition. January-February 2002 Abeyasingba ¯ Instilling Christian/Religious Culture concepts. It is perhaps, in this area that Asia would be most com-petent to make a contribution. Possible Asian Enrichments The "text"--the idiom and grammar--remains untouched. Without denying the text, Asia is supremely gifted to enrich the imagery. Jacome Gonsalvez (1676-1742), who is considered an important writer in Sinhala (the local language of Sri Lanka), did not try to reexpress theology in the Sinhala idiom: his the-ology repeats the Scholastics. But, relying on the apocryphal tradition (as regards details of Mary's early years) and on an abundance of imagery drawn from local sources, his work evokes an attitude of respect for the Christian faith even among read-ers of other religious persuasionsY Given the technique of learning the idiom and grammar by heart, the specific Asian contribution would be faith reflection in love--not by negating that idiom and grammar, not by lamenting the shortcomings of history, not by challenging or seeming to defy authority, but by being rooted in our tradition and proposing to our countrymen, especially fellow believers, images and perspectives that serve to enrich their faith. Another element of enrichment is the liturgy. Here we are to find meaning in what we do within our community of believ-ers. But there is the danger of making the liturgical action (com-munitarian of its very nature) an act of private and personal devotion. This is a real danger, and not only in the Christian religion. In Sri Lankan Buddhism, certain innovations, espe-cially the inclusion of the vernacular in a form of devotion (Bodhi Piija), have become popular in a short time. But other (quasi-magical) rites and patterns of popular thinking that were in no way in the mind of the innovator have found their way into the rite.L8 This development has taken place within some twenty-five years. Similarly, Christian Asian religious can offer new perspectives. Most p~:obably, in the Eucharistic prayer of Addai and Mari, there was no narrative of the institution. Would evi-dence of such a liturgical tradition give indication (for the uni-versal church) that the meaning of the liturgical action is in what is done? Asian celebration could give the liturgy an enrich-ment (and sometimes, unfortunately, a deformation). Review for Religious If cultural literacy is an "understanding that follows love and commitment," the liturgy is the celebration that "faith and promise are correlative." The word of God proclaimed to the liturgical assembly is received in faith; its promise is fulfilled today in the midst of the assembly. It is not a question of con-cepts so much as the reality of the commitment. Ever Searching for God The present article considers religious life as a search for God. That search is intense--as intense as the desire of a drown-ing person for air. Growth in the religious life is giving focus and content to that desire in accordance with the Christian tradi-tion (particularly the idiom and grammar of doctrine and litur-gical celebration) and th~ specific charism of the religious institute. The process is within the realm of the ordinary, and the manner is by way of instinct and connaturality. The search occurs in a world permeated by both sin and grace. The vision always involves the death and resurrection of Jesus. In this search, reli-gious in Asia, after identifying the specific contribution they can make, need to make it with courage without jeopardizing com-munion with the universal church. As St. Irenaeus (c. 130-c. 200) wrote, "though languages differ throughout the world, the content of the tradition is one and the same. The churches estab-lished in Germany have no other faith or tradition, nor do those of the Iberians, nor those of the Celts, nor those of the East, of Egypt, of Libya.''19 Yet there has to be a distinct element in the manner in which the faith is lived, celebrated, and expressed as spirituality. As Francig de Sales (1567-1622) has said, "the prac-tice of devotion must differ for the gentleman and the artisan, the servant and the prince, for the widow, young girl, or wife. Further, it must be adapted to their particular strength, cir-cumstances, and duties: . True devotion never causes harm, but rather perfects everything we do."2° Notes ~ It was reported in Newsweek (21 May 2001) that scientists dis-covered in 1981 a humpback whale creating waves with its tail to trap fish. That innovation of a single reported case is now said to have spread to half the humpback whale population. January-February 2002 Abeyasingba ¯ Instilling Christian/Religious Culture 2 John Henry Newman, An Essay in Aid of a Grammar of Assent (Garden City: Image Books, 1955), p. 260. Some examples provided by Newman of how this sense of natural inference works are worth recording: "A peasant who is weather wise may yet be simply unable to assign intelligible reasons why he thinks it will be fine tomorrow; and, if he attempts to do so, he may give reasons wide of the mark, but that will not weaken his own confidence in his prediction. His mind does not proceed step-by-step, but he feels all at once and together the force of various combined phenomena though he is not conscious of them. Again, there are physicians who excel in the diagnosis of com-plaints, though it does not follow from this that they could defend their decision in a particular case against a brother physician who dis-puted it. They are guided by natural acuteness and varied experience; they have their own idiosyncratic modes of observing, generalizing, and concluding; when questioned, they can but rest on their own authority, or appeal to the future event" (pp. 261-262). 3 Newman, Grammar, p. 264. Thi~ "feeling" of which Newman speaks is "a feeling in the human mind., allied perhaps to that sense of danger which animals exhibit when placed in the vicinity of natu-ral enemies of their race, and which makes birds cower when the hawk is in the air, and beasts tremble when the tiger is abroad in the desert" (p. 264; read pp. 260-299 for a better understanding of this natural inference and illative sense, as propounded by Newman). 4 See N. Abeyasingha, "The Next Generation of Religious in Asia" in Review for Religious 58, no. 6 (November-December 1999): 621-629. 5 Some years ago I was asked by a boy whom a religious in a lead-ing Catholic school was preparing for First Holy Communion whether it was true that, if he were to bite the host, it would bleed. In fact, he asked me this after he had observed me biting the host at a Mass I cel-ebrated. 6 L'Osservatore Romano (English edition, 16 July 1979), p. 6. 7 "In recent times--particularly during the Second Vatican Council--there have been long discussions whether this relationship is theocentric or anthropocentric. There will never be a satisfactory answer to this question if we continue to consider the two terms sep-arately. In fact, Christianity is anthropocentric precisely because it is theocentric, and simultaneously it is theocentric, thanks to its extraor-dinary anthropocentrism. But it is just the mystery of the incarna-tion which, in itself, explains this relationship" (John Paul II, L'Osservatore Romano, English edition, 7 December 1978, p. 1). 8 I am the only Catholic priest working in a state university that has a large majority of Buddhists among staff and students. Over the years I have had to make certain decisions and adopt certain behav-ior patterns in order to practice a minimum degree of Christian wit-ness. Review for Religious 9 See Gunapala Nanayakkara, Public Administration: The Socio- Cultural Milieu (Study Series: Public Administration 88-2, Jayawardenepura: Postgraduate Institute of Management, 1988), p. 10. 10 Cited in William C. Spohn, "The Need for Roots and Wings: Spirituality and Christian Ethics," Theology Digest 47, no. 4 (Winter 2000): 329. 11 See the Catechism of the Catholic Church, §927. See also Sacramentum Mundi, Vol. 4, p. 394: "In Palestine, for example, in the 6th century, the abbot of a monastery exercised penitential discipline even in regard to capital sins. Sometimes little attention was paid to whether the monk-confessor was a priest or layman (as early as the 5th and 6th centuries), but this drew protest from Pseudo-Dionysius. After the Iconoclast controversy (8th century) only the priest-monks had in practice the right to hear confessions." ,2 See E.D. Hirsch Jr., Cultural Literacy (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1987) and The Dictionary of Cultural Literacy (1988). 13 See Dennis C. Smolarski, Liturgical Literacy from Anamnesis to Worship (New York: Paulist Press, 1990). ~4 See Kevin Irwin, "Models of the Eucharist," Origins 31, no. 3 (31 May 2001): 33-44. ~s See Aidan Kavanagh, Elements of Rite: A Handbook of Liturgical Style (Bangalore: NBCLC, 1996); Dennis C. Smolarski, How Not to Say Mass: A Guidebook for All Concerned about Authentic Worship (New York: Paulist Press, 1986). 16 See J.D. Dunning, "The Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults: Model of Adult Growth," Worship 53 (March 1979): 142-156. See N. Abeyasingha, Towards Contextualizing Theology with a CSsR Bias (Bangalore: Joint Secretariats, 1990), pp. 80-95. ~7 There is a precedent for this kind of reading, reflection, and interpretation of the Christian tradition. Very early in the New Testament, there was a Christological interpretation of the Exodus (1 Co 10:1-4). Aphraates (260/275-345), the oldest Syrian father, wrote: "Jesus the son of Nun led the people over to the promised land. Jesus our Savior promised the land of life to all who, passing over the true river Jordan, have believed and are circumcised in their hearts" (Dem 11, 12). The title "physician" is applied to Jesus by Ignatius of Antioch (+ c. 110): "There is one Physician, who is both flesh and spirit, born and not born, who is God in man, true life in death, both from Mary and from God, first able to suffer and then unable to suffer, Jesus Christ our Lord" (Letter to Ephesians 7.2). The early fathers were so rooted in their faith and commitment that their understanding and interpretation of Scripture and doctrine fol-lowed that faith and commitment. Perhaps their interpretation of the January-February 2002 Abeyasingba ¯ Instilling Christian/Religious Culture Scriptures and the tradition may not be endorsed by modern exege-sis, but they still remain a "faith reading in love" of the Scriptures and the Christian tradition. Through narrative, drama, allegory, allit-eration, and other literary devices, they contributed to the faith by evoking it in their fellow believers. It was in this particular and lim-ited way that they contributed to the enrichment of the tradition of other churches. It was a "pedagogy" in the sense that "nothing exists except what God causes to be. "There is nothing, therefore, that is hated by God, nor is there anything hated by the Word. Both are one, both are God" (Instructor of Children 1.8.62.3-4). 18 See Richard Gombrich and Gananath Obeyesekere, Buddhism Transformed: Religious Change in Sri Lanka (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1988), pp. 348-410. 19 Adversus Haereses 5.20.1. 2o Introduction to the Devout Life, Part 1, chap. 3. "Attentiveness is the natural prayer of the soul" Nicolas de Malebranche A new resident in the yard: pink stars, in clusters, growing in the hollows of the lawn where the old copper beech roots sank. Four-petaled blossoms, a tube, perhaps, slit four ways and splayed to points, each crayoned pale magenta on the vein, centers barely green, white stamens half an eyelash thick, white pollen feet in the air, visible only an inch from the eye. The buds are tight pink dots, slightly gray, sand-grain small. Alone they'd be invisible. They grow in clusters, three or four rising frrom a claw of six petals, green and spiked as cosmos seeds, opening like orange slices around the straight, slightly furred stem. Doretta Cornell RDC Review for Religious KATHLEEN MCALPIN Conversion: A Summons from the Word of God All conversion happens through a summons from the Word of God. There is an intensity about the word summons ("called with authority or urgency"l) that heightens it beyond a simple call. It poises us to respond. In this instance the summons calls us to a journey of conversion. God's Word comes to us in special moments and in ordinary and unlikely places. The word of God comes in Scripture. It summons us as a personal and communal call to encounter the Mystery of God. The gospel readings abound in calls to deeper faith and more confident hope and to ever effective love of God, neighbor, and all creation. The word of God is God's self-communication, God's love.2 The ultimate word of God's self-communication is the paschal mystery--the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ--a mystery that remains in God's ongoing self-communication. The Letter to the Romans assures us that God's love is poured forth in our hearts (Rm 5:5). We know this mystery as grace, a pers6nal encounter with God. Grace is the word of God, the self-gift of God, telling us of a God with us and3'br us.3 Kathleen McAlpin RSlVl works with theological students at Regis College in its integration-for-ministry and spiritual-direction programs: Regis College; 15 St. Mary Street; Toronto, Ontario; M4Y 2R5 Canada. January-February 2002 conversion process . 40 McAlpin ¯ Conversion The Word of God in Ordinary Places How does the word of God have its origin in natural events and forces? The movie Chocolat offers a good example of how conversion comes in ordinary and unlikely places. For the inhabitants of a storybook town in France, conversion comes in the form of the stranger who opens a chocolate shop. This myth is set in a sleepy but rigidly conservative village in southern France in 1959. Vianne, a young woman of multiethnic background (Latin American and French) arrives in town, her young daughter in tow, hoping to establish a chocolate shop using some secret Mayan chocolate recipes with strange mystical properties, recipes handed down to her by her mother. Vianne has a great compassion for people and a capacity to listen to them. She becomes a catalyst for change. For some in the village, she becomes a healing presence. In others' eyes, however, because she does not share in the Jansenistic spirituality of the Catholic community, she appears scandalous and represents temptation. The word of God has summoned Vi~nne to conversion--in her relationships with the townspeople, through her involvement in the joys and sorrows of the lives about her, and through love. For Vianne also finds love and support in Roux, yet another stranger, whose arrival in town is a further catalyst for conversion not only for Vianne but also for the townspeople. The word of God comes from love. It calls people to love. The word of God came to me in a similar way. At a liturgy at Romero House, a center for refugees in Toronto, I met a refugee couple from Uzbekistan, a country of the former Soviet Union, near Afghanistan. They left because of the extreme religious and political persecution they suffered. Circumstances forced them to leave their two teenage daughters behind. They hoped to bring them to North America soon after their own arrival, but were unaware of all the protocols involved. They now realize they may have to wait for more than a year--if the plan works at all. The deep empathy I felt was a call to be in prayerful solidarity and close community with this couple as they wait in their political dark night. As we prayed at Mass, their presence, their story, haunted me. I united with them as whispers of translation occurred between them during the liturgy. The word of God comes to us in the everyday world of our relationships, in society, and in the mystery called church. The Review for Religious summons to conversion comes in the word of God: from a friend asking for prayers during struggles, in the news of family grief, in the snow falling on cedars, in the call to be patient with an irritating person, in delight at the sun breaking through darkness, in the efforts of racial reconciliation, in the call to reuse and recycle, inthe faith exerted in a trial of doubt, in the hopeful efforts of a community trying to respond to the reign of God. The summons is God's self-communication that reveals what we love. The summons to conversion is a call to find God in all things, and to fall forever in love. "Nothing is more practical than finding God, that is, than falling in love in a quite absolute, final way.''4 In finding God, in falling in love, our lives hope to be changed in a permanent way. In times of doubt and anxiety, we may have many questions about the darkness or seeming nothingness of the world, and the powerlessness of our lives. In times of hope and joy, we often find it simple to seek and to know the living God and discern our response to God with full hearts. In other words, "what you are in love with, what seizes your imagination will affect everything. It will decide what will get you out of bed in the morning, what you will do with your evening, how you will spend your weekends, what you read, who you know, what breaks your heart, and what amazes you with joy and gratitude. Fall in love, stay in love, and it will decide everything." s What or whom do we love? What seizes our imagination as women and men, as religious, in the church, in the world? What gives us hope in our relationships and in our decisions? Falling in love is more about relationships than it is about issues or agendas. We are seekers of God on a mission. Our God is a living, loving God. Our mission is the dream of God, the reign of God. Our very lives reveal what we have found and with whom we have fallen in love. In grace, a living and loving God is present with us when our hearts are encouraged to respond in trusting relationships. God is with us when our hearts are broken over the unending wars and disasters that envelop our world, the universal suffering of women and children, the oppression of the Our mission is the dream of God, the reign of God. January-February 2002 McAlpin ¯ Conversion earth, and the prejudice regarding those who are "other" by race or culture, poverty or status. God is with us and for us as we endure personal grief with our families and friends. Grace abounds in sorrow and in the amazement of love. God embraces us as we embrace others and our own conversion in the unfolding events of our daily life. Conversion in the Experience of Religious Life The history and the wisdom of our Christian tradition have led us to believe that the only reason for religious life is the experience of God. This experience can come through other forms of life, and ~o there is wisdom in being mutually supportive in our search for the living God. We search for this mystery explicitly in relationships with associates and partners in ministry. This can be done only with oil in our lamps. In her recent book Finding the Treasure, Sandra Schneiders reminds us that religious life is about our quest for God. Our life is about the "one thing necessary":6 being in a loving relationship with God, living our sorrows and joys in the embrace symbolized by the religious vows. As I understand it, the early vow formulas of religious were simpler. Women and men dedicated their lives to the love of God and neighbor and professed this love in one vow. For almost a thousand years, the vow for this self-donation-in- love was "ongoing conversion of life." This vow was a deepening of the first call to conversion, baptism. .Religious life has always been influenced by developments in the world community. By the high Middle Ages, the centuries-old practice of special dedication to God as hermits or cenobites was being carefully studied by Scholastic theologians. They focused especially on three principal practices that had long been identified with that special dedication: celibacy or chastity, poverty or unpossessiveness, and obedience or consciously seeking God's will in one's life. Some of this study went into much detail, sometimes enough to distract people from the original intent of their dedication, namely, seeking God exclusively or following Christ closely. Consecrated life itself came to be thought of and ceremonialized as the life of the (three) vows. For almost eight hundred years now, most orders and congregations have expressed their consecration in terms of those vows. In the early history of Review for Religious the Sisters of Mercy, a fourth vow, service, was included--a vow to care for the poor, the sick, and the uneducated. Similar modifications have occurred in other congregations. Over time the idea of the ongoing conversion of life was lost in some communities of religious life. Or was it? Ongoing Conversion Religious life is an ongoing drama of individual and communal experiences of conversion. Most religious have had numerous experiences summoning them to conversion. They have known the limitations and graces of ministry, personal prayer, friendships, deaths in families and communities, political struggles, retreat experiences, natural disasters, personal and community griefs and joys. In communal conversion they have known the power of the whole gracing them with more ene.rgy than any individual could have imagined. They have experienced a call to a deeper awareness of the connection between Christ and the cosmos. They have known chapters calling for renewed faith in the paschal mystery. They have experienced charisma and resistance in this continuing mystery. Each event summons a response to new life. The life, death, and resurrection moments of our lives continue to reveal the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, the Christ. An early example of my particular experience of this mystery was the use of the word justice in our community. It was quite a political term in the 1960s and early 1970s; born of revolutionary stands, it was quite controversial. At a 1975 prechapter meeting, a vote was taken on the issue. By the grace of God, the acceptance of justice as a topic slipped through by a narrow margin. It was a resurrection moment: the chapter document was ritled "Mercy Looks at Justice." More than twenty-five years later, we gathered to reimagine a new justice structure. It is clear now that justice is not a peripheral issue, but rather the heart of the matter for us. Justice is the very term for the slow, developmental process of conversion in our life of faith. The paschal mystery is interwoven with the conversion of the community. Our current chapter is calling us, as women of the church, to ongoing conversion at the very roots of the spirituality of .~anuary-February 2002 McAlpin ¯ Conversion religious life. We are called to our own conversion as we face the concerns of the earth: multiculturalism, racism, solidarity with the poor. This call comes from no other source but the Source of life, of wisdom, of sophia. Our response connects us with all the religious figures who have gone before us; through them we seek courage and grace. The Spirit of God desires integrity of word and deed even more than we do. We are called and graced--and we are limited by our own weakness--to renew the very structures of our community with the wisdom of justice. Conversion is initiated by God and given as gift. A gift presumes a giver, and for persons of faith the giver is ultimately God. The initiative, the invitation, the summons to conversion is with God. Simply stated, conversion is the movement away from evil and toward good or from one good to a greater good. We trust that through discernment we will learn how to move away from such evils as racism and consumerism and grow in appreciation of all creation and of other cultures, grow in compassionate and just relationships in society and with creation. Three images found in theologies of conversion are helpful when reflecting on a desire for conversion: conversion as God's flooding of hearts through the Holy Spirit, conversion as the awakening of the gifts of the Spirit, and conversion as the loving, compassionate life of Jesus. All three images lead to radical religious conversion of Christian conscience, which ultimately leads us to the loving compassion of the life of Jesus. 44 God Flooding Our Hearts Bernard Lonergan uses the image of God's love flooding our hearts through the Holy Spirit given us in Christ (Rm 5:5).7 He considers conversion as the heart of the Christian life. Conversion, through the work of the Spirit, enables persons to make new judgments and decisions and to .move beyond established horizons into new horizons of knowing, valuing, and acting. Conversion transforms and affects all relationships. "It is not merely a change or even a development; rather, it is a radical transformation on which follows, on all levels of living,~ an interlocked series of changes and developments. What hitherto was unnoticed becomes vivid and present. What had been of no concern is a matter of high import. So great a change in one's Review for Religious apprehensions and one's values accompanies no less a change in oneself, in one's relations to other persons, and in one's relations to God." 8 These changes can be dramatic or slow, intimate but never solitary, concrete and communal, dynamic and ongoing.9 This is consistent with our experience as a community of faith and of the reflections of many of the people encountered in ministry. Conversion "can happen to many, and they can form a community to sustain one another in their self-transformation, [to] help one another in working out the implications and in fulfilling the promise of their new life. Finally, what can become communal can become historical. It can pass from gen-eration to generation. It can pass from one cultural milieu to another. It can adapt to changing new situations, survive into a different age, flourish in another period or epoch." 10 This conviction about conversion engenders hope in current experiences of communal conversion--as a community, among our associates, and with our collaborators. We trust that this grace influences all those in relationship with us from one generation to another. Conversion is initiated by God and given as gift. Awakening to God The second image of conversion is the awakening of gifts of the Spirit that challenge relationships to be mutual and courageous. Awakening is the empowerment of the Spirit of Wisdom. Sophia releases the capabilities of giftedness in the individual and in the communal experience of conversion. Elizabeth Johnson places empowerment and relationships central to her understanding of conversion: "A permanent process of both turning away and turning inward--turning away from all that intellectually, morally, and spiritually keeps one mired in abusive relationships characterized by domination, inti~nidation, fear, or dishonesty and turning toward the unlimited grace of God ever calling us to relationships characterized by mutuality, respect, courage, and truthfulness." ~ January-February 2002 McAlpin ¯ Conversion In this image, conversion is empowerment and affirmation of one's strength and responsibility. It is rooted in women's experience of an excess of self-denial in following the call to conversion. Conversion is the movement toward the discovery and appropriation of the potential gifts within an individual, group, or society. As women of the church, we are summoned to discover the gifts necessary to be converted in solidarity with the poor, to value multiculturalism, to eliminate racism, and to act in harmony with all of creation. Our summons is a word of God calling us to appropriate our gifts in the name of Christ for the sake of the reign of God. The Loving, Compassionate Life of Jesus From the conversion experience of Thomas Merton, it is clear that Christian conversion reorients a person's whole life to the truth, value, love, and experience of God as brought to us in Christ. The fruit of conversion in the life of Merton was a transformation of conscience to loving compassion. As Walter Conn says, "the personal measure of Christian living, therefore, is the conscience which has experienced a Christian conversion at once cognitive, affective, moral, and religious. Only a person thus converted is fully and concretely sensitive to the loving life of Jesus. In Merton's life we discovered again the fundamental gospel truth that lies at the heart of Christian tradition: The radical religious conversion of Christian conscience finds its fullest realization in loving compassion--the self-transcending perfection of human empathy and justice. In its total surrender such religious conversion radically relativizes the moral autonomy of Christian conscience." 12 As followers of the gospel, we are summoned to a life of self-transcendence lived in a life of empathy and justice. In the life of Merton, we see that contemplation liberates the conscience for conversibn. Self-transcending love is found to be at the heart of the holistic development of the converted Christian. The fruit of conversion is compassion born of reflection on the life of Jesus. In community we hear of many who are willing to surrender to the needs of the others and thus be a part of the struggle for world freedom. The mystery of Christ is seen through contemplation of suffering and through reflection on the cross Review for Religious and the resurrection of Christ. Though we retain the freedom to refuse God's summons, any movement toward conversion is already the movement of God's grace within us. As I listen to stories in ministry, I frequently hear of how people are changed through events not of their own making, through persons and situations that were beyond their control. Conversion is grace. Conversion as Grace In Sacred Scripture we see grace offered in the prophetic calls to repentance and intimate love. John the Baptist made such calls, and, of course, Jesus did too. In Mark the first words of Jesus are a proclamation of the good news and a call to conversion: "The time is fulfilled and the reign of God has come near. Be converted and believe in the good news" (Mk 1:15). Matthew speaks of "seeking" God, or the reign of God, as the beginning of conversion. Jesus may have sought this experience at his baptism: "Jesus was not renouncing his sinfulness, but was taking his place with all those in. Israel who were saying: 'We are ready, Lord; please make this the moment of your Messianic salvation.'" ,3 In this, Jesus may have been responding to a call to a kind of conversion: "Jesus' experience at his baptism, so far as it can be recovered from the gospel records, seems in many respects akin to the effects of a sudden conversion. There was a sudden and intense personal experience of God. There was a new awareness of personal status with God, a call to a new way of life and acceptance of that call. There was, in fact, a reorientation of his whole personality.''14 Such an experience of God can have a transforming effect on a person's life.'5 While contemplating his baptism, Jesus heard the Spirit of God assuring him, "You are my Son, the Beloved; with whom I am well pleased" (Lk 3:22). Through this prayer, Jesus experienced an unconditional acceptance of God. Grounded in this religious experience, Jesus reorganized his life for the sake of Matthew speaks of "seeking" God, or the reign of God, as the beginning of conversion. January-February 2002 McAlpin ¯ Conversion the .reign of God. He moved from one way of living to another: "He gave up an earlier aiad long-standing way of life as no longer satisfactory, in order to take~ up a new and perilous way of life that now seemed to him imperative.''16 Through the conversion at his baptismal experience, Jesus turned to his mission of public ministry by affirming the reign of God. Elaine Wainwright notes that the reign of God is "the just and righteous purpose of God for all humanity.''~7 She says that after his baptism Jesus continued the mission of announcing this vision of God, which entails hearing, understanding, and doing God's word (Mr 13:23). Jesus enfleshed this vision in his compassionate encounters with those considered least (Mt 25:40).18 Called to a prophetic role, Jesus proclaimed a confidence in God's activity and lived within the reign of God. Jon Sobrino describes his acts and gestures: "His most fundamental gesture is taking sides with human beings in a concrete situation where the existing political religious structure has dehumanized people . Jesus does all he can to concretize and make present real love as the quintessence of the kingdom." 19 The story of the Canaanite woman illustrates a conversion in Jesus' public ministry (Mt 15:21-28). This woman is an ethnic and religious outsider in Israel. She pleads with Jesus for mercy for herself and healing for her daughter. At first Jesus does not respond to her; he understands his mission to be to the Israelites. The disciples, lacking understanding and compassion, want Jesus to get rid of her. Persistent, she continues to appeal to Jesus for help. As he listens to her, he is moved to enter into deeper discussion and uses a familiar parable to oppose her request. He refuses her plea for help with the image of the family's bread not being meant for dogs. Picking up on the image, the woman asks for crumbs from the master's table, thus boldly claiming a share in the reign of God that Jesus proclaims. Jesus is moved by her faith and expands the boundaries of his ministry to include the Gentiles. And so it is that Jesus, through dialogue with an outsider and a woman, sees his God-given mission changed to a greater inclusiveness. This decision of compassionate love comes from a summons through relationship. God is revealed through-others. In relationships we know and experience God. In his relationship with the Canaanite woman, we see Jesus Review for Religious emotionally engaging the spirit of the woman as she challenges his position. He realizes that he has to be responsible to this new interpersonal relationship. His decision is a moral choice within a sociopolitical and religious setting. His discernment is based on a wider understanding of the reign of God. This story gives evidence that even Jesus had a kind of conversion upon receiving a word-of-God summons through someone else's plea for mercy. The Principle of Conversion When we engage in a life of merciful love, when we place ourselves in situations where we work for and develop relationships with others, such relationships begin to include compassion. As this compassion deepens, it leads us to a greater justice. When systems and strategies meet an impasse, we are led into the deeper mystery of Christian love. Conversion to mercy is not primarily about doing specific works. It is an attitude, a horizon of being, or what Jon Sobrino calls a principle. The "principle of mercy is a fundamental attitude at the root of every human interaction," which then "affects all subsequent interactions." The principle of mercy "becomes justice" by engaging all levels of energy: intellectual, religious, scientific, and technological.2° Mercy animates a conversion that leads to changes in relationships, changes in thinking, acting, and believing. Sobrino learned an amazing truth through the martyrdom of his brother Jesuits and the women who worked with them. He now believes that nothing is as "vital in order to live as a human being than to exercise mercy on behalf of cn~cified people, and that nothing is more humanizing than to believe in the God of Jesus.''21 The exercise of mercy becomes a quality of being in all who engage in merciful justice. In discerning mercy as justice, we are summoned to share in the life of the Word of God, to fall in love, and, through ongoing Christian conversion, to live forever. Notes Gage Canadian Dictionary (Toronto: Gage Publishing Co., 1983). Karl Rahner, Foundations, trans. William V. Dych (New York: Seabury Press, 1978), p. 127. January-February 2002 McAl~in ¯ Conversion 3 Karl Rahner, Nature and Grace (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1963), pp. 24-26. 4 Attributed to Pedro Arrupe, superior general of the Jesuits from 1965-1983. s Attributed to Pedro Arrupe. 6 Sandra M. Schneiders, Finding the Treasure (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 2000), pp. 37-39. 7 Bernard J.E Lonergan, Method in Theology (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1971), p. 105. 8 Walter E. Conn, Conversion: Perspectives on Personal and Social Transformation (New York: Alba House, 1978), p. 13. 9 Conn, Conversion, p. 45. 10 Conn, Conversion, p. 45. 11 Elizabeth Johnson, She l.Vho Is: The Mystery of God in Feminist Theological Discourse (New York: Crossroad, 1993), p. 64. 12 Walter E. Conn, Christian Conversion: A Developmental Interpretation of Autonomy and Surrender (New York: Paulist Press, 1986), p. 268. 13 Demetrius Dumm, Flowers in the Desert: A Spirituality of the Bible (New York: Paulist Press, 1987), p. 28. ~4 Donald Gray, "Was Jesus a Convert?" Religion in Life 43 (Winter 1974), citing Hugh Montefiore, Awkward Questions on Christian Love (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1964), p. 449. ,s Conn, Conversion, p. 215. 16 Gray, "Was Jesus a Convert?". p. 449. ,7 Elaine Wainwright, "The Gospel of Matthew," in Elizabeth Schiissler Fiorenza, ed., Searching the Scriptures: A Feminist Commentary (New York: Crossroad, 1994), p. 636. ~8 Ibid, p. 637. 19jon Sobrino, Christology at the Crossroads (New York: Orbis Books, 1978), p. 92. 20 Donald L. Gelpi SJ, The Turn to Experience in Contentporary Theology (New York: Paulist Press, 1994), p. 134. 21 Jon Sobrino, The Principle of Mercy: Taking the Crucified People from the Cross (New York: Orbis Books, 1994), p. 10. Review for Religious STEVE WLUSEK Seminary Formation and Lonergan's Conversion Theory i~arpe~P diem! Seize the day! Make your lives something ~ remarkable!" With these words Robin Williams's char-acter in the movie Dead Poets' Society begins to inspire his students not to just go through the paces of the educational system, but to make something of their time in school and of their very lives. He evokes their conversion from apathetic docil-ity to active participation in their own education. At turning points such as this, people begin to discover their own identity and mission. Bernard Lonergan's theory of conversions can illu-minate such personal development, anyone's, but here my focus is on seminary formation. Lonergan identifies four main conversions in life: moral, affec-five, critical moral, and religious.1 Each of these conversions opens people to a deeper awareness of their true self and brings about greater self-transcendence, allowing true relationships to develop with other people and especially with God. Lonergan bases his theory of conversions on the concept that everyone is self-cen-tered to some degree and that everyone's growth must begin from that point.2 From my perspective of ministering to many people in both parish and seminary, I have seen a number of degrees of self-centeredness. Steve Wlusek, a diocesan priest, is a faculty member of his diocese's St. Peter's Seminary; 1040 Waterloo Street; London, Ontario; N6A 3Y1 Canada. January-February 2002 Wlusek ¯ Seminary Formation A brief description of these conversions of Lonergan's will, I think, elucidate the validity of his theory for the ministry of seminary formation. Lonergan defines conversion as a fateful call to a dreaded holiness, an about-face by which we move into a radically new horizon, a personal entrance of God into our life and history, a communication of God to us.3 A person's con-version does not just happen; rather, it is a fundamental choice: "Conversion is a change of direction and, indeed, a change for the better. One frees oneself from the unauthentic. Harmful, dangerous, misleading satisfactions are dropped. Values are apprehended where before they were overlooked. Scales of pref-erence shift."4 Moral conversion is "choosing value as the criterion of one's life.''s In undergoing this form of conversion, one realizes that there is more than oneself that needs to be protected and respected. One's sensitivity is changed from wanting one's own life to be fair, to wanting justice for others and realizing that one has an obligation to work toward providing that justice. Moral conversion, therefore, is an impetus to move outside of oneself, which stretches that self to becoming other-conscious. Lonergan likens affective conversion to falling in love. Whereas moral con-version moves a person to be concerned for the well-being of others, affective conversion arouses one to be so moved regard-ing the other's well-being that one's entire orientation shifts to a concern which is expressed in action. Affective conversion involves not only the possibility of committing oneself to a course of active servi~e of another, but also the ability to execute that decision over the long haul.6 Lonergan identifies critical moral conversion as changing one's standard for personal orientation. Those who undergo this conversion come to a healthy sense of the sacred within themselves. They do not need to look somewhere else beyond themselves to discover what is real or valuable; they accept the validity of their own judgment. During the gradual process of their personal development and their prudently increasing autonomy, they reach a crucial point. They discover that their own judging and deciding affect them no less than the objects of their judgments and decisions. They realize that they are respon-sible for what they make of themselves, and that their choices are crucial in the process of becoming authentic persons.7 Review for Religious Through religious conversion, one falls in love with God and surrenders oneself completely to God. This conversion moves one to live with this attitude: "Whatever you want for me, God, I want it too." Lonergan portrays the one who has been trans-formed through this religious conversion as being "a subject in love, a subject held, grasped, possessed, owned through a total and so an other-worldly love.''8 Religious conversion creates a basic consciousness that enables one to appreciate all as gift from God. This consciousness impacts how one views oneself, one's situation, and one's role in the human condition.9 In mov-ing out of oneself to embrace God in religious conversion, then, one also lovingly em-braces other people, sensing their Beloved dwelling therein. Lonergan's theory of con-versions can have constantly renewed application, for the Christian life is one of ongoing conversion, with people's lives seldom following his theory once and for all, neatly, step-by-step. Ongoing conversions, relevant as they are for people in general, are relevant also for seminar-ians and those who assist in their discernments on their path toward the priesthood. Using composite portraits of three sem-inarians, I hope to show how Lonergan's theory may be of help. The first of these three, John, had a sense of conversion at around the age of twelve. He had for several years been a server at parish Masses and had a deep admiration for his parish priest. John saw in him a man of Eindness and deep faith and love for God. As John served at the altar with this priest, and watched him minister, he came to a growing awareness that he wanted to be a priest just like his pastor, dedicating his life to serving God. His parents were eager about the prospect of their son becom-ing a priest. John entered the minor seminary at age thirteen. John has completed his college studies and is now studying the-ology in the major seminary. Although John is ardent in his prayer and during liturgies, he seems deficient in some of his relationships. He comes late for class and other formation group Lonergan identifies critical moral conversion as changing one's standard for personal orientation. January-February 2002 Wlusek ¯ Seminary Formation events, and he shows little respect for his peers. He and a friend from his hometown talk exclusively to each other at meals, ignoring the other seminarians nearby. Lonergan's theory reveals that John may have experienced a moral conversion, which set him on the path to serving God as a priest, but he still seems to need an affective conversion so as to have much more respect and compassion for others. Peter, another seminarian, was very much involved in his parish before entering the seminary. He experienced conver-sion through youth retreat weekends, which seemed to change his life. Since these weekends, he has served in many ways through his parish youth ministry: visiting nursing homes, vol-unteering at a soup kitchen, and packing boxes in his local food bank. In his seminary activities he does tremendous service at his field-education placement. His supervisor reports that he is looked up to by everyone at the center and that the physically challenged people he works with look forward to his visits with them. Although all of this is true and highly commendable, Peter's behavior in the seminary community is less than could be desired. He forgets his duties to read or serve at Eucharist, he gives people who disagree with him the silent treatment, and he snubs those who are not in his select group of friends. Peter seems to have undergone moral and affective conversions: he has been moved to work for the care of others and for justice towards them. Peter, however, has compartmentalized this awareness; it pertains only to those outside his immediate com-munity. He is eager to go out of the building to do outreach, yet he fails to recognize opportunities for outreach right in the hall-way where he lives. The third seminarian, Mark, entered the seminary after graduating from university and working in a respected career for several years. While engaged in this career, which involved help-ing others, he came to a realization that what he was doing was not enough. Even though he was helping pgople, he felt he could help them only materially. He came to understand deeply that God was calling him to use his intelligence and ability to help people not only materially but spiritually. Currently, in the seminary, Mark quietly serves others and looks after the needs of sick seminarians and those overly stressed by their studies. He does so in a quiet manner, seeking no recognition or praise. He Review for Religious goes to his parish field-education placement eagerly, seeing an opportunity for the kind of service to which he feels God is calling him. While others complain around the meal table about the food or about the workload they are under, never is "heard a discouraging word" from Mark. He has lived on his own and has done plenty of work in his former career. In the chapel he is often found in prayer or reading books from the spiritual masters. Mark is a man of self-assuredness, maturity, and desire for God. He seems to have undergone moral, affective, and crit-ical- moral conversions. I believe that Mark and the other semi-narians mentioned have experienced different degrees of religious conversion as well. All of them, however, still need further growth toward a complete yes to God (as we all do). Understanding the level to which seminarians have under-gone these conversions is crucial in the role of seminary for-mation. Part of the role of seminary formators is to discern, with other faculty members, candidates' readiness to progress further in the formation program. Lonergan's theory of con-versions can help tremendously in this work. Awareness is the first step towards action. By being more aware of the levels of seminarians' conversion, we will be able to identify areas in which we can help them grow. The saying that "faith is caught and not taught" is good to remember when reflecting on our seminarians' conversions. It is not simply the teaching of the-ology that will evoke a personal about-face. We need to foster various circumstances wherein conversion may be experienced: in supportive and nurturing encounters of spiritual direction, in open and mutually respectful formation-group dialogues, in teaching filled with dynamism and conviction, in field education and theological reflection which help students reflect on the needs of people in their community, in experiences of working with the poor, and in celebrations of liturgies that are inspiring and affectively moving. The teacher in Dead Poets' Society took seriously his respon-sibility to motivate his students to make their lives remarkable. Through the insight gained from Bernard Lonergan's theory of conversions, we can appre.ciate in a new way our role in priestly formation to discern the status of candidates' conversion life and to present them with opportunities for deeper conver-sion, so they can make of their lives what they were made for. January-February 2002 Wlusek ¯ Seminary Formation Through these experiences of faith, nurture, and co~nmunity, seminarians will be able not only to come to deeper conver-sion, but to embrace more fully their true identities in union with God. Notes 1 Bernard Lonergan, Method in Theology (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1990), p. 238. 2 Walter E. Conn, The Desiring Self(New York: Paulist Press, 1998), p. 67. 3 Lonergan, p. 113. 4 Lonergan, p. 52. s Conn, p. 118. 6 Conn, p. 121. 7 Mary Kay Kinberger MSC, Lonergan on Conversion: Applications for Religious Formation (New York: Peter Lang, 1992), p. 38. 8 Lonergan, p. 240. 9 Kinberger, p. 46. January January blizzards on the heels of Christmas. Winter grips the snow-encrusted land with the iron determination Grandma whipped egg whites into stiff miniature Alpine peaks. The time of rushing has passed. No birds sing joyously. Nor do dogs bark with gusto. Last year's wild roses have long gone into seed. It is a season for me to listen: maybe to a heartbeat, an old man fingering his worn beads. Or, in my moments of stillness, hear the whisper of the Epiphany Child inviting me go out into the cold and visit those who are old, grieving, sick, and forgotten. Richard Heatley Review for Religious PATRICIA ANN LAMOUREUX AND PAUL ZILONKA The Workers in the Vineyard: Insights for the Moral Life Bracelets with the letters WWJD are popular these days. They are meant to remind the wearer and others to keep asking What Would Jesus Do? This practice assumes that we can fairly quickly see or reason to what Jesus would do in response to the moral dilemmas of life in 2 lst-century America. It ought not surprise us that these bracelets are promoted more by evangelical groups than by those who take more seriously the challenge of modern biblical exegesis and hermeneutics. In light of the Second Vatican Council's call to develop moral theology in accordance with the biblical vision, Catholic moral theologians have given the relationship of Scripture and ethics increased scholarly attention.1 Increased knowledge, however, has led to greater appreciation for the complexity of the task. Although constructive proposals for relating Scripture and ethics are still only being tested, many people nowadays are better prepared to avoid facile answers and improve inadequate ones. In this essay we try to discern ethical implications of the parable about the workers in the vineyard (Mt moral insight Patricia Ann Lamoureux teaches moral theology and Paul Zilonka CP teaches Scripture at St. Mary's Seminary and University; 5400 Roland Avenue; Baltimore, Maryland 21210. ~tanuary-February 2002 Lamoureux and Zilonka ¯ The Workers in the Vineyard In Galilee at that time, there were three types of relationship pertaining to work: patronage, exploitation, or cooperation. 20:1-16). The story disconcerts many people's sense of jusfce. We undertake this task with recognition of the danger of selecting one text from "a rich symphony of literary forms . . composed of a chorus of voices speaking out of a variety of historical and cultural contexts and a number of theological perspectives and addressing a broad spectrum of moral questions.''2 While focusing on the vineyard parable, we are not attempting to reduce this "rich orchestration" to a "simple melody line.''3 Nor are we suggesting that this story somehow contains all that Scripture has to say about morality in general or justice in particular. We approach the parable in three steps: (1) investigating the original set-ting and meaning of the parable (the exegetical task); (2) assessing how to appropriately employ this parable within the various levels of moral reflection (the methodological task); (3) interpreting the meaning of the parable for our contemporary situation (hermeneutical task).4 Let us begin with the parable: For the kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who went out early in the morning to hire laborers for his vineyard. After agreeing with the laborers for the usual daily wage, he sent them into his vineyard. When he went out about nine o'clock, he saw others standing idle in the marketplace, and he said to them, "You also go into the vineyard, and I will pay you whatever is just." So they went off. When he went out again about noon and about three o'clock, he did the same. And about five o'clock he went out and found others standing around, and he said to them, "Why are you standing here idle all day?" They said to him, "Because no one has hired us." He said to them, "You also go into my vineyard." When evening came, the owner of the vineyard said to his foreman, "Call the laborers and give them their pay, beginning with the last and then going to the first." When those hired about five o'clock Review for Religious came, each of them received the usual daily wage. Now when the first came they thought they would receive more, but each of them also received the usual daily wage. And when they received it, they grumbled against the landowner, saying, "These last worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the day and the scorching heat." But he replied to one of them, "Friend, I am doing you no wrong; did you not agree with me for the usual daily wage? Take what belongs to you and go; I choose to give to this last the same as I give to you. Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or are you envious because I am generous? So the last will be first, and the first will be last." (Mt 20:1-16) Exegetical Task In this section we explore what the parable meant to the people who first heard or read it. It is possible and even likely that Jesus' original audience, and Matthew's community too, included people of the social class of the vineyard .owner (landholders, merchants, entrepreneurs) as well as employed and unemployed workers. In lst-century Galilee, harvest time in a vineyard was fraught with tension. When the crop was ready, there could be no delay. All hands were needed to bring in the fruit at the peak of maturity. Also, the condition of day labor in the Hellenistic-Roman world was dreadful. The employer of the ancient world was master of his money; he could do with it as he chose. Commonly, employers looked in the marketplace of the city for unemployed men hoping to be hired. The agreement with those called at dawn was for "the usual daily wage" in that agrarian context. These men worked for whatever the employer was willing to pay, usually subsistence wages at the lowest level for a day's work. As the day went on, more laborers were needed. Thus we can understand the repeated excursions of the owner of the vineyard back to the town square seeking extra workers, even as the day waned. These others were promised what was "just," but the amount remained unspecified.5 In Galilee at that time, there were three types of relationship pertaining to work: patronage, exploitation, or cooperation. The January-February 2002 Lamoureux and Zilonka ¯ The Workers in the Vineyard latter would seem to explain the parable in regard to the workers of the first hour and those of the subsequent hours too. They agree to cooperate in doing the work for a stipulated amount, "the daily wage" for the first group and "what is just" for the latter groups. They are day workers rather than those enjoying the pati'onage relationship, which has a more permanent quality. Nor are they being exploited as slaves.6 Yet they grumble when workers hired at the 'end of the day receive the full daily wage. Over the years many people have been upset by the logic of the landowner, startled by what seems to be his "unbusinesslike" behavior. Those hired in the last moments of the workday could hardly have hoped for more than a small fraction of what the first would receive. After all, they had worked so little. The vineyard owner's payments take

Issue 50.2 of the Review for Religious, March/April 1991. ; Review for Religious Volume 50 Number 2 March/April 1991 Beyond the Liberal Model Exiting from Religious Life Thoughts about Science and Prayer The Death of Dearly Loved~Friends 50/~INIVERSARY VOLUME REVIEW FOR RELIGIOIJS (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at St. Louis University by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus; Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard, Room 428: St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Telephone: 314-535-3048. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis, MO. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to REVIEW I:Oa REI.IGIOUS; |~.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Subscription rates: Single copy $3.50 plus mailing costs. One-year subscription $15.00 plus mailing costs: two-year subscription $28.00 plus mailing costs. See inside back cover for subscription informa-tion and mailing costs. © 1991 REVIEW FOR REt,mloUS. David L. Fleming, S.J. Philip C. Fischer, S.J. Michael G. Harter, S.J. Elizabeth McDonough, O.P. Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe Editor Associate Edito'rs Canonical Counsel Editor Assistant Editors David J. Hassel, S.J. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Wendy Wright, Ph.D. Advisory Board Mary Margaret Johanning, S.S.N.D. Sean Sammon, F.M.S. Suzanne Zuercher, O.S.B. March/Api'il 1991 Volume 50 Number 2 Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor should be sent to RF:\'mw FOR RF:LtGtOt~S; 3601 Lindell Boulevard; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" shnuld be addressed Io Elizabeth McDonough, O.P.; 5001 Eastern Avenue; P.O. Box 29260; Washington, D.C. 20017. Back issues should be ordered from REVtEW ~'o~ REt.mto~Js; 3601 Lindell Boulevard; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of Print" issues are available from University Microfilms International: 300 N. Zeeb Road; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. A major portion of each issue is available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually impaired. Write to: Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. PRISMS. When we Christians refer to the centrality of the paschal mystery, we mean that Jesus' passion, death, and resurrection somehow remain the necessary pattern for our human living in relation to God. In the gospels, Jesus often uses nature images or parables of human activity to point us towards the pattern of his dying and rising--a pat-tern in which we all who are his followers profess to share. Today it seems that we easily turn to the seed dying to bring forth life or to the metamorphosis of caterpillar to butterfly to gain insight into our way of human growth or maturity. Yet we find it hard to go from the dark beauty of nature imagery to the stark reality of Christ on a cross. So, too, the contemporary patterns of various psychological growth models can be-come so enlightening for our understanding of human development that they seem to transfix our gaze. We may stop short of viewing our mod-els through the stronger lens of a Christian optic. We should not be ungrateful that we can make use today of helpful imagery from nature and models from psychology in order that we may better understand and respond to a particularly confusing time in our world and in our Church, in religious life and in priesthood, in the fam-ily and in the parish. But the pattern of Christ--with his presence en-abling us to enter once again into his paschal mystery--remains central to our Christian focus on life issues. Rather than being confronted with a transition darkness relieved only by images and metaphors, we as Chris-tians believe that we are always being summoned into the mystery of God's transforming action breaking into the vagaries of our natural and human worlds. We struggle neither as victims nor as "Rambo" fight-ers. Instead, we are invited once again to ally ourselves with the Lord in bringing about God's reign more fully into our own lives and into the world we affect. Because our God is a God always actively working with our created world, we live and pray and work in a loving relationship with God--always developing and being purified, in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad. The elements of passion, death, and resurrection are touched upon in various ways by various articles in this issue. Our first article, "A Personal Memoir: The Arrupe Years," by Roland Faley, T.O.R., is a unique tribute to the former Jesuit superior general Pedro Arrupe, who died on February 5, 1991. Arrupe provided leadership and gave hope to 161 162 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 many religious congregations through much of the paschal-mystery times for religious life following upon Vatican II; he himself suffered his own paschal mystery through a debilitating stroke in 1981, then through the difficult time when a papal delegate was imposed upon the Jesuits, and finally through his lingering half-life over.the past seven years since his resignation as general. In the darkness of religious-life renewal, an image of reweaving has captured the imagination of many. From her perspective of working with many religious groups in renewal efforts, Elizabeth McDonough, O.P., in "Beyond the Liberal Model: Quo Vadis?" assesses some of the strands of reweaving efforts and makes her own effort to suggest ways towards deeper faith realities that remain unrealized at present. Grappling with the reality of the paschal mystery in the hard deci-sions about existence facing some religious congregations is the subject of the article by.Marie Beha, O.S.C. Eileen O'Hea, C.S.J., considers the dying process of the individual who considers leaving a religious com-munity and the needed response of the community. Renee Yann, R.S.M., reflects on the power of community in the special moment of the death of dearly loved friends. Three articles on pray,.: may shed some light as we move through some dark passages in our ever developing love-life with God. Benedict Auer, O.S.B., expands the Benedictine lectio approach with some in-sights into the use of videos. Edgar Bourque, A.A., inculturates an Augustinian way of praying into our American context. Some refresh-ing ways of understanding prayer are presented through the medium of science by Dennis Sardella. Helpful and comprehensive describe the treatment of vocation min-istry by Jeanne Schweickert, S.S.S.F., in her "Co-creators of History: United States Vocation Ministry." The same words apply equally well to the article by Kenneth Davis, O.F.M.Conv., "U.S. Hispanic Catho-lics: Trends and Recent Works." May the Lenten and Easter season~ guide us all further into the pas-chal mystery which focuses our life with the Lord. David L. Fleming, S.J. A Personal Memoir: The Arrupe Years Roland J. Faley, T.O.R. Father Roland J. Faley lived in Rome as vicar general of the Third Order Regular of St. Francis, i 971 - 1977, and superior general 1977- i 983. In December 1990 he completed his term as executive director of the Conference of Major Superiors of Men (CMSM). His mailing address is St. Thomas More Friary; 650 Jackson St., N.E.; Washington, D.C. 20017. The time was the early seventies. Rome was still caught up in a spirit of postconciliar excitement. Pope Paul VI's inherent caution in the face of the untried was tempered by an unfettered spirit in the air which wanted to let things happen. The present writer was returning to Rome after an absence of more than a decade, having been elected to the general gov-ernment of his Franciscan Order. I had been a student in Rome at the time of John XXIII's election. Those had been heady days of great prom-ise, at that time more a hope than anything else. It was only after the council, years later, that the real struggle of aggiornamento could be felt. Pedro Arrupe was the general of the Jesuits. Vibrant and spirited are adjectives that hardly do him justice. He was also president of the Un-ion of Superiors General (USG), the organization made up of the heads of men's religious institutes in the Church: It was a job for which Ar-rupe was ideally suited although one always wondered how he found the time. It was often said that the first time he was elected to the office by his peers, it was because he was general of the Jesuits. His subsequent reelections (and there were at least four) were because he was Pedro Ar-rupe. The story says a great deal about the man, quite apart from his of-fice. It was not long after I became active in the USG that Arrupe asked me to serve on the Justice and Peace Commission and later named me 163 164 / Review for Religious, March-April 1990 to be the press officer for the Union. It was in the latter capacity espe-cially that I came to know Arrupe the man. The Justice Agenda Arrupe steered the Society of Jesus through a very difficult period in its history. The thirty-first and thirty-second general congregations had set the concerns of the world's neediest at the center of the Society's mis-sion. A strong emphasis on social justice permeates the documents of these general congregations. The passage from documents to im-plementation was marked by an inevitable reaction, not all of it positive, within the Society itself. Arrupe was undaunted. The new direction reso-nated with his whole life as a missionary. The evil of the arms race was eminently clear to one who had survived the first use of the atomic bomb in Japan, 1945. For Arrupe this postconciliar direction of his institute was not a ques-tion of personal choice. It had been mandated by the Society's highest authority, a general congregation; for the general of the institute, im-plementation was simply not an option. In that spirit of obedience, he charted a new course which made strong demands on the whole Society of Jesus. On the level of general government alone it required personnel and resources not easily commandeered. He never wavered in the pur-suit of a course that for him bore the faces of countless deprived and suf-fering people. In responding to any issue, Arrupe's enthusiasm was infectious. He was the idea man, the animator, willing to leave details and implemen-tation to others. At times he seemed unrealistic, but he never left one un-inspired. The great picture was always there. An unforgettable moment occurred during the refugee crisis of the late seventies. The movement of peoples was felt in many parts of the world, with Rome affected by a large influx of people from Ethiopia. A visit to Arrupe from Robert McNamara, then president of the World Bank, proved to be a real catalyst in moving the refugee project forward. An urgent response was called for by the sheer volume of people arriv-ing in Rome after the revolution in Ethiopia. The greatest need was for housing and food. The Jesuits opened their own refugee office to address the problem internationally and in Rome. At the same time Arrupe gal-vanized the forces of men and women general superiors. Through the built-in network of the two Unions of Superiors General, housing was found for the Ethiopians throughout the city, especially in the genera-lates themselves. A hot meal was served each evening to hundreds of per-sons in the basement of the GesO, the main Jesuit church in the heart The Arrupe Years of the city. It was always interesting to meet religious leaders of interna-tional congregations ladling soup or serving pasta at the refugee center. Arrupe took an active interest in the work of the USG's Justice and Peace Commission. He urged its members to respond to known viola-tions of human rights anywhere on the world scene, to become involved in the Year of the Woman (1976), and to sensitize members of religious institutes on the role of justice in religious life, especially in the wake of the 1971 Synod of Bishops. His leadership in social justice was firm and steady, but never abrasive or confrontational. He had, for example, an unusual sensitivity for diplomatic concerns and was a strong believer in the power of persuasion. But his commitment to the thesis of justice as a constitutive element of the Gospel message was total. This was jus-tice in the service of faith, an idea integral to Arrupe's thinking. There was no divorcing faith and justice; it was, moreover, a justice rooted in love. For Arrupe, it was unthinkable to speak of a struggle for justice apart from a belief in that justice for all people willed by God himself. Christian Unity Ecumenism was still a fledgling enterprise on the Roman scene when Arrupe moved the USG toward a better understanding of men and women religious of the other churches. In the early seventies, Michael Fisher, provincial of the Anglican Franciscans from England, and Ar-rupe decided to initiate a permanent consultation on religio,us life among religious of the Catholic, Reformed, and Anglican communions. The con-sultation continues to meet on a biannual, basis and is now in its second decade of life. During those Roman years it became common to have non- Catholic religious present for the assemblies of the USG; on many lev-els, the participation was reciprocal. This was a new venture, largely un-tested, the success of which was by no means guaranteed. To a great ex-tent it was Arrupe's breadth of vision and the warmth of his personality that carried the day. There was an immediacy and directness about him that broke down resistance. In the ecumenical field, he was willing to leave the doctrinal differences to others; it was the faith that was shared which excited him. In the area of religious life, the understanding of the vows, community, and prayer differed little from one denomination to the other. I remember vividly the bonding that quickly developed among the participants of those early years. When discussion centered on the nu-merical difference in the size of the communities, it was often very amus-ing. It was fascinating to see Arrupe, whose religious institute numbered close to 35,000, engaged in intense conversation with an Anglican su- 166 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 perior of some forty religious. Numbers mattered little; it was the mean-ing of the life that counted. Conversation with the World Vatican II's Church in the Modern World fit perfectly with Arrupe's sense of church. While not unmindful of the dangers present in the meet-ing between faith and culture, he remained a strong proponent of incul-turation. A spirit of withdrawal or disengagement from the world, or even worse, a siege mentality, was alien to Arrupe. Nowhere was this more evident than in his dealing with the media. It was during these same Roman years that Donald Campion, S.J., had been named the Jesuit gen-eralate's chief communications officer. Arrupe had long been keenly aware of the necessity for a high-level spokesman and worked to make it possible. Campion was privy to discussion and decision-making at all levels and, therefore, in the best position to deal effectively with the me-dia. Such openness was a quantum leap forward from the spirit of reti-cence, even fear, which was so much a part of religious officialdom. The latter was a spirit well symbolized by the small sliding window at the por-ter's office of the Jesuit generalate and countless other Roman headquar-ters. It was a far cry from an "open door" policy. As press officer for the USG, I enjoyed the same latitude. I was en-couraged to be present for all meetings, even when the most sensitive issues were being discussed. I was free to share the views and activities of the Union with both the secular and religious press. If discretion was called for, I was expected to exercise it, but the prevailing climate was one-of as much openness as possible. This was Arrupe's style, and it proved right more often than not. By the same token, he expected a sense of responsibility from a well-informed media. He was both angered and offended by unfounded specu-lation or an inordinate interest in the sensational or controversial. This was very evident at the time of the 32nd General Congregation, at which he presided. What seemed like a concerted effort to magnify conflicts between the Jesuits and the Vatican caused him no small measure of pain. And yet it never soured him or changed his basically positive out-look. For him the best way to deal with such a situation was through con-tinued efforts at supplying accurate and intelligible information. It was a Church in progress, moving through history, aided and abet-ted by the world around it, that fashioned Arrupe's thinking. If the mes-sage of the Church were to be heard, it would only be through outreach and dialogue. In the important position which he held, he lent the full weight of his office to obtain that goal. The Arrupe Years / 167 The Man of God It is hard to speak of a person's spirituality. In its intensely personal character it remains ultimately untouchable. And yet it becomes trans-parent in a person's life. In having a certain closeness to Arrupe and lis-tening to the views of others who were his peers, I noted certain quali-ties that mirrored a remarkable spirituality. He comes to mind im-mediately as a man of hope and faith-filled action. It is small wonder that he had such close personal ties with Cardinal Edward Pironio, the Argentinian head of the Vatican Congregation for Religious and Secular Institutes. There were any number of reasons why relations between the Jesuits and the Vatican department responsible for religious life might well have been strained at that time. But Pironio's sense of hope and his very open and warm personality matched Arrupe's. They became close personal friends. Hindsight has led many people to comment favorably on Rome in the seventies. Religious life was being fashioned by an interesting trio. There were the challenges to religious given by Paul VI, coupled with the positive leadership bf Pironio and Arrupe. It was an exciting decade; for some of us, unforgettable. Arrupe's spirituality was marked by a deep sense of history and tra-dition. He was part of a Church and a religious institute whose patrimony truly humbled him. The picture of Arrupe as a man wed only to the pre-sent and largely indifferent to the values of the past is caricature at best. He knew that new wine required new skins and articulated that vision well. But he linked that vision with a real sense of the importance of con-tinuity. Some examples come quickly to mind. He had a profound es-teem for the insights of his institute's founder, St. Ignatius Loyola. While some argued that many of those insights were time-bound and no longer valid, Arrupe would be the last to be convinced. He said repeatedly that the longer he lived the more he appreciated the spiritual genius of his foun-der. In those years there was considerable discussion about the need for greater democracy in religious life. The question of the appropriateness of electing superiors, rather than appointing them as was the custom in many religious congregations, was very much to the fore. Arrupe re-mained throughout a strong proponent of the appointment method, fixed so strongly in Jesuit tradition. He was never persuaded that democracy produces the best leadership, and many of those who belonged to orders or congregations of a more democratic bent could recognize a certain va-lidity in his position. 161~ / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 His understanding of the vow of obedience was not rigidly tradi-tional; his thinking had been enhanced by contemporary theological in-sight into the Gospel sense of the vow. And yet he was deeply imbued with appreciation for the ascetical value inherent in accepting the deci-sions of those placed in authority. A case in point. When Arrupe com-municated to Robert Drinan, S.J., the decision that the latter would have to relinquish his seatin the U.S. House of Representatives, it was a very difficult moment in the life of both men. But it made a lasting impres-sion on Arrupe. The priority that Drinan gave to his Jesuit calling in ac-cepting that decision was, in Arrupe's mind, as important for the Soci-ety and the Church as anything Drinan might have otherwise accom-plished. It was an example to which he would repeatedly return. In retrospect, however, one would have to say that it was the man's openness that remains so vivid to the present day. He was never threat-ened by new ideas, even if he found them ultimately unacceptable. He could see the value in some elements of a Marxist social analysis, even though he was against its use. He could espouse~the Jesuits' new social ministries and still be a strong believer in the traditional ministry of edu-cation. He was a champion of legitimate pluralism, almost by instinct. While mindful of the importance of magisterial teaching, he wanted theo-logians to have as much freedom as possible in the pursuit of their task. It was his deep-rooted faith that lent him serenity in facing [he contem-porary scene. Not intimidated by the risk of possible failure, he realized that all was ultimately in God's hands. And then there were the trials, known best by those who worked with him closely. A number of those he shared with me. In his later years, the media was asking hard questions. Was Arrupe going to resign? Was he under pressure from the Vatican to do so? Was a dissatisfied segment of the Jesuits pressing for his resignation? Was his relationship with Paul VI as strained as rumored? Were there conflicts with John Paul II? Arrupe was always candid. He respected the media and realized that there was much to be gained through cooperation. But he was disturbed by attempts to exacerbate situations and exaggerate differences. There were certainly very difficult issues which he faced in the latter years of his term of office. He was fully aware that there was a conservative seg-ment of the Society which opposed him. In addition, during the thirty-second General Congregation, his was the task of interpreting the mind of that worldwide assembly to the pope, and vice versa. It was a sensi-tive and often painful task. That he did it so well is a tribute to his con-ciliatory gifts. But he was beset by rumors, which, like a room full of The Arrupe Years / 169 gnats, gave him no peace. That there were differences between the gen-eral congregation and the pope in certain areas, he never denied. Yet his personal relationship with Paul VI was never the question. He was sym-pathetic to the concerns of the pope and realized the weight of his cross. Moreover, he hailed the pope's social teaching as a landmark in the Church's life. But the perception of a wall of conflict between the "black" and "white" pope persisted, even though it was inaccurate. Arrupe was the first to admit that the sentiment among the Jesuits for the direction .taken after the thirty-second Congregation was not unani-mous. He was acutely aware of a vocal conservative opposition. But he saw the implementation of the general congregation's decisions as an obe-dience and there was no turning back. He always stressed the strong sup-port that came from so many quarters, the enthusiasm which the con-gregation's decisions had generated, especially among the young, and the fact that the Holy See had given its approval. But the fact is that the positive is just not that newsworthy, and so he would be inevitably ques-tioned about the "dark side" of any given situation. This always caused a certain measure of dismay, but it was followed by a remarkable resil-ience. In the wake of any setback, there was always his eventual phone call with a new idea or project. Early in the summer of 1981, Arrupe, his trusted vicar and confi-dant Vincent O'Keefe, and I talked at length about a possible article on the burning question of Arrupe's resignation. There was extensive specu-lation in the press, and we were discussing the best way to deal with it. However, it was more than a public question; it was a matter internal to the Jesuits at a time in which any public communication would have been inappropriate. Arrupe looked upon his eventual resignation in a very posi-tive light, as setting an important precedent for the future of the Soci-ety. His thinking was centered on the good of the religious institute to which his own interests were completely subservient. We decided to do nothing at that time. But that evening he assured me that once he was no longer in office and had the freedom to speak more openly, he would do an extensive interview with me and answer the questions that I felt should be addressed. That proved to be our last conversation. Upon his return from a trip to the Philippines some weeks later, he suffered the stroke from which he never recovered. The rest is history. I subsequently left Rome upon completion of my term of office. My occasional return visits were always marked by a brief visit with the man who had affected my life so deeply. Few words were exchanged. It was 170 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 usually a prayer and a blessing; he would then kiss my hand before I left. His sufferings proved to be one of the most powerful messages of his life. As one of his confreres put it: "He led us in life and has offered himself for us in death." His immolation was total. It has been an un-usual life. To have been touched by it is a rare gift. Father Pedro Arrupe was superior general of the Jesuits, 1965-198J~. He died on Tuesday, February 5, 1991, in Rome. Beyond the Liberal Model: Quo Vadis? Elizabeth McDonough, O.P. Sister Elizabeth McDonough, O.P., J.C.D,, Canonical Counsel Editor of REVIEW FOR RELIGtOUS and author of Religious in the 1983 Code, writes and consults extensively about consecrated life. She is a canonical consultant and tribunal judge for the Arch-diocese of Washington, where she may be contacted at P.O. Box 29260; Washing-ton, D.C. 20017. For background information on this article, see endnote i. ]t is no secret that active religious life for women in America has experi-enced progressive decline in the quarter century since Vatican II. Evi-dence of the decline is clear and overwhelming, and its effects are felt and observed in the entire Church. When one looks for causes, one real-izes that distinguishing them from the effects is both complicated and deli-cate. Nevertheless, from my experience as a woman religious during the last quarter century and as a canonical consultant for numerous women's communities over the last decade, I have come to the conclusion that many religious have not recognized or have not acknowledged some clear causes and effects of the current decline for what they really are. Effects of progressive decline are there to be seen in the current po-larization within and among women's communities along conservative and liberal ideological lines. The decline is also evident in most com-munities in their relative inability to attract or to keep vocations, as well as in their related inability to maintain significant institutional commit-ments. It is manifest in the near invisibility of women religious in con-temporary apostolic works, as well as in the frequent reluctance of clergy and laity alike to work with women religious in various apostolates. Pro-gressive decline is experienced by religious themselves as the uninten-tionally created and uncomfortably experienced loss of identity follow- 171 Review for Religious, March-April 1991 ing early and rapid postconciliar abandonment of traditional symbols and services, customs and norms. And, to those who are not religious, its ef-fects are all-too-obvious in the polarized, apparently directionless, plu-ralistic potpourri of ministries and attire, lifestyles and mindsets among women religious today. The progressive decline stems in part from the pervasive sociology of liberal individualism in America and in part from the cultural preva-lence of a psychology of selfism. But causes of the decline are also evi-dent in the predominantly social-justice agenda that has been adopted by most women's institutes, as well as in the revisionist versions of vowed life and in the generally antiauthority and often feminist stances currently espoused by not a few active women religious. Again, a major cause of decline can be traced to the reality that, in seeking their roots after the council, many women's institutes dating their foundations to frontier America discovered--but probably did not admit--that they actually had no genuine, unique charism to renew and adapt. The decline can also be traced to the systematic and progressive de-construction or deliberate abandonment of fundamental juridic structures and roles during the postconciliar constitutional revision processes. In most women's institutes, general chapters have now abandoned legisla-tion in favor of direction-setting, with their goals programmed by pre-chapter steering committees and subsequently adopted through member-ship participation in consensus formation that is shaped by outside facil-itators. In most women's institutes, lower-level superiors are now either nonexistent or nonfunctional, while major superiors have abandoned gov-ernment in favor of business management and have surrounded them-selves with middle-level, appointed, administrative personnel whose num-bers have steadily increased over the years in bureaucratic disproportion to the continuing decrease in membership. Functionally, the net effect of juridic deconstruction has been the crea-tion of business-management-style bureaucracies which filter informa-tion upward and decisions downward, from and to members of women's institutes, primarily by means of bulletins, newsletters, special-interest mailings, and occasional phone calls or visits. As a result individual re-ligious deal almost exclusively with middle-level personnel over a long period of time and even in personal and sensitive matters. Many would prefer to describe this reality quite differently by saying that communi-cation (not mere information) is facilitated inward and outward (not up and down) between the empowered membership and the visionary lead-ership in the concentric circles of participative government that have re- Beyond the Liberal Model / 173 placed the hierarchic pyramid of authority. Whatever the terminology, the following experiences are common: (1) Individual members or groups of members can seldom effect change in policies and agendas that are programmed and prepackaged at upper (or inner) levels of the struc-ture; (2) religious are both structurally and functionally more removed from their elected, responsible superiors than previously; and (3) the right of individual religious to personal privacy is, at times, not ade-quately protected. Most women religious would admit that, in the quarter century since Vatican II, the rather short-lived euphoria of the "nun in the world" has been replaced by a long-suffering, quiet frustration at the lurking possi-bility of permanent extinction. While increased relevancy and effective-ness were focal points for altering lifestyles and practices during renewal, many wonder now if women religious in America have ever been more irrelevant and less effective. To be frank, most clergy and laity and male religious have been thinking for quite some time that religious life for women in America is "going nowhere fast," even if few have verbal-ized this publicly. More recently, at least some--if not many--women religious have cautiously begun to acknowledge the same apparent real-ity to themselves and others. A haunting, unresolved question about the entire experience of re-newal is: How did all this ever happen to us? In seeking answers, con-servatives seem tempted to respond: "Surely an enemy has done it!" In kind, liberals seem inclined to say: "I am making all things new!" From the perspective of experience, my response to the question looks to what might be a deeper problem, namely: "All this did not just happen, We did it to ourselves." Indeed, I would suggest that, on the part of women religious, major factors contributing to the current decline have been a certain lack of knowledge of both theology and history, as well as a cer-tain lack of maturity in responding to newly discovered postconciliar re-alities. And, from current experience, I would suggest that an apparent lack of humility in admitting previous mistakes and an apparent lack of honesty regarding present reality or future prospects are probably has-tening the permanent demise of many active institutes of women reli-gious in this country. Lack of Vocations An obvious sign of the progressive decline of women's institutes is the staggering decrease in their membership since Vatican II. In 1965 there were slightly more than 180,000 members in active communities in America, but by 1990 that number had fallen to slightly more than 174 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 100,000-~a decrease of nearly 45%. Simultaneously, since few women have entered while many have been departing at a slow but steady pace, the median age in women's institutes has risen rapidly and is now com-monly sixty-five or higher. Marie Augusta Neal, in her recent book From Nuns to Sisters, sug-gests that the "radical risks" involved in the Church's new mission to the poor may be the prime factor limiting the response of women to a call to religious life. She thus inadvertently trivializes that call--which, on practical and theoretical as well as human and theological levels, has its appeal within risk or without any particular concern about risk. Neal does not seem to recognize that there is---~r ought to be--a substantive difference between a vocation and a career. And, if experience tells us anything in the matter, it tells us that--with rare exception--the single, most compelling human reason why anyone responds positively to a re-ligious vocation is her (or his) direct, personal awareness of religious who are happy together doing something that they perceive as worth-while and who are clearly motivated by and committed to the love of Je-sus Christ. Currently, many not-yet-retired women religious have become increas-ingly absent or invisible in apostolic activities of the local Church. In other words, for the most part they simply are no longer seen. Moreover, many no longer live in community, even when they live in geographic proximity, sometimes even when they exercise the same ministry or work in the same place. In other words, they are no longer seen together except possibly at work. Again, perhaps too few women religious are to-day perceived as being genuinely happy, and perhaps even fewer as be-ing happy together. Further, the current wide diversification of minis-tries seems sometimes to have led to trivial apostolates ~hile simultane-ously rendering institutional apostolic, witness unsustainable. And, though many may reject the suggestion, perhaps love of Jesus Christ is simply not perceived as the underlying or determining factor in the life of many women religious in America. In short, perhaps because the posi-tive image that women religious tend to have of themselves bears little resemblance to the not-so-positive image that others have of them, it may be unrealistic--if not grandiose--to expect vocations to increase in the near or distant future. Pluralism and Polarization An initial cause and increasing consequence of decline in religious life for women is the currently a~knowledged division into conservative and liberal categories both within and among most congregations. Beyond the Liberal Model / 175 In general, conservative-model institutes tend to favor external authorities, institutional endeavors, traditional theologies, and hierarchi-cal structures; liberal-model institutes generally favor inner freedom, in-dividual endeavors, postconciliar theologies, and collaborative struc-tures. Liberal institutes are inclined to accuse conservative ones of at-tracting emotionally immature candidates, while conservative institutes are inclined to accuse liberals of having nothing that attracts. Conservative religious are often summarily categorized as oppressed, unrenewed, and psychologically dependent; liberal religious are just as often summarily categorized as progressive, feminist, and pseudosophis-ticated. Conservatives seem to read history and Scripture in so selective and so polemical a fashion as to render them an inadequate basis for or-dinary discourse. Conversely, liberals seem to read history and Scripture in so simplistic and so revisionist a fashion as to render them insignifi-cant. From my experience, liberals and conservatives alike seem to have worked very diligently at destroying whatever common symbols they had, so that now they possess no common language for constructive com-munication. Each side seems to have been mutually successful in trans-forming both the concept of God and the experience of worship into sources of division. And neither side seems able to lay untainted claim to any "moral high ground," any bridgehead that addresses the ever wid-ening chasm between them. Currently the majority of women's institutes in America express or espouse a liberal model of religious life. However, it is becoming more and more evident that many religious themselves do not ascribe to the tenets or direction of that model, while many religious also have at least some (and sometimes serious) concerns about its functioning and future. As conservatives attempt to build a future by returning to the past and liberals attempt to build a future by rejecting the past, the categories are becoming increasingly distant and distinct. Most religious realize that any previous potential "middle ground" is fast disappearing, thus leav-ing little hope for future cooperation or reconciliation in or among insti-tutes. Mary Jo Leddy in her recent book, Reweaving Religious Life, ac-knowledges that the current liberal model of religious life is not adequate for facilitating and sustaining genuine adaptation and renewal, even though she has previously been both a proponent and facilitator of that model. Leddy suggests that the liberal model of religious life has become "unraveled" and that it should be replaced by a choice for "creative 176 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 disintegration" in favor of even more radical pluralism. She suggests, further, that liberal-model institutes might take as an example of her "reweaving" thesis Teresa of Avila's reform of Carmelite monastic life in the sixteenth century. But Leddy seems not to recognize that her sug-gestion for the future is humanly problematic and that her analogy from the past is historically inaccurate. As regards "creative disintegration" for a more radical pluralism, the current experience of most American women religious is that the de-gree of pluralism already present in their institutes is straining the limits of not just the weave but also the inner fiber of religious life itself, indi-vidually and collectively. In short, Leddy seems unaware that going be-yond present degrees of pluralism in ministries and lifestyles will most likely be more destructive than creative, both in the beginning and in the end. Regarding Teresian reform of Carmelite life, I.eddy does not recog-nize that Teresa's version of "reweaving" was actually a return to ba-sic structures and religious observance from an "unraveling" that oc-curred precisely because fundamental elements of the original charism had been abandoned or abused. In short, she seems oblivious to this his-torical fact: that Teresa accomplished the genuine renewal of Carmelite religious life not through programmed disintegration but rather through a concerted effort by all to embrace its fundamental structures and heri-tage in order to live them and preserve them in a pristine manner. Deconstruction of Structures and Elimination of Distinctions The current deconstructed functioning of general chapters as parti-cipative consensus-formation assemblies in most women's institutes has engendered both a feeling of members' being "empowered" for gov-ernance and a strong sense of "ownership" of chapter decisions. On the other hand, the new style of general chapters also tends to lessen critical assessment of options and to avoid substantive decisions that distinguish delegates from participants. Simultaneously, such chapters commonly en-act global, carefully crafted, blandly diluted statements whose content can hardly be opposed in theory and can scarcely be assessed in implemen-tation. Currently some women's institutes have so little sense of their own identity and of the role of chapters that they involve nonmembers extensively in chapter proceedings, and some have even suggested that nonmembers may be elected to governance roles. The distinction between major superiors and councils, as well as dif-ferentiation of their roles, has also undergone postconciliar deconstruc-tion. With the advent of collaborative decision-making, major superiors Beyond the Liberal Model / 177 and councils are commonly referred to as leadership teams: their mem-bers share equally the governance/management of the religious institute and are functionally distinguished, if at all, only at the infrequent mo-ments of final decision.,required by law. In relation to actual decision-making, in most institutes there has been a concomitant radical limita-tion or complete elimination of instances in which a supreme moderator or major superior can act without the consent of the council. Most of these alterations seem related to questioning the possession of personal authority by superiors, combined with an all too real (and often all too painful) remembrance of abuse of authority by superiors in the past. The deconstruction of juridic structures and the blurring of gov-ernmental functions apparently meet a need to limit the authority of su-periors through "leadership" language and apparently also reinforce the new participative consensus-niodel chapters in a stance of visibly and ver-bally rejecting whatever has been perceived as hierarchic or patriarchal. Overall, however, the new bureaucratic, business-management model of governance operated by middle-level appointees and committees seems to have produced no overwhelmingly positive verifiable results other than the fact that many members feel very good about it. In other words, it does appear that most people like the feeling of having a part in run-ning the business even if business is not getting any better. Obedience and Mission Closely related to juridic deconstruction and elimination of distinc-tions are postconciliar views espousing dialogical obedience and justice-oriented missions. The seed for a dialogical understanding of obedience was firmly planted by the affirmations of Perfectae Caritatis 14 that superiors should foster an active and responsible obedience in addition to listen-ing to and promoting cooperation among the members of the institute. But after twenty-five years that seed has produced, in many religious in-stitutes of women, a strong undergrowth of resistance to any exercise of personal authority by any superiors. As a result, some prevalent revision-ist versions of vowed obedience consider it to be so personal and dialo-gical that it apparently can never involve a decision made by someone else which must be obeyed. In this framework, attributing final decision-making power to a superior is simply rejected as representing an archaic, unjust sacralization of hierarchic notions about authority, commitment, and obligations, all of which are now considered as negotiable. Action on behalf of justice and participation in the transformation of the world were affirmed by the 1971 Synod of Bishops as "constitutive 171~ / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 dimension[s] of preaching the Gospel" and "of the Church's mission for redemption of the human race and its liberation from every oppres-sive situation." And these affirmations quickly became a mandate for religious to work with new or renewed vigor in justice-and-peace endeav-ors throughout the world. However, many religious who recognize action on behalf of justice as a constitutive element of the Gospel appear to have fallen into the er-ror of thinking that action on behalf of justice is also exhaustive of it. There is ample indication that some religious erroneously assess the Church's mission as only or primarily one of unbridled activity in the marketplaces of contemporary society. They frequently quote as a source the document Religious and Human Promotion, but one seldom hears any mention of the document on The Contemplative Dimension of Re-ligious Life. In addition, a selective reading of conciliar texts and post-conciliar documents seems to have created for some religious an urgent mandate for political action and systemic change to the exclusion or ne-glect of any other manner of transforming the world or of preaching the Gospel. In connection with contemporary views of authority and obedi-ence, the mandate for systemic change of oppressive structures seems to be directed increasingly to the internal structures of the Church and of one's own religious institute rather than to the wider world. The social-justice orientation in the revised constitutions of most in-stitutes is primarily the result of an ongoing series of sociological sur-veys initiated in 1965 by the Leadership Conference of Women Relig-ious to provide an information base for resources on renewal. The sur-veys were formulated, distributed, interpreted, and implemented by Marie Augusta Neal, who has written numerous articles and books in the last two decades in order to explain, expound, expand, and defend her work. In her writings Neal admits that the entire purpose of the research surveys had a social-justice orientation. She also acknowledges that con-troversy over the surveys contributed directly to splintering of the (then) Conference of Major Superiors of Women in the early 1970s. And she herself states that the pre- and post-Vatic~in II belief scale contained in the "Sisters' Survey" involving 139,000 women religious in the mid- 1960s "became the most controversial and most discriminating variable, which accounted for the pace and direction of changes in structures of the religious congregations involved in the study."2 Yet Neal has con-sistently defended the soundness of her survey instrument as well as the accuracy of her interpretations, and has increasingly extended her find- Beyond the Liberal Model / 17'9 ings beyond the realm of sociology. Critics of Neal's work point to survey questions formulated in quali-tative language, to information reported in questionable categories, and to Neal's apparently subjective interpretations expressed in her follow-up. memos as being especially problematic. The surveys engendered even more controversy as findings originally proposed as an information base on resources for renewal began to function instead as LCWR's single, central source for pursuing social-justice agendas, for questioning eccle-siastical authority, and for picking up the the pace of renewal. Indeed, the quarter-century survey project that coincided with the postconciliar constitutional revision in women's institutes may arguably be the single most significant factor that can account for the systematic and progres-sive deconstruction evident among so many institutes of women religious today. Abandonment of Common Symbols and Practices Regardless of whether one recognizes or acknowledges an underly-ing internal juridic deconstruction in religious institutes of women, the visible, gradual, and progressive alteration of attire for women religious since Vatican II cannot be denied. The transition in habits has been a pain-ful and emotionally charged issue and is a prime example of the whole-sale abandonment of symbols and symbol systems by women religious since the council. No one is at liberty to argue about whether or not the external identity symbol of the habit has been fundamentally abandoned by numerous women religious, and most agree that whatever has hap-pened is irreversible. Moreover, the "habit issue" represents a nexus of sociological, psychological, behavioral, historical, and theological fac-tors that relate directly to the progressive decline of religious life in Amer-ica. Transformation in the attire of women religious from outdated and unhealthy medieval costumes, to makeshift modified habits, to bought and borrowed secular clothes, to contemporary business suits with com-munity logos, to the stylish garb of modern professionals is reflected in and among women's institutes today. The visible choice of attire, though not completely indicative ofa conservative or liberal model as such, is a somewhat reliable sign of the institute's (and person's) location and di-rection on the spectrum of post-Vatican II transition. The attire worn by the major superior and council of an institute tends to indicate both whether attire choices are possible within the institute and what the most progressive of possible choices might be. These indications, along with when the attire choices became operative, rather accurately reflect 1~10 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 whether the institute operates primarily from a liberal or conservative model (or somewhere in between) and tend to show a transition towards the liberal model. Be that as it may, my reason for discussing the choice of attire is that it is never the only issue being addressed. The attire issue also places in sharp relief a functional distinction between institutes of men and of women. That is, for members of nonmonastic institutes of men, the habit--if they had one--was traditionally a significant form of clothing occasionally donned for community and liturgical exercises or for pro-fessional and pastoral services. In .contrast, for all institutes of women-- with rare exception--the habit was traditionally their primary identifi-cation symbol and was also often the only clothes they had to wear. Ad-ditionally, the habit issue highlights a significant difference in response to legal norms on the part of men and of women, namely: The 1917 code required that habits be worn by all members of all institutes at all times, both inside and outside the religious house; women consistently did what the law said, while men rather consistently did not. Thus, ~the almost vis-ceral reaction (of some) to the matter of the habit should not be surpris-ing. More fundamentally, however, numerous other unifying and mean-ingful symbols and practices disappeared along with the habit in religious institutes of women after Vatican II. Common meals and lodging, com-mon prayers and songs, common recreation and study, as well as com-mon moments of joy and suffering, were generally minimized, mildly disdained, or summarily abandoned in a veritable onslaught of Ameri-can, postconciliar, egalitarian, pluralistic individualism and activism. Some would suggest that in this process women religious have become less oppressed, more mature and free for service. Many others would sug-gest, in contrast, that the primary result of abandoning symbol systems and common practices has been a pervasive and overwhelming experi-ence of inner emptiness and outer loneliness made more acute by recog-nition that there simply is no longer any "common glue" to hold insti-tutes of women religious together at simple, fundamental, indispensable levels of human relationship. Transformations in Community Life and Ministry Additional consequences Of postconciliar deconstruction in women's institutes concern: (1) how members live together and relate to one an-other, or--in other words--the change in what was formerly referred to as common life or community; and (2) how members happen to arrive in a particular place doing a particular job, or--in other words--the Beyond the Liberal Model / 1~11 change in what was formerly referred to as receiving an assignment or being missioned. Without detailing here the canonical requirements for common life and its broad and strict interpretation, it was obviously common prac-tice in.the past for religious to live with other members of their commu-nity in the same residence with at least relatively equal access to food, clothing, shelter, and furnishings. Exceptions to common life were al-ways possible and sometimes actual but generally remained just that: ex-ceptions. Since the council, however, more religious now live "outside a house" of the institute for extended periods of time and for a variety of reasons, including apostolate, health, and study. Moreover, it is cur-rently common for a woman religious to live outside a house of her in-stitute either (1) because she cannot find a house in which she is collec-tively "accepted" by sisters already in the house according to their es-tablished expectations of community, or (2) because the sister herself can-not find a house in which she feels she can live comfortably and con-structively according to her already established expectations. Since Vatican II, members of religious institutes have been forced to deal regularly with high degrees of constant uncertainty, and simulta-neously they have had great demands for intense interpersonal relating placed on them. Religious institutes and individual women religious have devoted varying amounts of time, energy, and resources to bemoaning or extolling postconciliar relational developments and demands. And at present many institutes and their members are so caught up in personal relational issues and self-help programs as to convey the impression that, if only every sister would study her Myers-Briggs profile and identify the consequences of her Enneagram number and join the appropriate recov-ery or codependency program, then community life would irreversibly begin to get out of the present morass of personal malaise and interper-sonal dysfunctionality. Meanwhile, however, most members of liberal-model institutes no longer live in community, but merely relate to it functionally. It is usu-ally easier for major superiors to allow members to live outside a house of the institute than to deal constructively with problems in houses of the institute. Those members who continue to live in community seem, in most institutes, to have circumstantially or preferentially sorted them-selves into relatively permanent subgroups by age differentiation or work relations or ideological orientations or dyad/triad dependencies. And quite a few women religious depend regularly--and sometimes exten-sively--- on professional colleagues or family members for ongoing per- 1~12 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 sonal support and meaningful human interaction rather than on their re-ligious community. Related to changes in community living is the alteration since Vati-can II of how most women religious arrive in a particular place doing a particular job. A process of "open placement" now predominates, which usually means that the religious works with the institute's person-nel director or board in following previously established community cri-teria for seeking apostolic involvement or other gainful employment. Fre-quently in this system contracts are negotiated between the sister and the employer and are then submitted to the personnel director or board for review and informal approval. Eventually, finalized arrangements are rati-fied by the competent major superior, and the sister is missioned or as-signed to her new apostolate or job with, if possible, some form of rit-ual solemnization of the process. Some provision for housing is neces-sarily connected to the missioning, but living in community is not usu-ally a priority among the criteria for seeking employment, and so excep-tions to common life proliferate. The Sociology of Liberal Individualism Recently Robert Bellah and several other sociologists published a re-vealing analysis of the phenomenon and failure of liberal individualism in America, entitled Habits of the Heart. Among other things, this analy-sis suggests that American culture reflects a radically liberal society of psychologically sophisticated but morally impoverished individuals who demonstrate a "narcissism of similarity" by associating in "lifestyle enclaves." These enclaves are composed of the like-minded who share comparable desires for leisure, recreation, and consumer goods and who, by their self-chosen values, have been freed from traditional ethnic and religious boundaries while simultaneously justifying their own prefer-ences. Further, Bellah and his colleagues suggest that, in American so-ciety, people's felt need for personal fulfillment---ever elusive--has re-sulted in their substituting short-term "therapeutic relationships" be-tween "self-actualized" individuals for the genuine, creative relation-ship of love. This, in turn, has resulted in replacing obligation and com-mitment with a new "virtue": open and honest communication in which everything at all times is considered negotiable except the individual's self-chosen objectified values. The study suggests, further, that American society lacks the identity which should have or could have emerged from the ordered freedom of practical rituals and moral structures which it has abandoned. Moreover, it seems unable to return to the "constitutive narrative" of its tradition, Beyond the Liberal Model because that would be perceived as opting for once-jettisoned oppressive structures. Consequently, the lonely, self-actualized, rugged individuals of the late, great American Empire--still not comprehending what it is that might assuage their longings--have taken collective refuge in a cor-porate bureaucracy of professional managers, therapists, and other ex-perts whose task it is to foster administrative centralization, to facilitate reciprocal tolerance, and to "empower" all citizens for institutional par-ticipation and creative innovation. The problem is, however, according to Bellah and his colleagues: It simply has not worked, and the seriously ill "social ecology" of American culture is very much in danger of per-manent demise. There are striking similarities between this sociological analysis of American culture and the current liberal model of active religious life for women. Tradition has been abandoned, and the past is perceived as op-pressive. Institutes have become business corporations, and governance has become collaborative administration. Structures have become parti-cipative, and superiors are now primarily managers. Formation person-nel and spiritual directors now function primarily as therapists. Facilita-tors are experts for achieving consensus formation, as well as catalysts for creative innovation. All members are becoming empowered for de-cision- making, although not many members claim responsibility for any particular decision. Obedience is increasingly negotiable, and personal fulfillment dominates most choices. Communities have become lifestyle enclaves composed of occasionally present, like-minded individuals. Eve-ryone is now somehow accountable, but few (if any) religious are called to accountability by anyone for anything. Communication is the cardi-nal virtue, and everyone is progressing towards greater self-actualization. The problem is, of course: It all simply does not work. American women religious today still seem not to have discovered what it is that might as-suage their longings, and the seriously ill social ecology of their lives is very much in danger of p~rmanent demise. The Psychology of Selfism Directly related to the sociological phenomena that seem to parallel the deconstruction of religious life is the psychological phenomenon that contemporary American culture, according to Bellah, is basically impov-erished by an insatiable preoccupation with self. In most cultures reli-gion is considered a primary source for character formation and for the development of social mores. However, in the psychology of selfism which seems to permeate American culture, the primary reality is the self that one's own unique choices have created. The isolated, self-created 1 ~14 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 individual then commits himself or herself to self-defined and self-defining decisions. In this ambiance, personality development and be-havior modification replace the character formation and the social mo-res that are ordinarily provided by traditional religion, because preex-isting principles for character or mores are perceived as either non-existent or unimportant. For selfism in America, the psychological myth of the intrinsically good Utopian self parallels and supports the social and political myths of the intrinsically perfect Utopian state, while the psychological ten-dency to self-indulgence both rationalizes and celebrates the consumer society. When the interior fiber for duty, patience, suffering, and self-sacrifice is absent or wanting in the individual, the psychology of selfism conveniently shifts a locus of responsibility for the vacuum or the defi-ciency to the failures and foibles of parents, siblings, associates, and cir-cumstances. Selfism also legitimizes and perpetuates the late-adolescent attitudes of routine rebellion, rejection of authority, and preoccupation with sex. In short, it appears to be a ready-made, perfect internal sup-port for the sociology of American liberal individualism. Obviously, in relation to religious life, the once-hidden issues of psy-chological development and emotional maturity have been a rather pub-lic part of the transition in institutes of women (and of men) since Vati-can II. It may be that women religious really were not emotionally well-prepared for so many drastic, rapid-fire changes in their lives and, fur-ther, that they have not handled them all that well in the long run. To be sure, the recent deluge of books, articles, programs, and apparent pana-ceas produced by religious and for religious on topics of maturity related to religious is overwhelming. Patently, the popularity of this genre among women religious is not indicative of merely occasional light read-ing for the already self-actualized and emotionally mature. Thus, it seems reasonable to suggest that American women religious might be suf-fering not only from the effects of American liberal individualism but also from some lack of maturity as a consequence of its underlying psy-chology of selfism. Absence of Charism Genuine charisms for consecrated lifeforms are windows on the Gos-pel that provide a vision So clear that founders and foundresses --and then their companions--seem compelled to "do likewise" and follow Jesus. Or, again, charisms might be described as good seeds growing in fertile ground in a particular time and place and having the capacity to Beyond the Liberal Model multiply and bear fruit and also to be transplanted successfully to other ages and other cultures. True charisms of religious life are founded on sound but supple structures, are surrounded by long-standing and forma-tive customs, are nourished by deep-rooted and healthy spirituality, are manifest in valuable and long-term ecclesial service, and are--most es-pecially-~ expressions of a meaningful and compelling way of following Jesus. Charisms are not constituted merely by being a particular-apos-tolic expression of a particular corporal or spiritual work of mercy, how-ever necessary and valuable such endeavors may be; nor can charisms be humanly built by "refounding" or personally manufactured by "reweaving." They are gifts received, embraced, and lived--with re-ceptive and responsive elements indispensable to their basic rea~].ty---or they are not true charisms at all. Unfortunately, when active institutes of women religious went in search of their roots in the mandated renewal subsequent to Vatican II, most were confronted with the absence of a genuine, unique charism. And most women's institutes apparently either could not or would not recognize that absence for what it really meant, namely: They actually had no sound structures, no formative customs, no deep-rooted spiritu-ality, no long-term ecclesial service, no meaningful and compelling way of life they could call their own. In short, they had no genuine spiritual patrimony or religious heritage to which they could return and from which they could move into the future. The absence of a genuine, unique charism in most women's:institutes explains in part why intercommunity living and common novitiates have been so readily initiated and so successful. One cannot imagine, for ex-ample, Jesuit men and Dominican men opting for total intercommunity living situations and sharing totally common novitiates as if there were no deep and visible, distinctly different elements in their charisms. Yet many women religious whose institutes claim unique charisms share com-munity living and novitiates on a regular basis and consider it a wonder-ful sign of progress in collaboration. Lack of charism in many :women's institutes also explains in part why they have been so readily eclectic in the process of spiritual renewal and why most supposedly pristine house-of- prayer movements have been so short-lived and superficial .3 Further, lack of charism explains in part why it has been so difficult for these in-stitutes to adapt and renew successfully in the postconciliar era. Indeed, the provinces of some men's institutes are actually more distinct in ex-pressions of their charism than are many independent institutes of women who attempted after the council to rewrite constitutions and fashion mis- 116 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 sion statements unique to them on the basis of their supposedly unique charisms. Though the fault for lack of charism was not theirs, the consequences for these institutes have been nearly fatal. Most--but not all--active in-stitutes of women religious founded in, or transferred to, this country in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries were either New World adapta-tions of ancient and medieval monastic communities, such as the Bene-dictines and the Dominicans, or groups of dedicated pioneer women re-sponding generously to the practical needs of an immigrant Church in frontier America. Some, such as the Ursulines and the Daughters of Char-ity, had never been allowed to embrace or live the authentic, original ex-pression of their charism, which is now recognized as the forerunner to the consecrated lifeform of secular institutes. All active women's insti-tutes in frontier America were forced by circumstance or mandate to adopt a semimonastic, conventual style of religious life whether or not this was appropriate to their current function or past experience. Struc-tures, as well as theology and spirituality and apostolate and customs, are integral to the authentic expression of a genuine, unique charism. Thus it is not surprising that progressive deconstruction in women's in-stitutes has been so rapid and so complete for those institutes which, when seeking their roots, found only a monastic heritage adapted to the structures of conventual religious life or found no heritage that ever re-ally fit into the structures of conventual religious life in the first place. Possibilities for the Future Suggestions have been made that, in order to survive, women reli-gious should respond more fully to the risks of opting for the poor, or expand their pluralistic polarization even further, or revitalize for the sake of mission, or manage systemic change more constructively, or com-bine judiciously with other institutes of similar heritage. But no degree of social-justice activity, no amount of pluralism, no programmed revitalization, no constructively managed change, and no combined mem-bership will supply for the absence of a charism, which simply cannot be summarily manufactured and without which no institute has any fu-ture. It is possible, however, that active institutes of women religious in America can consciously decide about their future in honest relationship to their past. Some may feel they have actually been successfully grafted into an ancient or medieval charism expressed in conventual form and may wish to continue that expression of religious life. Some may find Beyond the Liberal Model it more realistic to return to what was originally intended by the founder/ foundress even if that choice would place them today in a different ju-ridic category of consecrated lifeform, such as secular institutes. Others may find it more realistic for members to form totally different commu-nities in accord with the prevalent spectrum of conservative and tradi-tional ideologies among their membership. Still others may decide quite honestly that their time of existence and service in and through the Church is actually past and that their greatest present witness might be to go out of existence with dignity and grace. From my experience, those in positions of authority in many women's institutes either do not recognize or simply will not admit the above possibilities, just as they either do not recognize or will not admit that the present course of supposed renewal is toward eventual demise. And, from my experience, the members of most women's institutes either are unaware of what is actually happening or, being aware, sim-ply wish to stay the course because it appears or feels advantageous to them at the moment. In either case, the result is that members tend to choose for leadership only those persons who will perpetuate the status quo, which in turn continues the present direction of programmed decon-struction. Unfortunately, most women's institutes seem deaf to suggestions that current, supposedly great refounding trends are futile, not only because they are based primarily on product-oriented business-management mod-els, but also because there is--in most cases--actually nothing to re-found. Though most seem enthralled by distant visions of supposedly "new forms" of religious life, they seem not to see before their eyes the current practical drift of religious life in America to the practices and lifestyle of the already well-established category of secular institutes. Io fact, opting for secular-institute status might be a more honest way for some institutes to become what they were originally and are meant to be than is their present path of deconstruction under the ~uise of creating "new forms" of religious life. Finally, many women's institutes seem heartened by prospects of increased membership through mergers and un-ions as a recipe for survival. Although combining institutes may be a ju-dicious course of action in view of practical needs, those who look to this for survival should reread carefully the story of Gideon: There is no safety in numbers if you are not doing God's will in God's way; and if you are, numbers really do not matter very much at all. Although, from my experience, most active institutes of women re-ligious in America simply do not have the slightest idea where they are 1111~ / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 going or why, there are many members of many institutes who do want to go somewhere with meaning. While not wishing to return to the past, they also do not wish to abandon it, and they still hope for a future of renewed religious life somehow rooted in it. Unfortunately, current modes of participative consensus-model governance not only edit out such voices but also make it nearly impossible to know about or be in constructive contact with those who have similar desires. Perhaps, then, some hope for the future also can be found in more grassroots, intra- and inter-congregational communication by those who are both weary and wary of the present programmed deconstruction they experience. All that is really necessary for continuation in the present path of increased po-larization and progressive decline to the point of extinction is that enough women religious continue to say or do nothing about it. NOTES i The substantive content of this article is taken from a book chapter of the same ti-tle and is used with permission of the editors. See lus Sequitur Vitam: To Pier Huiz-ing in Recognition of a Life Dedicated to a Living Law in the Church, edited by James Provost and Knut Wall and scheduled for publicatiofl by Peeters of Leuven i.n February 1991. The book chapter is much longer, has a definitely canonical ori-entation, and contains numerous, lengthy, substantive footnotes. 2 See Marie Augusta Neal, From Nuns to Sisters: An Expanding Vocation (Mystic, Conn.:Twenty-Third'Publications, 1990), for her positions in general and pp. 126- 127, n. 9, for this quotation. More detailed comments on the survey are contained in the book chapter cited above, especially at footnotes 12 and 29-34. 3 See J.M.R. Tillard, "Vingt ans de grace?" in Vie Consacr~e 58 (1986): 323- 340. The S.P.E.A.K. Model: An Approach to Continuing Formation Mary Mortz, D.M.J. Sister Mary Mortz, D.M.J., serves as a provincial councilor for her province of the Daughters of Mary and Joseph. With her degree in rehabilitation and religious stud-ies, she teaches mentally and emotionally disturbed children. Her address is 419 East Lancaster Boulevard; Lancaster, California 93535. Continuing formation means that the work of God has begun, and we con-tinue to cooperate with his work in and through us. Many of our consti-tutions state that each of us as a perpetually professed religious is respon-sible for our own continuing formation, though we are accountable to com-munity leadership. We have workshop opportunities extended to us, but there still seems to be a void in terms of specific steps to take to know that we are really growing as much as the Lord is calling us to grow. Many articles written for us today in religious journals seem to re-flect a growing need for focus in this area of continuing formation. They address issues of the compulsions and codependency in our society and in our religious lives. These issues are influencing us spiritually, emo-tionally, relationally, physically, and in our ministry. Many of these ar-ticles conclude with the suggestion that the reader investigate the 12- step programs such as Alcoholics Anonymous. The S.P.E.A.K. model begins where these articles conclude, Many religious men and women are finding the 12-step journey to be a power-ful resource. This model comes from reflecting upon the experiences which many have shared with me--priests, religious men and women, and lay persons. It is a summary of what we have found to be helpful for us. It is offered as a resource tool for anyone looking for more spe-cific help in this deepening journey of spirituality and ministry. 189 190 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 Summary of the Model There are three parts which serve as the basis for the S.P.E.A.K. model. First, the 12 steps are used as concrete steps or tools for continu-ing growth. Second, it is holistic. It includes the aspects of our lives as people who are Spiritual, Physical, Emotional, Apostolic, and relational (Koinonia). Third, each person selects a formation companion. The reason for basing the model upon the 12 steps is that they have proved to be very effective for thousands of people as a tool for us to use to evaluate our level of trust in God, to examine our lives, to make changes when we see we need to do so, to maintain an abiding attitude of balance and prayer in our lives and in our ministry and relationships with others. As we look at these 12 steps taken as a group, it is very apparent that we are returning to all that has been best for us in our previous routines of the spiritual life: regular daily examen, confession and extraordinary confession, retreats, daily spiritual reading, prayer, community sharing of our growth with each other, and profound dedication to sharing the Good News with a troubled world. The reason for basing the model upon a holistic view is that it is very easy for us to allow one or two areas of life to receive our attention. The challenge of life is to live in such a wholesomely balanced way that we proclaim Jesus, his Spirit~-and his Father's love by being the wonder-fully created person we are called to be spiritually, physically, emotion-ally, relationally, and in our ministry. The reason for basing the model upon having a formation compan-ion is twofold. It is a privileged thing to have someone who loves us un-. conditionally, even when we let the other person really know us. This frees us to grow even more. Secondly, it helps us to become very, very honest with ourselves and with our God when we agree to share what is happening in our lives at a deep and personal level with at least one other human being. This facilitates an attitude of openness and honesty which is an essential prerequisite of continuing formation. The Twelve Steps It is important to remember that even though one of the areas of the S.P.E.A.K. model is the spiritual, all the areas of our life are permeated by the principles of the spiritual journey. We keep taking these steps over and over in all areas of life, and new insights become revealed to us. Per-haps it is no coincidence that there were 12 tribes, 12 apostles, and now the foundation of 12 steps! Sometimes it is said that a coincidence is a miracle when God chooses to be anonymous. The S.P.E.A.K. Model / "191 Orginally there were six steps as part of a spiritual movement called the Oxford movement, but those using these steps in A.A. realized they needed a little more guidance and expanded them to 12. The basic sense of these 12 steps can be divided into three groups. In steps 1-3 we come to a profound sense of what it means to really trust God. In steps 4-11, we clean our house, and continue to keep it clean. In step 12 we work to practice these principles in all our affairs, all as-pects of our lives. It can be a temptation for us to approach the steps rationally, to ana-lyze why they work. This is not the issue for those using the S.P.E.A.K. model. The issue is to walk these steps personally, humbly with heart, gut, and head. An analogy might be that we can read inspirational arti-cles about exercise and walking until the cows come home, but if we do not put one foot in front of the other and go walking, we cannot go very far or get in very good shape. Step One. We admitted we were powerless over life's conditions, that our lives had become unmanageable. (In the A.A. literature, this step reads, "We admitted we were powerless over alcohol--that our lives had become unmanageable." This is the only step that is changed in the S.P.E.A.K. model.) Even though other steps may seem to be more threatening in the be-ginning, it seems that the hardest step for us to take is step one. This is also the first be-attitude (Beatitude). The journey begins when we can finally be at a point in our lives where we are ready to surrender, to let go, to realize that there is something in our lives over which we have no control. Then we are ready to let God in to take over, to begin again in a new and deeper way this thing called his continuing formation. Our "something," our life condition, may be other people who are in our lives, some part of work, our relationships, our predominant com-pulsions, our health, our behavior, our self-perceptions, our resentments, fears, anxiety, our sin, our habits, our way of being "off the mark." There are many resources available to help us see our personal pow-erlessness. Some of these ways are: meditation using available schools of spirituality, or we might just sit, as in Zen guided ways, or use ap-proaches to centering prayer. We might pursue the insight into our par-ticular compulsions through the study of the Enneagram. We also might just listen to our own lives if we are having pain. Pain is a wonderful catalyst to growth! If we really want to take this step honestly, it is much easier if we share our "muddling through it" with another person. Whatever means Review for Religious, March-April 1991 we use, it is important to know that this S.P.E.A.K. model is not possi-ble until we take step one. Step Two. "Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity." Sanity means wholeness. It means balance. Once we find ourselves in real need of change, our challenge is to allow ourselves to "come to," to wake up as if from the slumber or self-delusion we were in. The only assent required at this step is to believe that we are not the center of our universe, that there is a power greater than ourselves, that we are loved, and that we can become powerfully renewed. Ephesians 4:22-24 is one of many texts which comes to mind at this step. You must give up your old way of life; you must put aside your old self, which gets corrupted by following illusory desires. Your mind must be renewed by a spiritual revolution so that you can put on the new self that has been created in God's way, in the goodness and holiness of truth. Step Three. "Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood him." This step leads us to accept God's power in our lives. In step two we may want the revolution to happen. We might believe it possible, but it is in step three that we make a specific decision to let go and to let God take over. Revolution means change, and that is what we give consent to in step three without controlling any part of it. When we speak of such trust, we are using our own words, our own sense of who, at this time, God is for me. We make a prayer of this step and share it with another hu-man being. These steps are not done in the dark, but we bring them to the light and speak them to another. Step Four. "Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of our-selves.". We all have instincts. Most fall into the areas of social instincts, secu-rity instincts, and sexual instincts. Again it seems no coincidence that our vows are in the areas of obedience, poverty, and chastity. In this step, we accept to look at our lives as the beginning of a lifetime prac-tice. We look in a searching way at fears, resentments, harms, and hurts we have done, and which have been done to us. We name the instincts which are threatened, and our responses to them. We come to see our not-so-good patterns, our character defects, and our gifts, our assets as well. We see how we have been growing, and how we have yet to grow. The word, "fearless" is very important~ If we find ourselves resist-ing this inventory, then there is nothing wrong with staying at steps one, The S.P.E.A.K. Model / 193 two, or three. When we have become tired of life's condition, when we can believe that we can change, when we have really taken step three, then step four will follow comfortably without fear. Step Five. "Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human be-ing the exact nature of our wrongs." In this step we invite another human being to be with us as we say out loud what we have learned in step four. There are many ways to do this, but as we come to name our patterns, our ways of responding, we gain insights, especially if the other person has taken this step, and truly loves us. To bring awareness before God is one thing, and it is beauti-ful. To bring awareness before God and another human being, to share it, to own it in the light is both beautiful and a blessing. This step helps us to stop isolating, to experience many profound les-sons in humility, to experience a whole new sense of kinship, of one-ness with others and with God. This kinship opens us to a connected-ness with whole new insights into the human condition, our place in the world, and a God consciousness which becomes a personal experience. Step Six. "Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character. ' ' After the insights are gained in step five, more action is required. We do not only gain insight on this spiritual journey, but we use the in-sights. We made a decision in step three to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood him; now in this step we real-ize that we are still very resistant people. We have worked hard to de-velop the defects we have. We wonder, "Who am I if I let go of them?" We even let ourselves chuckle at how we are as self-centered little chil-dren, and pray to get ready to let go of those defects of our character which we have learned about. Sometimes we say, "Of course I want them taken away," and this step is easy, but if that is not our experience at any given time, we accept to admit this is the step we are taking. Step Seven. "Humbly asked him tO remove our shortcomings." When we feel we are in charge, we try to use willpower, or positive imaging instead of taking this step. This step calls for us again to admit our powerlessness, our need for God. It is ego puncturing because we admit we cannot do this of ourselves. As St. Paul says. "I do the things I do not want to do." This step frees us from the trap of pride and fear. Little by little after we take this step, we find ourselves thinking differ-ently, feeling differently, r.esponding differently. People and situations around us change, if we have prayed our own seventh step prayer out loud with another human being. 194 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 Step Eight. "Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became will-ing to make amends to them all." In religious life many of us were trained to forgive., forgive. forgive. This is essential; however, the eighth step helps us to focus on the resentments, the fears, the harms, and the hurts of our lives by paying attention to our responses. We can forgive and fester externally or internally for a long, long time! As we shared our fifth step, we became aware of ways in which our responses might have "needed improvement," or perhaps we were out-and- out vindictive. This step is best taken with another person to help us be thorough, to help ourselves not to hide, to isolate, or to be too hard on ourselves. Again, if this becomes fearful, perhaps there is a need to look at how badly we want this growth, the quality of our surrender and trust, and the reality of our seventh step. But we can also remember we are only making a list in this step. Step Nine. "Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, ex-cept when to do so would injure them or others." This step is also best discerned with another person, both to keep us honest as well as to help us figure out the best way to go about this ac-tion. Sometimes a person has died. Sometimes the person has moved, or we moved away. A letter might be enough, or we might need to wait to see her or him again. Sometimes it is best to let it go, and our forma-tion companion can help us decide when this is really true. Regardless, the freedom which comes inside us as we become ready to take responsibility for the consequences of our behavior is very exhilarating. Step Ten. "Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it." In order for the spiritual revolution to continue, we need to remain ready. Step ten is really a daily, weekly, monthly, and annual review of steps two through nine. There are many ways and resources available to us to use in this step. One way is to allow our dreams to happen, to write them down, to "mull over" their meaning with our formation compan-ion. Another is to be faithful to writing in a notebook of some sort a mini-fourth step, a summary of the good and the not-so-good of the day, to share it, then to do steps six through nine with what we learn. The more we do this, the easier and more comfortable it becomes. Step Eleven. "Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our con-scious contact with God as we understood him, praying only for knowl-edge of his will for us and the power to carry that out." The S.P.E.A.K. Model I 195 As we do the preliminary steps and work this step, we find that every-thing else is also "falling into place." We work this step as humble, empty vessels who know our need for God. We accept to be still, to lis-ten, to receive. Just as we could use the many resources available to us in the Church to take step one, we can also draw upon these resources to help us deepen in step eleven. There are three centers out of which we operate--the gut, the head, and the heart. Our predominant sin is located in there somewhere, and so is our growth. Perhaps centering prayer, the prayer of nothingness, is our vehicle. Perhaps more head-centered meditation on Scripture and spiritual teach-ings is our vehicle. Perhaps contemplation of images and affective re-sponse to them serve as our vehicle. Perhaps being with nature, or litur-gical celebrations, or devotions become our vehicles. The important thing is that we be as we are called to be. We have learned in these steps to let go and let God. If we share how we feel with our formation com-panion, this step becomes a profound and nourishing experience. In this step an awakening happens which leads us to hunger after holi-ness (wholeness) in all areas of our life. Our emotions become balanced. Our bodies seek proper rest, work and play rhythms, food and drink. We hunger for a sharing of peace and reconciliation in our relationships and in the world. We find ourselves led deeply to the roots of our religious lives, to a sense of meaning of sacrament and church, of our community's charism, and we become ready to witness this new sense in our relation-ships and in our ministry. Step Twelve. "Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to others, and to practice these prin-ciples in all our affairs." We have received a free gift. We can work to keep it alive, but if we hold on to it exclusively, it becomes stagnant. That is the nature of the spiritual journey. As a result of these steps, we have known a spiri-tual awakening. We have known love, a God and Gospel consciousness at a personal level. The irony of this love is that we must let it go if we are to hold on to it. Anything we used to hold on to is constantly chal-lenged by the gift of our new God-relationship. We find ourselves driven to live right attitudes--to develop God attitudes, the be-attitudes, to do his Way in all of our life. Select a Formation Companion We have a long-standing precedent for having a spiritual compan- Review for Religious, March-April 1991 ion within the Church as well as within many of the Oriental religions. However, even though we have been encouraged to avail of spiritual direc-tors, many religious have not availed themselves of these opportunities. This was for a variety of reasons. Some wondered what there was to talk about. Some could not find someone who felt qualified. Some used a con-fessor, and kept the focus more sin-and problem-centered. Some used spiritual directors, but restricted the interactions to areas of the spiritual domain. Others have used a spiritual director as a formation companion without naming the person as such. This latter group knows the power and potential for having a formation companion. The qualification for being someone's companion is that we are also working these steps, and sharing honestly of ourselves with someone. No advanced degrees are required because it is humility found in a relationship with God that we seek. The formation companion could be male or female, priest, religious, or lay person. What is important for us is that our companion understand these steps, and be willing to walk with us as we journey them. The criterion we use to ask someone to serve as our formation com-panion is that we feel this person cares for us, has common sense,~,and is also working a "formation program." Our companion calls us to honesty and celebrates growth with us, but this person does not attempt to fill any need other than serving as the formation companion. As we grow, we may find ourselves broadening and using many others to share our journey. We may use physicians, psy-chologists, a spiritual support group, the people with whom we live, other friends, our superiors, our employers, a confessor. The Areas of the S.P.E.A.K. Model Spiritual The steps lead us completely in this area. As we grow in this spiri-tual revolution and in union through steps one through eleven, we de-velop insights that lead us to hunger for balance in the other areas. We find that as we deepen and grow in this area, if there has been careless-ness in the communal expression of our prayer, even this turns around. We soften. We find time where time was not to be found before. We hun-ger to be with each other in our religious expression as well as in the deeper leadings of the area of Koinonia. Physical The body is essential for us if we are to operate as feeling, relating The S.P.E.A.K. Model / 197 human beings. It is a vital source for information about our lives, and a key support for us to function in all areas. Our bodies can be scream-ing warnings to us if we will pay attention. For example, our bodies tell us if we are suppressing feelings or living relationships in ways that are dishonest to ourselves or to others. We can experience gastrointestinal problems, ulcers, high blood pressure, cancer, and back problems. If there is rigidity in the muscles, there is often rigidity in the emotions and spirit. The challenge of this area is to listen to the cues, to work the steps to learn what is happening, and to develop habits which are life-giving, respectful, and nurturing for the body as well as the other areas of our lives. If we listen to the input of others as well as observe our own lives, we may see that we are making body choices which are harmful to the other S.P.E.A.K. areas. For example, we might be choosing the use of substances such as nicotine, caffeine, alcohol, or sugar as substitutes for feeling, or to fill emotional, spiritual, or relational lack. In addition to life choices which affec( our continuing formation, there are those choices for fast food, for beef, for comfort and conven-ience which have implications for the rest of the world's famine and un-dernutrition. Part of the challenge of this area is the aspect of practicing the physi-cal and spiritual discipline of fasting to detoxify and rebalance the body, to reverse even degenerative illness, and to bring ourselves into a deeper harmony with others. Just as we need to keep working these steps in the other areas where physical inertia is seen, we have a cue that an imbalance is happening, and an opportunity to reflect upon the reason for this shutdown. Inertia is life denying. The body requires regular aerobic movement to increase the circulatory flow, the metabolic rate for heart, skeletal and muscular tone, for body conditioning, and to allow for oxygen to get to the brain. Emotional One of the promises of the awakening which we experience in step eleven is a sense that emotional balance and wholeness are happening. Before we experience this balance, however, we would have taken some serious steps to be ready for inner healing. These steps take time, and as we learn more about who we are, we can continue to share this with another, work with it, work these steps and deepen. Perhaps as we did our inventory, we saw patterns of overinflated or underinflated self-esteem, patterns of overe.ngagement in activity or serv-ice, perfectionism, depression, fear, resentments. Perhaps we saw that 198 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 we isolate from others, do not share our feelings. Perhaps we give our love and attention to pets, compare ourselves to others, blame others, feel jealous, judge people's motives, interpret others' motives to others, think rigidly either positively or negatively about others, isolate ourselves from others or hide our feelings or practice. Perhaps we use food or drink, work, sex to hide from feelings. The task of these steps is to bring the darkness to light, that the dark-ness may lose its power over us. In the S.P.E.A.K. model, we practice naming our feelings, reflecting upon what happens to trigger them, look-ing at our instincts which we perceive as being threatened and at our re-sponses to these threats. As we practice this and work steps two through nine, we find ourselves growing much stronger, more serene, more pow-erful, and more humble. Apostolic Today's society, the "world" of St. John's gospel, rewards us if we have power. We are encouraged to become specialists. This applies to the areas of medicine, psychology, sbcial work, education, spiritual direction, and pastoral ministry. It is easy for us to be sensitive to our congregational financial pressures, to time demands, and to be seduced by this world. For those walking the Gospel path, working the 12 steps, the value of our apostolic mission is in living out our spiritual awakening and ex-perience. This is why the spiritual, emotional, and koinonia areas are so important as prerequisites to ministry. Our mission is to be the charism of our congregations in deep solidarity with the anguish which is under-neath all the glitter of power and success. If we are not yet comfortable with our own anguish, and with sharing it with others, we cannot con-vey this experience to others. As Nouwen says, our leadership, our value lies in that we dare to claim our irrelevancy in the contemporary world. We are parts of insti-tutions, but our challenge is to be humble, to work these steps, to walk a spiritual path, to reflect the koinonia attitude in how we reflect the mer-ciful love and justice of God with others. Koinonia In the 12 steps, we come to let go of fears or pseudocommunity pre-tenses, self-seeking, and control. The 12 steps help us to relate more hon-estly, more compassionately to the people with whom we live and work, but there is anoiher dimension beyond this. Koinonia is a Greek word meaning "a deep sense of interconnectedness, of communion with oth- The S.P.E.A.K. Model ers at the faith level." Rollo May suggests that our entire culture is schizoid, out of touch, avoiding close relationships, unable to feel, unable to express aggressive feelings directly, seclusive and personally withdrawn. In this koinonia area we measure our lifestyles against the radical demands of the Gos-pel model of Jesus. We contrast it with the dominant values of society, the dependencies, the addictions, the fear, and the lack of touch. Koinonia challenges us to see the whole world as a community. Our new spiritual awakening leads us to hunger to create a new civilization in which war, violence, terrorism, and oppression are banished. We know from our own personal experience that another way is possible. No one of us can do this of ourselves, but just as the early Church persisted, and pervades the earth today, so can we, one small community at a time! For interrelatedness to happen in this world, people have to be in-terrelating; then God takes over and lets the miracles happen. We let go, and let him. The challenge of koinonia is for us to drop pretenses, to leave the door open for others to see us cry, to be with us as we grow, to hear our laughter, to let people see how we love each other. From this koinonia sense, we grow to be able to include others, to let them walk in and touch us so that even more of us are empowered to know and wit-ness to his Good News. Summary The power of the S.P.E.A.K. model lies in our openness to continue to let go, to let God be God in our lives. We use and continue to use the 12 steps and a formation companion so that we deepen in a personal relationship with him. We work and pray to be teachable spiritually, physi-cally, emotionally, relati0nally, and in our ministry, not for ourselves, but so that a troubled world may know what w.e see, and hear, and know. As a direct result of working this program, of walking these steps, we find that we no longer have to hold up masks of spiritual perfection since we are "professional," vowed religious. Instead, we have become free to share our struggle with others as equals in his love. We share our spiritual progress. We do not need to be self-protective anymore, but our arms are open to include others. There is nothing to fear because there is nothing to protect. If there is concern as to how to start with these twelve steps, there are often ready and available resources in each local parish and in many retreat houses and religious communities. Many parishes have good solid parish leaders who are recovering from some compulsive pattern or ad-diction. These people are more than ready to share the Good News with 200 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 us. Also, many religious communities and retreat houses have members in 12-step programs, or who have learned of these steps by exploring them in their own lives. These people are also usually more than gener-ous in sharing what they have seen and heard with their own eyes and ears. 'RESOURCES Alcoholics Anonymous.Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions. New York: Alcohol-ics Anonymous World Services, Inc., 1981. Elgin, Duane. Voluntary Simplicity: Toward A Way of Life That Is Outwardly Sim-ple, Inwardly Rich. N.Y.: William Morrow & Co., 1981. Hart, Thomas N. The Art of Christian Listening. N.Y.: Paulist Press. 1980. Main, John, O.S.B. Death: The Inner Journey. Montreal: Benedictine Priory, 1983. Nouwen, Henri. With OutStretched Hands: Reflections on Christian Leadership in the Future. Unpublished paper, 1989. Palmer, Helen. Enneagram: Understanding Yourself and the Others in Your Life. San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1988. Peck, M. Scott. The Different Drum: Community Making and Peace. New York: Si-mon & Shuster, 1987. Schaef, Anne W. Co-Dependence: Misunderstood--Mistreated. Minneapolis, MN: Winston Press, 1986. Sperry, Len. "Daily Decisions About Nutrition." Human Development 9 (Spring, 1988). Pp. 40-46. Subby, Robert, and Fried, John. "Co-Dependence: A Paradoxical Dependency," in Co-Dependency! An Emerging Issue, Pompano Beach, Florida: Hath Communi-cations, 1984. Trungpa, Chogyam. Cutting Through Spiritual Materialism. Boston: Shambala, 1973. In the Valley of Decision Marie Beha, O.S.C. Sister Marie Beha, O.S.C., continues to reside in the Monastery of St. Clare; 1916 N. Pleasantburg Drive; Greenville, South Carolina 29609. In the early days of my religious life, one Sunday a month was set aside as a day of recollection, a retreat day. Out of earshot of the novice di-rector, we called it "dead Sunday," because it featured extra time for a meditation on death. Even though we resisted some of the more mor-bid descriptions following that meditation's first prelude, "Place your-self on your deathbed," the practice did ensure that we were regularly confronted with the realization of personal mortality. Today there are plenty of other reminders: tragedy that shouts in the headlines and is pictured in all its starkness on television or in the news magazines, the alarming statistics of the rising number of adolescent sui-cides, the toll of AIDS, the senseless slaughter of innocent victims in bombing raids, and the torture of random hostages. To this litany we add our more personalized grief over the death of family and friends. We know dying in all of its unexpectedness, its violence, its tragedy, our grief compounded the closer we are to the individuals who have died. And in our world of instant communication death is never very far away. What we are less familiar with is the dying of our institutions, our communities. Not that this is a new phenomenon either. It is as much a fact of life as the death of individuals but less perceptible except with the long look of history. By the time that history notices, however, those with most reason to mourn have already passed th.rough death them-selves. Yet institutional dying is an ever present reality. On the global level we are threatened by almost certain extinction if nation against nation 201 202 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 ever turns to nuclear war. We face the unknown consequences of our wan-ton destruction of rain forests centuries in the growing. We worry about environmental pollution passing on to the next generation, an earth poi-soned beyond, control. We experience that our technology so outstrips our wisdom that we may be as likely to kill as to cure. On the local level, that of the communities where we live, we con-front death every time a neighborhood is ripped up to make way for prog-ress or a business closes because of obsolescence. Families come to the end of the generations, as they have always done, but now the very in-stitution of the family itself seems doomed to extinction. Divorce, child-less marriages, abortion, weaken it from within, while drugs and the value-system of a consumer society attack it from without. Churches are empty so parishes close, following the demise of the parochial school. Religious communities face not only financial crises of major proportions but also the slow starvation of fewer and fewer vocations. Already some congregations are opting for survival through merger; others have been "suppressed," as the death process is termed, grimly enough, in Church law. Within the foreshortened history of our individual lives, we can no longer deny the mortality of our institutions; we are being invited to en-ter consciously into what is happening all around us. We become aware that some communities simply expire, brought down by their own dis-eased condition or their inability to receive from, or give life to, the world around them. They starve to death. Others die honorably and natu-rally of old age. Some fade away forced by circumstances to accept their growing irrelevance; others are felled by revolution while still in their prime. The question is not "Do institutions die?" but "How do they? And how do we respond to their dying?" Are we aware or do we prefer the apparent safety of denial? When denial is no longer possible, what do we do then? Rage against the inevitable? Give up? Bargain for more time? Or do we face institutional death with courage, living the present to the full, admitting that life's precariousness is part of its preciousness? The choice of response is ours, not only as individuals, but as commu-nities. Instant communication provides information; it does not ensure adequate response nor delay death's inevitability. Institutions must die, but how they die is a matter of decision. Ours! Theological Reflections for a Dying Community On our way north we had stopped overnight, availing ourselves of the gracious hospitality that had suggested, "Come anytime." The build- In the Valley of Decision / 203 ing was 1950-modern, far too large for the eight or so sisters who pres-ently occupied it. The refectory seemed cavernous; it could easily have seated forty. Mercifully the community room was small and cozy, the superior.exp!aining that it had once been the priest's dining room. She also mentioned that the third floor was closed off to save heat, and it was obvious that the second floor was sparsely populated. The situation was depressingly familiar. What was remarkable was the sense of joy that made supper a re-freshment for body and spirit. The sisters welcoming us ranged in age from the superior in her late 40s, who had introduced herself as "the only young sister here," to an octogenarian busily can'ying in dishes from the kitchen. I was seated next to a sister in a wheel chair who had been brought in by another sister who seemed to be using the wheel chair as a substitute walker. Both smiled a sincere welcome, "We are so glad to have you with us." Others gathered and I guessed the average age somewhere in the 70s. The conversation soon revealed that most were active in one way or another. Some spoke of bringing Communion to the sick; others of tutoring kids from the nearby elementary school. One 85- year-old had tales to tell of the black children she helped in a Head Start program; her love for the children was obvious. Another drew her chair closer to mine, saying that she did not hear well anymore and did not want to miss a word; her attentiveness the rest 6f the meal made us all more articulate. Table conversation included convent trivia but it did not stay there. The sisters read widely and well. They ~ere critical of what the~ had heard on TV, exchanged evaluations of VCR programs. And peppered me with good questions in a way that told me why they were so well in-formed about what was happening in the contemporary Church. When they welcomed visitors, these sisters welcomed the wider world. Towards the end of the meal, I deliberately intoned the familiar list of religious-life woes: few recruits, shrinking apostolates, the "greying" of the congregation. The facts were acknowledged. The sisters' response was obviously the fruit of many shared reflections. They were happy with the community they had chosen and the life they shared; now they would see each other through to the end. God was with .them, still at work in his world. As one said to me with a smile that I will never for-get, "Our community may be dying but God is making something new. ' ' As I threaded my way back to the freeway next morning, I found my-self reflecting on what I had heard and seen. There was no denial of 91~4 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 death. The shrinking number of sisters and their physical limitations were accepted facts of life; they were not neurotic preoccupations. The sisters were too alive for that. Their acceptance was not tainted with hopeless-ness and its equivalent suicide. They were not actualizing their worst fears by giving in to bitterness or despair. Today their community is alive; some tomorrow it might not be. Progression toward an end time is inevitable, whether it is their owndeath, that of the their beloved con-gregation, or the final days of the world. "And after that the judg-ment"., a judgment that is in the making in their response now. Im-plicit in the faith of these few old sisters was a whole theology of the death and dying of institutions. Awareness precedes acceptance. So faith-response to death and dy-ing begins by breaking through denial. Like the middle-aged woman look-ing in the mirror and acknowledging that the first wrinkles are more than shadows caused by poor lighting, all need to admit "We are moving to-ward death." This world is passing away and the institutions that pres-ently shape it will not always do so. Even now all are dying. At times this process accelerates and we experience the diminish-ment. The grace of such periods is that of bringing us into contact with a truth we too easily ignore; its occasion of sin is confusion in our re-sponse. There are seasons when death's approach must be resisted strongly; in fact, this is always our first response. "Choose life." But there comes a time when resistance is useless; surrender is called for. The difference between may be difficult to recognize but it is critically im-portant. Faith's response balances "choose life" with "accept death." For the believer, for the community of believers, the ultimate answer is not biological, nor sociological, but Christological. "Am I alive in Christ? Is my dying a going to the Father in and with Christ Jesus?" If so, my death is a coming alive. "Or am I mortally, morally, and spiritually sick unto eternal death?" Then my living and my dying are both lost forever. Responding to this question that all death and dying puts before us forces freedom's choice. Our answer rises out of life; it is the last sylla-ble in the sentence we have been phrasing in all the pronouncements of life, all individual or institutional decision-making. Only in death will we become finally free to speak the word that is Self. Only in the act of dying will we, individuals and communities, be capable of that con-summation of freedom which is total, absolute, commitment. In dying, the mystery of living stands revealed; dying-rising are one whole mystery, one continuous process, one word, even though our ex- In the Valley of Decision / 205 perience, as well as our orthography, spells it with a hyphen. Dying is a breakthrough into life; at least, it can be. That is freedom's choice; we determine the meaning. Just as Jesus did. Dying: Christological Implications. How did Jesus die? The answer has been repeated so often that the cross has lost its power to say anything; it is decoration more than real-ity. Yet redemption, becoming free, growing into holiness, are only pos-sible when we as individuals, as communities, enter into the passion and death of Jesus. So again, how did Jesus die? As we do, moving through the process of realizing it, being angered by it, bargaining with it, feeling blackness of depression, and, finally, coming to an acceptance that transforms death into fuller life. Particularly in the gospel of Luke, we see the whole life of Jesus as a moving toward his death. We read, "He set his face toward Jerusa-lem" (Lk 9:51). This was where he was going, the call of his Father's .love, the motivation for his every redemptive act. Death and dying were important concerns he spoke about to those who were closest to him. Not that they understood or appreciated such reminders of mortality. They denied the facts, even protested. They were for kingdom building here, now, in their world. And Jesus rebuked them sharply, "Get behind me, satan" (Mk 8:33). Jesus acknowledged death's inevitability; he knew that his way of liv-ing would lead to the cross. What he chose was life, a life that would climax in death. He freely accepted the fatal consequences of choosing to live, to teach, to act as he did. Aware and able to choose, in the free-dom that rose from who he was before the Father, he embraced the dy-ing that went with the living. Knowing and accepting did not rule out protest. Jesus' response to the pharisees who were seeking to put him to death (Jn 8:40) was clear and unequivocal. They were doing the work of the devil, whose sons they were! Even at the end, Jesus protested the injustice of his being con-demned to death. He refused to cooperate with Herod's court of inquiry, remaining silent when lifesaving prudence might have dictated at least a minimum of cooperation. Before Pilate, his protest became vocal. "Do you ask this of your own accord. ? . My kingdom is not of this world" (Jn 18:35). Previous to this, the power of his self-assertion directed against the soldiers sent to arrest him had set them back on their heels. Jesus was angry; he did not deserve death. "If I have done good why do you seek 206 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 to kill me?" Why die? Why me? That is the protest life addresses to death. Ultimately it becomes a question addressed to the Lord of life. Why suffering? Why dying? The answer does not come easily. The healthier the person, the more wrench-ing the acceptance. Jesus sweat blood before his will could speak out its central commitment, "Not my will but yours be done" (Mk 14:37). The struggle, the bargaining, were finished. The passion continued. The dying of Jesus moved toward completion, each stage bringing him down, deeper into "the pit of death." Betrayal, abandonment, physi-cal and emotional abuse would take their terrible toll. Fastened to the cross Jesus would drink death's cup to the bitter dregs. He would express heartbreak in a cry of desolation, "My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?" (Mk 15:34). "He who did not know sin had been made sin" (2 Co 5:21) for our sake, and Jesus felt the oppression of slavery and alienation. He accepted, "It is accomplished" (Jn 19:30). His last word summed up his life's orientation. He would die as he had lived into the hands of his Father, his trust redeeming the horror of death by cruci-fixion, transforming passion's suffering into self-offering. The acceptance of Jesus' surrender opened out into the new life of resurrection. What he gave up, he received back; rather, his resurrection was a "making new." Through dying, he went beyond death. This is now clear to us with the evidence of something accomplished. But for Jesus, as for us, surrender into death was an act of faith, an experience of letting go with only trust to justify the risk. Death must come first, before new life is possible. Jesus had to lose his life. So must we. Mortality Denied The passion and death of Jesus is invitation, something we can freely enter into or can refuse and resist. Whatever our choice, the process ton-tinues but its effectiveness depends radically on our response to this fact of life, our mortality as individuals and as communities. We can opt to live through our dying or we can choose to deny death and so die to life. Denial is the first of our resistances. A community, for example, can refuse to face what is happening, as the number of new members de-creases and average age rises. Data are challenged; the credentials of the statistician questioned. Others are blamed for the crisis; "they" are no longer generous, interested, concerned. These are obvious forms of de-nial and they do nothing to stop the progress of decline. Less obvious is the denial that refuses to face, not only the symp-toms, but the cause of the illness as well, its seriousness, the rate of pro-gression, its effect on others. Why is community dying? Is it diseased, In the Valley of Decision / 207 brought down by "infection" from surrounding culture or by a lifestyle that is no longer functional? Or is it simply succumbing to old age, the inevitable decline that is the underside of history's progress? Is this pro-cess reversible, something that a group needs to pass through and then go on with life as before? Or does it require a change of direction, a new and different way of living? Is this illness terminal? If so, how much time is left? How rapid the progression of present rates of decline? Howare others affected by our dying as community? Are they suffering too, and what can be done to alleviate their pain? The questions are stark; no one asks them lightly. Unwillingness to even look at them is denial made possible through the use of those de-fense mechanisms with which we are all too familiar. We rationalize, pre-senting specious reasons to explain present experience: we are not dy-ing, just "indisposed." The whole problem is temporary; things will turn around soon. Besides we are not to blame. The reverse side of this stance.is: some-body must be. We blame other people, including God! Our dying is the will of God and so must be accepted. Perhaps. "God willing" may ex-press surrender but it may also attribute to God something that we have not yet faced. The very rightness of our reasoning is all the more dan-gerous because it cloaks denial with religious ritual, an especially safe form of repression. Paradoxically, community may also deny responsibility by giving too much credence to those who are predicting its demise; it lacks the inner freedom to reply, "The reports of our death are greatly exagger-ated!" While the prophets of doom may be correct, they may also be mis-taken. The accuracy of their prophecies will only be revealed when the future becomes present. All we know now is that attitude makes a dif-ference. While refusing to acknowledge the seriousness of the situation will not cure it, giving up hope will surely condemn us to death. Another inappropriate response attempts to ignore the whole ques-tion and continues, doggedly, to do what "we have always done." We may call this fidelity but it is not. Fidelity is creative response incorpo-rating past into present and moving on into the new of the future. Denial condemns to fruitless repetition that goes nowhere. Preoccupation with safety and security needs is a rather accurate index of a group's mori-bund condition. Overreliance on what has worked in the past may simu-late faith, but it really is presumption. "God will take care of us" may be just another attempt to manipulate God into doing what we neglect to do for ourselves. 2011 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 Denial is failed responsibility; it violates the delicate line of balance between doing all that we can but not more than we ought. So commu-nity that is experiencing some of the symptoms of approaching death errs either by ignoring the situation or by exaggerating solutions. It can, for example, refuse assistance, since accepting help involves admitting a need for it. It can also erupt in a flurry of poorly planned activity, lis-tening to every guru who promises gilt-edged salvation. Fund-raisers can be a preferred way for Americans to refuse responsibility while appear-ing to assume it. Community Anger The hidden blessing of denial is its inevitable failure. When facts can no longer be avoided, they must be faced. Anger follows. Unfortunately, it too can be denied, hidden, buried under heaps of inappropriate behav-ior, deflected in projections; or it can rage out of control, leaving devas-tation in its wake. Anger denied is dangerous; anger accepted and appropriately ex-pressed is powerful energy for good. It can move a community deeper into the paschal mystery; it can lead to life. The question is how? The first answer: by acknowledging what is happening. Are we as commu-nity angry? What are we angry about? Community anger, like that of individuals, is often misplaced. It looks for some convenient target; so we kick the dog because we cannot face its owner. Seeking some scapegoat we may even turn against our own. If our predecessors had only been wiser. If present membership were less selfish, recruitment more effective, formation better planned. What may have been only contributing factors are made to bear the whole weight of adequate causes. The same projection of anger can be vented on persons and groups outside community. The more helpless the victim, the safer the outrage. An angry community becomes increasingly critical. Its spirit grows sour; its activity strained and harsh. It asks too much of members and of others. Aggressivity swallows up joy, dissolves compassion. Dying is always pain-filled, difficult. Anger is a "messy" emotion. Commu-nity at this stage will be broken wide open, all its wounds and weak-nesses revealed. Members will leave, pursued by the fury of those who remain and feel abandoned. Those who stay may wallow in unattractive self-pity, becoming entrenched in the very symptoms of the dying. Underneath this storm of pain, community is most of all angry at it-self. We cannot live "on our own"; mortality strikes a vital blow at the myth of .self-sufficiency. The length of our days is not something we con- In the Valley of Decision / 209 trol. Our raging against this will not change its truth. Acceptance is the only way through and out. Grief Work But first community needs to mourn. We are losing our life. We may not know yet whether what we are facing is the final test of death and burial or only the call to pass through another cycle of dying. In either case we must enter into the pain. Grievir~g community needs both time and distance. Some members can let go of the.past more quickly than others, the rate being determined by such variables as temperament and degree of attachment. Mourning demands patience; it is not just linear but cyclic. Going through requires repetition, reexperiencing and reexpressing the grief. Things will not be the same . . . ever., this is an ending. Community needs to provide itself with space and time for the griev-ing. When members leave, for example, those who are left behind may have as much adjusting to do as those who face the transition into new beginnings. The anger of the community may even be increased by the fact---characteristic of all our dying--that it has been confronted with a decision not of its own choosing. Healthy grieving not only takes time; it has its own timing. How long it lasts and how often the cycle of anger., depression., anger. must be repeated cannot be determined from outside community. But, finally, a group, as well as the individuals who compose it, need to make a decision to move on. We will never be the same. The past cannot be reconstructed; nor those who have been part of us, returned. As much as we might like to remember past glory-days, they no longer offer the satisfaction of present reality. Now we have to live., or not live. in the present. Unhealthy grieving fails this reality test. It can be so prolonged that all one's life energy goes into it; dying is all that remains of life. That is not grief but defeat. Even in the pain the option remains to "choose life." So a community that is dying can continue to model attitudes of openness and concern for others. It can choose to serve as long and as much as it is able. In doing so it affirms the ultimate value of life even in the midst of death. Community can avoid the withdrawal, the turning in on self, that threatens to allow dying to become a form of being buried alive. De-pression risks just such introversion. Granted that the temptation to al-low pain to become preoccupation can be great, it is also self-defeating. It only intensifies and prolongs the suffering. Depression that is indulged 910 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 in grows bitter and that is the worst kind of death; in the end, the natural aloneness of dying becomes enforced isolation. To avoid this, outside support is almost necessary to assist groups working through depression. Their greater objectivity enables com-munity not to get stuck in the process. Perhaps all that others do is to name what is going on and this already frees energies. While ac-knowledgment is one service others render, appreciation is still more thera-peutic. ApFreciation of what has been, yes, but also gratitude for the im-mediate gift that the dying community continues to offer, its participa-tion in the paschal mystery. Acceptance of Death Acceptance should not image supine submission to what can no longer be avoided. It is an attitude of strength that kno

Issue 44.2 of the Review for Religious, March/April 1985. ; Provincials as "Cultural Revolutionaries" The Community Prayer of Religious Lay Associate Programs Volume 44 Number 2 ° March/April, 1985 R Evmw ~:OR R r:LIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd., St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. R~:vl~:w FOR RELiGiOUS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. © 1985 by R EV~EW FOR R ELtG~OUS. Composed, printed and manufffctured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription U.S.A. $10.00 a year; $19.00 for two years. Other countries: add $2.00 per year (postage). For subscription orders or change of address, write REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS: P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Editor Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Associate Editor Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. " Review Editor Richard A. Hill, S.J. Contributing Editor Jean Read Assistant Editor March/April, 1985 Volume 44 Number 2 Manuscripts, hooks for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REvl~:w voR RELIGtOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Richard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave.; Berkeley, CA 94709. " Back issues and reprints should be ordered from R EVlEW FOR R ELIG~OUS; Room 428; 3601 lAndeR Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. Transformations in Religious Commitment .Patricia Wittberg, S. C. Sister Wittberg teaches sociology at The College of Woosier; Wooster, OH 44691. Her previous article in these pages was "Sociology and Religious Life: Call for a New Integration" (Novem-ber/ December, 1983). It has long been obvious that the post-Vatican II period of experimentation and renewal has been marked by .a precipitous decline in the numbers of religious men and women--reflected both in fewer entrants and in a massive exodus of current members. Some observers have attributed this to the perni-cious effects of the reforms themselves,t others to the failure 6f congregations to enact even more reforms, or to enact them more quickly.2 Which of these assessments is more accurate has recently resurfaced as a point of debate, for the shrinkage of communities and their increasing median age were specifically Cited by Pope John Paul II as reasons for the current study of American religious. In this article I hope to explore the role of group commitment mechanisms in the retention or loss of members in religious orders. Two concepts which will be useful in this endeavor are "intentional com-munity" and "association." An intentional community may be defined as a group of persons living together on a more or less permanent basis, who voluntarily surrender control Over some choices which are normally considered private (the focus and means of sexual expressio.n, choice and schedialing of. work, property ownership;and so forth) for the sake of establishing a whole new way of life. Intentional communities call for more commitment than do. other groups, demanding the investment of one's self as well as one's resources of time, money and talents. This investment, ideally, is not shared with other competing organizations, but belongs to the intentional community alone. In contrast, an association is a group of persons who have invested a certain 161 162 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1985 amount of their resources in the attainment of some common goal or Objec-tive, but who retain more personal autonomy and competing loyalties than would be possible in an intentional community.3 It is the contention of this article that some religious cong~regations--or at least a portion of their members--are moving from an intentional community model of group commitment to an associational one. This transition involves a fundamental change in the character of those religious orders that attempt it, and an examination of what this transformation entails is, therefore, essential. As an aid in our research, we might apply several very good sociological investigations of intentional communities such as the nineteenth-century Shakers and the Oneida Community, or the Bruderhof, a twentieth-century Hutterite group in New York.4 Which of these groups made similar transitions from intentional communities to associations? What happened to them after-ward? How did other intentional communities retain their original commitment structure, and what were the consequences of this retention? The Role of Common Ideology In her study of nine successful nineteenth-century communes (i.e. those that had lasted longer than one generation), Rosabeth Moss Kanter listed the problems that an intentional community must resolve in° order to survive. Steps have to be 'taken to insure that the work necessary for economic self-suf-ficiency (gr.owing food, making craft items for sale, and so forth) is done, that decisions are made to everyones' satisfaction, that close,.f~lfilling and non-ex-clusive relationships are established among members, that new members are recruited and socialized, and that individual uniqueness and autonomy are expressed in a way not destructive to the unity of the group. The self-renuncia-tion involved in these tasks raises the possibility that some individuals will be tempted to withdraw from the community if its demands get to be "too much." To avoid this danger, the members must be encouraged to share a common ideology or world myth that would make them want to subordinate their personal interests to those of the community as a whole.S Once internalized, the group's cosmic myth infuses all of a member's actions with meaning and directs them toward the common goals: I feel that if I have overcome my tendency to return an angry word when a Brother has spokento me, I have resisted the evil spirit. 1 have struck a blow for winning back part of the universe for God Almighty.6 In general, those who study intentional communities agree that groups which are able to maintain their common world view will survive, while those which fail to do so will disappear. The profusion of competing ideologies in twentieth-century America makes this especially difficu!t. As long as the .origi-nal founder of the group is ~alive, his or her charismatic presence, may be enough to maintain the cosmic myth. Howex~er, the founder may lose this charisma over the course of the years, or may die. Intentional communities that are successful in weathering the crisis of their founder's death or fall from Transformations in Religious Commitment / 163 grace are those which have evolved additional, supplementary techniques to foster their sustaining ideology. These usuall~ include common ritual and traditions, common work and recreational activities, boundary maintenance, self-renunciation and sacrifice. Common Ritual and Traditions Sociologists since Durkheim have recognized the importance of ritual celebrations in uniting a social group. As Kant'er expressed it: These rituals both express and reinforce jointly-held values, and represent ways ~f coming together as a group, of feeling closer to One another. For this reason, group rituals are often the most significant and important aspect of community life to members, for it is here that the higher, transcendent meaning of living in utopia is affirmed .7 Successful intentional communities evolved a set of rituals around almost every event: All important occasions in the Bruderhof are marked by a love meal .The dining room tables are arranged in a horseshoe, spread with white tablecloths and specially decorated; the dining room is lit by candles . Everyone gathers outside before the meal. TheY sing songs and walk into the room together.8 Pentecost. is especially important . A huge fire is lit which is the symbol of the burning up of the old and the hope of the coming of the new? These rituals ma~ enact the central aspects of the communal ideology, or they may have more seemingly trivial meanings. The important thing is that, by the regular and frequent group performance of the ritual, the underlying ideology which gives meaning to, the entirety of group life is reaffirmed. Togetherness in Work and Play It is also necessary that the members of an intentional community become emotionally attached to each other as though they were members of one family. Indeed, as Kanter remarks, family terminology such as "Brother" or "Sister" is Often deliberately used to refer to one's fellow group members,t° The development of this familial attachment is facilitated in many groups by requiring that everyone work together at the same limited number of tasks, rather than allowing members to leave daily for eight hours or' more of work outside the community. Common recreational activities also strengthen group family bonds: Perhaps the most memorable thing about the Bruderhof is the singing . There is a song for every mood, every event, every occasion. There are winter songs~ summer songs, morning songs, evening songs, folk songs, love sofi,,gs, birthday songs and wan-dering songs . The singing itself is beautiful and mowng, with effortless three- or four-part harmony on every song.t~ Eating the main meal, or all the meals, ~ogether can also serve a unifying purpose. As would be the case with any family, the more frequent and all-encom-passing the contact among group members, the more intense their mutual 164 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1985 attachment is likely to be. Intentional communities that are scattered over several locations must get together very often in order to keep their union alive, Zablocki remarks that the three American Bruderhofs both visited and inter-changed residents frequently, and also ran up large telephone bills in calls from one hof to another. A reverse side to this emphasis on family style unity ~equires that steps be taken to root out particularistic attachments which might otherwise lead to division within the group. Historically, monogamous marriage has been a barrier to the full unity of an intentional community, for it establishes compet-ing loyalties in the members. As both Kanter and Coser point out, intentional communities have usually encouraged either celibacy or promiscuity as alter-natives.~ 2 Another frequently used tactic is to discourage "too-close" friendships that shut out the rest of the members. Boundary Maintenance In addition to building up feelings ,of mutual attachment among members and ritualizing the group's unifying myth, care must also be taken to'isolate the community from those aspects of American society which embody competing ideas, attachments and values. Limitations are accordingly established on con-tacts with butsiders (including, especially, non-group parents and siblings of members). In the Bruderhof, most members rarely left the community, and even television watching was done infrequently:" ~ Great care is taken to see to it that the children never h.ear visitors, delivery men or other outsiders say a dirty word. Play with neighborhood children is discouraged. The adult members seldom retain membership in any outside organization, and at one time even their mail was censored and their newspapers and magazines were checked for objec-tionable material which was clipped out,t3 A sense of we/they is deliberately fostered, and the community is Often tbld that it represents a higher, purer way of life which must not be polluted by contact with the uninitiated. ~ An effective way of reinforcing the distinction between in-gro~]p and out-gi'oup is the wearing of distinctive clothes by community members?4 Still another is their development of a distinctive vocabulary to refer to particular activities or at'titudes?5 Finally, it is a good idea if the intentional community can become as "'institutionally complete'~ as possible, so that it depends very little on the outside world for goods and services. This is especially true in the area of education. Many intentional communities attempt to educate the children of their members in separate schools, in order to keep them from any polluting contact with the dutside world: Adult members who desire to add to their education may be forbidden to do so, or limited as to the institutions they are permitted to attend. The Death and Rebirth of the Self A powerful technique for internalizing the world view of an. intentional community is to die to one's old identity and to be "reborn" into anidentity Transformations in Religious Commitment conferred by the group. The Bruderhof novice is. isolated from his past and from his distinctive roles in the out-side world. A woman with psychological training was criticized every time she discussed Something in psychological terms: She was told that this was going to be a major barrier for her to overcome. She was also not allowed to have very much contact with a Sister who had gone to graduate school with her. A woman with an exceptionally beautiful voice was in the habit of bursting into song while sitting alone out of doors or at work. The community made her stop this in order to chastize her ego . Weakening the identity is furthered by the deprivation of choice . The commu-nity decides for [the member] what work he shall do. He has, at least after taking the novitiate, no money of his own. He must ask even for simple necessities like toothpa, ste =. or shampoo.!6 This loss of identity begins ~vith the new member's assumption of his/her guilt and individual worthlessness, often helped along by required self-criticism sessions. Once their old identities are renounced, the individuals receive their entire status and a new sense of worth through the group. A member may, in s6me groups, even receive a new name as a symbol of his/her'new self. With this new source of status and sense of self-worth; as Kanter states, one's self-esteem-depends on unswerving commitment to the norms and values of the gl'OUp.17 Sacrifice A final activity which can be used to deepen a group's commitment to its underlying ideology is to require some sort of sacrifice, When living out the intentional community's world view requires the renunciation of sex .or personal adornment and the adoption of a generally austere lifestyle, the value and sacredness of the cosmic myth is enhanced.18 Members actually find a great deal of joy in undergoing the privations, and often miss them when life becomes easier: That was one of my ti'oubles, giving up clothing. Certain skirts. One velvet skirt 1 had [laughing] oh, how 1 loved that velvet skirt! [Q~ Why did you have to give it up?] Well . we were made to feel., that you shouldn't want something particularly pretty and that looked well on you, that compliments you. This was pride . In order to belike God would wish you to be, you would give up these things. Well, 1 remember 1 struggled withthis and finally one day I was able to march over with a few of these things and my velvet skirt. And I just felt, when I expressed this to [the Housemothers] they rejoiced with me.~9 The Latent Danger in Successful Survival Mechanisms While the five~ mechanisms described above do strengthen the common ideology that had first drawn the members together, they can sometimes become so successful in themselves that the original vision becomes,secondary. The traumatic prospect of !osing all of one's friends may .be sufficient to persuade a doubting member to remain in the community even if he/she no longer ascribes to its worldview. The common pooling of economic goods may strongly discourage a member who has had no occasion for the personal use of money for years from leaving and having to find a self-supporting job.29 166 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1985 Others, who have not read a newspaper or watched television for several years, may remain in the community because they feel unable to, cope with the unfamiliar outside world.2! Thus, with the passage of time, it may be debatable whether members truly believe in the founder's worldview, or whether they remain because they fear what would happen to them if the~ left~ To avoid this loss of fervor, attempts may be made to rekindle the primal emotional commitment to the group's worldview. Many sociologists have pointed out, however, that unity based solely on emotional feelings is noto-riously ephemeral. Most groups tend either to evolve into a cornmunity based primarily on socially-integrative mechanisms, or else gradually to relax into a looser association in which "members regain virtually full personal autonomy and the commune becomes a cooperative venture in support of its members' individual self-interests. Many of these latter types last for two or three decades, but rarely are they able to produce a second generation."~2 Reflections and Applications The research quoted above has obvious implications for religious life. The integrating mechanisms used by the successful communal experiments strongly resemble certain practices followed, today and in the past; by many religious communities. Furthermore, sociologists who have studied intentional com-munities stress that such value-reinforcing techniques are indispensable if a group's unique world view is to be preserved in the face of the competing values of American pluralistic society. Religious congregations who wish to remain intentional communities without the aid of common ritual, the limita-tion of members' apostolates; boundary maintenance and sacrifice are doomed to failure. Use of these techniques, however, risks the usurpation of the cosmic myth itself. This paper began by contending that some religious communities are responding to this dilemma by abandoning the model of the intentional com-munity altogether and moving toward the less-demanding "associational" model of commitment. Individual religious today often work and live sepa-rately, and come together only periodically foi- prayer or discussion meetings. Whereas intentional religious communities had to adhere to geographical lim-itations in order to preserve their unity (with congregations restricting their members to a particular diocese or a given set of schools or hospitals), the looser associations might be based on some common interest (e.g., social justice, nuclear disarmament, or charismatic prayer forms.) Models for this might be groups such as Pax Christi or NARW, whose members are'.building links of mutual acquaintance that span the continent. Future historians of religious life may see this movement toward association as a radical redefinition, led by the Spirit, of what "religious life" means. Such redefinitions are not new to the Church. Each of the major traditions of religious spirituality--the Benedictine monastics in the fifth century, the mendicant orders in the twelfth, the Jesuits and the Daughters of Charity in the. Enlightenment era--are the Tkansformations in Religious Commitment results of similar communal adaptations to.societal changes not addressed by previous forms of religious life.23 In this way, the Holy Spirit moves and breathes in the Church, and the trend toward looser associations in place of intentional communities can simply reflect the results of prayerful discernment of God's call to a new dimension of service. As was the case in other times of redefinition, the new wine may not fit in the old wine skins. If a congregation chooses the associational model of commitment, therefore, it is necessary to reexamine what, if anything, the evangelical counsels would mean in this new context. Opening the group's membership to married couples may be feasible, since the competing loyalties of marriage would not be as detrimental to these new, less-demanding associations as they had been to the more intense forms of communal living. In fact, since the newer types of association will not provide the emrtional ties and feelings of familial attach-ment which the intentional community had, more and more of the original members may welcome the opportunity to marry and yet to remain in the congregation. The vow of poverty would then have to be reevaluated in the light of providing for members' children, or if members were expected to rent their own apartments and keep their own bank accounts. The congregation would also have a lessened mandate to require obedience from individuals who had competing job or family obligations. With their unifying worldview less carefully shielded from outside influences, members, might refuse to " comply with requests from the congregation, if these infringed excessively .upon their own freedom. There are several dangers in choosing a less intense type of communal commitment. The congregation will risk breaking up completely as its members are distracted by new loyalties: as Zablocki pointed out, few such organizations survive more than two or three decades:22 Also, Canon law (and the I.R.S. !) may not consider these new forms of community living to be tr~uly religious life. The legal ramifications of this have to be explored by both civil and canon lawyers. Loss of tax-exempt status may imperil some of an associa-tion's ministries; loss of canonical status may result in less support'from the institutional Church. Another extremely important question is whether or not an association of religious will be perceived as essentially different from groups devoted to transcendental meditation or saving the whales. Potential members may well question why they shouldbother joining at all, should the association cease to present a distinctive witness to the rest of American society. Finally, an association will not serve as the sole, or even principal, provider of the affilia-tive needs of many of its members: as mentioned above, combining marriage and membership may be the more desired option. For a woman religious over forty, hrwever, the "freedom" of association members to marry may seem a cruel joke in a society where an unbalanced sex ratio and the attraction of men to youngei~ women renders the likelihood of her marriage extremely improba-ble. 24 To compensate for the emotional closeness which her former intentional community can no longer offer her in its new associational form, such women 161~ / Review for Religious, March-April, 1985 may find themselves clinging to family members for support, or, :increasingly, isolated and alone, In the face of the dangers of associational commitment, many religious may feel that there is still a place for the intentional community lifestyle in providing ministry and witness in the Church. If the research on previous intentional communities is to be believed, however, it is impossible to maintain such a lifestyle without integrating practices to strengthen the members' com-mitment. Religious orders that elect to retain or readopt the traditionM prac-tices which had so effectively united pre-Vatican communities will face their own set of dangers. The .tendency, mentioned in the preceding section, for these practices to become sufficient in themselves, and to displace the ideals they were originally designed to protect: will still exist. It was precisely this displacement, of course, which had sparked the post-Vatican movements to return to the spirituality of one's founder in the first place. In addition, prac-tices such as isolation from the outside world and self-renunciation rituals have become suspected of destroying members' personalities and mental health. Communities adopting or retaining these techniques will have to deal with charges that they are fostering immaturity, personal dependency, and other psychological ills.25 A Third Alternative Religious life appears to be trapped between the Scylla of a psychologically-destructive intentional community which tends to become an end in itself, and the Charybdis of an ultimately unstable and gradually co-opted association. A third alternative, however, may be possible. Efforts could be made to use the insights of the research quoted here in constructing integrative mechanisms more adapted to late twentieth-century American culture, taking steps to insure that these mechanisms remain valued means to maintain the founder's char-ism-- absolutely necessary in a group of s6cia!ly dependent human beings, but open to change and replacement lest they become ends in themselves. A congregation at.tempting this alternative would first of all sponsor workshops, seminars and weekends (parallel to the psychologically-oriented conferences on mid,life crisis, burnout, and so forth) which would sensitize its members to' the fundamental necessity of ritual, "common times" of togetherness, and other techniques of group unification and identity affirmation. Particularly ~successful techniques developed or discovered by onegroup might be shared with other groups within or outside the congregation. Policies would be enacted ¯ .by the General Chapter requiring that a certain minimal number of these practices be chosen and implemented by members living in a local house, a city or a region. The leadership of the congregation would need to be empowered to call to accountability those members who persist in isolating themselves from the community. The dilemma of how to avoid the disintegrating effects of diversified minis, tries--while keeping their benefits of individual personal growth and flexible T~ansformations in Religious Commitment response to social needs--would also have to be faced. Once the membership and leadership of a congregation were sensitized to the pressures and competing loyalties that inevitably devolve upon any member who accepts a remote or a nontraditional ministerial position, steps could be taken to minimize these effects. The member might be required to return to the congregation during the summer, for example, to engage in the work onlyfor a limited number of years, or to live with congregational members even if not working with them. The role of sacrifice in uniting a community may also provide possibilities for creative~exploration. Periods of congregational service, whether in leadership or in supporting roles, might be one form of sacrifice; budgetary cutbacks to support Some congregational work among the poor might be another. In any event, religious congregations which wish to remain intentional communities, and .yet avoid the traps into which such communities have fallen in the past, must develop the sociological sophistication to choose the integrating mecha-nisms most suited to their needs and those of their members. Individuals must be encouraged to study and research these techniques; degree programs and summer institutes need to be established to make this possible. Conclusion The dichotomy between intentional community and association which has been developed in this paper marks, in reality, two poles of a continuum along which' most religious communities currently exist. In the ongoing process of moving back and forth between these poles, not all bfa congregation's members are likely to agree, either on the degree of intentional community that remains appropriate for their charism and ministry, or on the customs and practices to be used in achieving it. Communities may even.decide to divide, formally or informally, into subgroups according to the intensity and style of the integrating practices they desire. Wherever on the contihuum~a congregation ultimately finds itself, to the extent that elements of an intentional community are pres-ent, mechanisms will have to be developed in order to safeguard its unity against outside pressures. To the extent that the group resembles an association, the problem of reconciling the affiliative and emotional needs of the individuals with continuing and active membership in the congregation will have to be faced. There is undoubtedly room in the American church for varieties of religious life which exhibit many different degrees of communal or associational com- " mitment. This article has argued, however, that it is extremely dangerous for the ministerial effectiveness and the very existence' of a congregation not to recognize and choose freely the type of commitment proper to its founder's charism in the late twentieth-century United States. Only by realizing and acknowledging the strength~ and weaknesses inherent in the type of commit-ment they have chosen--which presupposes that they know which one it is---can the strengths be emphasized and the weaknesses minimized. This paper is a call for the integration of previously ignored sociological insights 170 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1985 into the self-study of American religious communities. For some, their very survival may depend on it. NOTES ~James Hitchcock, ~Vocations Holding Up in Traditional Communities" in The Catholic Uni- ¯ verse Bulletin, Cleveland, July 6, 1984, p. 10. * 2Sara Harris, The Sister: The Changing Role of the American Nun (N.Y.: .Bobbs Merrill, 1972), pp. 137-8. 3Benjamin Zablocki, Alienation and Charisma (N.Y.: Free Press, 1980), Chapter 6. 4Sources for my informa[ion on these groups include the following: Rosabeth Moss Kanter, Commitment and Community (Cambridge, MA: Ha~rvard University Press, 1972), Lewis A. Coser, Greedy Institutions (N.Y.: Free Press, 1974), and Benjamin Zablocki, The Joyful Com-munity (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1980). ~Bennett M. Berger, The Survival of a Counterculture (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1981), p. 124. 6Zablocki, p. 29. 7Kanter, p. 47. 8Zablocki, p. 39. 9Zabl~cki, p. 52. 10Kanter, p. 46. tlZablocki, p. 47. t2Kanter~ p. 44; Coser, p. 31. ~3Zablocki, p. 172. t4Kanter, p. 84; Zablocki, pp. 129-30. ~Kanter, p. 84; Zablocki, p. 259 ~6Zablocki, p. 250. tTKanter, p. 103. ~SKanter, p. 76. tgZablocki, p. 185. 20Kanter, p.80; Zablocki, p. 281. 2tZablocki, pp. 282-3. 22Zablocki, Alienation and Charisma, p. 289. S¢ also Herbert Schmalenbach, "The Social Category of Communion." 2JJoan Chittister;~ O.S.B., Women, Ministry and the Church (Ramsey, N J: Paulist Press, 1983) ¯ p. 28. 24Tish Sommers, "The Compounding Impact of Age on Sex,, in Ovil Rights Digest, Fall, 1974, pp. 2-9: ~sZablocki, Alienation "and Charisma, p. 325. Jonah and the Vine M. Basil Pennington, 0 C. S. 0 No stranger to these pages, Father Pennington continues to reside and write in St. Joseph's Abbey; Spencer, MA 01562. The nineteenth century was a great time for religious life. At its opening, empty and ruined cloisters stood everywhere in Europe, the fruit of the Pro-test~ nt Reformation and the French Revolution. By the end of the century not only had many of these ruins" been restored with the renewal of the ancient monastic and religious orders but many new religious institutes had come into being: With the opening of the twentieth century these institutes were stretching out to all parts of the world calling the whole human family to spiritual rebirth and renewal. Then suddenly their spirit ~ seemed to really catch on, and the King of Nineveh rose from° his throne and called all to renewal--good Pope John called down the Holy Spirit in a new Pentecost for all humankind. It was disconcerting. Not only had the institution that was to be called to renewal taki~h the lead, but the Spirit seemed to know no bounds. There was a great spiritual renewal among the other religions of the world, and soon spiritual masters from Hinduism and Buddhism were within what we once considered our enclave, calling forth our young men and women, our.prospective members. ¯ The Lord had given us our consoling vine. It shot up overnight. Remember the burgeoning novitiates after the Second World War, the great novitiate buildings we put up in the fifties and sixties--the ones that stand empty now or serve as .conference centers, or which our Buddhist and Hindu brothers and sisters have taken off our hands? Our vine was suddenly cut down. And we sir on our hill, in our little shelter (our new social security benefits?) and gnash our teeth, or we try to keep on doing what we were doing before, with little of the means and less of the fruit, because we are always more and more out-of-date. ¯ Well, not all of us, maybe, but how many of t~s? 171 172 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1985 One of the things we can note in the closing lines, of the Book of Jonah: as God calls him to universal compassion there is in him no breath of conversion. He who had called others--so successfully to conversion, himself will not convert. He sits there in his bitterness. We who have so successfully called the Church and the human family to spiritual renewal have we ourselves ~heeded the call of the Council to true spiritual renewal? Or have we just tried some "adaptations" and .now in our bitterness blame them for our present plight. The publication of the new Code of Canon Law offers us an opportunity to be again confronted, rather directly and concisely, by the message of the Second Vatican Council: a call to religious to be religious. (Religious comes from the latin word: religo, to be bound again bound again to God, most intimately.) The opening canon in the section on religious tells us that our life is for those "who follow Christ more closely under the action of the Holy Spirit"; it is a life ."totally dedicated to God who is loved most of all . dedic~ited to his honor, the upbuilding of the Church and the salvation of the world" (Canon 573). It is "through charity to which the counsels lead that [we] are joined to the Church and its mystery in a special way" (Canon 573). When the code comes to speak of the obligations of religious it states first th'at "religious are to have as their highest rule of life the following of Christ as proposed in the Gospel" (.Canon 662). Then it goes on to state that "contem-plation of divine things and assiduous union with God in prayer is to be the first and foremost duty of all ~religious" (Canon 66.3). When it comes to speak about novitiate formation, it says not only that "the novices are to be led to cultivate human and Christian virtues . to be prepared to cultivate the worship of God in the Sacred Liturgy . to be instructed to read and meditate on the Sacred Scriptures" but also "to be instructed to contemplate the mystery of salvation" (Canon 652): Conte~mplative union with God is for all religious, and novices are to be effectively taught how to open their lives to the contemplative dimension of prayer and life. There was a very interesting developmen~ at the Second Vatican Council (P, ope Paul insisted constantly that the'Code of Canon Law is to be but the practical implementation of what the Spirit had said to us in the Council--a ¯ call to constant renewal). At the first session a long treatise on religious life was offered to the Council Fathers, some one hundred thirty pages. The commission was told to boil it down. They returned to the second session~with thirty five pa, ges. Again, the word was to boil it down. At the third session the Fathers found at their places a brief document of nineteen propositions, very much what we have, with a couple of added paragraphs on monastic life. This,new schema had a very long fo0tnote--almost half as long as the whole text. In this footnote the writers explained that the threefold distinction in regard to religious life that had come into common use from the teaching of Aquinas and was found even in Pius Xll's Humani generis, namely active, contemplativ~e, and Jonah and the Vine / 173 mixed, was not to be retained. There could be no such thing as a simply active religious life. All religious, by the very nature of religious consecration through religious profession, were called to contemplative union with God. Some were. to:be "mere" contemplatives." Others were called to pass on the fruits of their contemplation in apostolic ministry. This very significant shift, a real call to renewal, has been largely~ missed. The code spells it out very clearly. Will we hear? We can continue to sit apart in our pathetic little structures and bewail the fact that no one is paying any attention to us any longer, and leave renewal to ,:the laity, the hierarchy, and the clergy--and to the other religions! We can watch creative, new !ay ministries take on our former missions--in itself not a ¯ bad thing at all. We can watch our most promising youth, who really want to do something to make a difference in a world that is hell-bent on global destruction, respond to the call of the great swamis and roshis who practice what they preach, and of the new prophets who have caught the universalist vision and call for global.unification--perhapsnot such a good thing. But the reality of it all is that we, the sons and daughters of the Book, have, in the intimate revelation of God in Christ and in the empowerment of the sacred tradition and the sacramental life, so much more to bring to the human family. It will only I~e when we teach the fullness of the call of the Gospel, so powerfully re-enunciated in the Second Vatican Council, and actually live what we teach, that we will be credible and effective and attractive--in the right sense of that w.ord--again; The great progenitors of the Second Vatican Coun-cil were, first, John Henry Cardinal Newman, who reminded us that doctrine-- and all else in a living Church--keeps on developing. Hence, we cannot stop with Vatican II, but before we advance beyond it, we have at least to get what it has given us. Can we honestly say we have really absorbed the teaching of the documents of Vatican I19. Certainly I can't, and I have been working with them steadily for over twenty years! Second was Teilhard de Chardin, whose call was ~to a new level of consciousness that integrated the whole of creation, centering all in the heart of Christ; in the awesome power of Divine Love that was poured out in our hearts in the Holy Spirit who groans within us to be free to do mighty things in and through us: things of prayer and worship, things of empowerment and life. Have we heard Newman and Chardin? Are we stretching to keep develop-ing, and expanding our loving concern and our creative vision to the whole of. the human project, the divine creative project? Sad to say, not a few monasteries, not a few religious'institutes look a bit like Jonah on his hill, under his little structure, with his wilted vine lying prone across the opening. Elderly monks and religious seem to be saying: "Enough! I won't begin anew. I have done enough. Let it die with me. After all my years ¯ of service they rush on to new things and take no notice of all I have done." Maybe the younger religious don't realize it, but the charism of the com-munity, that precious gift to the Church and the human family, is incarnate in 174 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1985 the seniors. However, can we blame the younger ones (who are often all too few or even non-existent), those in whom the call to share this same charism is awakening,if they do not see it when the seniors allow it to be hidden under the bushels of structures and attitudes that do not let its light shine forth? The Second Vatican Council, or rather the Holy Spirit speaking through the council, asked us to bring this precious heritage into confluence, or we might even say confrrntation, with the signs of the times. Sure, that is going to cause upheaval or at least unrest and some tension. But what is the alternative? To sit with Jonah in our shack and groan? Renewal .is going on among the laity. They are taking on many of the tasks and missions that ~religious have done so well. And perhaps they are even doing them more effectively in a secular world. Renewal is going on among the Eastern religions and their renewed "religious," the swamis and gurus and roshis, seem to be more effectively serving, and attracting to their ranks, the fine young people who used to enter our novitiates. (How often when standing listening to an impressive young TM teacher or an EST seminar leader or a "Moonie" who has just earned his PhD at Harvard, have I thought to myself: this young man would surely have been a Jesuit in the pre-Vatican II days.) ~ Are we going to watch all this as passive spectators, cheering it on, or worse, lamenting over it? Or are we going to be open to the spirit of Newman and Chardin, adapted to our own particular charism, a priceless gift of God to the Church, and take full part in the tremendous spiritual renewal of our times which we in,great part are responsible for inaugurating? Even if there is a wonderful spiritual renewal taking place in many corners of our society and our globe, they are still just corners. Depressing, competi-tive, greedy materialism is the rampant reality. Millions and millions still are not in touch with the spiritual dimension of their being, and know only ultimate frustration. There is plenty of work for us all. The new code says our consecrated life is to be "an outstanding sign in the Church--and beyond--foretelling the heavenly glory" (Canon 573)--giving to the human person something big enough to call him or her forth fully, and to make life truly worthwhile. This is our call. And so--what now? Provincials as "Cultural Revolutionaries": The Role of Provincial Superiors Today Gerald A. Arbuckle, S.M. Father Arbuckle has become a more frequent and influential contributor to our pages of late. The present article continues his study of government in religious communities considered under particular aspects. His earlier study, ~General Government: Its Leadership Role Today" appeared in the November/December issue of 1984. Himself a member of his congregation's General Administration, Father Arbuckle resides, and may be addressed, at their headquarters: Padri Maristi; Via Alessandro Poerio 63; 00152 Roma, Italy. ~nnovation is at the heart of survival and growth. Without innovation in response to rapidly changing conditions, human groups stagnate and die. This is true of business firms, of local and national economies. It is also true of religious ~ongregations, of provinces within the congregations.l Religious exist to serve the Church. They are to be concerned not just for the survival of their own province and congregation, but in particular they are primarily oriented to spearhead pastoral and spiritual growth within the Church. They are to be specialists in innovation: "Their whole lives are dedi-cated to God's service." Religious are to show forth "boldness of initiatives."2 In quite expressive language, the document Mutuae Relationes emphatically insists on the innovative role. of religious:~ there is need "to devise new, inge-nious, and courageous ecclesial experimrnts under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit . A responsiveness rich in creative initiative is eminently compatible with the charismatic nature of the religious life."3 Innovation is the generation, acceptance, and implementation of new ideas, pastoral methods or servibes, whatever can help develop within ourselves and in others the kingdom of God. Application and implementation are at the core of this definition; it involves the ability to change or to adapt.4 Easy enough to define innovation. But how does innovation take place? What role do major superiors, especially provincials, have in stimulating change? 175 176 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1985 This paper is an attempt to answer these questions. I propose to approach this key topic by: -summarizing recent management studies on how innovation takes place; -summarizing relevant research conclusions of applied anthropology; -applying these insights to the role of provincials within religious congre-gations. I believe provincials today face challenges,that their predecessors rarely confronted prior to Vatican II. They are called to be change-agents within their congregations; in fact, I believe the future of their congregations might well be said to rest in their hands. But, through no fault of their own, they often do not know what to do. If they do know what to do, they often do not know how to go about stimulating innovation. Japanese and American Business Cultures During the world's tough economic years after 1978, the picture on either side of the Pacific Ocean was remarkably different: soup kitchens in Detroit contrasted vividly with an apparent freedom from economic depression in Japan, where business firms exported more and mo?e the things that Ameri-cans made once upon a time. Some people almost in a fit of hysteria have called for more protectionism against the "Japanese m~nace." Saner minds, however, do not blame the Japanese or the tardiness of the American govern-ment to build trade barriers, but they blame the limitations of America's managerial culture.5 Recently I noticed a bank advertisement in O'Hare air-port, Chicago, which stated: "In Chicago, nothing takes off faster than a Good Idea." This is not as accurate as it should be, simply because the Ameri-can culture at large, and the management sub-c.ulture, are not as conducive and supportive of innovation as is the Japanese cultural system. Several man-agement experts, therefore, have concentrated their research not so much on the psychology of industry or business management, but on the anthropology of culture and culture change in relation to business action.6 By culture we mean that network of common meanings ~and values that is deeply rooted in the corisciousnessiunconsciousness of a group of people. This network gives life to distinctive structures and institutions, myths and symbols. The symbols of a people have many.meanings that are deeply real to those who share them; they give people a sense of identity, security, purpose. But since they are derived so much more from the heart than the head they are difficult for outsiders to grasp and describe. What are the significant differences b~tween the two business cultures? There are two key variables the individual or potential innovator and the group--and both are given different emphases in the two cultures. Both cul-tures stress the importance of change-agents or innova!ors, that is of people who are gifted with the "art of anticipating the need for, and of leading, productive change."7 In Japanese culture, innovators evoke change in and through the harmonious support and active participation of the ~roup. L~yalty Provincials as "Cultural Revolutionaries" / 177 to one's group is a most respected personal attribute. The culture emphasizes harmony not for the purposes of maintaining the status quo but for innovation. Group leaders know this and hence concentrate less on the task of production than on thee growth of good relations, morale, value~ that support .innovators within"the group. The innovators themselves do not seek to stand outside the group; they recognize that only through the active support and participation of the group itself will the ideas be implemented) But in Western business culture, reflecting the broader culture of the society, group leaders tend to stress the productive task to the neglect, of group mainte-nance activities. Theoretically there is an assent to the need for building a supportive innovative culture, but "American managers don't quite realize that what they are creating requires a lot of energy and attention from them to sustain."9 The Western culture, and in particular the American way of life, gives vigorous support and status to independence, to being "a rugged individualist." The American West may have been built by thousands of"rugged individuals spread over the vast frontier. But millions of lone rangers employed under a few thousand cor~porate roofs may not much longer prove workable."~° In this system the rugged individual, the would-be innovator or change agent, must struggle and battle alone to prove the. value .of his or her insight. The group is assumed to have what .really adds up to a negative or opposition, role. The individual, as it were, stands outside the .group; the group is not assumed to have any substantial role in helping to stimulate the innovative idea or in participating in .its implementation. In the Japanese culture the innovative idea can tr.uly be said to be the group's, though articulated at first by a particular person; .in American, or Western cultures in general, that is not the case. The consequence for Western economies of course is unfortunate. It generally takes an extraordinarily tough individual to sustain his or her enthusiasm in the face of constant passive or open opposition. Little wonder that managerial researchers complain about the deadening restraints on innovation in Western business cultures. The firms that are notably successful today in America are precisely those where the leadership recognizes that the primary task is to clarify, articulate and insist on key values: quality goods and setA, ices,: the participation of all employees in, discovering .and supporting people who have new ideas for the maintenance of quality. This task of leadership is a tough assignment. If it fails, then the business culture becomes stagnant, oppressive of innovators and new ideas.~ So, if American (and Western) businesses are to become truly competi-tive. with, Japanese enterprises, their leaders must become and remain cultur~al revolutionaries. Then the advertisement at O'Hare airport will be accurate! Innovation and Innovators: ~nsights of Applied Anthropology . Anthropologists in general have the reputation of always aiming to preserve what is traditional. If they do take that approach, it is because the' general thrUst of socio-economic development programs, particularly in Third World 1711 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1985 countries, has been in the direction of what an expert on fisheries once called "bulldozing the tropics into civilization.''~2 In the 1960s and 1970s (to a less extent) it was rare indeed for development experts to ~ake into account the fact that people are human beings and also have distinctive cultures.,The so-called experts descended as it were from on high with the "good news of develop-ment." The people had to listen "with gratitude," do what they were told and rbecome "rich and good" just like Westerners! Since so many projects have failed or are failing, there is a greater openness to turn to anthropologists to help uncover why "the good news" became "bad news," The ignorance of.the experts might have been bliss for them, but their lack of wisdom has meant immense suffering for the people, The following general conclusions have emerged from the study of anthro-pologists into the success or otherwise of development projects: 1. Changes will succeed only if they are in response to felt needs of the people. The discovery of what in fact are the real felt needs of a group of people is a long and difficult task. It is so easy for the would-be innovator to impose his own needs on people who for the sake of peace agree. I came across an example of two American volunteer development workers on a South Pacific island, who were worried by the fact that the ladies of the village had to go down a rough slope to a river to do the washing~ So, they imported cement, "convinced" the ladies that the use of the village washing tubs would be far more convenient. After the tubs had been built, the good ladies used them for one day and back they went to the river. The volunteers were annoyed, but humble enough to ask why the tubs were not used: "We like togossip about the men; If you wash at the tubs, the men will hear. Also, our backs are sore from standing at the tubs. We like to squat when we do the washing!" In order tO obtain the real felt needs, there must be lengthy and tiring dialogue based on the willingness to learn on all sides, considerable questioning and active listening by the change-agent. 2. Innovative leadership must be encouraged to emerge from within the group and be supported by the group. A girl was taken from a Fijian village and trained in the capital city in how to improve the nutrition quality of village cooking. She went .back full of enthusiasm; within a few days she was back to the old style of cooking. Why? No one in the capital thought it important to work with villagers on the spot to heip them become accepting of change and Supportive of the local innovator. The experts expected the impossible of one person. This is a critical point. Innovators or change agents are "the right people in the right place at theright time."~3 The right people are the would-be innovators because they have ideas that look beyond the established ways of doing things. By the right places we mean that the people who have to be motivated to accept the ideas are willing in fact to be motivated and to participate in implementing Provincials as "Cultural Revolutionaries" / 1"/9 the ideas. The would-be innovator and the group are not to be in opposition to each other, but are to be integrated.into a team. The task of the main leader or ~main innovator--often one who holds an official position, e.g. government officer, town mayor, village chief--is precisely to help create space for individ- ' uals to "get the,power to experiment, to create, to develop to test--to inno-vate." t4 This means that a tremendous amount of time and energy must go into disposing the group to be open to change, to be positively accepting of the innovator. There is no short cut! The more the group is encouraged to become the agent of its own growth, the more in fact it will b~ sensitive to the need for the right type of innovators. Would-be innovators tend to.fall into two broad types: those who are basi-cally loners, uninterested in the group, possibly deeply bitter about being rejected by the group. Unless they can get over their spirit of excessive individ- - ualism, such people, because of personal reasons and/or the neglect by the group, can obstruct growth. There are others; however, who have been pushed to the margins of the group's life, but who still are deeply attached to the welfare of the group and who in their own way sorrow for the sense of blind conservatism and fatalism that the group expresses. These are the people that should be very specially spotted and encouraged by the main change-agent or change-catalyst. 3. Deyelopment projects are more readily successful, if there is maximum delegation and involvement within small groups. For example, I found credit unions far more successful than large-scale business co-operatives in Fiji, because the former were village-peopled based, but the latter were firmly directed from the capital city by government officials. The people felt the credit unions .were theirs; they "owned them" by participating daily in" credit union affairs, their management, direction. But, this could be done only because credit .union values of cooperation and honesty were con-stantly articulated by the official educational change-agems. And the people were called to the accountable by their own leaders on.the basis of these values. ~ 4. The innovators must not move faster than the group. The innovator can be so far out front that the people lose confidence in the project. The innovator in this case is equivalently' demanding culture changes that require too many risks for the people; identity and security are endangered. So, the people retreat to old and familiar values 'and customs. They cannot be blamed for this. They have everything to lose, but the insensitive innovator with his skills and status may have little to lose. By way of summary, there are three indisputable research conclusions: people definitely resist cultural .changes that appear to threaten their basic securities; they resist changes they do not understand and they resist changes that are being forced oti them.~6 But these conclusions all sound so logical, so obvious. Why are they so 180 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1985 frequently ignored, in practi~ce by even the most educated and intelligent'of people? I can pinpoint four reasons in particular. First, it is not easy for many of us to realize that all change involves in one way or another culture change, that is change in values, new security systems, and more. And culture change basically is very slow. We belong to a culture that has come to assume instant answers to instant problems! It is difficult for. us.to grasp the reality that the innovation process is a combination of technical and human or cultural factors, rather than being a purely technical or mechan-ical matter. The would-be innovator requires considerable patience and open-ness to learn just how change takes place. o Secondly, leadership is so often confused, with the use of authority. It is assumed that change can take place simply by command.For example, it was decided in the mid-1940s that Fijians should have in their villages hygenic toilets of a simple design. The word went out from London, eventually reach-ing the district British officers in rural Fiji. The fine toilets were built .by the villagers, under British direction, but not used! Officials "forgot" to involve the .villagers in a decision that concerned them. True leadership aims to evoke participation. This is-often more important than what is visibly done. Thirdly, no matter how intelligent and educated the innovator may be, if he is insensitive to the dignity of the people the project will fail. People yearn to grow as people through participation in all that concerns their lives. If they are refused the chance to participate, or if they sense the innovator is out to manipulate them by going through the motions of participation, then they will withdraw from involvement and become passiveand angry observers. When I was researching in Fiji into village development, I was frequently told by colonial officials that "Fijians simply cannot handle their own affairs.': The tragedy is that the people had been told this so often that many had come to believe it. When the credit union movement was brought to Fiji by an Ameri-can Jesuit, Marion Ganey, the people showed that the colonial officials were wrong. The people discovered that they could handle their own affairs. A major factor in this movement of self-growth for the people was the deep faith that the Jesuit expressed in the people and their potential. One Fijian in village summed up what this meant for him: "When he comes into the village, even though he cannot speak our language, we feel ten feet taller and ten .years younger!" Respect for people must spring not from fine words, but from ~the deep conviction in the heart. People sense whether it is there or not. Fourthly, would-be change-agents can fall into what really is culture shock. People when confronted with a culture that is different from their own can feel so lost that they really cannot cope. They lose all sense of judgment and may well begin by acting in a thoroughly authoritarian manner in order to cope. In brief, the findings of contemporary managerial and applied anthropology studies are the same. Innovation is the key to survival and growth. Innovation flourishes in. those cultures in which innovators and people are positively interacting and participating together in implementing the new, ideas. No mat-ter what position the potential innovator holds, e.g. manager, village chief, Provincials as "Cultural Revolutionaries"/ 181 government officer, church official, member of a group, to be ultimately effec-tive he or she must be imbued with a philosophy of deep respect for the .potential of the people to be masters of their own growth. As George Foster notes: ''The ethic of helping people change their culture includes knowing what the culture is. what its processes of change are. It is ~not enough to be a competent technician, morally fortified with the unquestioned assumptions of goodness of one's profession . The ethic irivolves restraint and caution in missionary zeal. It means. [being] careful not to plan for people, but to work with them in searching for realistic answers to their problems . .It means learning to be humble, to be willing to learn . It means sympathy and tolerance . It means a genuine and unselfish desire to help., in a realistic way based on full understanding of the nature of culture."17 The warning of the wise Lao-tzu centuries ago remains universally true: "As for the best leaders, the people do not notice their existence. The next best, the people .honor and praise. The next, thepeople fear; and the next, the people hat~ . When the best leader's work is done the people~say, 'We did it ourselves.'" Challenges Confronting Contemporary Provincials The Church's culture, prior to Vatican II, was highly structured and open to little change at any level. Its mission was clear and its pastoral methods were considered to be universally validono matter what culture was being evangelized. Religious congregations reflected, this type of culture. Major superiors gave clear commands, reminding people of the importance tq maintain the rules of the community. They commanded; subjects were expected to obey. Certainly they did not expect to be consulted. It was assumed that superiors knew what was right, what God wanted. But with Vatican II superiors and their fellow "religious were reminded that together they hadto s~arch to discover what God was asking of them. Pastoral methods that were once valid could no longer be considered so in a world subject to chronic change. These new emphases and values undermined t.he security and identity of the old religious-life culture. Questions replaced answers; clear and simple command~ gave way to process. Sole authority yielded to rule by committee. We know well the malaise and confusion that hit congregations and individual religious.~a The role of the contemporary provincial is an unenviable one. How can a provincial stimulate a province to accept a culture in which the religious are open to change, effectively willing to participate in change, are supportive of innovation and innovators? In order to understand the complex nature of this challenge, I will construct a "typical contemporary .province culture." I will then summarize various possible reactions on the part of~a provincial when faced with such a culture. Since we are dealing with a cultural construct or type or model, it is inevitable that there will be oversimplifications, imprecisions. Readers can make their own additions or subtractions. A Typical Province Culture -Membership is aging; few, if any, recruits. -A significant number of religious were trained under the pre-Vatican 1112 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1985 model in which creativity and innovation were discouraged. -A significant percentage of religious are distressed, disoriented, by the theological, pastoral and spiritual emphases following~Vatican II. -The province, in whole or in part, denies that there are real manpower crises which demand positive planning and changes. -Houses are closed; pastoral works put aside, not because of creative, forward~looking pastoral planning, but because the province has run out of manpower resources. -A significant percentage of the province is spiritually uninspired and uninspiring. -Small groups of reiigious or individuals are marginalized because of their innovative pastoral ideas and practices, or because they ask out of deep love for the Church andfor the congregation challenging questions relat-ing to renewal, or because their radical religious lifestyles are uncomfort-able. to the power forces in the province.~9 -Religious strongly support decentralization of authority and personal freedom, but do not support a corresponding accountability to major superiors and to the province. In this cultural model of course there are values and practices that are in conflict with each other. In fact, it can happen tha~ in this model many religious find little of substance that they have in common. What happens when a newly elected provincial is confronted with a province'that approximates this type? He can react in a culture-shock manner or accept the reality in an ~understanding way and, adopting the operational principles that should guide any would-be change-agent (described above), proceed to help cultivate a religious-life culture that is innovative, effectively open to change, a culture in which religious support innovation and partiCipa~te in its implementation. A brief look first at possible models of culture-shock reactions of the new provincial. Again, it is important to note that we are constructing models; it is necessary to indicate emphases rather than rounded descriptions. ' 1. The Minister Provincial: one who concentrates almost exclusively on the welfare of the individual religious; planning and animation are neglected. 2. The Administrator Provincial: one who keeps to his office desk, involv-ing himself as far as possible in paper work; ministering and animation are neglected. 3. The Preacher Provincial: one who concentrates on preaching about the need for change; planning and ministering are avoided. He has an impact on no one. 4. The Laissez-faire Provincial: he opts out of all key functions. He assumes that kind words to all will produce lasting peace. Others assert leadership by default, but it is a leadership that builds up power for some strong sections of the provinre to the detriment of weaker power ~blocks. Provincials as "Cultural Revolutionaries" / 183 5. The Planner Provincial'. this is the dreamer who devises all kinds of plans for change, but avoids the nitty-gritty of organizing the imple-mentation of the plans, the hard grind of administration and the demanding task of animation and ministering to the religious of the province. 6. The Authoritarian Provinciak this is the one who assumes he can min-ister to the religious, plan, administer and animate allby himself. Refus-ing to dialogue or to delegate, he believes "it is time that religious obeyed, put their heads down and got on with the job." He may set up a variety of committees, not to hear what they say, but to get things done that he decides should be done. Given the pressures on a provincial today, we must not be surprised:if some behave in ways that approximate to one or other of these models. So great can ¯ culture-shock be that individuals may not consciously be aware of why they react in these ways. We are now in a better position to look at objectively what the functions of a provincial are today, how he or she should act in a reasoned way when confronted with the task of fostering a culture supportive of innovation. The Provincial as a Cultural Change-Agent Leadership has to do with meeting needs. Religious need a sense of spiritual purpose, they need to feel valued by fellow religious, they need to participate in decisions that affect them, they need to be stimulated to accept in an ongoing way the call toa deep union in Christ; the province has need to be cleai" as to its goals and how to realize these goals in practice, it needs a culture that is ¯ supportive of change and change agents. Provincials truly exercise leadership to the degree that they respond to these needs. We are here speaking of transformational leadership, as defined by J. M. Bums. For him: "Transform-ing leadership ultimately becomes moral in that it raises the level of human conduct and ethical aspiration for both leader and led, and thus it has a transforming effect on both."20 It is a leadership that rarely uses the authority of the office, not a leadership that moves people to act "by the sheer over-whelming magic of his personality and persuasive powers.TM The type of leadership the provincial should be exercising is described in the findings of applied anthropology given above. It is therefore a leadership that aims to help religious discover, individually ~and corporately, that they have within them-selves the power and the commitment to enter into a process of innovative change in service of the Lord and his Church. Such a provincial is "influential by strengtheningand inspiriting his audience . The leader arouses confidence in his followers. The followers feel better able to accomplish whatever goals he and.they share."~2 This is an extremely tough assignment. A provincial has several definite functions as a leader: to ministe~ in a pastoral way to the needs of individual religious, to plan for the future of the province, to administer the province by implementing the plan and to animate Review for Religious, March-April, 1985 the whole province' to be part of the planning and implementation of the corporate plan. Each function is related to each other function listed. How in practic~ are these functions to be realized so that no one function achieves a priority it should not have? I believe a provincial can fulfill the mandate to lead the province by empowering individuals and groups to use their gifts for the common good; by helping the province to discover 'its common goals; by helping the province to discover the means 0f.achieving the g0als.23 Let me explain the meaning of each of these statements: 1. ?he Empowering of Individuals and Groups ,~ Individuals and groups need to be reminded that they are called to serve the Church as committed religious, placing whatever gifts God has given them at the disposal of others; In the post-Vatican Church this is a most demanding provincial apostolate, particularly when so many religious have been personally wounded or disoriented as a result ofthe cultural changes following the Coun-cil. Tremendous patience in listening is required. Religious in fact may need specialized help if their sense of self-worth and confidence is .to be restored to them. However, the more religious are affirmed in the gifts given by God, the more they are open to participate actively in sharing their visions with others and in supporting innovation. In his visitations the provincial is also able to discover individuals who are already change-agents or potentially so. They may need affirming in their role, particularly if there is opposition to their insights~ The provincial, eventually using his authority, may then decide 'to place these change-agents in positions where these people can be the most productive. He can spot those religious who with further training are able to become change-agents, e.g. as spiritual leaders, administrators, pastoral leaders. ~ At the corporate and individual levels, he articulates the values that relate to the welfare and purpose of the province, e.g. values of'Christian service, cooperation, participation, support for innovators. This role is called the "hands-on, value-driven" approach, an apt description that religious life ani-mation should mean.24 It is a role that requires the provincial to keep challeng-ing the province, to keep 'raising awkward or difficult questions that others do not want to raise, e.g, what is the purpose of what you are doing?why are we in this particular apostolate--just because we. have always been doing it or because this is what God wants us to do because people really need it? what ideas do you have to improve the quality of your apostolate? It is not sufficient to ask the questions; he miast be on the spot, either personally or through a delegate, to hear the answers and to ,question further if the answers are not adequate. Remember, this. is the only way for the real pastoral felt needs to emerge. The more religious.are forced into responding to such questions, the more in fact they are being empowered to utilize their God-given gifts. The word forced needs to'be further explained. In order to be forced into Provincials as "'Cuhural Revolutionaries'" / 185 reacting to realities, it might well be necessary for a provincial .to cultivate in certain circumstances a "planned apostolic neglect or avoidance" of individuals or groups. Sometimes people will not respond to reality until they are forced to do so through suffering and the discovery of their own powerlessness. The discerning provincial will know just when this suffering should be permitted to occur.25 For periods of time he may become the object of considerable anger from the individuals or groups in question who keep demanding that "he solve their problems." I recall me.eting members of a credit union in one Fijian village that for several years had become inactive. They told me that for a long time they blamed outsiders for their problems. The founder, Fr: Ganey, kept away quite deliberately until the people finally realized that they were the source of their own inactivity. They expressed gratitude for the skilled neglebt on his part. Paradoxically, this is an example of the "hands-on, value-driven" type of leadership. 2. Helping the Province to Discover Common Goals . Without common goals, a religious province will break up into many competing groups, struggiing for ascendancy over one another and for:control over ever-declining manpower or financial resources. Just as the. discovery of what the province's felt needs are is a long and difficult process, so also will it be challengingto refine the common goals that relate to these needs. A provincial might be °able to discover the goals ,himself and articulate them to the whole province. Notionally the province might accept them, but in practice they will reject them for they have never had the chance to own them by participating in discovering them themselves. How are these goals to be discovered and articulated? We all know from bitter experience how chapters so frequently end up with finely worded state-ments of goals for°the province and for this or that apostolate. But, once the texts are published they are shelved and nothing happens, until the next chapter when the same procedure is adopted! Recall the anthropological insight above: projects are more readily successful if there is maximum delega-tion and involvement within small groups. If this is done in provinces and the information and experience of the groups are fed up to a chapter or provincial council, then the goals that emerge will more likely be owned by the whole province. A provincial then will use interest groups and, if necessary, foster new groups to emerge that are close to where action is taking place. Delegation is insufficient; he must keep calling them to accountability. When this process is adopted, time-consuming though it may be, individuals with innovative ideas are more likely to emerge and their insights more easily owned by the group. From the point of vie~w of a desk administrator, the approach is not particularly efficient as regards t~he use of time, but it will definitely be effective. It means, of course, that the provincial either directly or indirectly will be present to these groups, actively listening,.challenging them to see their goals and objectives in 186 / Review for Religiouy, March-April, 1985 light of wider corporate needs and goals. If he ignores them, they rightly become discouraged, bitter and angry, eventually either going their own way independent of ~he provinc.e's needs or becoming purely passive, without any interest in innovation. 3. Helping the Province to Discover the Means to Achieve Goals A province that denies it has a manpower problem, when in fact it obviously has, must be challenged to recognize this reality. I heard of one province of a congregation which expected at the very most to have three priests ordained for the coming ten years. The provincial chapter encouraged each apostolate to state their manpower needs; they did and they were accepted without question by the chapter. No one wanted to accept the fact that the total manpower requirements of the province as passed by the chapter were twenty priests beyond what the province could ever possibly field. A province that is really participating in its own growth at the grassroots would never have,reached such an unrealistic state of denying the obvious. A provin-cial will work closely with various interest and apostolic groups, challenging and planning how to achieve the goals established by the groups and by ~the province as a whole. Moreover, the provincial will aim to discover just what the criteria for manpower assessment is being used at the grassroots. For example, if the Church is defined in organizational or hierarchical terms, then low recruitment coupled with an aging membership in a clerical religious congregation is a severe crisis. On the other hand, if the Church is defined in community terms, the present search for new directions promises all kinds of possible ~theological and sociological variations in forms of ministry.26 In addition, a province in which many members have been trained to be passive, uncreative, unsupportive of innovation and innovators will have a manpower crisis that is Open to correction by a provincial. A proxiincial who has the ability so to empower religious to discover that they can be creative even in small ways and open to change will be developing resources within the province that were not able to be considered before. In brief, therefore, the provincial's task is to stimulate the province through its own discernment process to an awareness of its own resources. The criteria-- theological and otherwise--need to be spelled out and repeatedly articulated until owned by the province. They cannot be the criteria of the provincial alone. Qualities of the Provincial as Cultural Change-Agent In this paper~it has been assumed that leadership is "the process of influenc-ing the activities of an individual or a group in efforts toward goal achievement in a given situation. In essence, leadership involves accomplishing goals with and through people."27 It means that the leader is concerned about tasks, but also human relations. A provincial will need to know what the mission of the Church is, the charism and: mission of his own congregation, an understanding Provincials as "Cultural Revolutionaries" / 187 of the manpower and financial resources of the province. He will need to know the theory that relates to how to stimulate the province to discover the pastoral needs of the people they exist to serve, and how to go about setting and implementing policies: If he has little knowledge of these points, he can still turn to others for help. But he cannot turn to anyone else ffr his most basic and primary skill, the skill of working with people.28 As applied anthropology points out with incisive clarity, this quality must flow out of his sensitivity to , the innate potential in every human person for responsible self-determination. This sensitivity will inevitably produce empathy, which is the ability to accept people as they are, not to condemn, but also to accept them for their potential. The response of empathy is not necessarily verbal. In fact it is primarily an internal response wherein a provincial identifies with the feelings of the province and the religious members.29 :From this sensitivity there will naturally emerge also a gift of listening, a willingness to enter into dialogue with the province and its religious at a speed that is not insulting to the dignity o.f all concerned. A provincial of this. kind is a humble person, aware of the immense riches of God's grace and power that he will discover even in the most wounded of the province's members. Ultimately, for a provincial such qualities of openness and sensitivity will be maintained, despite the considerable testing, only if his own life is centered within the heart of Christ the Servant (Mt 20:25-28). Rather than command with the authority of status and appointment, the servant: shows by example. Servants seek the free choice of those being led.30 This is the model clearly evident in the new Code of Canon Law (618): "The,authority which Superiors receive from God through the ministry of the Church is to be exercised by them in a spirit of service., i. By their reverence for the human person, they are to promote voluntary obedience, They are to listen willingly ~o their sub-jects and foster their cooperation for the good of the institute and the Church, without prejudice, however, to their authority to decide and to command What is to be done." Finally, what amount of time should a provincial give each of his functions? I believe the greatei" percentage of his time should be directed to ministering to the corporate body, that is the emphasis on planning and animating the province to become a culturesupportive of innovation and participating in innovation. I believe the ministry to individuals should occupy less time:3~ This latter is extremely demanding of energy and it can be never ending. But, it is a vital ministry that can be shared with others in the province. If a provincial is not clear as to his role, he can so easily slip into one or other of his functions to the detriment of the other duties. Conclusion A provincial is the officially appointed chief change-agent for a province. Without his vigorously stimulating leadership, it will be most unlikely that his province will become or remain innovative and creative in the service of the Review for Religious, March-April, 1985 Church. I assume throughout the article that inno~,ation in itself will not really be effective, unless it comes out of a province that is turning with renewed vitality to Christ, the Stimulant and Sustainer of all change. I also assume that there is a process of reappropriation of the founding charism, that is members of the province, reflec.ting on the needs of the world around them on the one hand, and the gospel message on. the other, have the same sense of shock at the gap between them that their founder experienced.32 However, I can almost hear a very committed provincial who is deeply disturbed by the type of problems we have listed in the model of the "typical province" above sayz "What you write sounds good, but it is from an ivory tower. I see several houses in my province that have long since served their apostolic usefulness: I know which way the province should move to touch the real needs of people. I see good-meaning people who are in fact obstructing all change. Therefore, I see the need to move fast and decisively; I will close the "houses and disperse ~he men to places of real apostolic need. One needs to be practical, not theoretical!" I fully sympathize with siach a provincial. But, in this article I claim that the most practical way of changing a culture so that it is supportive of positive innrvation, not just for the present but also for the future, is for a provincial to learn to work with people in the ways explained above. Neither people nor cultures are mechanical structures. By struggling slowly 'to enEourage innovators to develop within the culture and to be sup-ported by the culture of the province, the provincial will be acting in a thor-oughlypractical way. This is the lesson of contemporary managerial studies, of the findirigs of applied anthropology, and, of course, of a spirituality of.growth within religious life in the service of the Church. We spoke in the article of the virtues needed in this challenging role. Together, ithey could be united under one virtue--the gift of humor. A common characteristic of dictators, revolutionaries, and ecclesiastical authoritarians alike is the refusal both to laugh at themselves and to allow others to laugh at them.33 He who has a sense of spiritual humor recognizes deep in his heart that ultimately he can do nothing by himself. He needs God, he needs other people. When lie tries to do everything himself, he plays God~ And what could be funnier! ". See how the kings of the earth stand in array. He who dwells in heaven is laughing at their threats [their pride], the Lord makes light of them" (Ps 2). NOTES ~See Raymond Hostie, The l_zfe and Death of Religious Orders: A Psycho-sociological Approach, (Washington: Cara, 1983, pp. 276ff, and Lawrence Cada, Raymond Fitz, Gertrude Foley, Thomas Giardino and Carol Lichtenberg, Shaping the Coming Age of Religious Life (NY: The Seabury Press, 1979, p. 60 and passim. Provincials as "Cultural Revolutionaries"/ 189 2S.C. for Religious and Secular Institutes and S~C. for Bishops, Directives for the Mutual Relations between B~hops and Religious in the Church, Rome, 1978, par. 12. 31bid. 4See E. E. Hagen, On the Theory of Social Change: How Economic Growth Begins (London: Tavistock, 1962), pp. 88-97. 5See Rosabeth Moss Kanter, The Change Masters: Corporate Entrepreneurs at Work (London: George Allen & Unwin, 1983), pp. 17-36 and passim; William H. Davidson, The Amazing Race: Winning the Techno-rivalry with Japan (NY: John Wiley, 1984), passim. 6E.g. see R. M. Kanter, op. cit.; Terrence E. Deal and Allan A. Kennedy, Corporate Cultures: The Rites and Rituals of Corporate IDle, (Reading: Addison-Wesley, 1982); Thomas J. Peters and Robert H. Waterman, In Search of Excellence: Lessons from America's Best-Run Compan-ies (NY: Harper & Row, 1982). 7R. M. Kanter, op. cit., p. 13. 8See Richard T. Pascale and Anthony G. Athos, The Art of Japanese Management (London: Allen Lane, 1982), pp. 116-140); also Chic Nakane, Japanese Society (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1973), pp. 88f. 9R. T. Pascale and A. G. Athos, op. cit. p. 126. ~0Ibid, p. 124. ~See T. J. Peter~ and R. H. Waterman, op. cir. p. 291 and passim. nSee Lucy'Mair, Anthropology and Development (London: Macmillan, 1984), p. 13. ~3R. M. Kanter, op. cit., p. 306. ~41bid, p. 23. ~sSee Gerald A. Arbuckle "Economic and Social Development in th~ Fiji Islands through Credit Unions" in Credit Unions in the South Pacific, edited by Nell Runcie (London: University of London Press, 1969), pp. 90-108. irSee (ed) Edward H. Spicer, Human Problems in Technological Change (NY: John Wiley, 1967), p. 18 and passim; Ward Hunt Goodenough, Cooperation in Change: .An Anthropological Approach to Community Development (NY: John Wiley, 1966), passim;:William W. Biddle and Loureide J. Biddle, The Community Development Process: The Rediscovery of Local Initiative (NY: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1965), passim. ~T Traditional Cultures: And the Impact of Technological Change (NY: Harper, 1962, pp. 268f. ~sSee Gerald A. Arbuckle, "Why They Leave: Reflections of a Religious Anthropologist" in REVIEW FOR RELIrlOUS, Vol. 42, No. 6, 1983, pp. 815-826. ~gSee Evelyn M. Woodward, "On the Grim Periphery: Reflections on Marginality and Alienation~ in REVlEW FOR RELIGIOUS, ~'ol. 42, No. 5, 1983, pp. 694-711. ~ocited by T. J. Peters and R. H. Waterman, op. cit., p. 83. 2'David McClelland, cited by T. J. Peters and R. H. Waterman, op. cit., p. 84. '2David McClelland, ibid. '3See Speed B. Leas, Leadership and Conflict (Nashville: Abingdon, 1982), p. 28ff. ~4See T. J. Peters and R. H. Waterman, op. cit.,'pp. 279-291. ~For an analysis of "situational leadership" see Paul Hersey and Ken Blanchard, Management of "Organizational Behavior: Utilizing Human' Resources (Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall, 1982), pp~ 149-175. 26See J. Moore, "Some Aspects of the Sociology of Priesthood" in Social Studies: Irish Journal of Sociology, April 1979, p. 129; and William R. Burrows, New Ministries: TheGIobal Context (NY: Orbis, 1980), p. ll7ff. ~TSee E Hersey and K. Blanchard, op. cit., p. 84. ~sSee T. R. Batten, The Human Factor in Community Work (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1965), p. 181. ~gSee Robert K. Greenleaf, Servant Leadership: A Journey into the Nature of Legitimate Power and Greatness (NY: Paulist, 1977), p. 20f. ~oSee Lawrence O. Richards and Clyde Hoeldtke, A Theology of Church Leadership (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1982), p. 107 and passim. 190 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1985 3~See comments by Conleth Overman, Current Issues in Provincial Leadership (Washington: Cam, 1983), p. 76. 32See Finbarr B. Connolly, Religious Life: A Profile of the Future (Dublin: Reality, 19~2), pp: 10ft; Diarmuid O Murchu, The Seed Must Die." Religious Life--Survival or Extinction? (Dub-lin: Veritas, 1980), pp. 35-40 and passim. a~See Conrad Hyers, The Comic Vision and the Christian Faith: A Celebration of Life and laughter (NY: The Pilgrim Press, 1981), p. 24. Christ the Center of O.ur Vowed Life by Boniface Ramsey, O.P. Father Ramsey's three articles on the vows of religion are available as a single reprint: i - The Center of Religious Poverty ii - Christocentric Celibacy iii - Cruciform Obedience Price: $1.75 per copy, plus postage. Address: Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 Living the Difference: Contemplative, and Apostolic Lifestyles Marie Beha, OS.C. Sister Marie is a frequent contributor to Revieff for Religious. Her last title, "By His Wounds," appeared in the March/April, 1984 issue. Sister Marie continues to reside in the Monastery of St. Clare; 1916 N. Pleasantburg Drive: Greenville, SC 29609. The letter repeated a familiar theme, "I keep wondering why you did it. Why you entered a contemplative monastery, .instead of loving and serving and praying where you were. What have you found there? What's so different about it?" 1 put the letter down and reflected again on the frequency of such inquir-ies. What db they mean? What do they say, not only about individuals, but also, and especially, about the larger picture of the future of apostolic life and the needs of His church? Those questions are much too big for me; I only ask them by way of "consciousness-raising" of you the reader. My purpose here is far more modest than any attempt to answer such questions. 1 would only like to suggest some of the ways in which monastic contemplative life differs from active; apostolic life. To do this I will tell you a story or two. They are true stories; true to my own experier~ce but also limited by it. And further limited, as are most stories, by touching only on externals. But underneath what appears lies all the .difference of attitudes and value choices. In short, my stories hope to be parables! Life in a contemplative, monastic community is a completely different kind of life: it is not active, apostolic life, with more provisions for times of prayer, silence, and so forth. Nor is it, by any means, a reliquary of pre-Vati-can 11 customs untainted by the adaptations of renewal. No, it is a completely different kind of life, a unique way of expressing the love of God and neighbor and of serving the Church which undergirds all Christian life. Let me try to illustrate some of these differences with a parable or two. 191 199/ Review for Religious, March-April, 1985 A Matter of Timing -, The bell ending supper-recreation had just rung and the schedule 1 had been given guided my steps toward the kitchen. The last exercises of the monastic day were: 7 p.m.: dishes; 7:30 p.m.: Night Prayer. 1 noticed that there were plenty of dishes, stacks of them. The cook had been baking, and so we had an assortment of taxing bowls and loaf trays to add to the usual array of pots and pans. I checked my watch and made some quick equations. Amount of work' to be done divided by time till Compline equals rate of speed at which dishes must be washed. It would be close timing, and 1 pitched in with more good will than skill. After several such evenings 1 began to notice something: I was the only one working at that rate of speed--to say nothing of noise level and general confusion I generated. The other sisters were quietly, peacefully, going about their usual work--at the usual rate of speed. "We'll never get finished that way!" l was right. We didn't get finished on time. Night Prayer did not start at 7:30. But I also noticed that no one else seemed disturbed, l commented on this interesting phenomenon to another sister. She was surprised. She cor-rected my schedule to read: "Night Prayer after dishes?" She also challenged my thinking: "What's the hurry? Where are you going?" Not Counting the Cost My second story could be titled, "Quantity: a Further Qualification?' A generous benefactor had endowed the monastery with bushel upon bushel of Eeaches, all needing almost immediate attention, it was "All hands report to the kitchen" for several days of hard work, punctuated only by the regular rhythm of the Office. At the end of several very full days that, with the community refreshed by peaches served in any number of creative ways, we finally got the remainder of the fruit stored away intb jars. It was with a feeling of genuine accomplish-ment. that I asked the~sister in charge, "How many quarts did we can?" Again that startled !ook. "How many? 1 have no idea, sister; I never thought to count but 1 can if you want me to." Obligingly she did and reported next day. But 1 could see that she remained puzzled by my interest so ! observed, "You hadn't counted them before, had you?" "Oh, no; we just do as many as we can. How many doesn't make any real .difference, does it?" Well, does it? 1 had more thinking to do. 1 could very well imagine any number of people answering that question with a rousing affirmative: "Of course!" Again I computed my answer, based on previous life-experience. Price per jar is the product of outlay for raw materials times the .number of hours needed to produce the finished product. ! pursued my line of thinking a bit further and calculated the cost of our seVeral :days of labor. Evenat minimum wages those were expensive peaches! I didn't see how we could afford such luxuries, I reported my findings .back to the sister of whom I had made my previous inquiry. 1 could see from the expression on her face that she found my analysis Living the Difference / 193 puzzling. "But someone gave us the peaches and we had the time . " Her math went something like this: "given the peaches; given the hard work and the time," 'it all added up to total gift. There was no need for any further computation. Who Is Gifted? "Everything is grace." Everything is gift--if it is given. A visiting sister was being introduced to the community. Name followed name in bewildering rapidity uninterrupted by any qualifying phrase. Only the abbess was further identified by the job-description of her title. I could sense Our visitor"s barely suppressed desire for some functional description to distinguish one "Sister" from another "Sister," and these from still more "Sisters." I began to let my mind roam over the possibilities. You could say: "Sister X is cook right now." But next year it would be another sister's turn either to learn hbw or to manage with expertise. No matter. And "sister A is presently the laundress." A promotion, a demotion? The job meant neither. All such speculation is simply useless, l can still recall with amusement the shocked look on the face of another visitor who had: risked asking an obviously r~fined and very well-educated sister, "And what do you do?" And the sister an-swered, truthfully enough, "Oh, I'm in maintenance right now." The truth is that no amount of natural giftedness, no degree of profes-sional' preparation will ensure success as a contemplative. Accomplishment is far less important than whole-hearted effort. And in this area there are no objectivized standards, no satisfying sense of accomplishment. In a contem- ¯ plative community the most gifted are not the individuals with the most to give, but rather those who give the most of themselves. The prized "positions" are, very often, those that allow for routine repeti-tive work that can quiet the mind and open it for deeper levels of prayer~ a . "lived mantra." But newcomers to contemplative life have to discover these values disguised in the monastic staple of manual work. On the face of things, one could only agree with a new postulant whose previous career in social work had included service in a shelter workshop. On being introduced to the routine work of the altar-bread room, her classic comment was, "What a marvelous type of work this would be"for a shelter workshop." The other sisters engaged in baking and cutting and checking hosts could only enjoy their newfound classification among the "retarded." What does one's doing have to do with who one is? ~. What Do You Do All Day? This is not my favorite question. And frequent repetition has not given me any more ready an answer. Sometimes the more knowledgeable questioner will add with understandable awe--or skepticism--"Pray? Do you pray all day?" Experience has shown me that the bare recitation of the monastic schedule doesn't provide a satisfying answer. In fact, it may well obscure rather 194 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1985 than reveal the truth about ou~" activity and its meaning~ Only too often the next question is: "Aren't you bored?" No, certainly not. The last time I was bored was so far in the past that 1 would have to mount a sweep-and-search operation to discover it. If the dailiness of my life were not. rich and full 1 would leave and try another style of living, one that offered the possibilities of more interesting avenues of escape! Granted, the e~ternals of the monastic day do have a certain fixed struc-ture to them. From Easter to Thanksgiving and through the New Year, the regularly recurring Hours of the Liturgy spell out continuous praise. Breakfast on Christmas morning will be celebrated in the same silence that prevails at the beginning of any "ordinary" day. So too the gathering peace of a Fourth-of- July evening after Night Prayer will be just as quiet as that of any other completed day. All of which does not rule out celebration. On the contrary, the liturgy of monastic life requires celebration. Unfortunately, it is easier to explain the staples of monastic scheduling than to present the nuances of silent celebrat-ing~ So let me try another story. It was watermelon season in the South, and our garden had produced a superabundance "pressed down and running over" with additional benefactions from other fortunate gardeners. After a full morning of grass mowing I came into choir at noon,:grateful for Midday Prayer's refreshing pause. Dinner routinely followed and the monastic menu had some of the same invariability: simple, nourishing food for which hunger provided most of the spice and sauce: the main dish would be several vegeta-bles completed by fruit for dessert. This day, once again, there were generous slices of cold watermelon. Now I'll confess, watermelon is not my favorite fruit. But as I sat down in silence, .giving thanks by opening myself to enjoyment, l suddenly found myself alive to the deep down goodness of--watermelon! Nothing had ever tasted so good. And another eucharist was celebrated. So what do contemplatives do all day? They celebrate the ordinary and enjoy its giftedness. Routine simply stabilizes their capacity for wonder. Lei-sure opens their work,to prayer and regular periods of formal prayer prevent work from becoming its own taskmaster. Bored? Never. There is too much challenge in the being/doing that is living. "But;" l hear you ask: "what's the living for?" Is Seeing Believing or Is Believing Seeing? If the bottom line of any loving is faith's free assent, then contemplative life can only be sustained in a faith that believes even when there is'nothing to show or even to see for oneself. And it's such blindness that illuminates everything and makes it all worthwhile in redemption's economy. To illustrate with another story or two. 1 had to make a trip to another monastery and ! was laying out my preliminary plans for this unusual venture with the abbess. Would | fly? Or Lt'ving the Difference / 195 take the bus? Sister replied that she would prefer I took the plane: it would be worth the extra expense. I heard her caring, and I appreciated its typical concern. But when next we spoke 1 shared with her the details of my further research on the subject of the. bus and its costs, all carefully detailed and worked out. The abbess stopped me halfway. "But, Sister, I already told you l would prefer thht you fly." That grounded me for a while. She commended my original initiative and recognized my desire to go the way of the poor. "Yet 'He became obedient'; that is what redemption is all about." Many years later I am still struggling to learn and to live in that mystery, believing that a surrender which is adult and free makes whole a world still fragmented by original disobedience. Such simple obedience is only part of the faith story. The contemplative expression of poverty, celibacy, community all take "believing" for their true "seeing." Most of the time, in my experience, all that is visible is the effort required to live out faith's assent, but sometimes understanding is given--that one may believe. Another story. The sign propped up on the refectory table amid the potato salad and the cottage cheese indicated one more national tragedy. "Mrs. S. just called. X has been shot. Please pray." My supper was seasoned by some speculation: Who had done it? And why?--the inevitable, incredulous "why". Later on that evening, when 1 found myself drawn, back to the choir to pray, those samb questions still formed the backdrop of my inarticulate presence before Him. Then, slowly, my prayer became more expressive, not so much with words as with life experience. Who had done it? Not ~them," "out there." No, I had done it. I was involved, deeply so. I was guilty. "Why?" 1 felt the surge of frustration, anger, hatred boil over within me and reach out for revenge, l was there. It was my choice to feel, to know--and to bring it all with me, in me, to Him. l stayed on in the choir in darkness, l could see why l was there, why l am here~ Ultimately it is only faith that makes the difference. So if I were to respond to my original letter of inquiry with a counter-ques-tion, 1 might well ask: "What do you consider Worth a whole life's giving'?" The richness of multiple-choice answers to that question is what completes our world and opens it to the ever fuller coming of His kingdom. The contemplative response is spelled out in a structured leisure that works hard without the sustaining drive of competitive accomplishment. It is a style of life that appreciates individual giving over personal giftedness, that values the simplest of contributed services. A contemplative is constantly surprised by beauty in the ordinary and learns to celebrate it in the language of sameness. The reconciliation of obedience with initiative and eager participa-tion with a .life that deliberately stands apart, these are some of the other paradoxes of contemplative, monastic life. So the stories go. There are many, many more--as .many as there are contemplatives and communities living out their life's faith in values that are expressed with a difference. :Spiritual Direction Frank Wallace, S.J. Father Wallace is engaged in retreat work at the Campion College Retreat Centre (Campion College; 99 Studley Park Road; KEW, Victoria, 3101). Prior to that he had been Tertian Instructor for his province. Pastoral care is a term that covers the work of many helpers whose roles may at times oVerlap, yet are specifically different. There is the parent who nurtures, the teacher who instructs, the religious superior who rules a com-munity, the confessor whose specific function is to convey sacramental for-giveness, the counselor who helps the client get in touch with his or her feelings, helps remove blocks, assists in decision making and psychological growth. And there is the spiritual° director, whose specific function is to facilitate the .encounter between God and the directee; so also do confessors, religious superiors, and perhaps, too, the other.helpers. Yet the spiritual director has a distinctive, specific function, which is emerging ever more clearly.' The Role of the Spiritual Director ~' The experience of most older religious today is that the spiritual director (or spiritual father, as he was often called) was someone you consulted about problems, distractions in prayer, and who helped you in those areas. With the growth in prayerfulness and the awareness of the need for guidance, lest we may "fall off the mountain," with the increasing popularity of directed retreats and houses of prayer, with the work of depth psychology, ,the role of the spiritual director is .seen to be more than problem solving. It is concerned very much with growth in prayer. The spiritual director has been called God's usher and so is one who helps the directee to become more aware of God coming, of God present,,.by being with the directee as he or she is opening up to God's love. Spiritual directing belongs properly, to the opening to,the Sp!rit. As Alan Jones says, spiritual direction is worship, adoration, waiting on God (Explor- Spiritual Direction / 197 ing Spiritual Direction, p. 56). At times, the spiritual director may have recourse to a psychological coun-selor or, if skilled, act as counselor, to assist inthe psychological growth of the directee, because psychological growth and spiritual growth are related, though not synonymous (see Dr. Gillian Straker, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, Vol. 38, 1979). There may be distorted images of .God, of self, of prayer, that are blocking the encounter with God and which need correcting for that encounter to take place. In this, however, the spiritual director will not lose sight of the relationship with God as the focus of his or her caring. The valuable work of the counselor in helping the directee to be in touch with his or her feelings and to acc'ept the real self, facilitates the journey to a real God, by means of real communication. So often this experience, to borrow the title of one of Morton Kelsey's books, is reaching for the real, and necessary for growth in spiritual freedom. ~ The spiritual director walks with the directee, who shares his or her prayer experiences, and together they discern what is happening. At the very heart of spiritual direction is discernment, which, in its. full meaning adds a deeper dimension to counseling, as we shall see later. The Rules for the Discernment of Spirits are a valuable cdntribution by Ignatius 'Loyola~to spiritual directing. The Directory of 1591 compares the director to a midwife. Hugo Rahner says of this: "This somewhat remarkable compa'rison of the director tO a 'midwife' is in itself an introduction to that great patristic theme of the 'birth of God in men's hearts,' which the great psychologists and~experts on human nature among the l~athers saw as a.time of internal conflict, during which considerable importance must be attached to the discernment of spirits" (Ignatius the Theologian, p. 140). Recently a friend, who is a mother and who had been directed by me in a retreat, and who had never heard of the 1591 Directgry, wrote to me, andwith her permission I quote: "I rather think you are like a midwife--assisting those in the throes of labor--knowing the birth is to eternal life.We don't see the birth--only the struggle. I know once I reached the stage of b.eing able to push, it wasn't nearly so bad .and .nobody could do the pushing for me. But getting to that pushing stage,was greatly helped by understanding midwives who helped me to know what was happening and where I was at. They encouraged, dispelled fears, transferred confidence, lifted sagging spirits, soothed and cossetted and bullied me throughout." That is as good a description of a spiritual director as I have come across, and it certainly opened up for me the validity of the 1591 image of midwife. Any serious entry into one's spiritual life may cause a great "agitation. of spirits,." as Ignatius Loyola and Peter Favre both said. The director needs to be very encouraging and reassuring, be willing to share the helplessness and pain. Convinced that any experience can be creative Qr destructive, he or she will be ready to encourage at times of fear, discouragement, disappointment. Encour- "191~ [ Review for Religious, March-April, 1985 agement is, perhaps, the most significant help that the director gives. Linked with this is enlightenment, so that the directee sees what is happen-ing, discovers the hidden God or new ways o.f praying. Enlightenment does not mean telling the directee what to do, playing God in his or her life, imposing the director's experience on the directee. The director should be a mirror for the directee to look into, a sounding board to bounce off ideas, a companion of hop, e and !ight. ' In the following model interview we note the encouragement and enlighten-ment ,offered by the director: Director: You have been telling me about, your prayer with Jesus in the garden, and said you were disappointed. What were you disap-pointed about, Mary? Retreatant: I was just fighting distractions all the time. I couldn't slay with the Lord, and I wanted to comfort him. Director: You really wanted to comfort him? That desire is surely from the Spirit, wouldn't you say? Retreatant: I suppose so, yet I really l~eel I let him down. Diredtor: Do you think the Lord is disappointed in you? Retreatant: Well, I didn't do much for him. Director: Have you asked the Lord whether he was disappointed in you? Retreatant: No, but he must be, surely. Director: Could you go to him and ask him? Only he can tell you. your disappointment is real and it is important to find out more about it. So speak to him about this feeling of letting him down. Retreatant: D6 you think this will he!p? Director: I believe it will. And I also hope you haven't forgotten about that desire to comfort him. That's the result of his power at work in you. Retreatant: That's. ~right, I did want to comfort him. So I mustn't be all wrong. Director: Well, talk it over with him. Here the director is trying to encourage and bring the retreatant to the Lord. No doubt he or she will discuss at some time the retreatant's concept of prayer, the handling of distractions, and will direct attention to the Lord's experience of pain in the garden. These are areas arising from the interview about which both must seek further enlightenment. The director will have noted how the retreatant tends to focus on the negative and forget the positive. But haste is made slowly. The Context of Spiritual Direction The context of spiritual directing varies, and so do the people seeking. There is the spiritual direction proper to a retreat. If the retreat is fully directed, the dialogue will be very much centering on the prayer experiences shared. Of course, there will be references to out-of-retreat life, but usually the focus is on the retreat prayer. Sometimes the retreat may be "semi-guided," characterized by one or two talks to the group, and the opportunity to talk with a director. In Spiritual Direction / 199 that context there seems to be less discussion of the individual, distinctive prayer movement, because the situation is not as intense. So in these two retreat contexts we see some variation. Outside of retreat there may be ongoing spiritual direction, characterized by regular, frequent interviews, extending over a year or longer. This will mean discussion of daily life experiences as well as the prayer experience. Often this means that the director moves into a counselor's role, although the dialogue about prayer and God should not be overlooked. There may be the kind of directing relationship that calls for interviews only occasionally during the year, as a kind of "accountability checkup," with the opportunity to talk over one's spiritual life made available at these meetings. Finally, a spiritual director may be sought out in a crisis situation, either because he or she is recommended, or because the alternative of seeking a counselor, psychologist, psychiatrist is too alarming, Although the expectancies and the dialogue in all these cases will vary, the spiritual director, qua director, will focus on relationship with God--though in differing ways, according to the directee's needs. Gerald G. May summarizes the role of the spiritual director very succinctly when he describes it as "a pointing of direction; a 'setting of environment, a sharing of oneself, and a deep attentiveness"( Pilgrimage Home, p. 23, Paulist Press, 1979). Some Qualities in a Good Spiritual Director Ordination, of itself, does not gift the priest to be a spi~tual director. Today we are seeing lay people °and nuns exercising this ministry; and doing so successfully. What are the qualities needed? Love The director must be able to relate to people, to love people, to be free to feel warm to them and to receive their warmth. Morton T. Kelsey in Caring, writes well of this and says: "It is impossible for us to love other people unless we listen to them . The kind of listening I am talking about is listening which does not judge or evaluate" (p. 67). It is the quality of the listening that shows whether you are .loving the person, deeply interested in him or her, listening to know and accept, not to change, judge; evaluate. It is a listening that respects the distance and the difference of the other, a listening that patiently waits for the revelation of the other, a listening that can lay aside personal agendas because of ~he absorption in the other. It is a warmth, however, that is not possessive, that allows the other the freedom to be his or her own person. In The Practice of Spiritual Direction, Barry and Connolly speak of the need to have a "surplus of warmth" (pp. 126-130). They mean "a love for a variety of people, warts and. moles and all," which is characterized by com-mitment, the effort to understand, and spontaneity. The director must be free 200 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1985 to be his or her own person, not seeking to satisfy emotional needs through the directee, nor imiaosing agenda or experiences on the other. Nor must the director lay fidse expectations on himself or herself by trying to play God in the other's life as a solver of that person's problems. He or she listens so fully that he or she "enters into the skin" of the directee. This demands generous love because it leads into compassion which is shared helplessness, shared pain. It means beifig able to stay with the other no matter how hard that is, losing yourself in the other. Clearly we are not talking hire of sentimental attachments, but love as understood by St. Ignatius in the Contemplation for Attaining Divine Love. Sensitivity, courtesy, gentleness, reverence, patience are all quali-ties that fill'out the love the director must have for the directee, plus a willing-ness to accept silence: He/she is responsible to the directee, but not for. The quality of our responding reveals how we are listening. If there is no response, the directee may not have the sense of being heard, and, as Gerard Egan says, that is "hollow listening." Listening with the head only leads to judgment and just as the directee wants to be heard, so also does he or she want to be accepted, not judged. "Don't worry about that. You have no need to feel that way," as first responses are passing judgments, and reflections on the directee. What he or she wants is to be accepted, and this is experienced through responding with understanding. "I see that is very worrying. You must have been very hurt," and so forth. As the director listens with full absorption, the understanding will deepen, so that the sources of the feelings will be seen. When judged opportune, the director may communicate that deeper under-standing. The goal of listening is total listening, responding from the heart, not merely from the head. Gerard Egan writes well of listening and responding in You and Me. Total listening means listening with one's eyes, ears, head, heart so that one is lost in the other. It is contemplative listening, which hears what is not said, which hears the tone of anxiety, sees the expression of joy or worry, enjoys being with the other, and communicates that: "You are the only person in my world just now." The genuine love we are speaking of is marked by utter honesty and openness with the directee. So there can be no pretense, no bluffing by the director, but a transparent, open love. Brutal harshness and'severity have no part in this honest trust, even though sometimes they are mistaken for it. If there is to be confrontation it is important that~ this come from love, and be seen to come from love. Setting up "win/lose" situations tomes from a desire to Be right, not from love. As the directee experiences being trustbd by the director, so he or she is encouraged to trust the director with that precious "hidden self" that Paul writes of in Ephesians 3:14-21. All this will facilitate a genuine encounter between persons and with God, not just a mask meeting a mask. Sensitivity to the mystery of the other is the soil in which intimate relationships grow. The director needs to be comfortable with mystery, whether it is the mystery of God, of the directee, of self, so that there is this growth in sensitivity. Spiritual Direction / 201 There must, then, be patience to wait on the directee, on God. It is a great temptation to push sometimes, and this must be resisted, for, as Ignatius Loyola teaches, the Lbrd chooses to deal directly with the soul, and the director must not get in the way of this meeting. Simone Weil spoke of "waiting patiently, but with expectation, for the coming of the Lord." As the example of the midwife reminds us, it is only the ,mother who pushes, not the midwife. Dr. Jack Dominian describes this love as sustaining, healing and promoting "growth (Tablet, 14 May, 1983). Toial listening is sustaining because it conveys to the other that you care. A responding that clarifies, confirms and ~ffirms the goodness of the'other, not reinforcing the badness they see, and which" can help open the directee to God's personal love, is healing and promotes growth. There is little growth without pain. Wounded people can be frightened by the love offeredand may lash out in their fear, challenging the sincerity ofthe love offered. The director must be willing to stay in there,"sh~ring the hurt and the helplessness. That~ is compassion, shared helplessness, and the director shares in the growth of the directee as they walk together' in the mystery of pain_ and healing. We are all wounded healers if we are close to Christ. Mary could stand by the cross, sharing the helplessness of JesuS, without moving away because she could "do nothing" for him. At times the directoi-'s role is just to be a presence, helping transform helplessness into strong hope, not hopelessness (2 Co 12:7-10). This can be very difficult and painful, because the more love we bring to a situation, the more vulnerable we are. Peter tried to come between Jesus and his cross because he loved Jesus. Later he learned it was a false kind of Io~e, that was directed more at himself than at Jesus. So, the director may feel deeply the pain of the other and wish to come between the directee and Calvary. Dr. Dominian is not exaggerating when he writes: ~For anyone of us to succeed in loving, we have to suffer, and die a thousand deaths. Here is the encounter between grace and nature at its most powerful" ( Tablet 14 May, 1983¢p. 446). Directors who have stayed with directees in their Gethsemanes will agree. Feelings and Affectivity . The director needs to be aware of the importance of feelings. They are messages to ourselves about ourselves and we are diminished when we do not listen to them. The relationships.between the director and directee, as .between both and God, are deepen.ed as there is a growing .awar¢ness of the feeling responses present, and a sharing of them. ,. Feelings, by Willard Gaylin M.D. (Ballantine Books, N.Y.) and Feeling and Healing Your Emotions, by Conrad Baars M.D. (Logos) are helpful books. Baars speaks of humane and utilitarian emotions, directing attention to the psychic energy emotions release. ., Barry and Connolly speak of Anger, Deep Fears, Warmth.and "l:enderness, and Sexual Feelings, as very strong, deep feelings that people experience. There must be no blaming the other for one's feelings, for feelings are deeply 902 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1985 personal and must be personally owned. So the director encourages the directee to reveal such deep feelings to God also. Some may be prepared to reveal their so-called good feelings but not those they judge to be negative, e.g. anger. Or they may be willing to share anger (because it is becoming acceptable) but not strong sexual feelings they might be experiencing. Authentic prayer, though, is not a performance. It is an encounter with God, possible only when I am truly myself, One should be on guard against an exaggerated emphasis on anger which can be a cover up for less acceptable feelings as, for example, .sexual feelings. And it seems to have become rather common for persons to blame parents, school, Chur~ch~ their religious congregations for their present unacceptable state. Withotlt wishing to deny the influence all .these have, I wish to stress that our feelings are our ow9, and blaming others is both false and harmful. It is a sign of growing maturity when we accept responsibility for. our now lives. So .often we discover that the feelings that surface in prayer reveal the concept the directee hasof God. Hannah Hurnard in The Hearing Heart tells that for long she could not pray to Jesus, only to the Father. She was afraid of approaching Jesus lest he ask something hard of her. This would indicate that JesuS seemed to her excessively demanding. She was healed of this distortion, and could then pray to him. So a retreatant might pray to Jesus as God, but not as Man; she feels safe that way because she is frightened of men. Yet that fear is hindering an intimate relationship with Jesus, keeping him distant. Somebody else might pray to a God whois infinitely powerful, holy--and also infinitely distant, impersonal. Could such a person':experience that God really care~, is deeply fond of him or her? Perhaps what we see here is a fear of intimacy. The affectivity of the person includes the will, which besides being'an executive faculty, is also a loving faculty. The affective act of the will, "I love you," e~presses the basic desire for the well-being, the continued existence, of the beloved. Besides the will, our affective life also includes our feelings. These~are what I call the surface responses--sad, mad, glad, scared. There is alsoa deeper level of affectivity where dwells our faith, hope, love, peace, which one is aware 6f even though sensible "feeling signs" are missing. For example, a directee may speak of aridity in prayer, and yet there is the longing to pray, together with the awareness of an underlying deep peace. When John of the Cross speaks of the signs for moving prayer into contempla-tion, he is alerting us to these deeper levels of our affectivity. Discernment Thespiritual director is a walking contradiction, in that he or she isto be a "Competent incompetent" as someone has: said. The director must be incompe-. tent, because it is God's work at issue, God's. power that gives the increase (2 Cb 12:7-10; 1 Co 2:1-5). So, we must~tru~t ih God's power at work in the °Spiritual Direction / 203 director and in the directee, "doing infinitely more than he can ask or imagine" (Ep ~:14-21. This attitude must be continually growing and relied upon. But the director also must be. competent, skilled in total listening and in discet:nment. It is the discernment of spirits that is at the heart of.spiritual direction and which ultimately differentiates it from counseling. Ignatius Loyola and Peter Favre were good directors because they were both skilled in dis-cet: nment. As with them, so with the modern director, this skill is learned by being attentive to one's own responses--thoughts, feelings, behavior. Reflect-ing upon these experiences, for instance, the director will begin to observe their beginning, their middle and their end. Thus he or she begins to distinguish movements which are from God, movements authored by self, and move-ments stemming from forces outside, whether good, neutral or bad. The spirit-ual director learns from the movements in his or her own life the skills of discernment. Rarely are things black and white. Sifting tlie good and the bad, the wheat and the tares, is.a gift from the Spirit. The matter for discernment is the actual experiences revealed by the directee. Together, the director and directee prayerfully reflect upon these experiences to distinguish what is God-wards from wtiat is not. The directee, for example, may speak of a "peace-filled prayer." Nrt all peace, however is from the Good Spirit. Some is the result of achievement, some the accompaniment of a tranquil environment, some is the false peace of complacenc~,, and some truly i~ God's gift. What is this "peace" before us now? What are its fruits, and is it enduring? How does it measure with the packet group of Galatians 5:22-24? Humbly, patiently; both director and directee wait upon the Sp!rit to reveal the truth. Perhaps disappointment is reveaied in h sessio_n with the director. "Whom are you disappointed in? What are you disappointed about?" Following through on the answers offered can be richly rewarding, and can point the way in which the Spirit is guiding the direcl~ee. There are many writings about the discernment of spirits to help ,the director. A good knowledge of the Rules ~iven in the Spiritual Exercises of Ignatius Loyola is most helpful. Jules Toner has published a Commentary on these Rules for the Discernment of Spirits. This° is the fullest and deepest treatment I have read. Chapter 10 of Fessard's ~fe in Faith and Freedom, Michael Buckley in the Way Supplement 20, Harvey Egan in "The Spiritual Exercises and the Ignatian Mystical Horizon," the Memoriale of Blessed

Issue 44.6 of the Review for Religious, November/December 1985. ; Expectations of CommUnity Inculturation A Theology of Death and Grief The Discernment of Ministry: a Process Volume 44 Number 6 Nov./Dec., 1985 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd., St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. REVIEW FOR RELIG|OUS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. © 1985 by R EVlEW FOR R ELtqtOUS~ Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription U.S.A. $10.00 a year: $19.00 for two years. Other countries: add $2.00 per year (postage). For subscription orders or change of address, write R EV1EW FOR RELIGtOUg P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editor Nov./Dec., 1985 Volume 44 Number 6 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REVIEW t-'on RELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Richard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave.; Berkeley, CA 94709. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. Current Conceptions of Religious Formation: An Analysis Martin O'Reilly, C E C. This article by Brother O'Reilly, Formation Director for his community in Liberia and Sierra Leone was originally prepared as a position paper undertaken in connection ,with the development of a novitiate program for West Africans seeking to join his community. Brothe,r may be addressed care of the Christian Brothers; P.O. Box 297; Monrovia, Liberia. It is difficult to name what'is a~tually done in religious formation. Although the enterprise has a recognizable history dating back at least to the time of St. Benedict, when we raise the question: What are we doing when we form others to be religious? there is little consensus about the nature of the activity. A more abstract question, .such as: What is Religious IJfe? might be more easily answered. But religious formation is not an ahistorical abstraction. - It is a practical activity. Men and women enter religious communities, and other men and women are "sent" to form them. Formation, as such, does not exist, there is only what people do, and want to do, in its name. This article will consist of a brief survey.of the principle approaches to religious formation current today, anda proposed tentative defintion of formation that gives equal weight to the past, present and future dimensions of a religious community. Although theory will not provide simplistic answers to such questions as: "When do we give the habit?" it does provide a basis for ascertaining whether one's practices are consistent with one's beliefs and for understanding how new insights and differing circumstances may modify existing practices. Perennialist Conception of Religious Formation The ."perennialist" position, exemplified by much of pre-Vatican II 1101 1~02 / Review for Religious, November-Dec.ember, 1985 religious formation, is based mainly on the authoritative position of the "formator" as the person entrusted with the task of instructing others in the perennial truths of religious life. The relationship of formator and those being "formed" is in the context of master and pupils. The person who is responsible for formation is very conscious of the expectations of those in higher authority that, certain permanent truths are being taught in a didac-tic manner. The principal model of instruction is that best described as "teaching." The starting point is usually the prescribed constitutions, the life of the founder or foundress, and the history of the congregation. The theoretical motivation for both formator and those being formed is in essence the same: he or she is to teach, and the novices are to learn. Of course, it is presumed that there are other factors operating, so that the novices' personal understanding of being religious is complemented by their actual life in community. The duties of a good religious are empha-sized in various ways: by being reminded of their personal responsibility for coming to know and accept their call from God through frequent conferences; by being encouraged to be loyal to their formation group, and to be obedient at all times to those in authority. Besides regular prayer and Mass, numerous devotional exercises and retreat days ensure that a sense of piety is being fostered. It is quite natural that such an'approach to formation tends to emphasize the descriptive rather than the prescriptive elements of religious life. The value of much of its style and method is in its precision in indicating what has to be learned and understood about becoming a religious. But by the same token it is all too easy to produce a hothouse variety of religious who, vocation-wise, wither in the more temperate zones of regular and imperfect community life. Such an approach can fail to distinguish sufficiently between the precepts of the religious life and the vocational growth and development of those in formation, with the result that conformity is substituted for free response. This is not to say that the perennialist approach is altogether unsatisfac-tory. Many outstanding religious have come through such an initiation into religious life. For those who have come from devout Christian homes, such a formation style undoubtedly offers a security and an initial certainty that religious life is for them. But however beneficial such a model of formation may be for some, it can only be unrealistic in relation to those coming from a secularized background,,or who live in a situation where the Church herself is still very young. Essentialist Conception of Religious Formation The essentialist position, as represented by ReneCarpentier, holds that Current Conceptions of Religious Formation: An Analysis / 1103 the .religious life is "above all things a life, a Christian life, a life based on the Gospel and one with the Church."1 Carpentier's work in Belgiumin the 1950s convinced him that the obligations of religious life seemed to be treated as ends in themselves. There was very little Good News about the religious life~ He therefore advocated a return to the sources of religious life, viz. Christ, the Church, and the Scriptures. The biggest challenge offered by Carpentier to religious formators was for them to underpin their work with a genuine theology of religious life: ~It is not enough to show them the religious state as a life apart, closed in oh itself and "withdrawn from the world." It is to the religious life, within the Church, that our Lord's words may be applied: "You are the light of the world." We must show its relationships with .the Church and the world, and with salvation and sanctificati6n of all men. We must have recourse to a "theol6gy" of~ the religious life,2 Advocates of the essentialist approach to formation work concentrate on imparting an understanding of religious life as a living out of the ¯ "essential" Christian ideals. The emphasis placed upon providing a gcriptu-ral and theological rationale for religious life gives an intellectual flavor to formation, and casts the formator in a "lecturer" role as opposed to the perennialist "master-pupil" approach. Because essentialist formators share the belief that religious formation is largely a matter of intellectual training, the interests and needs of those in formation are of limited value for determining the nature and content of the foniiation program. While essentialism gives a needed, firm intellectual underpinning to religious formation, it is largely an adult concept, which in turn requires a certain adult ability to view reality in a holistic fashion. Many in such a formation program, however, fail to see the relevance to their own lives of courses in Scripture, theology, church history and liturgy.' The problem with this approach, as with the perennialist pathway, is that it is character-~ ized by what can be called a "pedagogy of. object" i.e., the models of learning it relies upon are almost exclusively concerned with handing on the.charism of religious life, which itself is taken as an unchanging and universally understood aim. Admittedly, the essentialist approach looks more towards the dynamic nature of the Christian life to provide the context for ~understanding the nature of the religiouS vocation, but it underplays the aspects of the "present" and "future" of society, the Church, religious life, and the persons themselves who are preparing for religious profession. Existential Conception of Religious Formation The keynote of the existential approach is basically its concern with the 804 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1985 subject io be formed in his or her actual life situation. The words which characterize this approach are sincerity, dynamic', commitment; relevance, authenticity, choice,freedom, and experience. For those who look at for-mation. in this way, the key to .human and Christian living is the continuing choice of an "authentic" way of life. lnauthenticity means taking shelter behind the routines, the trivialities and the morally undemanding patterns of everyday life. ,To be authentic means to acknowledge basic moral chal-lenges, to be open to the ambiguities and contradictions of life, and to respond to them by committing oneself afresh to the values one perceives to be at the heart of a meaningful existence. Religious life, in the existentialist sense, is viewed and understood asan expression of the life of faith, and so must find its verification in real life. If it is not to be a dead faith, it must be acted out in deeds. For the existential-ist, it is the motivation, not the forms, of religious life that differentiates the religious vocation from that of others. In practice a formator schooled .in existentialist thinking will give prom-inence to discussion methods as the way of learning, and will emphasize the importance of the differences in the life situation of each candidate in his or her personal response to the call of religious life. A greater measure of freedom will be extended in various ways to those being formed, and the view will be encouraged that both formator and those in formation are engaged in a common enterprise of discerning the personal and social significance of the vowed life. Constitutions and histories of the congrega-tion will have only a limited role in an approach such as this. They may serve as reference or guideline, but hardly as a starting point. Emphasis therefore will tend to be much more on a diversity of sources--literature, films, music and newspapers--indeed all the sources of. information encountered in ordinary.living. There will be a fundamental sense in which it is important not to be specific about particular means of being a religious, because what is being described arises from the life-situations of those concerned. Without doubt the existen.tiai approach makes being involved in reli-gious formation a very creative and personally satisfying experience. Con-cern for the giftedness and insights of those entering religious life had rarely been present in the previous history of religious formation. Sadly these insights had been largely subordinated to the immediate needs and interests of the congregation, and formation was more often than not more a training or domesticating than a forming. The existential pathway, on the contrary, asks the formator to believe that he or she is living and praying with people who are alread3; under the influence of the Holy Spirit. The chief problem ~vith this approach to formation arises from the fact Current Conceptions of Religious Formation: An Analysis / 805 that the breadth of it provides no clue as to the kinds of experiences that properly should be provided by a formation community. The implication is that., since each candidate's experience of life is unique, each one must have his or her own formation program. Faith and well-meaning, however, are insufficient to fill the vacuum created by the abandonment of a well-de-fined initiation process. It was Dewey who said that when personal fulfill-ment is severed from intellectual activity, "freedom of self-expression turns into something that might better be called 'self-exposure'.''3 Furthermore, when too much emphasis is placed on the "inner search for meaning" of those in formation, the past heritage of a religious congregation can easily be forgotten, and responsibility for 'the future ignored; hence the shared vision that binds a group together can also become lost. ° Socialization Conception of Religious Formation The title of this approach may seem odd, for there has always been a strong community basis to formation in the sense that those being formed have lived, worked and played together in preparation for the time when they would join the wider community of the congregation. Indeed one of the important prerequisites for profession was "suitability for community life." But here the .term "socialization" is being used in a special sense, that of a planned, intensive~group experience involving both professed and nonprofessed members. The rationale behind,this approach is that "what-ever happens to the individual happens to the whole group, and whatever happens to the whole group happens to the individual." Quite simply a novice or one in formation can only say "I am a religious" because we are a :religious family. Ira founding charism is most present in the lived reality of a religious community, then'it is within a community that formation must happen. "Community-centered formation" is not .the same as ''formation within a community." The former consists of a group of professed religious and prospective members open to the challenge of living and growing together; the latter is more often thannot a convenient arrangement for housing those in formation within a regular community, with perhaps one or two helping the formator in'his ministry. The difference between the two con-cepts is that with the first one the formation of new members is a community "event," whereas With the other, formation is a "territory" clearly demar-cated from the ordinary life of the community. The core group of the formative community is made up of religious who are prepared to share their own personal and collective story of faith; to witness in an open way, to the meaning of their congregation's charism; to support those in initial formation in a bro.therly manner and to pray 1106 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1985 with and for them. The neophytes in turn are invited to "come and see" the charism and mission of the group by sharing in the common life, prayer and work of the community. This "shared praxis" approach supposes less of the presence o1: the person responsible for formation as the sole authority, and more of his presence as guide~in a fraternal network of relations~ This role of the formator means that often the work of formation will remain open-ended, ¯ that is, it is not pushed through to a predetermined conclusion for the sake of a conclusion. Whilst the main emphasis, as with the existential approach, i~ experiential rather than instructional in any formal sense, the open-community situation makes it more likely that the whole aspect .of religious life is approached in a multidimensional way. Close living, with professed religious aff?rds opportunities for the experiencing of the living charism of a congregation that no "single-parent" type. of situation consisting of one formator and the formation group can possibly provide. Conversely, having new members live with professed religious can add life and vitality to the local community, and can challenge the older brethren to look anew at the values that underpin their lives. Such an approach to formation may be successful with mature candi-dates, but it can be a wholly different story with the younger or more immature types. When formation is expected to arise from the dynamic interaction of a community, things can go badly wrong if a good number of the group are incapable, either because of upbringing or inclination, of accepting their responsibility for and accountability to others~ Not to believe that there, will be a need for "tough love" at .times, and a good d~al of personal coachingof members in the art of living together as a religious family, is to assume too romantic a view of human nature. Finally, when everyone is theoretically responsible for the formation of new members, it can quickly become the practice that no one is responsible, and people are left to hope that the newer members "get the hang of religious life" in time--a sort of formation by osmosis! 12on¢lusion Whether religious formators choose to define formation as the handing on of the perennial truths of their congregations" story or.as a radical ,living of the Christian life, as an inner search for ,meaning or as an intensive group experience, they are providing only a partial description of the term "formation.'2 Conversely, if we conceive of formation as all those growth experiences, under the auspices of a religious congregation, that ~contribute to the deepening awareness of what it means to be a religious, the definition is so broad that it fails to indicate how a planned formation program Current Conceptions of Religious Formation: An Analysis / 1~07 differs from an informal spontaneous arrangement where prospective. members learn directly from living in a religious community. If a definition of initial religious formation is to convey the full meaning of the term, it should be comprehensive while, at the same time, be sufficiently specific so that its key interacting elements are clearly conveyed. Taking these considerations into account, the following tentative defini-tion of religious formation is proposed: The planned and guided learning experience of religious life with intended learning outcomes, formulated through the systematic reconstruction of knowledge and experience, under the auspices of personnel suited to the task of aiding and evaluating a candidate's continuous growth in personal, social and spiritual competence. This definition regards religious life, and the ways of becoming a reli-gious, as dynamic. The formation process must account not only for the known dimensigns of a founding charism, but also for emergent under-standings. Consequently, religious formation is not concerned merely with transmitting the cumulative tradition of a religious congregation but also with the present dimension of a religious charism in relation to the life' experience of those seeking membership. Moreover, this definition recog-nizes that the future possibilities for the development of a charismatic religious community resides with those in formation today. NOTES ~l_zfe in the Oty of God. London: Burng & Oates, 1959, p. xi. 21bid, p. xii. 3John Dewey, How We Think, rev~ ed~, Lexington, MA: D.C. Heath & Company, 1933, 'p, 278. Even Discipline Has Its Season: Thomas Merton and Formation Today Thomas M. King; S.J. Father King has done extensive study and writing on Thomas Merlon. He is an Associate Professor of Theology at Georgetown University where he resides. The mailing address is: Jesuit Community; Georgetown University; Washington. DC 20057. Before he entered the Trappist Monastery of Gethsemani, Thomas Mer-ton wrote part of a novel that concerned a young man considering the priesthood. Like Merton himself, the young man played amateur jazz and had been leading a somewhat dissipated life. He saw his present life as remote "from the kind of discipline and perfection for a priest." As the young man thought about the priesthood, it was the word discipline that occurred again and again. Discipline appealed to him. At the same time as he worked on the novel, Merton wrote an unpublished essay that compared the lay and the priestly life. The priests were considered the lucky ones: "For them, from now on, everything is definite, is settled for them." In writing The Seven Storey Mountain he told of thi.nking about the monastery before he entered it: it was seen as a place of "much discomfort and no pleasures . I used to love books and study, but God will want me to die to all of that." He told of pursuing his novitiate with such enthusiasm that he made a nuisance out of himself by urging his novice director to reduce his portion of butter and cheese to be the same as the other monks', and he wanted permission to attend all the sessions of monastic prayer. By these permissions he wanted to lose himself in common life. He wrote a vivid statement of the Cistercian life that appealed to him: When a man becomes a Cistercian, he is stripped not only of his clothes, or 808 Thomas Merton and Formation Today / 1109 part of his skin, but of his whole body and most of his spirit as well. And it is not finished ~hat first day: far from it! The whole Cistercian life is an evisceration, a gutting and a scouring of the human soul. Merton had felt drawn to the monastery when he had visited there eight months before he had entered. Then he had seen a postulant take his ~place among the novices and he observed: "The waters had closed over his head and he was submer~ged in the community." The postulant was dressed like the other monks and was lost in the "anonymity" of the choir. Merton claimed that those who stayed in the monastery were those who simply followed the Common Rule, a Rule wherein each monk was "absolutely lost, ignored." This was the ideal he was seeking in the monastic life. Merton wanted to live a life of self-sacrifice. For years he had lived according to the urgings of his appetites only to find he was a confused victim of his own "self-contradictory hungers." The nature of these hungers were evident to him in many ways; for example, he was compulsively attending movies. Yet he would no sooner be in the theater than he .would despise the stupidity of the film; but soon he would again be at the movies. In deciding which religious group he would join, he told of wanting "a Rule that was almost entirely aimed at detaching me from the world." He was pleased to describe his entry into Gethsemani as "nothing less than a civil and moral death." He soon esteemed the other monks around him, for they had abandoned "all preoccupation with themselves and their own ideas and judgments and opinions and desires," they .had put their "whole life in the hands of another" through obedience: "The greatest of the vows is obedience." The .monk was said to be significant not because of what he does. but because of what he is: a monk: The religious habit itself was said to have the grace of a sacramental. Merton exalted in his community life and saw most people outside of monasteries as hopelessly confused. When he looked at the luggage he had brought with him, he reflected that he could no longer believe in himself as a layman. These .general themes are familiar to readers of The Seven Storey Mountain, though some of the passages remain unpublished (they can be seen at the Merton Study Center in Bellarmine College, Louisville, Ky.). The picture he gave of monastic life was demanding and severe, yet the surprising thing was the number of people who found what he described had a fascinating appeal. In the ten-year period after the publication of The Seven Storey Mountain, Gethsemani received approximately two thou-sand postulants! The number seems to say something about what people were looking for in joining "religious life." Many, of course, did not stay. With the passage,of time Merton's monastic euphoria underwent 1110 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1985 considerable change. He came to fight against the anonymity he had desired. He spoke'of monks "left with a husk of outward forms and no inner vocation." Though he had idealized entering the monastery as a form of death, he would come to ask, "Does our monastic life become so artificial and contrived that itis no longer really a life?" He had judged obedience to be the great monastic virtue; but later he would object that "doing what you are told., substitutes for life itself." He was no longer enthralled by the anonymity of the choir: "The choir is the scene of much depersonaliza-tion andanguish." He protested that monastic life should not be a "total abdication .of all human worth and identity." He even claimed that the whole concept of discipline in the life of prayer did not arise until the fifteenth century! He wrote an amusing caricature of monks who believe they are better than those in the world; the world was no longer seen as simply a place of error and sin. In his early writing he had affirmed that a monk's worth was in "being a monk." But he later said that he himself did not "comfortably wear the label of monk?' He wanted to be "a non-monk even, a non-layman, a non-categorized man, a plain simple man." "My hermit life is expressly a lay life." He told of a personal policy of"not appearing as a monk, a priest, a cleric," and said with some satisfaction, "I am a tramp." His biographer, Monica Furlong, explains, "It was as if he had abandoned all interest in the persona of the monk." The change in Merton reflected a change that was general in religious life. Religious discipline generally became less evident and many religious tried to.avoid a special identity in either manners or dress. Novices were often integrated directly into communities of formed religious, and obe-dience was no longer seen as a way of inner liberation--it was just a matter of convenience or greater efficiency of organization. Most religious would say the changes had been for the better. But recently while writing several articles on Merton, I came to believe that the more relaxed monastic life that is generally found today would in no way satisfy the Merton who entered "the monastery in 1941. At the time he entered he had different needs, needs which did not last indefinitely. Yet the general relaxation was a change that he had helped bring about. Like many others who entered the religious life in the fifties, I had been inspired by Merton's enthusiastic account of religious life. I had. been less dissipated, but I felt a similar need "to get hold of myself" and work through my "self-contradictory hungers." I entered a Jesuit novitiate where discipline was strict. Devotions, times~ to sleep, to eat and to recreate were regulated by a bell with little room for individual inclinations. Clothing, haircuts, readings and friendships were allowed little opportunity to develop accord- Thomas Merton and Formation Today ing to one's own taste~ Religious life was a way of freeing one from one's own tastes. One could wonder if that is still seen as a value--yet that was a major" reason that the noviceship took so long. In those days other Jesuits were not even to visit the novitiate "lest they disedify the novices." We believed that we were following "the more perfect way." 1 think that way of living would be frustrating for me now--but that does not mean it was not what I needed then. It was. There are seasons in one's life. Recently I was assigned to spend two years working with Jesuit novices. Meals remain scheduled, but the daily order was mostly gone. Dress is casual, betamax movies are regularly shown, beer is generally available and groups go out for:pizza. It is a more ordinary kind of life than I had known as a novice--and appears much like the life of those "in the world" or the life of longtime Jesuits. But should it be so? In working with the novices I decided much of the happiness of my own novitiate was not. present, My happiness .was perhaps naive--not unlike the happiness Merton had found among the Trappists.Like Merton I, too, had to resolve some contradictory hungers and deal with a confu-sion of undigested ideas. The exterior discipline provided support for my own efforts io control immediate appetites. I would not agree today with ma.ny of the ideals that made up the "more perfect way," but it gave me a clear look at myself and something to strive for. And in striving for a difficult goal I knew satisfaction--by being unconcerned with satisfaction. I knew better my appetite for God byignoring my other appetites. .I have visited other novitiates and talked with others in formation and I do not know if what had been valuable for me is still available. In recently doing some serious study with the texts of Merton, I came to understand something about, myself. Merton had become severe in judging the struc-tures of religious life that once he had found necessary and supportive. In the 60s I and other religious went through the samechange. But now I have come to argue there are seasons in one's life. There is a time when discipline is needed and a time when it should be relaxed. And this difference gives rise to a significant difficulty when novices early in formation are integrated into communities of formed religious. Perhaps the difference of seasons can be seen in the two sets of Rules for Discernment of Spirits offered by St. Ignatius. One set is for the First Week and the other is for the Second Week. Thus, they are put in terms of a temporal sequence, in terms of seasons. In the Rules for the First Week-- and Ignatius seems to believe that many people do not pass beyond this week--one judges one's interior movements (spirits) by a somewhat demanding objective standard. One is to shape one's life according to the commandments and the Gospel ideal and, therefore, it is according to these I~1~ / Review for Religious, November-December, 1985 Rules that one accepts the interior movements that ~support the defined ideal and.rejects the movements that do not. At the .end of the First Week (inthe kingdom meditation) one makes a radical dedication of oneself to God. In this meditation one is expected to make a deliberate choice to willingly bear all poverty~ trials and humiliations for the Lord's sake. It is a frightening expectation; but it is only after one has made such a prayer, that one is to use the Rules for the Second Week. To contrast the difference between the two sets of Rules:~ in the first set one conforms oneself to an objective standard; one tries to overcome one's feelings (movements) by judging objectiVely which feelings are appropriate. Then, in the Rules for the Second Week, one listens to one's feelings (one's consolations and desolations) in 6rder to learn from them what one is to do. One learns from the feelings only after distancing oneselffrom them and only after instructing them. Thus, at different times during the Exercises, very different norms are appropriate for dealing with "feelings." Having given hundreds of directed retreats, I have sensed that Rules for the First Week are often given only brief consideration or ignored. Much of the reason is that there is considerable ambiguity about the ethical questions that once had been so clear. Yet if one has not been through a considerable discipline of moods and appetites and begins using the Rules of the Second Week, one begins taking disordered moods and trivial appetites as messages from heaven. Thereby one becomes hopelessly confused--most people "in the world" know better than to do this. Ignatius took his own moods seriously and proposed a method of listening to consolations and desola-tions- but he would use this method only after he had disciplined them. 1 have done a fair amount of spiritual direction, and with it 1 have come to believe that many directees--by no means all--need less "spiritual life" and more objective conformity to demands of the Gospel. Any professional identity (doctor, athlete, musician, and so forth) requires an extended season wherein one conforms to an objective discipline. Senior doctors can follow their "hunches," while young interns generally should not. Mozart has recently become known as a highly spontaneous composer. There is some truth in this understanding, but Mozart became that way only after following a disciplined training that was brutal in its drmands.,l do not recommend brutal training for either musicians or religious. (Though from Mozart to Merton it has .produced some good results.) But, on the other hand, it does not make sense to believe one can be agood religious simply by being one's spontaneous self from the novitiate onwards. If that were the case there would be no need for a novitiate, other than a brief period in which to school the novices in the constitutions, charism, history, and so forth. When religious are simply integrated into Thomas Merton and Formation Today / 813 regular community life, they would seem to "have it made" more readily than is possible in any other profession. And this should lead one to suspect that something is missing in whathad been known as a demanding profes-sion- one that had appealed to the desire of the young, not to have it made, but to sacrifice one's self for a cause. Because of a current and much needed emphasis on personalism and because of smaller numbers entering religious life, many religious groups now "tailor the program for individual needs." But the present article would claim that such tailoring is not simply the better thing. There is also an advantage in. having a more or less uniform program according to which the novice should be tailored to fit a new way of life. Merton felt he needed considerable tailoring. If his novice director had tailored the life according to Merton's unique personality, would his director have left him in the chaos of his hungers and even more ill-adjusted~than he was to Trappist life? I suspect Merton would have been a better monk if he had not received a special assignment to "literary" work shortly after he had entered the community. Merton wanted to be lost in anonymity, the.ano-nymity of common life. In this age of personalism is there still something that can be said .for anonymity? There are advantages in losing oneself in "common life," especially ~when it is part of formation. One identifies with a group only if one has actively striven to become part of it. Such is the only way that a sports team can develop an esprit de corps.The members do not develop a common spirit unless they have been together in a common and demanding training. Members of such a team have tailored themselves to fit together in spite of their differences--and that is the power in their bond. It is only by striving to live by something more important than personal preferences, that one can discover the power of a community bond, a bond that is not at all the same as the friendship bond. The latter is based on personal choice--it is a matter of taste; while the community bond develops when different types of people (who otherwise iriight not be drawn to one another) submit themselves to a common discipline and thereby realize they are together in something more important than their personal tastes and bigger than any of them. When Jesus was told that his family was seeking him, he respgnded that his family was composed of those who "heard the Word of God and did it." (They could be said to be following the Rules of the First Week by conforming themselves to the gi{,en Word, to an objective discipline.) They were not together simply as'a m~itter of preference or as a group of congenial people with a common interest. Can we even imagine--a tax collector and a zealot in one group! The disciples were bonded by a common discipline 1114/ Review for Religious, November-December, 1985 that united them in spite of their differences. One might also allow that within this group some friendship bonds were allowed to develop. In this age of personalism I confess that I still understand what Thomas Merton was seeking as a young monk, and I believe I was seeking some-thing similar. In short, I did not want to dedicate myself to the triviality of my own'preferences, l still know the advantage of losing oneself in an impersonal discipline and losing oneself in the anonymity of a group.And in arguing for tl~is anonymity I find support in the words of Jesus to the effect that we must first lose our self in order to find our self. This command would suggest that first there must be a season of losing, and only after that a season of finding. And the season that comes first should say something about religious formation. Sometimes conservative religious communities tell only o.f the importance of losing oneself--while liberal religious com-munities tell only of the importance of finding oneself. But the present article would argue that each has its season. Christ the Center of Our Vowed Life by Boniface Ramsey, O.P. Father Ramsey's three article's on the vows of religion are available as a single reprint: i - The Center of Religious Poverty ii - Christocentric Celibacy iii - Cruciform Obedience Price: $1.75 per copy, plus postage. Address: Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 Expectations of Community Along Life's Journey Kristen Wenzel, O.S.U: Sister Kristen teaches Sociology and Women's Studies at the College of New Rochelle. She als9 does work for religious congregations as a research consultant. Her previous article in our pages was "Toward a So~iology'of Ministry in the United States~ (July/August, 1982). She resides in the Ursuline Community at 596 Minneford Avenue; City Island; New York 10464. here is no question but that our experience of community is a very important aspect of our lives. God has so,made us that we all need to feel we belong. This is also true sociologically speaking. It is true regardless of age, family upbringing, ethnic heritage, ministry or the group with whom we live. Looking back over our experiences of community is like going on a journey. When we go on a journey, what accompanies us--things or people? When we venture out, do we pref~er to go alone or with others? When we want to rest along the way, do we seek. out friends or a quiet grove alone? When we are unsure of our direction do we follow our hunches or do we ask for help? Let me ask you, where .have you experienced community along the myriad pathways of your life--at the fork in the road, at the intersection or along "the road less traveled'~ Let me explain. When I think of "the fork in the road," I think of the times when community forces me to choose between it and my ministry or between it and my preferred friendships or family. When I picture an intersection, 1 am thinking of all these important groups in my life converging and merg-ing in one place. Sometimes experiences of community seem to be taking me, a pilgrim, on a road less traveled, a road littered with obstacles. The 1t16 / Review for Religious,. November-December, 1985 road is uneven and progress is slow. Along the pathways we have walked, what have been our experiences of community? More directly, what person(s), group, or, perhaps, minis-try or activity is carrying me through life? What is community for me? Now, let us take a more analytical look at the word "community." Understanding the Word "Community" There are a variety of understandings of the term community. If you were to ask those with whom you live how they define community, one person might share with you an experience she has had of community, for example, a special liturgy with everyone in the house present; a jubilee celebration; extended time spent together over a meal; coming together with others from several configurations in similar work where talking and sharing are done in a concerned way and meaningful context. Another person might speak of the feelings that the word community evokes: for her, community is affi.rming, challenging, frustrat!ng, supportive, alienating, gratifying. Others might tell you what they wish community would be and what it has not been for them. Yet another might come back to you with the question, "What do you mean by the community? Everyone living under the same roof?. Our cluster community? The people with whom I do ministry? The diocese or province? My friends? My family? My parish?"~ This variety of responses indicates the many different ways we define community, describe our community experiences and/or set our goals regarding community life. How we define, describe or prescribe directions for community living is the foundation for building models of community. Generally, sociologists agree on three characteristics as essential to community. They are: locale, common ties and social interaction. When we speak of "the community" this concept encompasses locale or place as the basic component. Whereas, "community," as distinguished from "the community," emphasizes the common ties and social-interaction compo-nents of the definition? In this sense community is viewed ;not so much in terms'of locale or where we live, but in terms of there being "a high degree of personal intimacy, emotional depth, moral commitment, social cohesion, and continuity in time.''3 When we religious are asked about our experience of community, what most frequently comes to mind--the geographical locale, the level of social interaction present,~ or the common bond of a shared ministry, vision, commitment? The common bond or common ties component of community refers to an organizing factor which is neither a locale.nor an emotional tie but a common intellectual or professional bond4 or, in terms of our status as Expectations of Community / 1117 religious, a common religious understanding or spiritual bond. It is this common-bond element that is referred to in the "Community Life" section of the constitutions of many religious congregations, for example: -The love that unites us finds its source in the intimate union of Father,' Son and Spirit who dwell within us. -Christ calls us to form, as did the first Christians, a community having "one mind and one heart" (Ac 4:32) and experiencing the joy of his presence. -In Christ we are one body nourished by the Eucharist and strengthened by the Word of God. What about the social inter'action component of community? Here sociologists distinguish between the rural village and urban industrial society to present the dramatic changes that have occurred in the level of social interaction between people. What the sociologists have to say, I believe, gives us insight into how community life has evolved here in the United States. In a village society most people held common values, norms and traditions. The survival and welfare of the whole village was a concern shared by all. Social bonds developed among.people from the many activi-ties and functions. Geographic mobility was limited and personal contacts were long-term. A distinctive characteristic of the village community was that each .member had a position in the social order, a position usual)y assigned at birth. Expressions of individuality such as distinctive clothing, work aspira-tions, leisure activities and friendship circles were strongly circumscri.bed by the rights and obligations of other village members. Consrquently, the self-identity of the individual often fused with the individual's identification with the village. . On the other hand, in urban industrial society life is much more diverse and fragmented. We do not have regular, continuous face-tr-face interaction with just 'any one group over a number of years. Many of the people with whom wedo come in contact we deal with in impeCsonal, functional ways. Those we live with may come from social classes and ethnic backgrounds very different 'from ours. Personal histories are heterogeneous. Conse-quently, we don't necessarily share with our companions common tradi-tions,' values, aspirations or ,goals. Unlike people in rural villages who~ spend their entire lives in the same community, we are highly mobile, not only gebgraphically but socially as well. More often than not, we enjoy a 10osely-linked network of friends across several groups rather than a close-knit network within one community. In religious life increasingly, specialized ministries also are a product of this urban industrial and technological society. I~111 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1985 Locale--common bond--social interaction. How important is locale in my experience'of community? Am I living in the particular community where I am because it is convenient for my work . . . because of my background experience or trifining for a particular ministry., because I can be close to aging parents or a sick relative., or because for me it is a real faith community to which I choose to belong?. Is a common bond, such as staffing a hospital, a love of one's foundress, serving the poor, or simplicity of life, with relatively little emphasis on locale and social interac-tion sufficient for community to exist in my estimation? Or is social interac-tion the essential element and, if so, what level of such interaction must be operative to make community for me? The relative importance we give to locale, common bond and/or social interaction indicates the model of community with which we most closely identify. Moreover, these are some of the basic elements that today's candidate for religious life will be looking at before choosingtomorrow's community. How each of us experiences community today ~s good and growth-produc-ing also influences the criteria we use in choosing the type of religious with whom we wo~ld like to live. This choice may only be able to exist in our mind. Nevertheless, the choice is real and affects the reality of community living. There is current tangible evidence that among us religious we differ in the sociological factors we emphasize in measuring the quality of commu-nity life. There is current tangible evidence that among us religious we differ in the sociological factors we emphasize in measuring the quality of commu-nity life. Current Trends Shaping Our Expectations of Community To define ~ommunity is one of the tasks to be done in developing models of community. Another very important task is to become aware of and sensitive to the current trends shaping expectations of community. Recent trends in theology and ecclesiology have had a significant impact on the spirituhlity as well as the experience of community life for apostolic religious in the United States. Among all the developments that have occurred in. the understanding of spirituality over the past twenty years, there are two that are fundamental. The first .concerns the way we view the world. Here we have moved from an assumption that reality is essentially static and unchanging to an awareness of a world that is dynamic and changing. As human persons within this world, not only are we subject to the process of continual change but'we are ourselves the very agents of that ~hange.5 It is in the acknowledgment, of being such agents that we are Expectations of Community / a19 evolving a new style of religious life. A second development, equally influential, focuses on how we view God. We have moved from an understanding of God as trangcendent and historical to the discovery of God as immanent in-our experience. We believe that human existence in its natural condition is radically oriented towards God.6 In the context of this understanding we have come to trust our experience of existence in the here-and-nowas the locus of the revela-tion of God. Consequently, e~eryday historical life and religious life are not separated. Experience takes on new meaning and becomes an integral part of our spirituality. These two broad developments in our worm view and God view make up the integrated secular and sacred climate in which community is being experienced, lived, and named among us today. The view of religious life as a mystery and a gift given to the Church in a particular moment of history has led to a search for new forms of com-munity; which will support the challenge of ministry in a new age and in a specific culture. An evolutionary perspective, which sees the life of faith as a journey and conversion as an ongoing process, has encouraged a more open and fluid approach to community.7 According to this trend community life is viewed primarily as a basic support for the mission of the religious congregation and for the ministry of the individual religious: Apostolic community life is a living out of the baptismal call to witness to the message of Jesus through ministry and service to the world. Consequently, community life is not lived apart from the world but rather within and for the world to which we belong, Our decision to live together out of shared Gospel values, and to give witness to these in society, is the foundation of community. It is such values underly-ing this decision which influence prayer, mutual support, presence, rela-tionships, lifestyle, finances, and all other aspects of community living. While community life is a living critique of the prevailing values of society,s it is also somewhat influenced and shaped.by societal trends. What are some of these secular trends challenging and giving rise to various models of community life?. John Naisbitt, in his popular book, Megatrends, deals with ten specific trends. I would like to single out three of these trends as those which I think we need to study and reflect upon in our .analysis of models of community life. Trend I. There is a persistent mbvement in society toward participatory democracy because there is a deepening conviction that people whose lives are affected by a decision must be part of the process of arriving at that decision. There is pressure On the Church, corporations, universities, local 1~20 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1985 parishes, agencies and hospitals to become more open and accountable. There is the new shareholder activism, worker participation, demand for greater employee rights and the consumer movement.9 There is no question that this trend toward participatory democracy is affecting religious and their current expectations of community. It is. an important element to be considered in building a model of community life. This growing movement toward participatory democracy is viewed by a significant number of reli- ¯ gious as an essential element if commumty for them is to be a credible and viable way of life. Trend 2. This decade is a decade of diversity, with multiple options in lifestyle, education, religion, housing, transportation, leisure activities, music and the ~.rts. The term "family".is being expanded to include a number of important relationships between people not related by blood or marriage. The country no longer holds on to the myth of the melting pot as ethnic and racial groups in growing numbers celebrate their diversity. Mul-tiple options have en';erged for women in the workplace, in personal life-styles, in choice of education, in elective sur~gery. Likewise, ~options for church membership are multiplying.~0 These trends are shaping current expectations for tomorrow's community. "Multiple Options" is becoming an evermore critical element to be considered in developing a model of community life. Cor~sider, for example~ multiple options for belonging to groups. This reality can enhance the quality of community life for contem-porary religious if we are willing not only to acknowledge this trend but to have leadership acknowledge it. Trend3. A world of interdependent communities.is being forced upon us by circumstances. Unless we recognize this we will not survive~ To achieve needed technologies we as a nation will have to work cooperatively with other nations. We will need to forge a 0ew relationship with the Third World as equal partners in an interdependent world.~ Perhaps the most significant areas of interdependence are those relating to the nuclear power issues and the growing global economy. Interdependence as expre,ssed in intercongregational-supported minis-tries, formation programs, and intercommunity living is a growing reality for contemporary religious. Interdependence for tomorrow's community means these developments will be more the reality than the exception. They will not only be accepted but embraced as integral to building a model of community life. These ~current trends do not comprise an exhaustive list. However, they are trends--religious as well as secular--that are having an impact on what we expect of community life. For example, if we bblieve that human experience is a locus for the revelation of God then, for us, God is expe- Expectations of Community rienced in interpersonal relationships, in ministry to and with others, in struggles for justice, in communal and liturgical prayer as well as in the give~and-take of daily community life. It is important that we get in touch with those patterns and trends in the Church as well as in society that are influencing our preferences for holding on to or restructuring our experi-ences of community. What are the trends you believe shape your own expectations of com-munity? It is here, I believe, that we find a clue to the reason why we may identify with one particular model of community' rather than another. Also, it is h~ere we gain insight into why, when we speak of tomorrow's community, we are speaking of multiple models that will grow in credibility and acceptancewithin a single congregation. Expectations as Expressions of Models of Community What do we mean by model? Our own experiences attest to the fact that community is a complex reality. We cannot take all dimensions of community and integrate them into a single vision of community. That would not be doing justice to its various elements. Rather, we keep them separate, highlighting different dimensions at different times. The use of models exemplifies a typological approach tothe study of community. The number of types or models is unlimited. However, I have chosen to limit the number of models lowill present to four. Each of theseomodels could .be broken down into several subtypes, but 1 will not attempt to do that. By approaching the study of community from the perspective of model, ultimately, I. am suggesting that this method offers us a multidimensional and not an uriidimensional understanding. The method of models or types can be invaluable in helping us to get begond the parochialism of our own outlook and t6 enter into fruitful dialogue with other members having a fundamentally different perspective. This particular approach should en-able us to encourage the kind of pluralism that heals and unifies ~ather than that which frustrates and divides. The use Of different models in our discussions of community evokes different viewpoints on issues and differ-ent suggestions for living out community. Sociologically, the. presentation of types or models: suggests what already is, not necessarily what Should be. Where'we live community life is determined more by circumstances, preferences and opportunities than by our trying to conform to some idealized concept in an idealized reality. Sociologically, idealized conditions do not exist--for better or for worse. The Institutional Model Here the concept of "locale" is impo~ant. The place one is assigned or II~fft / Review for Religious, November-December, 1985 sent to, the geographical locale, is believed to constitute community. It is the community for the individual in the sense that this is where one's attentiveness and availability are directed. The principal needs of the indi-viduals are satisfied by their participation in communal prayer, shared meals and recreation together. Informal contacts outside the community are infrequent and do not contribute in a major way to the individual's life. Here, to live the common life is to live community. This is the goal, the basic conviction, shared by members who live this model of, community. The structured life is formally organized with a horarium and recognized levels of authority.Ordinarily, there is a single apostolate raiher than a diversity of ministries. Decisions are made based on the common good which, with stability, is highly valued. The members' needs and expecta-tions are met, for the most part, by the community. In the context of this model, individuals experience a strong sense of belonging to the gro~ with whom they have invested so much of their energies. To a large extent they are known .by the group and usually feel comfortable in group activities. They experience support from their communal living. This sense of pur-pose and direction is strengthened because it is shared by the group. Because so much time is given to the group, less time is available to follow personal interests or become involved in Outside activities. Exposure to lifestyles markedly different from the members' own is limited: Understand-ably, these types of boundaries as well as the relative homogeneity of the community tend to reduce overt conflictual situations. Preference for this model, would be shown by such felt needs as: -Praying together: office, Eucharist, shared prayer, retreat, communal prayer service; -Arranging gatherings on provincial and local levels: summer renewal, conferenc~es, chapters, workshops, jubilees, professions, funerals, big feast days; -Sacrificing personal interests for the common goo.d;, -Playing together: shared hours of relaxation, recreation, fun times, togetherness in enjoyment of TV programs of special interest, vaca-tion, cultural outings; -Feeling a sense of belonging and ~of being "at home" with one another; -Holding community meetings frequently, where members arrange schedules in order to be there. The Individual Identity Model In this model the emphasis in community is on social interaction rather than locale. An emphasis on the community member as person replaces Expectations of Community emphasis on community as place. Value for the human in self and others, respect for the dignity of the human person and the responsible freedom of every member are the basic convictions in this model. Consequently, it is the nurturing and growth of the individual that is of primary concern. Prayer in common is seen as a support and as a challenge, helping the individual to grow by helping to develop her or his insights and gifts. Diversity in rriinistry becomes inevitable with the emphasis placed on the d~velopment of each individual's talents. Community members are learning to recognize the dignity of the human person who has both rights and responsibilities in relationship to self, to others and to the world. The value of community flows from who we are rather th~n from what we do. There is a struggle with how to blend individual rights and responsibilities with those of .the group and how to hold both in healthy creative tension. There is a deep concernwith how to empower one another to be active participants in the creation of a Church, a nation and a world that reverence'the human~dignity of all. In a special way members of this~ type of community, if it is a commu-nity of women religious, recognize that the Women's Movement in the United States has deeply influenced many who share the determination to "use our power collaboratively and collegially in non-violent ways" to bring about the creation of a world that'respects all that is human. These members are coming tb a new understandifig of what it means to be woman: "The glory of God is woman fully alive," They are experiencing a new sense of solidarity with other women. They wish to bring about an awareness of women's unique gifts to be used in the creation of a more human, loving and just world.~2 This movement has heightened among religious the need for personal and communal discernment as 'they come to (erms with change as a continuous reality in their lives. It has also led them to create participative and collegial structures within community. There is dialogue and interaction on the journey so that they might discern and respond to the Spirit leading .them into the future. Prefereiace for this model Would be exemplifieod by such statements and elements as: -Challenged and called to grow beyond myself; giving most generously of myself; -Accepting responsibility for community; owhing community decisions; having a sense of building together; enabling the community to articu-late expectations of the group and individuals; -'Desiring growth in ideniity and cha'racter as individuals and as community;, -Appreciating each member for her or his contribution; considering ~124 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1985 members as individual persons not to be overloaded with work; -Recognizing the talents and gifts unique to each person and -Affirming ministry. The Ministry Model Here community life is viewed primarily as a-basic support for the mission of the religious congregation and the ministry of the individual religious. Community exists to facilitate the individual member's availability to minister to the needs of society-at-large. The active apostolate is of primary importance in this model. This is the common bond for living together in community. Locale and social interaction are of secondary importance. It is ministering to the needs of the People of God rather than to the members of one's own congregation that is the major expectation. Religious vows in response to vocation are a consecration for mission and are viewed not as ends in themselves but rather as supports for minis-try. Personal prayer demands a contemplative stance toward all of life and leads to contemplation in the midst of action. God is experienced in minis-try to and with others.13 Consequently, prayer in common is scheduled around the demands of the apostolate. It will occur less frequently, and at times without all members present. Times for private prayer would be more common. The major consideration in decision-making would be, "How will this decision provide greater availability and effectiveness in the apostolate"?. There may or may not be a diversity of apostolate works represented among the community members. Within the context of this model, for .example, new ministries are emerging for the, semi-retired that take them outside of the community: to share at centers for senior citizens, to tutor adults or chil-dren, to do parish.visiting or home nursing. Changes occurring in the society-at-large are affecting many of the types of changes experienced in the local community. In addition, membership in other groups and com-munities is acceptable as a means to apostolic service. It is quite common for some members to find these outside groups to be their primary com-munity. All-in-all the dimensions of community life are shaped by the values, goals and expectations of those whose primary focus is the apostolate. For some religious, the value of witnessing to community in the larger society becomes the apostolate. The community exists for the sake of its witness value. The expectation here is that the group will. live community in such a way that those outside community will see among them God's action in the world. Inviting butsiders to join the community for commu-nal prayer is an important dimension. In fact, hospitality in general would be considered essential to this type of apostolic community life. ¯ Expectations of Community as~ Preference for this model would be exemplified by such manifestations -There is interest in and suppori of one's ministry; united in service of others; involved in a common apostolate, being on an Ursuline faculty, giving help to the needy and the poor; -Small group living offers unique ways to use personal gifts, in the service of, others; -Hospitality is shown to guests, whether members of one's congrega-tion, one's family or friends and -Sharing work. The Communion Model~4 In the context of this model, the members of the community share the conviction that the concept of communion unveils an ever-deeper under-standing of community. Because we are all united in Jesus Christ and form one'Body of which he is the head, we are united to each other as members of one body. The diversity of gifts, talents, personalities serves the richness and well-being of the Body of Christ which is the Church. This is the common bond that unites members in community. They share the expecta-tion, the conviction, that religious life is a microcosm of the Church, a witness to the kingdom of Jesus Christ, and therefore, it must be a com-munion. Our life together must reflect the kind of fellowship with Christ and his members that is described in the New Testament. The source of our sisterhood or brotherhood is not human compatibility but rather a com-munion rooted in faith, in baptism and in life in Jesos Christ. Communal prayer, faith sharing and Eucharist would be the essence of community in uniting each religious to Jesus Christ, Likewise, there is a strong emphasis on attentiveness to the Spirit as a source of unity. Our oneness in Christ and his Spirit becomes the underlying rationale for the types' of decisions made regarding authority, leadership, provincial gatherings, living the vows, apostolates, and efforts to continue the updating and renewal of religious life. Likewisr, this communion directs us to attend to the needs of society and to issues of social justice. Communion is unity amidst diversity and is the essence of community life. Preference for this model would be exemplified by such evidences as: -Experiencing joy in living with people dedicated to the Lord; inspired by the fidelity and prayerfulness of one's sisters; -Sharing at depth level; articulating shared values; faith, vision; -Sharing times of crisis and -Assembling for the' good of the Church. To summarize--in these four models which I have just presented, we 1196 / Review for Religious, Nove.mber-December, 1985 do not find an exhaustive study but rather a continuing exploration of various, possibilities. From a sociological perspective, we see that different models place different emphases on Iocale,~ social interaction or common bond as the foundation for developing the model. These three elements are present in varying degrees whenever we describe community or living group. No actual community identifies totally with any single model. However, every community will probably find that it has an affinity with one model more than with another. Furthermore, it is important to acknowledge that each model raises a number of issues regarding commu-nity life that need to be addressed by members. Sociological Factors Influencing Our Expectations of Community What shapes .our expectations of community? Why do we find our-selves more attracted to one model rather than to another? Why do we recognize the description of one type better than another? Why do we haxie the preferences that we do for a particular model rather than for another? Or, on the other hand, are our expectations unclear or conflictual? Do we find more than one model appealing or, simply, none at all? Will tomorrow's communities really be that much more .different from today's? The variations that exist among us regarding expectations of commu-nity can be explained, in large part, by our respective personal ~ back-grounds such as the size of the family we grew up in; whether our ethnic heritage is Latin, Irish, Germanic or whatever; the type and number of years of education we had and whether we spent our childhood and early adult years in a rural or urban environment. Our age also affects our needs regarding community, and those needs change as we move from our 20s into our 30s, our 50s, our 70s. Likewise, our social-class background will have some bearing on how we view community. And there are other sociological factors which are influential. The task before us is for each of us to identify and name those that we believe have the strongest impact on our own respective expe.ctations and preferences. At times there is a tendency to call for unity in community while downplaying diversity of sociological background; for example, to challenge one another to a simplicity of life that will unite us, regardless of back-ground, social levels, experience or education. We are not united regardless of these factors. We can only be united in a real way when we have regard for them. This does not mean.we are defined in a static way by our personal history. But, we do need to remember that personal history is God-given, and the starting point for any of our journeys. Appreciating differences and allowing ourselves to be influenced by them can add a great deal of enrichment to community life. At the least, an awareness and Expectations of Community sensitivity to one another's background can explain why there exist among us so many and varied experiences and approaches to community. Briefly, I would like to mention another set of factors affecting prefer- 6nces. I will not ela ~borate on them but I would like t6 refer to them because they are critical elements to be dealt with in working out the practical details of community models. They are what we call structural elements; for example~ (1)the building lived in, (2) size of group, (3) geographical location, (4) age distribution, (5) daily schedule, (6) length of time of stable group membership, (7) procedure for incorporating new members, (8) mix of personality types and (9) number of ministries represented. There is a great deal more I could say about sociological factors and how they influence our expectations with regard to communal living. However, I believe I have given at least an indication of how to explore and apply them in gaining insight into how our preferences shape our attraction to one model over another. Conclusion In conclusion, I would like to say that the journey mentality embodied in this paper is different from the "trip mentality" so often present in our society today. When we go on a trip our focus is on arriving. Our attention is toward the future with relatively little preoccupation on the present. We are driving sixty'five miles-an-hour to get there and what we are passing on the road is unnoticed. On the other hand, the journey, mentality is attentive and respectful of the process. It is attentive to the here and now. It is a creating.and c~reative e~xperience~ It is the p!ace to be because this is the place God is. The fact that we do not have it all together, the fact that we are searching, the fact that we are moving slowly, sometimes reluctantly, sometimes with conviction, are all positive signs and reflective of the way God's people have acted throUghout history. This is reflective of every social movement whether religious, political, economic or communal. This is reflective of what we are about in all of our deliberations about commu-nity- along our life's journey. NOTES ~Similar questions are addressed by Barbara Glendon, O.S.U., in her article, "Models of Community," REVIEW FOR RELI~,IOtJS, Vol. 38, No. 2 (January/February, 1979), 206-216. 2Jessie Bernard, The Sociology ofCommuhity (Glenview, Illinois: Scott Foresman and Company, 1973), pp. I-2. 828/ Review for Religious, November-December, 1985 3Robert A. Nisbet, The Sociological Tradition (New York: Basic Books, Inc., Publish-ers, 1967), p. 47. aBernard, pp. 4-5. SMaureen O'Keefe, L.S.A.', "Reflections on Spirituality and Religious Life," unpub-lished paper written for an all-day program on "Reflection on Apostolic Religious Life in the Archdiocese of New York" held on April 29, 1984 at Mount St. Vincent, Bronx, N.Y. ~Ibid. 7Corita Clark, R.D.C., "Communal Dimensions," unpublished paper on the interpretations of data gathered from women religious of the Archdiocese of New York who attended a program entitled, "The Experience of Religious Life in the United States" on February 4; 1984, p. 8. 81bid. 9John Naisbitt, Megatrends (New York: Warner Books, Inc. 1982), pp. 159-188. ~°Ibid, pp. 231-247. ~qbid, pp. 55-77. ~2Here 1 would recommend Carol Gilligan's book, In a Different Voice (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, .1982) where she presents the thesis that women's experience of relationship and care must be included in theories of human development which traditionally have stressed men's experience of individuation and autonomy. ~3Clark, p. 8. ~4Ernest R. Folardeau, S.S.S., "Religious Life is a Communion," REVIEW FOR REI,I-G~ OtJS (January-February, 1984), pp. 65-68. The basic ideas for this section are taken from this article. From Tablet to Heart: Internalizing New Constitutions I and II by Patricia Spillane, M.S. C. Price: $1.25 per copy, plus postage. Address: Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Llndell Blvd. St. Louis, Mlssoud 63108 Eucharistic Community of Disciples William E Hogan, C.S.C. Father Hogan's last article, "A Sense of Consecration," appeared in the issue of November/December, 1983. He continues to reside at the generalate of the Christian Brothers: Fratelli Cristiani; Via della M~glianella, 375; 00166 Roma, Italy. Since Vatican II it has beeri commonplace to say that the Eucharist is the highpoint of the day, the summit, the center. This is the manner of expres-sion one encounters in constitutions, conferences, formation instructions, and so forth. Yet many of us on the individual and community level could very well ask ourselves if in fact the Eucharist is the central point of our-day, if we do approach it. with the spirit and outlook that enables it to be our real focal point. In actuality we may well,discover that our vision of Eucharist is narrow, and that we "do"~Eucharist because it is expected of us. It is not too distant in the past that big gatherings were marked with Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament, for that was an accustomed way of noting special occasions. Now whena group of religious come 'together for a meeting or solemnity, the expectation is that the occasion will call for a community Mass. This is all well and good, but we may be missing its impact on the community and our individual persons unless our eucharistic horizons are broad; for it should not simply be an occasion for celebrating with song and ceremony. Indeed, it is also a moment for healing, for proclamation, and for recommissioning in service. Our times have seen a wonderful explosion of renewed insights into Eucharist as a result of theological and scriptural reflectionJ There has been a return to many of the aspects of eucharistic awareness prevalent in the early Christian community, but progressively neglected with the.pas-sage of time, especially when the vision of so many was primarily restricted 829 I1~1~ / Review for Religious, November-December, 1985 to Eucharistic Adoration. These insights should not be left in the intellectual domain; if carried over .and integrate.d into our daily vision, they can greatly enrich one's appreciation of Eucharist and help toward a realization of the Eucharist as the center of the day and of the community. As a means of helping people to make the Eucharist central, spiritual writers often enough used to speak of spending half of the day in thanksgiving for the Eucharist that had been celebrated and the other half in preparation for the next Eucharist. Surely many individuals found this approach helpful, but even more could be gained from incorporating into our lives the fruit of the present eucharistic renewal. At the outset, though, let us not be tempted to reject the wealth of spirituality that has come to us over the centuries from this emphasis on Eucharistic Adoration. For time spent in the Eucharistic Presence can serve as a powerful source of growth and strength in one's relationship to the Lord and to others, especially in terms of fostering an awareness of the many other presences of God 'in one's daily living. Through a lived awareness of the community, service and prophetic dimensions of Eucharist, individuals and communities may discover that Eucharist can be an integrating factor of daily life, and lead them to become a "eucharistic community of disciples,;' as the Lord Jesus intended. When we gather as a community to hear God's word and offer ourselves in union with Christ to .the Father, we assemble as a people of brokenness in need of healing and forgiveness for .our failures to carry out the Lord's command of love for, and service to, our sisters and brothers.° We bear all the weaknesses with which our personal and community qives~are laden~ and ~with the multiple failures ofour unfulfilled resolves to be more open to the Lord individually and together. We come in need of individual and community healing. The initial rite of the Eucharist introduces us to its forgiving and healing aspect as we sincere.ly acknowledge our need. It opens us up to rediscover the presence of Christ in our midst--not just the presence of Christ in his word, in the consecrated bread and wine, in the minister, ~,but in~ the very group of people with whom we have come together to worship. Jesus is there in the midst of the human weakness, the~ tensions, the variety of personality types, the physical sizes and shapes. He is there because we are gathered in his name. And he calls us forth from ourselves to discern his presence at the time in the community of worship. ,~ It is not enough that we discern his other presence~ in the eucharistic celebration. Our eucharist does not deserve the name in the full sense if we are unaware of his presence in the assembly, since Eucharist involves the interrelationship of a series or network of modes of Christ's presences. It is, as it were, a way in which Christ concretizes the connection between love Eucharistic Community of Disciples for God and love for people. It is an extension of the Emmaus incident in which the two travelers could recbgnize Christ in the breaking of the bread because they had shown hospitality toa fellow journeyman, inviting him to stay with them. Thecommunity aspect of Eucharist is not just a matter o.f song, gestures and prayer together, important as these ~re; for they can fast descend to the level of the empty ritual against which Jesus spoke. Rather this facet of Eucharist centers on a faith conviction that Jesus is in ~the midst of his people, a Risen Brother among sisters and brothers, leading them in wor-ship of the Father by the power of the. Spirit. And the perception of this manner of Jesus' presence is related to the breadth of our view of the Jesus whom we receive in communion: We receive the Risen Lord Jesus who is inseparable from the people whom he redeemed; so that our communion with him mysteriously engages us in communion with others, Long ago St. Augustine wrote: "We receive what we are; we are what we receive, the Body of Christ." And also, "We say Amen to what we are, the B~dy of Christ." In receiving Christ we somehow receive others into ourselves; we are put in touch with them on a profound level. " The context of the Seder meal in which Jesus instituted the Eucharist was, and still is, an experience of celebration and communion, for" those participating, in the various presences of Yahweh. The gestures and' rites expressed solidarity; the history proclaimed was a family history of ~the people, extending into the very time of celeb~:ation, wherein Yahweh was present in their midst, Jesus took the richness of that meal and transformed it; he took the whole community dimension 'that was essential to it and gave it an even deeper m~aning with his promise to be with those gathered in his name. But he challenges his disciples to awareness of this presence of his; for it does not happen automatically in one's life and a community can easily miss the Jesus in whose name they are gathered. It is not enough to focus on the word, the altar, the minister. Jesus' washing the feet of his disciples reveals another facet of Eucharist: the service dimension in which the liturgy of the altar flows forth into the liturgy of life: Jesus' act of washing the feet of the apostles was an integral part of Eucharist and not an isolated event,~ It summed up the self-empty-ing that had been going on all through ,his life and which would ~find its ultimate expression in the total giving of self on Calvary. When he told his disciples "Do this in memory of me," Jesus would have referred to more than the institution of his Body and Blood. His charge to the apostles would have encompassed what led up to the actual words of institution and the whole spirit of gelf-emptying that underlied them. His command to "wash one another's feet" is closely related to "Do this in memory of me"; 1~.2 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1985 for without the spirit of mutual se.rvice expressed in washing one another's feet, we will 'not in fact be celebrating in memory of him even though perform the ritual of Eucharist. Eucharist necessitates that those who par-ticipate in it break the bread of their own lives with others and pour forth their blood for others in service. Christ made it clear that it was by love for others that people would recognize his disciples, and love finds its expression in servibe of others. We have only to reflect on the parable of the last judgment in the twenty-fifth chapter of the Gospel according to Matthew to see the connection Jesus made between service of others in a communion of love with them and being his disciple. Or consider the words of Jesus when his disciples wanted him to disperse the crowds when it was getting late: "Give them something to eat yourselves" (Mt 14:16; Lk 9:13). The eucharistic tone.of the gospel narrations of the incident, is reminiscent of the eucharistic call to serve others, as Jesus himself goes on to serve the crowd--and the people in the crowd also go on to share their goods and serve one another. Every time a community gathers to celebrate Eucharist, it receives a renewed challenge to go forth and serve others and share with others, to wash the feet of those whom we meet--and to let our feet be washed by others, inasmuch as a spirit of service and communion with those whom we serve requir,es an ability to receive as well as to give. All the moments and actions of ministry during each day, and the daily demands and opportunities for creating community are rooted in the liturgy celebrated at the altar, and constitute a large part of the liturgy of daily life in which we are freed from self for others and for the Father. "Do thisAn memory of me" should not be words heard only after the consecration; they should echo in our hearts all day long in all we do and tr), to live. And when our human frailty holds us back from all the self-emptying demanded of a .disciple, we bring our weakness and human failings to the next Eucharist to find therein the healing and strengthening we need to face the future .challenges of service to which that Eucharist sends us forth. Eucharist involyes not simply celebration but proclamation. "When we eat this bread and drink this cup, we proclaim the death of the Lord until he comes" (I Co 11:26). How often those words are said or sung as an acclamation without their meaning being grasped! "The death of the Lord" speaks the love of Christ, the love that is at the heart of mission. Eucharist celebrates that love and calls the disciple to continue that love in his/her own life and proclaim it by action. The Eucharist charges individuals and commun!ties not to live for self, but to reach out to others in love and compassion, prolonging the mission of Christ right into the present. It ¯ demands that we be Christ in our day in our love for the Father and our Eucharistic Community of Disciples / 1133 sisters and brothers, laying aside untlue concern for self for the sake of others. Eucharist is not really celebrated if the proclamation of love in action is absent from the lives of those who assemble at the Eotd's table. St. Pa.ul .made this very clear in his reprimands of the Corinthian community who violated the fundamental meaning of the symbol of the Christian agape. We, too, fall into contradiction if we live in indifference to others after drinldng;~he cup of the Lord's Blood and thereby asserting'a r~Com-mitmbht to follow Jesus in the selflessness of discipleship.2 Christ queries us ifi eac~ Eucharist, as he asked James and John, whether we can drink the cup of freedom from self for others in love. When we view Eucharist as proclamation, there are implications for how we regard others, and whether our vision corr.esponds to that of Jesus. The Jesus of the Gospels shows reverence for the unique dignity of each individual; He treats others as sisters and brothers and shows special con-cern for those mistreated or rejected by society. He reaches out to others and does not live closed in on himself. The Eucharist we celebrate declares that this is the manner of acting for t.he Christian community. The procla-mation of "the death of the Lord until he comes" speaks loudly against injustice and lack of peace, but we can be deaf to the message when we are unaware of Eucharist as a challenging proclamation. It.is not enough to view Eucharist as a celebration of what we.have come to be as Christians and of the gifts we have received. While there is place for focusing on the pasL there must also,be a look to the future and to .the present with the calls to share, to serve and to proclaim that Christ's love is very much alive today. To be eucharistic means more than, to be a people of thanksgiving living in a spirit of gratitude, for Eucharist embraces calls for living discipleship and continuing to enter more deeply into it. To be a eucharistic person or community is to live a life .integrated around Eucharist in its different dimensions of community, prgclamation and ,service as well as the tradi-tional aspects of adoration, .praise, thanksgiving and reparation. The more we ponder over the facets of Eucharist, the more our day will be centered around it and be affected by it. We will perceive our day as being one in which we are missioned at the Eucharist to go forth and live and do what we proclaim at the altar; and we will come back to the Lord's table conscious of the ways we have not fully lived Eucharist because self has gotten in the way. And we will come together as community to be healed, freed and strengthened to go forih again in eucharistic mission. ~ / Review for Religious, Novembei'-December, 1985 NOTES lOne of the most valual~le sources for renewed eucharistic spirituality is the magazine Emma~uel published by the Blessed Sacrament Fathers, 194 East 76th St., N.Y., N.Y. 10021. In recent years a number of articles have appeared that afford very rich insights. Among others that could be cited: James Feeley, "TheologieS of'Eucharist" in April and May issues, 1981; James Feeley, "Eucharist as Compelling Service'r in June, 1981; Paul Bernier~ "Changing Eucharistic Perspectives" in,July/Aug., !1981; Paul Bernier, "A Century of Congresses" in Sept., 1981; :Eugene LaVerdiere, "Proclaiming the Death of the Lord" in Oct., 198 i; Joseph Hart, "The Splendor of the Eucharist" in April, 1982; Eugene LaVerdiere and John Gartner~ "Eucharist as Proclamation" in April, 1982; John Gartner and Eugene LaVerdiere, "Eucharist as Liberatiofi" in May, 1982; and 'Eugene. L~iVerdiere and John Gartner, "Eucharist and CommuniOn" in June and Sept., 1982. ' ~See Eugene LaVerdiere, "Can You Drink the Cup?" in Emmanuel, vol. 89, no: 10, Nov. 1983, pp. 490-495. The Good News ' Good news is oven-fresh and warm like bread in morning nostrils It's felt in channels of the blood ~like anticipated supper, down highway,~ rides. It's news read under lighled lamps ~ warm with the glow of chaliced wine Down all the streets and byways of our twisted years. Good news is sharing of the Word, fresh and warm communion Not yesterday's news from vacant lots or jammed in sealed-up windows, ' , Good news lets in a radiant light washed clean in morning deE, Good news is news that will not stand still. See it rise in serene suspense as each sun rises toward each day Not in cyclic repetitions but spiraling bell-tongued from towers Calling all things to itself in its tremendous inward and upward thrust Good news is news that will not stand still. Marcella M. Holloway, C.S.J. 6321 Clemens Ave. St. Louis, MO 63130 Inculturation, Community, and Conversion Gerald A. Arbuckle, S:M. Father Arbucl~le is well known t0our readers fo.r the insightful articles from his pen which have graced our pages in recent years. He has agfeed to Offer ihe fourth anrual Spring Lecture, jointly sponsored by REVIEW FQR RELIGIOUS and St. Louis University's Department of.Theological Studies, next March. Father Arbuckle may be addressed at his congregation'~ generalate: Padri Maristi; Via Alessandro Poerio 63; 00152 Roma, Italy. In language that is remarkably radical, Paul VI ten years ago identified the scope of evangelization with the transformation of cultures. ~What matters," he wrote, "is to evangelize hlJman culture and ~:ultures, not merely in a purely decorative way, as it were by applying a thin veneer, but in a vital way, in depth, and right to their very roots." l For the pope e~,a,ngeliza-tion must come alive to the people in and throughthe symbols that have meaning for them? But he is no cultural romantic, no cultural i'elativist. In the light of the Gospel some, culturally a~cept~ble symbols or customs may have to b6 rejected, others encouraged to develop. In other words, thee pope is speaking of what we now call inculturation, that is, "the dynamic relation between the Christian message and culture or cultures; an insertion of the Christian life into a culture; an ongoing process of reciprocal and critical interaction and assimilation between them."3 Religious are ,evangdizers. But to evangelize, they must first be evange-lized themselves.4 Put in another way, if they are to be agents of inculiura-tion for others,, they must first undergo inculturation themselves~ They must first submit, and keep on submitting, their own lives, their own religious life culture, to the critical evaluation of the Gospel. They must see 835 Review for Religious, November-December, 1985 to what extent their community life, their lifestyles, are negatively or posi-tively influenced by the culture to which they belong, An objective evaluation of one's culture is far from simple. It is so easy to be deceived. Some time ago I heard a European missionary working in a South-East Asian country make the following comment: I have just visited a very large formation house for religious clerical students. The quality of community life is just so perfect, so Christian. There is gentleness, humility among the candidates. No one steps out of line. No one is ever alone. There is so much harmony here. Just so different from the individualism of the western world. Contrast this with a comment of another religious priest, this time within a Western country: The community where our few students are being trained is so mature. Each student is challenged to stand on his own feet. None of this together-ness emphasis. They rarely come together; this shows their maturity, their lack 6fneed, for emotional props.° I feel this is real community. How are these comments to be evaluated? Both commentators assert that the communiiies they refer to are deeply Christian. But in fact are they so perfect? Both commentators stress opposite values: th~ value of being tightly integrated in the group and the value of standing alone. According to Gospel orientations, can both emphases be correct? How far are the reactions of the participants in ihe houses influenced by.their cultures so that the consciofis effort at building realChristian co~mianity is minimized? These are complex, but urge~nt, ~uestions. Religious may be helped to answer them with the aid of anthrbpoi~gical insights. After a'lL in~:ulturation is the evangelization' of culture and cultural anthrop~ology specializes in the systematic .study of culture. In ~ttiis article, therefore, I will seek to: -define wh~it is meant by community; ~-define culture, and describ~ Variou~ cultural ~xpr~ssions of community; -r~flect ori incuituratioh, conversion a~d~community in religious life; ' -suggest some practical formation implications of the analysis. '~ Reflections on the Nature of Community Despite the ease with which the word community is used, it is not so easy to define what it means. After reviewing ninety four definitions of community, one author concluded that "beyond thd conceptthat people are involved in commu.nity, there is no complete agreement as to the nature of community.~5 Despite this difficulty, for thepurpose of this article we might accept the distinction made by Raymond Plant: Commu.nity, he says, should be considered eithdr as a fact or as a value? Community as a' Inculturation, Community, and Conversion /837 ~fact is something sociologically definable. As a fact, community is "essen-tially a sentiment which people have about themselves; a sentiment expressed in action and behavior but still basically a feeling."7 According to David Clark, two essential feelings for the existenc~ of community are a sense, of significance and a sense of solidarity. Individuals feel they have an accepted position in the group. This gives them a feeling of significance. They feel bonds with one another; thi~ gives them a sense of solidarity. How significance and how solidarity are to be expressed in fact are most often determined by the cultui'e, or belief systems, of the people who.make up the.community. Some cultures heavily stress significance, others solidar-ity; others seek to balance the two feelings. When we speak of community as value we move away from the socio-logical area into the .ethical, .(he philosrphical or theological areas. How one defines what a community shouM be will depend on one's values.8 If one believes that the .bonds between, members of a community should be ~arkedly strong, then individuals may be forced to weaken their own feeling of personal significance. If the latter is. given top priority, then solidarity itself may weaken: For the Christian, community as a value takes its foundation from the Trinity: "May they all be one. Father, may they be one in us, as you are in me and I am in you" (Jn 17:21). We struggle, with the grace of God, to give visible expression 'to the presence of the Trinity-- a sharing in love and in openness, but without the loss of personal unique-ness~ There is emphasis on other-centeredness; that is, concern for the welfare of the other, .but without loss at the same time of one's responsibility for oneself. There is allowance .for "both autonomy and mutuality.-9 There is to be the unity of heart and mind. Unity--which is not necessarily tl~e .same as uniformity--is to be achieved in and through healthy interaction, dialogue and charity,t0 It is a unity born out of freedom in Christ. Cultural Expressions of Community .,"Community" emphasizes the peoplb who feel .personal significance and/or solidarity; "culture" emphasizes the way people express this feeling in practice, The values and biases of our family, neighborhood, and com-munity to which we belong have in so many ways been shaping our feelings; emotions, and way~ of responding. Our ways of relating to other people; to those in authority, are "never simply spontaneous, but are care-fully--- if often unconsciously--learned from life around us." ~ Anthropol-ogists remain divided on how to define culture in a comprehensive way. Some would stress the importance of what people do rather than believe. More commor~ly today, however, culture is used to refer to the organized system of knowledge, of belief, whereby a people structure their experience I~1t / Review f.or Religious; November-December, 1985 and perceptions, formulate acts, and choose, between alternatives. This sense of culture refers to the realm of ideas that influences (not determines) behavior, As Ward Goodenough says, ideas "provide standards for deciding what is., what can be., how one feels about it . what to do about it . how to go about doing it."~2 Understood in this sense, culture has a deep, often unconscious, influence on behavior.: Culture gives us meanings about, the things_that we see to be important; culture gives us a sense of direction. Culture tells, us what the people we live and work with consider good or bad. Culture tells us what sanctions, if any, we will suffer if we do not accept what others do or want in.the community to which we belong. Anthropologist Mary Douglas, a leading contemporary commentator on ritual and society, in an effort to articulate how individuals can be pressured by culture to respond in certain ways, uses two basic variables: group and grid.~3 The group is the experience of belonging to a social unit, the 'feeling that "I belong to this group of people and not that group 'of people." Put in another way, group means "the outside boundary that people~have erected between themselves and the outside world."~a The grid is the set of rules, the (tangible or intangible) structures or systems that relate one person to others on an ego-centered basis. Or it connotes, asshe herself writes, "all the~other social distinctions and delegations of authority that [are used] to limit how people,behave to one another."tS~ From these two variables she creates four models of culture. I will .restrict the analysis here only to two rather important, polar-opposite models: "strong group and strong grid culture" and "weak group and weak grid culture.'~ Community will be expressed in two different ways in these cultures. ~ ,ln the ~explanation that follows, I will give more emphasis to the first model for two reasons. Firstly, information on this model is not so easily available to the general reader, unlike the material relating to the second model. Secondly, whereas the number of candidates fog the religious life is severely decreased in Western ~hurches (except in Poland and Ireland), Africa, Asia~and Oceania are seeing a true explosion of religious vocations. There is also a similar pattern relating to the recruitment of priest candi-dates.~ 6 The cultures,of these, countries tend to approximate more to the first model than the second. Diocesan authorities, religious superiors and formators, then; may very specially need to appreciate the formation and inculturation implications of this model. On the other hand, considerable literature is available on the second model, a model that has application in many parts of the Western. world. Before proceeding with the analysis, however, two clarifications are necessary. I will be describing two sociological models or frames of refer- lnculturation, Community, and Conversion / 1139 ence. A model is not a perfect abstraction from reality. Rather a model is very much a construct used to facilitaie a better understanding of very complex situations. A model reflects, reality to the extent that it highlights certain emphases or trends. A particular cultui'e can then be researched to discover just how far it conforms or diverges from the model. Secondly, though the first model is particularly common throughout Africa;~Asia, Oceaniaand South America, this does not mean it is not also operative within Western countries, It is just less dominant in these coun-tries, Similarly when I refer to the second model, weak group.and weak grid, as particularly characterizing Western countries, it does not mean it does not have application at times also in parts of the Third World lands. Strong Group and Strong Grid Culture . Inthis model the strong grid involves moral and normative prohibitions that limit or highly structure interaction. The stress on group identity gives security to,individuals, but at the same time confines them to close relations only with people within the boundaries of the group. The feeling of solidar-ity, not personal significance, characterizes this culture and thus is the dominant expression of community living: Within the community, behavior is highly traditional; what was done in the past becomes the measure of what should bedone now and in the future, Frequently, the position of each individual within tt]e community is clearly-- and even rigidly--defined, even before birth, by the rules of kinship, Kin-ship (the extended family system) is the articulating principle of all social and economic organization. For example, all members of one's tribe or clan may be named "grandfather," "grandmother," "father" or "mother," "brother" or "sister," "son" or "daughter" depending on the ages of those concerned, e.g. all males belonging to my father's generation are called ~ather." The titles denote what behavior is expected of the people with whom one comes into contact. The effective principle ,that binds people together in such c~ultures and communities is reciprocity. Often kinship rules dictate precisely who receives what, how much and from whom. Within cultures of this type there is a vigorous ideology that gives priority, to group cohesiveness, togetherness, interdependence and group harmony. Often this ideology is summarized in one word or in a brief expression. For example, among Maoris in New Zealand there is the term aroha. The root meaning of aroha is "love of kin," and it implies not only affectionate feelings but also the issue of these feelings in action. Since kinship is now not so'important to Maoris, aroha is applied to friends also, but still in the event of conflict the sense of obligation to kin is likely to prove the stronger.~7 ~ / Review for Religious, November-December, 1985 In Papua New Guinea, where there are five :hundred languages and at least one thousand dialects for 3',000,000 .people, the commonly heard expression is wantok ("one-talk" or.same language).~8 In Japan the word wa is Used; the word connotes the priority that must be given to unity, cohesiveness, team spirit, the:cultivation of good feelings among members of the same firm or family,t9 In the Philippines ~faithfulness to the group, called, bayanihan, is emphasized.2° A particularly key expression in Philippines~culture is paki-kisama; this underlies virtually the entire structure of social relationships~ Priority is given to smooth interpersonal relationships at all times and pakikisama is a primary way of achieving such smoothness. It' means "giving in," "following the lead or suggestion of another"; in a word, "concession," even when one knows that the coffcession is objectively wrong.2~ Pakikisama, as a value, favors avoidance of direct confrontaiion that could lead to open and violent aggressive behaviors, The desire for' frictionless relationships can result in extensive use of euphemism in con-versation, and the speech is loaded with metaphors that convey a message with minimum risk of offense3 There are few concepts, as deeply rooted in the Western mind as the concept of self. Westerners generally are apt to see (hemselves as distinct beings, "separate from all others in most important respects, with separable beliefs, talents, and experiences. 23 In contrast to this approach, Japanese see themselves or define themselves as part of a larger group. One's separate "identity" is not separated "out as the primary sign of personal development; maturity for them usually means merging with the collective whole. The Western interpretation of~ maturity lies precisely in the autonomy of .the individual. Japanese, in brief, derive their identities in part from those nearest to them. There is a partial merging of identities so that the identity of the group is apt to be the dominant force: As in Japanese culture, so in these other cultures which resemble the strong group and strong grid model. Collectivism, or the feeling of solidarity, with stress upon harmony and consensus, generates pressure .for conformity to group norms, pressure to ~'be like everyone else." Conspicuous idiosyncracy and dissension are avoided or suppressed, and acquiescence is upheld as main mechanismsfor maintaining consensus. There are many subtle but effective ways to ensure conformity to the group and to behavior expectations of the group (grid). There is the fear of being gossiped about, of being made the object of ridicule. if norms are broken. ~ ¯ The Japanese sociologist, Chie Nakane, in explaining the stress on the group as the foundation for community, says that people adhere to the group "not by religion or philosophy but by a very human morality. The Inculturation, Community, and Conversion / 041 yardstick of this morality is always determined by contemporary trends. The feeling that '.I must do this because A and B also do it' or 'They will laugh at me unless I do such-and-such' rules the life of the individual with greater force ~han any other consideration, and thus has a deep effect on decision,making."24 The fear of being shamed if one does something differ-ent ~from the group holds the individual in check. The adoption of Western ambitions for personal freedom is almost incomprehensible to persons with traditional Japanese assumptions about group loyalty. As in Japan, so also in other cultures which approximate to our model of strong group and strong grid. One famous Fijian leader commented on the vital quality of liberality as an expression of solidarity within the group: "Liberality is the law of tradition, and to give evidence of thrift or arouse suspicions of miserliness is to sin against the law."25 Of Tahitians, B. Finney writes: "Stinginess is not admired., and anyone judged stingy is often pejoratively referred to as Popa's (European)."26 The concept of hiya in the Philippines has been described as shame, but the English word does not adequately convey the .term's meaning. It is a form of self-deprecation, involving embarrassment, inferiority, and shyness all arising from having behaved improperly in relating to the group. The fear of being shamed is one of the more powerful sanctions operating to maintain the overall system of social and group relationships?7 The fear of being cast out of the group, ostracism, either by being physically removed or verbally ignored or snubbed, is a most powerful sanction against individual non-conformity to group and grid demands. In Genesis Cain is not to be executed for murdering Abel. His punishment is to be yet worse: ". 'You shall be a fugitive and a wanderer over the earth.' Then Cain said to Yahweh, 'My punishment is greater than I can bear'" (4:1 2-13). In ~'strong group and strong grid" cultures people may attempt to break away from the group demands, but few can take the ostracism for very long.28 Finally, there is the ever-present fear in many communities that if the norms of group and grid are not followed, there will be supernatural sanctions imposed: the spirits, ancestors, witches, sorcerers, or even God himself will impose punishment on wrongdoers. Punishment may be immediate or long delayed, e.g~ a person, becomes sick and then remembers :a group norm was broken sometime in the past. Sometimes the wrong-doing can be comPensated for, e.g. by girl giving, or sometimes people feel that nothing can be done, and death or suffering must be accepted in a spirit of fatalism.29 Weak Group and Weak Grid In this model both group and grid or social networks have little grip on 1t42 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1985 individuals. The emphasis is on individualism, on individual decision-mak-ing and initiative. As Ferdinand Tonnies put it: '~'Here everyone is by himself and isolated, and there exists a condition of tension against all others. Their spheres of activity and power are sharply separated, so that everybody' refuses to everyone else contacts with and admittance to his sphere, i~e. intrusions are regarded as hostile acts."30 Interpersonal relation-ships are basically competitive. People compete with each other to gain personal advantage, status. There is no deep mutual sentiment that can generate trust and reciprocal concern. Inter:relationShips are governed by formal contracts; people are ever ready'legally,to sue one another for suspected violation of personal rights in all kinds of spheres. Douglas describes the model in this way: "Instead of accepting their allotted station in a given scheme of things, as where grid is strong, each family is involved, for its very survival, in the effort for advantageous alliance--marital, de-fensive, or financial.''3~ We still refer to this type of interrelationship as community, not just because personal significance is stressed but because in some very vague, but real, way people feel some sentiment' of solidarity, even if it is paradoxi-cally conflictual. They may fe~l some sense of common, belonging, ever so faint, because they live in the same house br work in the same building or firm. But it is a sense of belonging that is so weak that it cannot be depended on for much support, if any, when one is in difficulty. In this model personal significance is vigorously emphasized. Hence, the stress on individualism and the struggle to establish a sense of personal acceptance in community through competitive work and through material symbols of achievement. But the struggle .for .status in such a competitive world is a never-ending battle, with success at best very fleeting. In this culture model, the cult of self-fulfillment is strong~ how can I best improve myself through my own efforts, my own self-discipline, my own efforts at manipulation of others for my advantage?32 Recently social-economist Amitai Etzione severely criticized the United States for uncriti-cally adopting this model of culture and community: "[We] have experienced a hollowing of America in which community was whittled down. Greater reliance on government has been accompanied by promotion of a particular brand of individualism best labeled egotism, sometimes referred to as 'me-ism' or hedonism, and . . . built into antisocial interpretations of the psychology of self-actualization."3~ Some claim that people like Locke, Hobbes and Adam Smith contrib-uted to the emergence of the weak group and grid culture in America, because these authors stressed the primacy of the individual and the wisdom of a society built on self-sufficiency.34 But America is not alone in stressing lnculturation, Community, and Conversion / 1143 the significance of the individual to the detriment of solidarity. Within the Australian ,popular folklore, for example, there is also the cult of the rugged individualist. As one writer said "the Australian way of life" was "something much deeper than words can depict," that it embodied some "inner principle'~' which, although difficult to define, was related to "the freedom, the security, the justice and the individualism of life in this sun-burned, muscular continent."35 Evaluation of the Two Culture/Community Models E. Aronson.points out that the human person can respond to social/ cultural influence in three possible ways: by compliance, identification or internalizationP6 Compliance connotes the reaction of a person who behaves in a certain way to gain ~reward 9r to avoid punishment. If the group pressure to act is sufficiently strong, .then the person who~complies will go along with the group to acquire praise or avoid difficulties, Decisions as to what to do or not do: are taken, without his involvement or responsibility. When identification takes place a person acts in a certain way in imita-tion of the person who is influencing him. The action is done not to ga!n a reward or avoid punishment, but simply to be like the influencer. The internalization .of a value or belief is by far the. most permanent, most deeply rooted, response to outside influence. The reason to internalize a particular belief is the desire ,to be right. The reward for the~ belief, is intrinsic. A personal conversion is required to achieve internalization in" order to withstand the pressures for compliance and in order to avoid the fickleness of identification. ln~.the two culture/community models described above, are there., influences that foster or hinder the internalization of Gospel community values? Are there~factors within these models that are conducive to Gospel ."a.utonomy and mutuality"~. I will take each model in turn and attempt to respond to these questions. Evaluation of the Strong Group and Strong Grid Culture A researcher who studied seventy years of parliamentary ~debates in New Zealand reflected on the consequences of what was then an example of strong group and strong grid culture emphases: "Here in a small and culturally homogeneous milieu is the spectacle of a majority rule producing some of the consequences. : the dulling effect of the mass mind, the dominance of conventional opinion, the despotism of custom, the intoler-ance of unorthodoxy, the sacrifice of talent to the worship of averages, a world made safe for mediocrity."37 In the strong group ~and grid culture, 844 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1985 uniformity in behavior becomes almost synonymous with patriotism. The pressure to conform to the group, and to the established, detailed, rules of life, can be so strong .that the individual's capacity to make independent judgments and to take autonomous action in light of Gospel values is severely restricted. The culture provides, therefore, little or no opportuni-ties for significant independent and responsible personal action. The sense of individual identity is anchored in group belongingness and is thus sustained by going along with peers. This goes with the desirability of being accepted by peers, the anxiety connected with being left out, and a competitive urge for always being in. One economist, reflecting on the causes of povery within the Pacific Islands, pointed to the traditional dominance of the group over the individual as one major obstacle to the removal, of poverty: Generous giving has been elevated to a very high place in traditional standards . Taking advantage of a general acceptance of this customary attitude, proceedsfrom the sale of crops, wages orany accumulated prop-erty are subject to demands from all sides.; the proportionate scale and nature of these demands being such that it is difficult for any individual tO retain funds or .useful property and the earner or producer after successive distributions is usually discouraged from making further effort.38 Given pressures of this kind, it is very difficult for the individual to come into contact with his or her real self, with the reality of loneliness. One becomes imprisoned by group pressures, isolated from one's inner self. "The stress on togetherness," write Eric and Mary Josephson, "is a particu-larly pernicious pulsation that may acquire a pathological character. While togetherness may lessen the feeling of being lonely, it is really only an exchange of isolation for an unrealistic'imprisonment of brotherhood'?'39 Not only does the pressure to conform to the group result in hiding One's own loneliness, but the pressure to appear happy and one with others can cover over real tensions, aggressive feelings and'~ anger which remain unresolved. Westerners, who may come from cultures that overstress ruthless and competitive individualism, when they come into contact with strong group and grid cultures--in which harmony and.external conformity are stressed-- are tempted !o fall victim.to the pernicious disease of cultural romanticism. They fail to see that individuals can be culturally oppressed. This is the case in the comments by the first observer to whom I referred in the introduction of this article. The observer assumed that the cheerfulness he saw was inspired by .Gospel values. I, for my part, cannot be so sweeping in my praise. The observer noted that "no one is ever alone." The particular culture on which the observer was commenting was of the strong group Inculturation, Community, and Conversion/.1145 and grid type, in which a person regularly spending lengthy periods of time . alone in reflection and study was considered definitely odd, even a traitor tothe group's idea of Gospel community.~ In this culture individuals lacked the space, freedom, challenge and support, to be themselves, to be auto-nomous. The same community covered over very real interpersonal ten-sions. If such tensions were ever to come out into the open, to be resolved in a Christian manner, it was thought, such revelations would destroy "the God-given, culture-supported harmony." In brief, in answer to the above questions about internalization, the strong group and grid culture is not necessarily conducive to the internali-zation of Gospel community based on thevalues of autonomy and mutual-ity. Rather, individuals are subjected to strong cultural forces or biases that are conducive to compliance or external acceptance of the group's ~values. Evangelization is apt to remain a thin veneer, something "purely decora-tive.'' 4° If.individuals are suddenl~ removed from such a culture, not infre-quently the fa~ilure to internalize the objective values of Christian autonomy -and mutuality shows up only too dramatically and painfully. For example, migrants who, within their countries of origin, have been living a form of cultural Catholicism are not likely to continue to practice their faith in the land of their adoption--unless there is a conversion and an internalization of Catholic values.4~ To the unsuspecting observer, therefore, the pleasantness that so often pervades the strong group and grid cultures may come across as thoroughly Christian and growth-oriented. But the reality, at times can be very different. "Sin,,' for example, can be conceived prima.rily as "individual failure in group obligations." "Sin" in this sense can. be "removed" not necessarily through a reconversion requiring deep interior change, but through a ritual of"face-saving" actions, e.g. the handing over of a certain amount of goods to the one or to the group offended:42 Evangelization of cultures, then, requires sensitivity both to their positive and negative features. "The Gos-pel," writes Paul VI, "[is] certainly not identical with culture."43 "Evaluation of the Weak Group and Weak Grid Culture There are some rather trenchant critiques of cultures that approximate to the weak group and grid culture model. In Australia, claims Ronald Conway, the vigo'rous cultural s.upport for individualism and the competi-tive pursuit of material happiness has left many an Australian "blank-souled," "a starved captive in a dungeon created by generations of either not caring or dreading to show care.''44 He speaks of "fragile foundations of impoverished interpersonal communication."45 In America, social critic John Kavanaugh believes that "Christianity at 1~6 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1985 rock bottom radically conflicts with American culture, even subverts its';46 He believes that individualism, the ruthless, competitive pursuit of material happiness and achievement all conflict with Gospel values. Historian David Potter's insights would support this view. He argues that the search for personal freedom, coupled with the rejection of any society-ascribed statuses, has gone so far within the American ethos that people have become involved in a never-ending search through work for improved, personally achieved statuses. The loneliness, isolation, insecurity and ten-sions, he states, that result within individuals who are caught up in this '~status rat race" are enormous and overpowering for many individuals.47 Christopher Lasch claims that in. America "the culture of competitive indi-vidualism., in its decadence has carried the logic of individualism to the extreme of a war of all against all, the pursuit of happiness to the end of a narcissistic .preoccupation with the self."48 Joseph Tetlow claims that American culture so stresses the value of good health and .the value of .being young that "This conviction stamps our religious experience in a very notable way and gives concrete shape to our spirituality. For Americans do not easily believe that Grd loves someone and has forgiven that person's sins as long as that person suffers in any way."~9 We need comment no further. So forceful can the weak group and grid culture be in exalting the powers and worth of the individual that terms'like "human interdependence," "mutuality," "social justice" and "compassion for the marginal" sound almost sinful! Compassion; social justice, Charity, mutuality--are atthe very heart of the Christian message. If culture vigor-ously supports the contrary values--as does the weak group and grid culture then individuals are under strong pressure at least to comply with such forces. Not to comply is to be considered odd, a dropout, one who does not believe in the importance of status-seeking. ' Given these comments, readers will now be rather suspicious of the second comment, regarding a religious community of students; which was given in the introduction to this article. The words "[th6 students] rarely come together: this shows their maturity" rather reflect the wider cultural stress on "rugged individualism" in the sense pictured above. Members of that religious formation house may well find the following description highly congenial to their cultural tastes: "Commt:nity is seen as a necessary encumbrance, for the paying of bills, for security, or just for convenience . Use of the car and enough money for each member to become independent becomes the major issues."5° Recently Eugene Kennedy, summarizing social criticism of America (and by implication, similar cultures), noted the "elevation of the individual and his or her own world to a dizzying centrality in life. A new Inculturation, Community, and Conversion / 1147 authoritarianism resides in the unattached person, a tyranny is exercisedby a person who counts on nobody, affiliates loyally with no one,.and finds the beginning and end of gratification in the self .This leads to a muted ethical sense."~ These weak group and grid characteristics have no place within religious communities. But Philip Slater, another perceptive critic, while agreeing with Kennedy and others about the excessive individualism, believes also that there is a desire--however weak--for community, for the opportunity to share with others in a spirit of trust and cooperation.52 Evangelization needs to relate to this aspiration. Inculturation and Conversion We return to a deeper understanding of inculturation. It is the dynamic and critical interaction between the Gospel message and each culture. This is a radically different process from that of acculturation. The latter is a process of culture change in which ~ore or less continuous contact between two ormore culturally distinct groups results in one group taking over elements of the culture of the other group or groups. For example, when, in the course of the last century, Christianity came to Samoa in the South, Pacific, it took deep roots in the local society. But at least at one key level Christidnity became acculturated to the existing system of traditional government. The traditional, chiefly rank system became sanctioned and supported by Jehovah himself, according to local interpretations of biblical history. When chiefs punished, Jehovah punished. The status quo became utterly frozen, supported now with supernatural sanctions. Little wonder if Christian ministers themselves became equivalently chiefs, wielding consid-erable power and°authority--all in the name of Jehovah. Christianity lost its freedom at a crucial level; it became trapped in the traditional authority system .53 John Futrell points out a more contemporaryexample of acculturation. When reflecting on what happened to religious life following Vatican If, he wrote on how religious acculturated values and customs of the consumer culture into their own lifestyle: "Along with th& affirmation of the world came a rapid a~similation of the lifestyle of the social subject being served . Religious began more and more" to live the way of upper-middle-class families and unconsciously fell prey to a creeping consumerism.TM How then can such acculturation be avoided? How in fact does incultu-ration take place, so that religious communities can reflect Gospel values? Who does the inculturation? John Paul II offers the answers to these questions, lnculturation, he says, must be the fruit of maturity~'in faith; it requires ',a great deal of 8411 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1985 theologicai lucidity, spiritual discernment, wisdom and prudence, and also time . [and] there is always a conversion to be effected., to the person of Christ,"5.SElsewhere, he insists that inculturation "presupposes a long and courageous process., in order that the Gospel may penetrate the soul of living cultures.''56 Then there will be "the liberation, the purification, the transfiguration" desired by Jesus Christ.57' There is no shortcut to inculturation, no room for gimmicks, It requires, following John Paul II: -a lucid vision of religious life; -a critical reflection on cultures in light of this vision; -personal and community ongoing conversion. 1. Vision of Religious Life Religious accept, as the basic orientation of their lives, that all Christians "of whatever rank or status are called to. the fullness of the Christian life. and the perfection of charity."58 Religious without res

Issue 48.2 of the Review for Religious, March/April 1989. ; Ministry and Ministries On Becoming An Apostolic °Hermit Mid-Life Divorce And Alienation The Readmission of Former Members Volume 48 Number 2 March/April 1989 Revn~w t:or Rt~LIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at St. Louis University by the Mis-souri Province Educational Institute of the Soi:icty of Jesus; Editorial Office; 3601 Lindcll Blvd. Rm. 428: St. Louis. MO 63108-3393. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis MO. Single copies $3.00. Subscriptions: $12.00 per year: $22.00 for two years. Other countries: for surface mail. add U,S. $5.00 per year: for airmail, add U.S. $20.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address, write: R~v~w t:oR Rt~t.~GOUS; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth. MN 55806. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to R~:v~:w ~'o~ R~:t.t~no~s; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. David L. Fleming, S.J. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe Editor Associate Editor "~"~ Contributing Editor ~% ~,~,¢~ Assistant Editors °"'~ March/April 1989 Volume 48 Number 2 Manuscripts, books for review and correspundence with the editor should be sent to R~:\'~:w ~'o~ R~:~.t~aot~s; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; SI. [a~uis, MO 63108-3393. Cnrrespondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Rich-ard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave.; Berkeley, CA 94709-1193. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from R~:v~:w ~'on R~:t.~aot~s; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. la~uis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. A major portion of each issue is also available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually impaired. Write Io the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. PRISMS . Computers easily make available various readouts of statistical in-formation. While I was perusing the printout listings of our January- February 1989 issue, 1 began, to realize how much I take for granted the exchange of information in our contemporary world. This international exchange of information through a journal like REVIEW FOR REL~C~OtJS pro-vides one of the most valuable prisms which exist for expanding our worldview and our unders.tanding of religious life. I want to share with you a few of the statistics about the interriational readership. First, I should call attention to the fact that REVIEW has sub-scribers in all fifty states, the District of Columbia, and the U.S. territo-ries, such as Puerto Rico, the Virgin Islands, Guam, American Samoa, the North Mariana Islands, and the Canal Zone. Roughly this grouping takes in about sixty per cent of our subscription list. Our readers are also from all ten provinces of Canada, including the Yukon and the North-west Territories. Subscribers are also present throughout Mexico, six countries of Central America, ten countries of South America, and throughout the West Indies. REWEff FOR REt.~C~OUS has large numbers of subscribers in the English-speaking countries of Europe, such as England, Ireland, Northern Ire-. land, Scotland, and Wales. But its readership is spread throughout Aus-tria, Belgium, Denmark, France, Italy, Malta, Netherlands, Norway, Po-land, Portugal, Switzerland, Spain, Sweden, and West Germany. The subscription lists are large for India, the Philippines, Australia, and New Zealand, with a widespread distribution throughout the coun-tries. Africa, too, is well-represented, with subscribers from some twenty-two countries, such as Republic of Ivory Coast, Egypt, Ethiopia, Ghana, Kenya, Lesotho, South Africa, Liberia~ Zimbabwe, Nigeria, Uganda, Zambia, Sudan, Tanzania, Swaziland, Sierra Leone, Malawi, Cameroun, and Mauritania. REVIEW also serves readers in Indonesia, Bangladesh, Thailand, Ma-laysia, Pakistan, Sri Lanka, Israel, Jordan, Korea, Japan, Taiwan, Sin-gapore, and Hong Kong. As editor, I think that I may want to take a win-ter trip to visit our subscribers from Fiji, Papua New Guinea, Gilbert Is-lands, Solomon Islands, and Western Samoa. These listings do not exhaust all the places R~:w~:w FOR reaches, but perhaps this kind of enumeration can give all of us a greater 161 Review for Religious, March-April 1989 appreciation of the catholicity of the articles we read and the religious life we try better to understand and live. Of course, this international dimension is reflected in the authors who submit manuscripts and in the content matter of the articles submit-ted. For example, in this issue, Father Donald Macdonald, writing from England, reflects upon the situation of Church members in some com-munist- dominated countries of Eastern Europe. Brother Martin O'Reilly shares with us his vocation director's experience, working in Liberia and Sierra Leone in Africa. Father Robert Maloney calls our attention to an impressive lay-movement of young people who serve the poor in Italy. Reverend Paul Casper, who first went to Burma as missionary in 1952 and later served as the first American Dean of St. John's Cathedral in Hong Kong from 1982-1986, reflects on the influence of his fellow An-glican, C.S. Lewis, upon his experience of spiritual direction. As editor, I want to continue to welcome readers and writers from all over the world. REVIEW FOR RELigiOUS will continue to be enriched by the .reflections of people who come from different community, mission, and cultural life-experiences. Through this journal, we are being given a new window--varied prisms--upon our world and upon our religious iives.~ David L. Fleming, S.J. Ministry and Ministries John R. Sheets, S.J. Father John Sheets, S.J. is well known to our readers. His last article, "Spiritual Direction in the Church," appeared in the issue of July/August, 1987. Father Sheets may be addressed at Creighton University; California at 24th Street; Omaha, Ne-braska 68178. In the remarks which follow, I try to distinguish two related but radically different forms of ministry: that which is primordial, the ministry of pres-ence, and that which is functional, activities, some of which are institu-tionalized, others not, which serve to constitute and build up the Church. The ministry of presence is overlooked today. When people speak of ministry they tend to speak only of functional ministry, various ac-tivities which in one way or another build up the Church. However, they forget that the functional ministry is always built on and presupposes a primordial, or deeper form of ministry, the ministry of presence. Though it is risky to use masculine-feminine analogies today, I think that those who can bypass the loaded nature of such language, and re-gain a certain direct vision of those realities, without the prejudices of our times, can spontaneously recognize in the ministry of presence quali-ties which are feminine, and in the mini~stry of function, masculine char-acteristics. I do not mean, of course, that functional ministries belong only to men, and not to women, or that men cannot exercise qualities of presence. The distinction is aimed at calling attention to two related but different modalities of ministry: a mode of being in and with, which is presence; and a mode of being for, which is function. We live in an age which is centrifugal. The self is caught in a kind of cyclotron that empties the inner self as it pours itself into more and more things to do. For this reason in the remarks which follow there is an attempt to recapture the primordial ministry of presence, which alone 163 164 / Review for Religious,. March-April 1989 can vitalize, energize, the ministries of function. In a sense it is an at-tempt to see how the feminine principle of presence lies beneath all other activ.ities within the Church, providing the presence of the Spirit, who alone breathes life into those activities which are ordinarily called min-istry. Without the presence of the breath of the Spirit, ministry in the sense of activity is like those dry bones Ezekiel describes (Ezk 37), strewn about in a valley, lifeless skeletons that have a faint resemblance to a living person. Hans Urs von Balthasar in Elucidations (London: S.P.C.K., 1975, p. 70) describes what I have just spoken of as a kind of "masculiniza-tion" of the Church. "The Church since the Council has to a large ex-tent put off its mystical characteristics. It has become a Church of per-manent conversations, organizations, advisory commissions, congresses, synods, commissions, academies, parties, pressure groups, functions, structures and restructurings, sociological experiments, statistics; that is to say, more than ever a male Church . " General Reflections on the Meaning of Ministry Before going into some specifics in regard to ministry, I would like to give a working description of ministry that will include everything pre-sented in this article about various ways of speaking of ministry. Most of the time discussions on ministry begin with a description of various activities in the Church that are exercised for the good of others, either as individuals or as :a community. This approach is a valid one. But it also tends to play into models which belong to other forms of hu-man activity for the good of any society, not specifically the society we call the Church. Hence, it is possible that, without realizing it, what is secretly at work in discussion of ministry are models coming from hu-man social structures, such as civil society, instead of those that respect the uniqueness of the ministries that belong to the Church. One has to see Christian. ministry in terms of the complete newness of the forms of activity that the Christian calls ministry. The Church, on the other hand, does not exist only as a heavenly city coming downfrom above. It exists in the world in interaction with other societies. It also has similarities with other societies, especially the state, But the danger is to lose sight of the uniqueness of Christian ministry, and to reduce it to secular models. I want to speak of Christian ministry, then, by beginning from a slightly different perspective than is customary. Ordinarily discussion of ministry begins by talking about different activities in the Church as they are exercised by different members. But it might be more helpful to ap- Ministry and Ministries / 165 proach ministry in a reverse direction. Ministries come from awareness of needs that have to be taken care of within the Church. Ministries are always a response to specific kinds of needs. Ministries in the Church then are those activities which are generated within the Church in re-sponse to the needs of the community. In somewhat the same way, all "secular ministries," such as schools, hospitals, civil authority have to be understood primarily as response to needs within the community. There are no ministries that are simply there, self-evident, self-explanatory. Ministries.exist only because they are called forth as a re-sponse to certain needs. They are essentially relative then to the need that calls them forth. They come, go, remain as the needs either remain or come and go. Their importance ranges from fulfilling needs which are essential to the existence of the Church (for example, the ministry of holy ordi~rs), to those which are i, mportant for'its well-being, but not essen-tial tbqts very existence. This,is true both forthe secular notion of ministry, as well as the ec-clesial. But the needs in each case are radically different. Hence, the re-sponse, or the ministry will be radically different. To understand minis-try, then, one has, so to speak, to work backwards, from need to re-sponse. The respbnse in turn depends upon the particular gift, whether of grace or nature, to respond to the need. St. Paul always sees the gifts of ministry in this sense, as Spirit-evoked responses to community needs. Ministry t.hen is called forth by the particular needs of the organiza-tion as social whether the social body is sec.ular or religious. Some of these needs are practically identified.with the continued existence and Well-functioning of the.body; for example, in the state, different levels of auihority are 'called forth from the need to preserve the society so that it keeps its identity and reaches its goals. The importance of the minis-try varies. Its importance is relative to the nature of the need that has to be taken care of. But our question is concernedowith the society called the Church, not secular societies. Ministry in the Church is the Spirit-created response to the unique needs of the new kind of society' that came into the world-through the institutiofi' of Christ and the outpouring of the Spirit at Pen-tecost. The basic needs.to be responded to are those to which Jesus him-self responded. The Church exists only to carry out what Jesus intended in his life and redemptive death. The deepest need of humankind, then, is the.need for redemption. This is the need that Jesus came to fulfill. He had no other purpose. All ministries in the Church are relative to the one basic need, the need for redemption. "166 / Review for Religious, March-April 1989 The primary ministry in the Church, then, is that which he commu-nicated to his,,apostles. He breathed into them his own mission or his own ministry. " 'As the Father sent me, so I send you.' He then breathed on them saying, 'Receive the.Holy Spirit. If you forgive anyone's sins, they stand forgiven; if you pronounce them unforgiven, unforgiven th.ey remain' " (Jn 20:21-23). He creates a correlation between his ministry which comes from the Father, and the mission of the apostles, which comes from Jesus. They are to minister to the fundamental need of hu-mankind, reconciliation with God and with one. another. Thus th+ fundamental ministry of the Church which is poured into the Church is to respond to a need at the heart of the whole of humanity and even of the universe itself. If this ministry fails, then the mission of Ctiiist is aborted. The raw fundamental need of humankind remains un-touched. "We are still in our.sins" (see 1 Co 15:17). Within that fun-damental ministry, which makes die mission of Christ present, ,there are other subordinate ministries, each of them in one way or another a par-ticipation in the fundamental response to the need for redemption. All forms of ministry in the Church, therefore, are responses to the radical need of humankind, the need f+r redemption. They are not self-actuated responses like those belonging to other socie.ties. They are di-rectly evoked and sustained by the Spirit ~vhose intention is to carry out in the Church what he initiated in the life and death of Christ. St. Paul uses a striking metaphor to bring out ministry as response to need. He calls himself a debtor to everyone. What he owes them is the Gospel. This is the Spirit-evoked gift to answer the radical need in the human heart. M6re than health, money, food, or anything else, the radical need is for Christ. "I am in debt to Greek and to non-Greek, to learned and Simple" (Rm i : 14). The Need for the Presence of Christ: Ministry as a Mode of Being Present As I mentioned in the beginning, it i~ important at the outset to dis-tinguish, ministry according to two different modalities: (a) ministry as presence,, which is a mode of being-with, what I called above, the pri-mordial form of ministry, and (b) ministry as partiizular activities which are ways of doing that flow from being-for others. The latter has to do with activities which flow from and presuppose ministry in the first sense. Most often when people talk about ministry they refer only to doing something. They forget that ministry as we find it in the Church is situ-ated within what is deeper, the mystery of an existence that has been trans- Ministry and Ministries / 167 formed through grace. This transformed existence brings a new mode of presence into the world. I spoke above of ministry as the Spirit-created response to need. The great absence, and therefore, the deepest need, is that of the absence of God in the hearts of individuals and society. The first mode of "minis-try" then is not some particular kind of activity. Rather it is a mode of presence that penetrates a person's whole being. It is a kind of "glory," or radiance that end/elopes a person's whole life. It cannot be located within any one particular kind of activity. "We all reflect as in a mirror the glory of the Lord" (1 Co 3:18). Like a mirror, Christian existence reflects tothe world the presence of Christ. This is the primary mode of ministry. This "presence" or glory comes from the fact that, as Paul says, we are a "new creation." "When anyone is united to Christ, there is a new creation; the old order has gone, and a new order has already be-gun" (2 Co 5:17). He tells the Christians that in the midst of an evil world they are to "shine like stars in a dark world, and proffer the word of life" (Ph 2:13). All of Paul's exhortations about what to do as Chris-tians flow as corollaries from the mystery of their transformed existence as a new creation. The images that Jesus uses to describe the primary ministry of the Christian do not concern specific activities. He calls the Christian salt, light, leaven for the world. The Christian's pri(nary ministry to the world, then, is not some particular activity, but a kind of epiphany of the presence of the New Creation. The most fundamental ministry then is to live the Christian life in its fullness. It is a doing that is identified with their very being. How they live flows from who they are. Very sim-ply it is the call to be holy. It helps us understand this primary form of ministry if we reflect on the fact that all Christian ministry receives its meaning insofar as it takes on the.pattern of Christ's ministry. In Christ, we see the perfect expres-sion of "ministry." All that he does flows from who he is. The myste-rious interaction of Jesus with everyone came.from an awareness of a pres-ence in him Which eluded all categories and particular activities. Similarly his primary activity in the Church is not through specific ministries, for example, orders,.charisms, and so forth. It is the fullness of his presence filling the whole Church. "He put everything in subjec-tion beneath his feet, and appointed him as supreme head to the Church, which is his body and as such holds within it the fullness of him who himself receives the entire fullness of God" (Ep 1:22-23). "Be assured. Review for Religious, March-April 1989 I amowith you always, to the end of time" (Mt 28:20). At center of all particular ministries in the Church, then, is the mystery ~f presence. Christ's own ministry is the Si~irit-evoked response to the most radi-cal needs of humankind redemption, salvation, atonement. "I have a ba, ptism wherewith I am to be baptized, and how I am straitened until it be accomplished" (Lk, 12:50). His fundamental ministry then is to re-veal the Father's love. This love is not only an affective, but also an ef-fective love. The Father shows his love through the redemptive gift of his Son. Hence, the mode of being of Christ is a redemptive mode of being. He is from the beginning the? ',Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world." His ministry then is identified with his whole being. No matter what he says or does, it is always the expression of his gift of himself: "This is my body given for you. This is my blood poured out for you." Christ's presence then is a special mode of presence: a re-demptive presence. All particular activities flow from his pervasive pres-ence as the Suffering Servant. The Church itself has only one primary ministry. It is the sacrament of the presence of Christ. It exists only to bring to the world what Christ accomplished through his ministry, to bring.~the world in touch with the mystery of Christ. All of the various particular ministries in the Church, ways of doing, flow from the primary ministry which is a mode of being present. Similarly, the primary mimstry of the Christian is that of pres-ence where God is absent, to be light in the darkness, leaven in a dead world, salt in a world which has lost its savor. The failure to recognize the primary ministry as that of presence has led to many ambiguities, in discussion of ministry today. One gets the im-pression that greater participation in ministry is only (or mainly) being able to participate in many activities which were closed to a person up to the present. But in reality the primary ministry is to respond by pres-ence to what is absence, or anti-presence. This has always been the pri-mary ministry of the saints, canonized and uncanonized. The m.inistry of presence creates an atmosphere that is broader, deeper, more pene-trating, both stronger and more delicate, and more effective while it is more self-effacing than what is brought about by particular ministries. Yet it has to be admitted that this primary notion of ministry is often neglected~ The activistic mentality that pervades our society sees minis-try mainly as involvement in more activities, o~ in activities associated with one form of ministry, that of Orders. But the ministry of presence is not a matter of this ministry or that. It takes in a whole constellation of activities that identify the New Creation. Th.ey are not so much spe- Ministry and Ministries cific activities as Christian modes of being. St. Paul describes this min-istry Of presence as the harvest of the Spirit: "lbve, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, trustfulness, gentleness and self-control" (Ga 5:22). The ministry of presence, then, takes in all of those activities which are gr0upe~d under the names of the spiritual and corporal works of mercyL''When I was hungry., thirsty., a stranger., naked. ill . in prison" (Mt 25:31f). In particular, it takes on Christ's minis-try as the Suffering Servant. "I have set you an example: you are to do as I have done for you. In truth I tell you, a servant is not greater than his master, nor a messenger than the one who sent him" (Jn 13:!5-16). As Paul says, "Let your bearing toward one another arise out of your life in Christ" (Ph 2:5). All of these activities belong to the Christian qua Christian, not to the Christian as having a particular form of ministry. They are insepara-ble from the Christian identity itself. These activities form the primary ministry of,the Christian. I have spoken, then, of ministry as the Spirit-evoked response to needs. The primary ministry is the response to the need for the presence of Christ through the Christian in the world which still needs to be touched by the redemption. This is the ministry that flows from the pres-ence of the New Creation. Presence in torn is not one or other specific activity. It is a kind of epiphany that shows itself in the constellation of activities that irradiates from the New Creation. Ministry on this foundational level is related to specific forms of min-istry as the atmosphere is to thir~gs that breathe. The specific forms of ministry are lifeless unless they live out of this atmosphere that identi-fies the Neff Creation. Yet it has to be. admitted that popular ways of speal(ing of particular ministries in the Church isolate them from their roots in the primary form of ministry, which is a mode of being present as the New Creature to the Church and to the world. It is on the level of the ministry of presence that really important but unheralded ministry takes place in the Church. It is that which belongs to states of life, such as, for example, marriage. The "ministry" of ¯ mother or father is not this or that particular activity. It is a mode of lov-ing presence that creates a kind of a cosmos of relationships which we call the family. Others, for example, a baby sitter, can carry out particu-lar activities that a mother or father also do. But it is only when such particular activities are rfianifestation of the mystery of presence, the mys-tery of motherhood and fatherhood, that such activities create the mys-tery that we call the family. 170 / Review for Religious, March-April 1989 The Catholic lay person, like every other Christian, exercises the min-istry of presence. This presence obviously comes to the fore in ways of acting that are spe~:ifically Christian. But those particular activities have their power because they are witness to a presence that makes Christ pre-sent in the whole of one"s life. The p~resence is that of the New Crea-tion, in a quiet hut powerful way emitting signals that show the 'presence of Christ in the secular world. They are like beacohs of light sending rays out into the night, both illumining the darkness an~! attracting people to the light of Christ. Particular Ministries in the Church Finally, after this long buildup, we come to the place where most people usually begin discussions about ministry. They mean particular activities in the Church directed to building up the Church that have ec-clesial recognition. "Above we spoke mainly of ministry as the manifold group of activi-ties that flow from the new mod~ of being which St. Paul calls the New Creation. They are not activities in the same sense as the particularized m~nistries. In the particularized ministries one does something to accom-plish something else. But in the foundational ministry one is not "'do-ing" one thing to accomplish something else. Rather it is a ministry of transforming presence. "To crown all, there must be love to bind all to-gether and complete the whole" (Col 3: 14). "'I may dole out all I pos-sess, or even give my body to be burnt, but if I have no love, I am none the better" (1 Co 13:3). Ministry as a particular activity ~n the.Church presupposes and lives off the foundational ministry which is presence, the presence of the Holy Spirit in individuals making them the New Creation: The Holy Spirit, then, draws individuals into the love of Christ by givingthem gifts to respond to particular needs in the Church. St. Paul's description of.min-istry always presupposes the presence of the Holy Spirit in the individ-ual not simply as an individual but as a member of the Church. Gifts are given to individuals to enable them to fulfill a need within the Church. Presupposing, then, the fundamental ministry of presence, St. Paul speaks of various ministries which the Holy Spirit calls forth to respond to various needs. While each is izalled to the primary ministry of radiat-ing the presence of Christ to the whole (the fundamenthl ministry), there are particular functional-roles within the community called forth to re-spond to a whole range of different needs, some more essential than oth-ers. Paul describes some of these. "And these were his gif!s: some to be apostles, some prophets, some evangelists, some pastors and teach- Ministry and Ministries / .17"1 ers, to the building up of the Body of Christ" (Ep 4:1 !-13). "Now you are Christ's body; but each of you is a different part of it. In the Church, God has given the first place to apostles, the second to prophets, the third to teachers. " (1 Co 12:18f). However, the primary ministry, the ministry of presence, with love as its animating principle, should animate all the particular ministries. "Be ambitious for the higher gifts. And I am going to show you a way that is better than any of them" (1 Co 12:31-13:1). Then he goes on to describe the ministry of all ministries, the mystery of love as the primary "ministry" to which we should aim. Ministries on this level have to do with the whole social unit, the whole Church. They reorientate a person's whole existence to take on a specific kind of relativity,from Chr.ist,for the Church. This reorienta-tion is such that it modifies in a new way the person's Christian iden-tity. There are three modes in which the presence of the New Creation is radicalized in an individual: the sacraments of baptism, confirmation, and holy orders. Theologically the term "character" describes what St. Paul calls the metamorphosis, the change in the inner structure of a per-son's life (2 Co 3:18). This is the radical reorientation of a person's whole being, first of all, through baptism to become the New Creation, to respond to one's own radical need--the need-for redemption; then, through confirmation which takes presence to a new dimension, orien-tating the baptized person to the needs of the whole Church; then, through holy orders which radicalizes in a person Christ's own gift-presence, making a person "steward of the mysteries of God" (I Co 4:1), a person whose presence is to draw forth the New Creation. The traditional theological term, "character," then, describes three modes of the presence of Christ in the New Creation. Flowing from these modes of presence are different kinds of activity. I have commented briefly above on the mode of presence that comes through baptism and confirmation. These are modes of presence and ac-tivity which belong to all Christians by virtue of their baptism and con-firmation. It is what is specifically called the mini~stry of the laity. Within that mode of presence there are many kinds of activities, as, for exam-ple, that which belongs to those who are married, or to those engaged in secular occupations in the world. I shall comment briefly on the kind of presen.ce that belongs to the priest. It has two sides. The priest mediates to the Church and the world the presence of Christ. On the other side, the priest draws the whole of Review for Religious, March-April 1989 the Church into the presence of Christ. Like John the Baptist the priest is to introduce the Bride to the Bridegroom, and the Bridegroom to the Bride. Priestly ministry has a.single purpose: to bring about the New Crea-tion- to nourish, sustain, and guide the New Creation by word and sac-rament. All of priestly activity then is some form of transubstantiation, that is, to change the old reality into the new. The priest's whole being is to transform the world by touching it with the redemptive event of Christ. The priest lives from Christ, for the Churchl' But at the heart of all ministries in the Church is the radicalization that takes place through baptism which brings into being the New Crea-tion. Confirmation and orders have their roots in the new mode of pres-ence of Christ in the individual and the Church through baptism. Con-firmation draws out another aspect of the giftedness of the New Crea-tion, that is, the apostolic dimension to "let your light shine before oth-ers . " Orders is a gift of the Spirit presupposing baptism which em-powers individuals to draw forth from the "old creation" the New Crea-tion, through word and sacrament, and to direct the community in the ways to live out the implications of the New Creation. Problems Associated With Ministry St. Paul describes ministries as the work of the Holy Spirit in call-ing responses from within the New Creation to particular needs within the Church. The images he uses always suggest harmonics or coordina-tion. In a sense, the Holy Spirit is like a conductor calling .forth from each individual player in the symphony that which leads to the harmon-ics of the whole piece of music. One of St. Paul's favorite images to bring out the .sense of harmonics of ministries is that of the body, where the whole exists for each part, and each part exists for every other part, as well as for the whole. "There is a variety of gifts but always the same Spirit; there are all sorts of service to be done, but always to the same Lord, working in all sorts of different people; it is the same God who is working in all of them" (1 Co 12:if). The words "same Spirit," or the "one Spirit" oc-cur about ten times in the passage to show that ministry is a Spirit-evoked response to different needs. The same emphasis is found in Ephe-sians 4: If. "Do all you can to preserve the unity of the Spirit. , there is one Body, one Spirit . . . one Lord, one faith~ one baptism, one God." It is interesting that Paul's extensive description of the interplay of the gifts of the Holy Spirit for the good of the whole Church is found mainly in a community where there was the greatest.disharmony, the Ministry and Ministries / "17'3 Church at Corinth. He is therefore calling attention to a special kind of sin, the obstruction of the power of the Holy Spirit in the very persons who are called to build up the body of Christ. But the situation at Corinth does point to what have always been three problems with ministry in the Church: (1) the failure to see minis-try as the Spirit-evoked response to different needs within the Church; (2) the failure to see that each ministry has its meaning not in itself, but only insofar as the foundational ministry of presence animates it; (3) the adaptation of the uniqueness of Christian ministry to secular models. I shall comment on these briefly. (1) The problems in the Corinthian community that turned the sym-phonic movements of the Holy Spirit into groups of warring factions have always been part of the sinfulness of the Church. Basically it is the problem of what in Jungian psychology is called the "persona," the pub-lic image a person seeks before the eyes of others. The symphonic na-ture of ministry becomes discordant when one's attention turns from the ministry in itself to an awareness of the public image associated with dif-ferent ministries. The attention then is not on what the Holy Spirit is do-ing through one's ministry, but on the way ttiat one's own glory appears before others. Some even felt they got a better public image by the fact that they were baptized by a person associated with such an image-creating personality, for example, the eloquent and gifted evangelist, Apollos, in contrast to someone like Paul who apparently did not pro-ject such an image. (2) The second problem which has plagued the Church in her past history, as well as at the present, is tile dissociation of the ministry of doing from the primary ministry of being or of presence. For this reason Paul insists that though the Corinthian Community exercise all of the other ministries, even to the point of giving all they have to the poor, or giving their bodies to be. burnt, yet if they are isolated from th~ min-istry of presence, of being, that is love, (hen all activities are like activi-ties of a corpse. There might be much activity, very busy people, but it does not carry the life-giving power of the Spirit. It is dead. The lack of holiness in those who are supposedly the New Creation has been the biggest obstacle to the work of the Spi.rit during the whole of the history of the Church. (3) The third problem, related to the first two, comes from a failure to recognize the uniqueness of ministry in the Church. Ministry in the Church is a reversal of all notions of service that we find in societies that owe their existence to some natural cause, for example, the state or the 174 / Review for Religious, March-April 1989 family. In these societies, a person enters at a certain level, then makes every effort to move to the top, with increase of salary, prestige, power, and the expansion of the "public image" as one works to the top. In the process, whoever is above is a threat because the one above stands in the way. Those who are below are looked on as inferior. Judgments about the importance of different "ministries" are always made accord-ing to the ladder\of the upward-bound movement and then more specifi-cally to what rung of the ladder one is on. This problem has always been with the Church. It was practically im-possible for the apostles to put this new wine into old wineskins. They argued who was the most important. Then Jesus taught them, "If any-one wants to be first, he must make himself last of all and the servant of all" (Mk 9:35). The sons of Zebedee asked Jesus, " 'Grant us the right to sit in state with you, one at your right and the other at your left.' Jesus said to them, 'You do not understand what you are ask!ng. Can you drink the cup that I drink, or be baptized with the baptism I am to be baptized with?' " Jesus tells them that if he as master and Lord has washed their feet, then they should wash one another's feet. This is a symbolic way of describing Christian ministry. Paul says, "Rivalry and personal vanity should have no place among you, but you should hum-bly reckon others better than yourselves" (Ph 2:3). I am sure there are many other problems that have to do with minis-try today. Some are organizational problems, others from many of the feminist questions. The ones I mentioned above are attitudinal. They have always been with us, and are with us today. They can be at work also in other problems such as organizational or the feminist issues. I can-not imagine people agitating for a job which, for example, would mean that they would take a salary cut, pay more taxes, have longer hou.rs, and work anonymously. The Christian notion of ministry~ is even more out-landish than that. Ministry and Religious Life In his Apostolic Exhortation on the religious life, The Gift of Redemp-tion (March 25, 1984), Pope John Paul II presents what is probably the most profound theology of religious life that has ever been thought out. He roots religious consecration in the New Creation that comes into be-ing through baptism. Religio6s life then has its primary ministry in what we spoke of above as the ministry of presence. It is foundational to all other particular forms of ministry. But the presence that forms the fundamental ministry of religious life takes on a particular paschal duality. It is to image forth the life of Jesus Ministry and Ministries as the Suffering Servant. It exists to show forth the duality that belongs to Christ's own paschal mystery. The paschal duality means that one and the same reality has two related aspects: the cross (sacrifice) and the res-urrection (the New Creation). The vowed life of the religious, then, is to bring into the world a particular modality of paschal presence. That is the fundamental ministry: the ministry of the paschal presence. But there are particular ministries which religious congregations ex-ercise for the good of the Church and society. When we look at the his-tory of the Church in our own country, these ministries are numerous. Some of the majors ones are education, hospitals, orphanages, care for the elderly, but there are many others, including the contemplative life of intercession for the Church. Other forms of particular ministries have emerged over the last twenty-five years. But it is the foundational ministry above all which must activate all particular ministries. To quote Pope John Paul: "It is precisely this wit-ness of love that the world today and all humanity need. They need this witness to the Redemption as this is imprinted upon the profession of the evangelical counsels" (no. 14). "From this witness of spousal love for Christ, through which the entire salvific truth of the Gospel becomes par-ticularly visible, there comes., as something proper to your vocation, a sharing in the Church's apostolate, in her universal mission . . ." (no. 15). He goes on to speak of the particular apostolates. Then, "And thus, even though the many different apostolic works that you perform are ex-tremely important, nevertheless the truly fundamental work of the apos-tolate remains always what (and at the same time who) you are in the Church. Of each one of you can be repeated, with special appropriate-ness, these words of Saint Paul: 'For you have died and your life is hid with Christ in God' " (no. 15). Conclusion Questions about ministry are very much with us today. Many of these questions were brought up in the recent synod on the laity. But the end results did not bring much clarification. Perhaps the most positive result was to bring an awareness of the need for a theology of ministry that relates ecclesiology, pneumatology, grace, sacraments, and voca-tion. I am sure that the synod wa~ an important step along the way to clarification. As the history of the theology and development of doctrine show, clarification of issues that touch the life of the Church very pro-foundly is a long process. .What I have tried to do above could be summed up as follows: (I) since ministry belongs to a unique reality, namely, the Church, which "176 / Review for Religious, March-April 1989 is, so to speak, held together 'from above,' through the Holy Spirit, min-istry in the Church is unique, and cannot be reduced to service as~we find it in any human society; (2) ministry is not self-initiated but originated by the Holy Spirit in order to respond to needs, some of which are con-stitutive of the Church, for example, sacrament of orders, and others which depend on historical, sociological factors; (3) the primordial min-istry is that of presence, which cannot be limited to presence of the Spirit "because God's love has flooded our inmost heart through the Holy Spirit he has given us" (Rm 5:5); (4) particular ministries address par-ticul~ ir needs within the Church or the w.ay the Church interfaces with the world; (5) three main problems were singled out: (a) the use of min-istry to glorify oneself; (b) the shift from primacy of presence ("the more excellent way" which Paul describes as love) to a primacy of par-ticular ministries; (c) the subtle adaptation of the gospel paradoxes about ministry ("Then if I, your Lord and Master, have washed your feet, you ought also to wash one another's feet" (Jn 13:14) to promotional mod-els taken from secular societies; (6) finally, I spoke of the particular min-istry of religious, whether active or contemplative: it is the ministry of a special mode of presence, a kenotic presence, which translates the words of Jesus, "this is my body given up for you . . . blood poured out for you" into the three evangelical counsels of chastity, poverty, obe-dience, creating a paschal presence which animates all particular minis-tries. Come and See: An Experiment in Vocation Discernment in Africa Martin O'Reilly, C.F.C. Brother Martin O'Reilly, C.F.C., does vocation counseling work in Liberia and Si-erra Leone. His address is Christian Brothers; P.O. Box,297; Monrovia, Liberia. ~lln unkind joke, certainly thought up with post-Vatican II religious life in mind, asks: how do you join a small religious congregation? Answer: join a big one and wait. It is, however, a joke that would not be under-stood in many parts of the Church, particularly in Africa. Let me explain. Between 1975 and 1985 the number of local priests rose in West Africa by a staggering 630%; local sisters increased by 280% and'brothers by 340% (Statistics compiled from L'Englise Catholique en Afrique, edited by Pere Perraud, Pontifical Missionary Union, France, 1987). T.he prob-lem for many seminaries and religious communities in the younger. churches is not so much trying to attract candidates, but to find ways in which to sort out the wheat from the chaff. This article will focus on the ways in which vocation counselors can effectively carry out their ministry in situations where the large numbers applying for entrance to religious communities, the newness of the ,~o-cation to many people, and the particular backgrounds of the applicants make it difficult to accurately assess the. seriousness of an application. If the postulancy is to really be a preparatory period for entry into the. novitiate, and not simply a sorting out of suitable candidates from the unsuitable, then there is need for some kind of system of deselection prior to that. A method for doing so is what is proposed here. It is the result of my own involvement over these past five years in vocation coun-seling in Liberia and Sierra Leone. 177 "17~1 / Review for Religious, March-April 1989 The Game Plan ~ Perhaps the best way to begin is by saying how I don't carry out my ministry: I don't advertise; I don't give talks in schools or churches; I don't have a telephone; I don't have my own means of transport; and I am not fulltime on the job. I prefer, rather, to spend a couple of weeks, five or six times a year on the road, covering some 3,000 miles or so, visiting those who have contacted me. I stay with them in their town or village, and meet their family and friends. Just as an ordinary friendship grows, so does mine with .those who have expressed interest in the life of a Brother. Through the people who have invited me to visit their homes, I have met others who want to know more about the religious vocation. Many people have joined our community through a friend or relative introducing them to me. Since b~ginning in my ministry in 1982 I have developed a network of contacts that r.uns into the hundreds. When my relationship with an applicant has developed past a cer-tain point, I then invite him to "come and see" where 1 live. I invite him to spend ten weeks with myself and the community. Apart from help-ing with his transport costs, he has to arrange his own travel documents and come under his own steam--just as any person would have to do, were he or she to travel and visit a friend in a far-off place. The idea behind the ten-week vocation discernment program is for candidates and the community to experience each other for a sufficient length of time, allowing both parties to get to know each other, and to see if they are compatible and willing to grow together in community, prayer, and service. :Who Is Invited? ~ There are fivemarkers I would look foi in a person suitable for ac-ceptance into the pre-postula.ncy program (I am presuming that an appli-cant is baptized and confirmed as a Catholic, has reasonable references and is in good health): (I) An applicant must have shown evidence of being able to commit him-self to a group within the Church (for example, The Legion of Mary, St. Vincent de Paul, Y.C.S., or a prayer group) for a substantial period of time. Simply "attending Mass'? regularly is not enough evidence of a commitment to the Church within the African context. (2) An applicant must have "nets to leave behind." The economic con-dition of many of the countries in West Africa is such that the vocation . of a priest or a religious can be a very attractive proposition. It offers a person security and status, to say nothing of sanctity! Those straight Come and See / "179 from school are not usually in a position to have ~proved their compe-tence in the art of living and providing for themselves. With few excep-tions school-leavers have the added problem of not seeing entrance to a religious community as anything more than pursuing "further stud-ies." Those who apply, and have no job, I advise to look elsewhere. (3) The family of an applicant must be able to understand what decision a young person is making in asking to join a religious community. There has to be some significant member of the family, not necessarily a par-ent, who supports his intention. The applicant, for his part, must explain to the family that all he is trying to do is to "find God's will." If he finds out that it is not God's intention forhim to be a religious, then he should tell them that he will return home a wiser person; but if it is, then he must explain thathe will be returning to join the community as a pos-tulant with, hopefully, the understanding and support of his family. (4) An applicant has to be able to see that there are difficulties for him in asking to join a religious community. His ability to talk of his'fears about the demands of a celibate life are as good an indicator as any of the degree of his seriousness. If he cannot see this as a tremendous chal-lenge, then I tell him that he probably has not thought enough about the vocation. (5) With regard to the intellectual ability of an applicant, it is essential that he be capable of tertiary education. A person's particular paper quali-fications do not always reflect his academic ability, so it is not appro-priate to apply the same rules for entry to everyone. A candidate should certainly have finished his secondary school education and not beqook-ing to resit exams at a later date. If I am unsure as to the suitability of a person applying for the pro-gram, I will give him the benefit of the doubt; but when it comes to en-try into the° six months postulancy, and I am s.t!ll unsure of his suitabil-ity, I give the benefit of the doubt to the community and ask him to look elsewhere for his vocation. The Rationale Behind The Program The pre-postulancy program, as outlined here, is conceived of as an extension of the vocation counselor work, .rather than the beginning of religious formation. Those selected for the prograrfi--never more than twelve--are fully aware of the temporary nature of the experience, and understand that at the end of the program they may, or may not, be in-vited to apply for admission to the postulancy program. For most of those entering the program, this will be their first expe-rience of living in a multi-cultural environment. Great care, therefore, 180 / Review for Religious, March-April 1989 is taken to make our candidates feel at home--if not, then they will prob-ably wish they were at home.! We have found that candidates, at this stage of the life in a religious community, prefer to share rooms and need ample opportunity for settling in ,and' being themselves. It goes without saying that the personnel involved in directing the program are comfort-able living with young people and are prepared to trust them. I have found that for a pre-postulancy program to work well, there must be a group of candidates with a specified program to follow. Sim-ply inviting young Africans to come and live with a religious commu-nity and to occupy themselves with some form of pastoral work is not a sufficient basis for helping them understand the meaning of religious life. Candidates need clear guidelines so as to help them negotiate the difficulties in living in a structured environment with others from differ-ent backgrounds and cultures. Growth in appreciation of the meaning of religious life will take place when candidates begin to experience the com-munity as sufficiently safe and supportive so that they can be themselves. However a person presents himself prior to joining the community, he cannot maintain a pretense for long when invited to participate in a strong community experience. Candidates, also, can be so concerned with try-ing to match our real or imagined expectations of them that they find it difficult not to think of themselves as playing the lead part in a drama scripted by others. As far as is possible I make the agenda of our daily living together the responsibility of all and try to foster a sense of ac-countability among them, a sense that "we are in this together." For people to encounter themselves, others, and God in a real way there has to be a ring of authenticity about the experience. I am espe-cially interested in exploring with those invited to join the program their notions about themselves, talents as well as weaknesses; the ways in which they handle questions relating to anger and misunderstanding~ sexu-ality and intimacy, and obligations towards family members--as well as the ways in which they enjoy praying. Matters spe(ifically related to the meaning of the vocation to the religious life, I leave for later on in the p6stulancy. Hopefully, as a result of this approach candidates come to build up their identity as members of the community and as people of prayer on more than the superficial foundations of rules and ritual. Sometimes formators can be afraid to get close to c.andidates, pre-ferring to treat them in h remote fashion. This is, 1 feel, wholly unac-ceptable within a cultural climate where tactile contact and verbal com-munication are so important.~Shaking hands, giving hugs and passing the time of day together are as natural to Africa as the sunshine. Most of Come and See 181 those applying to join us have encountered a good deal of opposition from their friends and family. They need to know from the outset that they are really welcome into the community, not simply for who they might become, (that is religious brothers), but for who.they actually are. That is not to say that there is no room for tough love, but simply that the most effective direction will be given by the formator who is capa-ble of sharing his or her affection for the candidates in concrete ways. A crucial element in thesuccess of the "Come and See" program has been the close presence of professed religious, actively involved in the mission of the congregation, and a novitiate community prepared to welcome candidates, albeit for only ten weeks, into the religious fam-ily. Both professed members and novices have provided a tangible ex-pression of the ideal and the possibility of becoming a religious candi-date. The director of the program is also supported by this in the com-plex business of evaluating applicants to the postulancy. Counseling and helping people discern their vocation is very much, at this stage, a group experience. The value of regular or weekly com-munity meetings, with the opportunity of bringing into the open any is-sue of concern to individuals or the group, cannot be overestimated. If something important to one or more of the candidates is being intention-ally avoided by the community, then nothing of importance will be ta~ked about either. Our weekly sessions start with a review of the pre-vious week and points arising from the reading of the community jour-nal take up the first part of the meeting. I have known that part of the meeting to go on for two hours. The principle of dialogue in Africa seems to be "to talk until you agree"! The length of the program--ten weeks--is long enough for both the candidates and the community to come to have a fair idea of one another, and yet short enough for a person to feel as though he has not burnt his boats by leaving home to enter into a religious community. Having a ter-mination point after ten weeks, instead of say six months, lessens the .chances of early drop-outs and an accompanying lowering of morale 'within the group. It also makes candidates feel free to reevaluate their own decision in the light of their experience of religious life and leave without recriminations, should they feel that such a life is not for them. Conclusion In the five years that the Brothers' Formation Center has been in op-eration in Gbarnga, Liberia, forty-two candidates have completed the "Come and See" program. To date, we have eight postulants, four nov-ices and ten junior professed. Most of those who have left us did so at 1~19 / Review for Religious, March-April 1989 the end of the pre-postulancy program, and left in good spirits. Those who entered the postulancy, and have stayed with the community, say thai the important thing about the pre-postulancy program was that it was religious life "small, small" and hence made them able to realize the importance of being themselves within a culture (religious life) vastly dif-ferent from the 6he they were used to. They were more able to relax and relate to the idea of becoming religious once they knew that they were accepted for who they were; and not who they might become. If those who enter the postulancy do so with some semblance of realism in terms of themselves, and the firm knowledge that "it. is indeed good when brothers dwell as one," then there is a reasonable chance that they can give themselves fully to the significant step of embarking upon the path of becoming members of the Congregation, and I as vocation counselor will have don~ my job. Assessing The "Moral Integrity" Of Candidates For Religious Life Charles Shelton, S.J. Father Charles Shelton, S.J., has a doctorate in clinica! psychology and is currently an Assistant Professor of psychology at Regis College in Denver, Colorado. A more detailed understanding of this theory of conscience is presented in his most recent book, Morality and the Adolescent: A Pastoral Psychology Approach. New York: Crossroad, 1989. His address is Regis College; 3539 West 50th Avenue; Denver, Colorado 8022 I. Over the past twenty years, it is safe to state that the application process for entering reli~ious life has radically changed. Gone are the days when a simple behavioral observation of the candidate's religious practice or the encouraging word of a religious who knows the candidate suffices for entrance. Instead, the application process for most orders and insti-tutes focuses on a thor~ough social history, detailed interviews, psycho-logical evaluations, and an overview of the candidate's sp!ritual life. Sur-prisingly, little has been written regarding one crucial aspect of the ap-plication process--that of the candidate's moral integrity. This article ad-dresses this issue by offering a theoretical yet practical view of the can-didate's capacity for moral growth. The linchpin which holds together the candidate's vocational aspirations with his or her moral integrity is "conscience." Accordingly, we will provide a model of conscience and suggest a practic,al approach which will be of use to vocation directors and interviewers of candidates. The thesis of this article is that the "moral integrity" of a candidate is a crucial area of assessment and that a perspective which utilizes an integrative understanding of conscience offers the best way for providing a thorough examination of the candi-date's capacity for living the moral life. 183 11~4 / Review for Religious,~ March-~April 1989 ,The Moral Life of the Candidate Perhaps one reason that little has been written about the candidate's moral life is that one simply "assumes" that anyone wishing to enter priestly ministry or a religious congregation possesses an upright moral character. Although understandable, such a position remains question-able. Any vocation director can readily provide stories about candidates who express interest .in religious life, many of whom are ill-suited for psychological reasons, as well as at times "moral" reasons, for proceed-ing with the application process. The question of the candidate's moral integrity, however, has taken on new significance over the past two decades. Several reasons can be offered why serious examination needs to be given in this area. First, many candidates seeking to enter religious life today are ~lder. This be-ing the case, the backgrounds and experience of the candidates provide an often admirable, yet at times puzzling, array of experiences. Many involved in the candidate selection process at times wonder what has re-ally gone on in the life history of the candidate. Secondly~ the psycho-logical nature of candidates often admits to a complex personality struc-ture which is threaded with a variety of motives and psychological ex-periences, not all of which are compatible with the demands of the re-ligious community.For example, I was once presented with a situation about a candidat~ to a diocesan seminary. The candid.at~e had. admitted to several questionable behaviors but now contended that a conversion experienc6 had resolved these issues. Since I did not know the candidate, I refused to offer an opinion regarding his suitability. I did suggest, though, that given the behaviors in question careful scrutiny must be given this person's motives. The capacity for rationalization is virtually limitless. Thirdly, the complexity of today's ministerial roles and struc-tures necessitates a well-developed and well-defined moral conscience Which allows flexibility, sustains insight, and fosters behaviOr~ which are~ healthy and which nurture moral integrity. The recent scandals surround~ ing sexual acting out among priests and religious necessitate a.well-integrated conscience which assists a person in reflecting 6n his or her own vocational commitment. All in all, conscience remains the single most vital human mechanism for assisting an individual's living of dis-cipleship. As a consequence, it becomes important to offer a view'of con- ~Cience that is'integrative and best captures the human desire to live the life of Christian discipleship. As a clinical psyChologiSt my own view is that for conscience to make sense it must be intimately rooted within the very human experience of life; indeed, conscience must arise from The "Moral Integrity" of Candidates / 185. the very depths of human experience as it responds to the self-commu-nicating presence of God's offer of grace. This perspective allows the very moral integrity of the person to be encapsulate~l within the reality of h.~uman life and surface in the very depths of human personhood. Ac-cordingly, I think that conscience is best explained as the decision for other-centered value in the concrete decision of everyday life. That is, conscience serves as the capacity to appropriate more and more the Chris-tian dynamic of love in the existential reality ot~ one's life. It is the one force .within life that serves to break through deceit and self-deception and challenges one to strive for a more authentic living of discipleship. In order to see this clearly, I would like to offer a model of con-science that incorporates seven dimensions. My thesis is that only an ex-amination of these seven features will allow a more complete and thor-ough understanding of a'person's capacity for moral int'egrity. As a way to assist the application process of candidates, I will offer specific com-ments and questions that are applicable for a candidate seeking to enter religious life. Through an eva, luation of these seven dimensions, a more adequate sense of the candidate's moral integrity can be ascertained.~ Evaluating for Moral Integrity Within a model of conscience, the following seven dimensions should be considered. Adaptive Psychic Energy. We are what we focus on and experience. Stated another way, what we give attention to offers insight into the type of person that we are. Psychic energy is required for all human endeav-ors. Indeed, perceptions, thoughts, emotions, attachments, and behav-iors ~all rely upon an adequate investment of psychic energy. At the same time, psychic energy is itself limited. One has only so much energy to invest. Thus, to tend to certain tasks and goals precludes, by necessity, investment in other ventures. Developmentally, psychic energy is best utilized in the successful resolution of developmental tasks. Applicants seeking to enter religious life require careful scrutiny of both their level of identity formation as well as their capacity for intimacy. Most likely, individuals who are without a sense of healthy identity or a balanced and mature sense of the demands, ambiguities, and feelings associated with intimacy are susceptible to the pull of a pervasive dependency or the un-due influence of others (or environmental situations) which deflect needed psychic energy for spiritual growth. Moral growth is most apt to take place when one can bring to one's evolving and (increasingly. con-solidated) ethical self the accumulated wisdom derived from a felt (yet evolving) sense of "who I am" and the felt attachment (yet continual 186 / Review for Religious, March-April 1989 self-discovery) that "I am loved and I do love." Some needed questions to consider in this regard include: To what extent does this ~:andidate know who he or sh~ is? How influenced is this candidate by his or her own needs or by the influence of others? With what degi'ee of self-awareness can the candidate speak of a sense of self-definitioh? Does there exist appropriate intimacy experiences in this per-son's life (or for yoUn(er candidates, the maturing capacity for inti-macy)? Has this candidate's sense of identity and intimacy allowed for greater self-awareness that is capable of dealing with increasing ambi-guity and the com, pl~xities of adult (and religious) life? Defensive Psychic Functioning. Healthy growth is dependent upon adap-tive psychic functioning which incorporates mature defense mechanisms. Defense mechanisms are psychic operations whose function is to allay anxiety and.p~rovide a more flexible and adal~table resPonse to reality. Healthy defenses include sublimation, a flexible and resourceful sense of humor, role flexibility, s~ppression's"(the conscious contro~l of im-pulses), and altruism. Needless to say, the living in community and the demands of the chaste life require wide use of these defenses in order that the religious might integrate and deal with sexual and aggressive urges. Community life, the constant demands of the apostolic life, and the need to continually appropriate the ideals of the vowed life require an adaptable and flexible approach to others. On the other hand, there exist a' wide variety of defense mechanisms which are apt to prove un-healthy for living and which in turn stunt moral growth. These include: projection (the attributing of unacceptable feelings to others); externali-zation (the blaming of one's difficulties on others); acting out (the ac-ceding to impulses); rationalization (the making of excuses); stereotyp-ing (theorefusal to allow and accept differences); and compartmentaliza-tion (the excluding of one area of life from self-examination). A classic example of this last defense is the person who lives a credible life as a religiousin most areas of life, yet refuses to look at one area such as sex-ual acting out. As the candidate becomes less able to marshal mature defenses, the inevitable result is a limit of self-knowledge and of reflective self-awareness needed for interior examination. Naturally, this form of lim-ited psychological functioning is bound to impact on the discerning of choices or a balanced and realistic reflection on personal life issues. Some pertinent questions are: Does the candidate rationalize'? exter-nalize? project? and so forth. What does personal responsibility mean for this candidate? How comfortable is the candidate with his or. her ira- The "Moral Integrity" of Candidates pulses? How does the candidate sublimate? How does the candidate deal with ambiguity? To what extent is creativity possible for this candidate? Empathy. Conscience is not only rational reflection; it includes emotional investment and attachment. Empathy best exemplifies this emotional ex-pression since it points to the capacity to bond and show sensitivity to others. Normally, empathic expression is not an issue for religious. How-ever, there exist several areas for scrutiny. Does the candidate overem-pathize? The person who cannot maintain healthy identity boundaries is apt to lose objectivity. Further, when empathizing how does the candi-date deal and integrate his or her empathic stirrings? How self-aware is he or she of emotional distress which arises from pastoral situations which often elicit intense internal feelings? This issue is critically im-portant because burnout (an ever present problem for members of caring professions such as those in religiousolife tend to be) often results from continual exposure of the self to empathic distress (experiencing the pain and hurt of others in pastoral situations) which, over time, wears down the religious both physically and emotionally. This burnout in turn less-ens the capacity for reflection, healthy objectivity, and discerning choice. Self~esteem. Adequate self-esteem is indispensable for maturation. S;~lf-esteem refers to a felt sense of inner goodness and a sense of self-competence. There are several ways self-esteem relates to the candidate's level of moral integrity. First, without a healthy sense Of Self-esteem, a person is psychologically limited in the capacity to admit personal fault and the seeking of forgiveness. Lack of self-esteem leads invariably to over-compensating behavior and desires for control; or, conversely, there exists denial~ of responsibility or rationalizations. Without self-esteem the religious who hurts a fellow community member is disinclined to view himself or herself as bearing responsibility for the hurtful action. An equally problematic behavior that is likely to surface from lack of self-esteem is over-dependency on the behaviors and thoughts of others. In other words, the religious who lacks a felt sense of "inner goodness" is vulnerable to being overly influenced by another. Consequently, such "neediness" is likely to evoke blindness regarding personal action and the rationalization of specific behaviors. Several questions come to mind that could be integrated into an as-sessment of the candidate. First, does the candidate genuinely "like" himself or herself? Is the candidate capable of independent and mature judgment which is open to input and guidance from others? At the same time, are there indications that this candidate is overly dependent on ob- Review for Religious, March-April 1989 taining a good impression from or the approval of others? Guilt. Feelfngs of guilt exact a tremendous toll on the psyche. They can be'the source of debilitation leading to weakened self-esteem, depres-sion, a sense of personal devaluation, and compensating behaviors which often take on a compulsive quality. Still, there is a vital, indeed neces-sary role for guilt in moral development. Healthy guilt serves as a vital linchpin'in orienting one to awareness of personal transgressions and the need for forgiveness. Furthermore, such guilt' experiences induce a re-sponse that is caring and sensitive to the concerns of others. Admittedly, the experience of guilt is one of the most difficult psychological tight-ropes to walk. If experienced too intensely, its effects can be crippling. On the other hand, to deny the experience of guilt deprives the self of' a naturally occurring psychic experience whose function nourishes increas-ing sensitivity and altruistic responding. My own impression is that many religious downplay the vital role that guilt exercisesin the experience of forgiveness, I suspect this is most likely due to many religious' own back-ground and difficult time with guilt feelings. Several questions are pertinent. How. has the candidate dealt with moral transgressions in his or her own life? Can he or she discuss them? Is there a sense of openness and also a healthy distance from these past experiences? What has the candidate learned from these experiences? Is the candidate still reacting to them? How does,the candidate speak of his. current limitatiohs? How does the ~candidate believe that he or she needs further growth? Note here the view of growth from a sense of positive integration as opposed to a compulsive sense of goals to be accom-plished. Idealization. The role of idealization is vital for the development of a healthy moral sell It is within our capacity for 'idealization that the can-didate 'is able to construct a view of the order or congregation and the personal desire"to enter religious life. Idealization speaks of dreams, hopes, desires and what the ca.ndidate wishes to become. It implies a mold~ ing process of gradual evolvement which is shaped from images and hopes yet to be realized. Idealizations indicate the quality of one's emo-tional investment and the underlying values to which the moral self is committed. Several questions are pertinent.~,How realistic is the candidate's view of self? religious life? It is to be expected th~at the view of both self and the order/congregation might be somewhat distorted; and the issue b'(- comes how open 'is the candidate to having his or her idealizations rfiodi-fled? A further question refers to the capacity of the candidate to deal The "Moral Integrity" of Candidates with disillusionment. Since idealizations are so valued, the failure of them to occur or be implemented can lead to tremendous hurt and an-ger. Behaviors emanating from such perceived slights and disappoint-ments include acting out, cynicism, passive-aggressive behavior, ration-alizations. In other words, the negative affect resulting from disil-lusionment can cloud healthy moral reflection and an authentic living of the vows. Teleology. A final dimension of the well-integrated conscience is a re-flective sense of purposive meaning. A teleological perspective is sim-ply one's capacity for rational reflection which provides reasons ("that for the sake of which") why one's behavior is carried out. Candidates to religious orders and congregations, of course, are capable of reasoned and reflective behaviors. The issue here is more the "style" of one's telic inclinations rather than the content of the reasoning. In other words, most people could give reasoned responses for their behaviors. The key for mature functioning, and most certainly for moral functioning, is the motivation behind such reflection. Tendencies to be observed include the following: Does the reasoning of this candidate contain a healthy per-sonal investment? Is there an emotional investment in his reasons? Con-victions are most apt to be lived out when they contain a mature blend-ing of reasoned reflection and emotional commitment. On the other hand, does the candidate isolate affect? Does he or she appear to sepa-rate reasons from the emotions which such content would naturally elicit? For example, a candidate who would,speak of a particularly disturbing experience in a cold and very intellectualized way might well not be aware of underlying emotional dynamics. On the other hand, the candi-date whose rationales are continually interspersed with an impulsive qual-ity or tinged with emotionally laden content might be too absorbed in de-veiopm+ ntal issues or underlying dynamic processes to offer healthy dis-tance and the requisite discerning that is needed for moral decision mak-ing. Conclusion This article has underscored the significance of exploring the moral integrity of applicants in any overall assessment of candidates. It is ar-gued that moral development is not simply a process of doing right or wrong. Rather, growth in the moral life is a complex event best exem-plified as an integrative process emanating within the rooted experiences of human living. In the assessment process itself, an exploration of the candidate's past life history is imperative. Equally important, though, is assessing some quality of the candidate's capacity for moral growth. This 190 / Review for Religious, March-April 1989 article argues that optimum moral growth for the candidate is most apt to take place when the following qualities are present: appropriate work-ing through of developmental issues, a realistic and adaptive view of self and others, a caring sensitivity, the capacity for admitting wrong, a healthy sense.of self-esteem, aspiring ideals that are realistic, and reflec-tive reasoning. Though no assessment procedure can accurately predict a candidate's ability to live consistently the moral life, it is well worth the efforts of those involved in the formation process to address every candidate's capacity for moral integrity. An Easter Prayer Love's force is stron.ger than the pull of dark: It can level mountains, raise the dead To a new life, and strengthen weary feet To walk on waters, piled rough waves of night. Its breath can blow the dying coals to light A tunnel black as pitch and radiate The way round pitfalls and sucking s~nds Even to the long, long corridor's end: Chain love's force in tomb with rock-seal tight, Beat it level on Friday's cross and still After three-days He rises above The morning sun in Tabor splendor. See how He moves unhindered through barred doors, All His glory sta.mped on hand and foot and side: Balm to festered sores of Calvary, Now free from binding shroud and fastening nails. Oh, Beacon Light at the end of the sea's corridor, Ointment spice for hurt eyes and wounded hands, Oh, Summoning Bell, buoyant to all our stumbling feet, Help us, Risen Christ, to walk life's dark waters! Marcella M. Holloway, C.S.J. 6400 Minnesota Avenue St. Louis, Mo. 63111 Comprehensive Counseling David Altman, O.C.S.O. Father David is a monk of Holy Trinity Abbey; Huntsville, Utah 84317. At one time or another during our lives, individuals will come to usfor the help they think we can give. Whether or not we find ourselves ex-pert in various kinds of problem-solving, we ought to be able to help them identify problems and be able to present recommendations. Perhaps the key to success in relating to and helping others is to see personal relationships as Christian ministry. The people we meet are, of course, Christ himself, in one of his many disguises. They are also our current pastoral assignments, to be met with faith and self-sacrifical love. Upwards of 85% of helping others consists.in listening: listening at-tentively with compassion and understanding. At times we will be called upon to respond, and this must not be done tritely, but intelligently and constructively. The Approach The secret, if there is one, of a good approach to solving personal problems is to meet each person-situation comprehensively, which is to say, completely. This simply means that we have to use a method which will ensure that problems are not permitted to get by undetected. We want to throw out a net, so to say, which will catch and identify all the difficulties from which a person is suffering. A way to do this is to realize that we human beings are basically three-fold in our makeup: we are physical beings, mental-psychologi~:al be-ings, and moral-spiritual beings, Obviously, then, we can have three gen-eral kinds of problems: physical, mental-psychological, and moral-spiritual. 191 Review for Religious, March-April 1989 These categories are not mutually exclusive since they all pertain to one human person in each case. I have found them useful in my own coun-seling experience because they are complete: they are the net from which no problem need escape, provided that each category is kept in mind dur-ing communication with the person who is seeking help. Competency Few of us are competent to handle difficult cases of pathological na-ture. Of course, those with severe illnesses are to be directed to pro-fessionals with the appropriate expertise. Psychotics need psychiatrists or psychologists; seriously sick bodies require medical attention; and mor-ally ill people need men and women who can show them God's healing ways. Because we presumably are these men and women of God, we ought also to have a certain competency in identifying problems in the other two areas of each person: the physical and the psychological. The body-soul unity is the temple of God's Spirit, sharing intimately in the spiri-tual life of each of us. Therefore our desire to, help the suffering Christ in others ought to carry us beyond spiritual and moral interests alone. Though we may not have the professional training by which we can solve a probiem fully, our working knowledge of various problems en-ables us to provide reasons to a person of his (or her) need for another with more expertise. Simply remarking, "You need a doctor" can be a slap in the face for one who is in pain. We should be able to convince another of his need for help, and perhaps even supply a good name for reference. Difficulties One of the greatest difficulties in attempting to solve individual prob-lems in any of the three areas is to give a suffering person What we want instead of what he needs. When a medical doctor sees a patient, the as-sumption is that the patient has a medical problem. Tunnel vision can take over, and physical medicine is all the doctor can see, whereas the patient's main difficulty may be in a quite different area. It is not un-usual for doctors to listen to remarks such as "I'm not feeling well" and respond with great pastoral concern: "Here, let me give you something for your nerves." This is treating the, sympto.m rather than attempting to identify the underlying cause, the root problem. When a person sees a psychologist with a problem, the psychologist will usually presume that the problem lies within the bounds of psycho-logical expertise. This too may not be the case at all. Remember the story Comprehensive Counseling / 193 of the man who went to a psychologist with a physical ailment that was impinging on his nervous system. "I feel terrible," was the complaint. The doctor responded unwaveringly with talk therapy and persevered in missing the mark. There is little sense and even less success realized in forcing one kind of solution on an entirely different kind of problem. Equally futile and costly is the failure to address real problems in favor of their symptoms. Worse still is the failure of the health-care specialist torecognize a ~prob-lem, then write off the patient as a hypochondriac. This is no solution, only an excuse. When religious or priests are approached for counseling, we nor-mally presume, in our turn, that the person is simply looking for a closer relationship with God, and we proceed accordingly and unfortunately. I remember a person coming to see a religious for years, feeling terrible for a great deal of her time. The counselor came across very generously with saccharine exhortations to a deeper relationship with the Lord. The individual responded with nodding smiles as tears of pain continued to roll down her cheeks. The religious was giving what he wanted, not what the person needed. As it was, the individual had developed a severe case of hypogly-cemia, diagnosed laterby a physician. And, as counselors should know, fluctuating blood-sugar levels have very much to do with a person's emo-tional dispositions. As soon as the suffering person said, "I feel terrible," that was the tip-off for aphysicai condition. After all, we can only feel, bodily, through our nervous-system cells. When they are offended, they are go-ing to let us know about it, one way or another, In addition to hypoglycemia and diabetes, people today are subject to stress situations--and with widely varying nutritional needs. Medical science today knows that under these stress conditions the body gobbles up vitamins and minerals to an enormous degree. Since the B vitamins, vitamin C, and calcium predominantly nourish the human nervous sys-tem, a deficiency is going to show up with contributions toward various kinds of problems: mood swings, nervousness, anxiety, anger, irritabil-ity, depression, compulsive sexual problems, insomnia. Any nervous-system- related problem can be caused or made more burdensome by the severely deficient diets that are practiced today throughout our junk-food land. One person complained of not feeling quite herself: irritable, even biting toward others. I learned that she had just recovered from the flu, Review for Religious, March-April 1989 which is just one of the stress factors we experience. I suggested a vita-min- mineral supplement on an as-needed basis, and the problem was cleared up. A third physical difficulty, also masked as spiritual or psychologi-cal, is the problem of intolerances. Pioneer medical research has shown that all kinds of personal difficulties are really the human body's reac-tion to ~,arious environmental factors: food intolerances certainly, but also paints, finishing substances, and other chemicals, even artificial light-ing. PhysiCal problems are the first options to explore in c~unseling. They are the most quantifiable, and perhaps the easiest to identify, if not to solve. Relationships People have trouble with relationships, and each of us has three re-lationships in life: a relationship with God, with others, and with one-self. Problem areas are identified by determining the quality of these three relationships, and there are many tip-off statements that come your way as a~counselor. They come voluntarily to the listening ear, and they can be elicited .by asking the right questions. For example, a counselor can determine the quality of someone's re-lationship with God by asking for details about private and communal prayer-lives and: about fidelity to known moral obligations :in 'marriage and work-commitments. Listening to descriptions of interpersonal rela-tionships can reveal much. On one occasion I heard, "They're pickin' on me." This could be true, or it could be a defense. In this particular case, "they" were not the problem. I was talking to the problem. We all enjoy the forbidden luxury of finger-pointing, but we should be mos'e aware that whatever we do, whatever~we say, whatever we wil.l-fully think, we are always saying something about ourselves. We behave out of what we are. Often individuals will present their relational difficulties in terms of an impossible situation with absolutely no way out. The answer is the awareness of the great difference between a real relational situation, and the particular way it is described. Simply reframe the problematic situ- ¯ ation. Discard the impossible description, redescribing the circumstances yourself, so as to provide as many solutions as you can. This takes imagi-nation, and first attempts will result in grasping at straws. But hold on to the straws, as they lead to stronger, more promising answers. It should also be clear that principles of good counseling are appli-cable not only to others,,but also to ourselves. In this connection there Comprehensive Counseling / 195 is a check on the judgments we must make in order to help others: the golden rule, the virtue of empathy, placing oneself in the other's shoes. These principles demand questions such as: Would I follow this advice myself? How would I feel were this advice given to me? Would I bene-fit from the behavior I am planning to recommend? The measure of the quality of any relationship--with God, others, or oneself--is the answer to this question: How does the individual han-dle conflict? We are all fair-weather friends of God, of others, especially of ourselves. But the true measure of a person's strength of character and personal integration is how one stands up in adversity. Do we respond to challenges with virtue and resultant, growth, or with vice and rebel-lion in its many forms? : We cannot give what we do not have; we can only give what we have, so the personal problems we carry around are going to show up in relationships with others. Do they handle re!ational conflicts with at-tempts at reconciliation and peace, or are they inclined to antagonism, revenge, and consequent alienation? Vices In the course of counseling experience, we come across the problem of evil: evil circumstances, evil behavior. We are all sinners before God, and before each other, a fact which ought never to be discounted in problematic relationships. We meet people who sin against God, against others, against them-selves. One of the best favors we can do for them is to help them admit and own their own evil. It is a mistake to try to identify every problem medically or psychologically. Wrongdoing must be identified, owned, and corrected. We are admittedly honest and generous in assigning praise for vir-tue and for any good act; we must be just as honest in recognizing and assigning vice (evil habits)and sinful acts. How we speak about this to others is important, but the honesty must be there, because the only way to solve a problem is to' face it. The love of Christ is a challenging love, because it is only through challenges that people grow. We must often challenge others' behavior, challenge their sin, challenge our own sin. It is these challenges which are the cross-experiences of our lives and the meaning of suffering. We grow through challenges into the strength of character that we need, to live life well, and to die well. These challenges or crosses hurt, because growing pains always do hurt. But the rewards are well worth the perse-vering effort. Review for Religious, March-April 1989 After the apparently innocuous complaint "My life seems to have no direction or purpose," aofew questions were able to uncover a some-what profligate sex life, little or no prayer, and a difficult family back~ ground. Well, we are all products of our background, but we never need be slaves of our backgrounds: Psychotherapy can be of great healing bene-fit; so can a humble confession of guilt with attendant petitions for for-giveness and :mercy; so can the healing power of prayer: holding up bad memories in prayer, exposing them to divine remedies. Whatever difficulties we:have had to endure, they tend to force upon us burdens and pressures which are often channeled compulsively as they please. Kn~owing that our two main emotion-vices are anger and lust, we see that compulsions can spell big trouble. As a result~ people gravitate toward giving up dominion over their own beings:~They become slaves of various emotions and habits. Indi-viduals abdicate the kingship or queenship of their beings in favor of an-ger, lust, drive for power, vain ambitiow, money, prestige, or another person. Taking steps to become one's own man, one's own woman, elimi-nates this slavery, and the first and most important step is fidelity to God ~nd his laws governing human living. This is i'eal love, which will in-variably be returned in greater measure, because w'e love a God who will not be outdone in generosity. Conclusion This contribution has also been called comprehensive because it is only an overview. There is no substitutefor common sense in counsel: ing, and no substitute for prayer. The Jesus Prayer o~: another prayer,of aspiration before, during, .and after the counseling session deepens the session in God, exposing both parties to divine healing power and spe-cial graces. We are ourselves healed as we heal others, because with our love, our desire to give.God to others,' we find that the same generous God gives to us in response to our needs. We offer the gift of our lives to the suffering Jesus in others,', and he returns this gift with his own life and gifts: the graces we need to accomplish our healing task well, and the grace to grow through our own physical, psychological, and moral prob-lems into the personal sanctity ordained for us. The Power of Romantic Love William F. Kraft, Ph.D. William Kraft, Ph.D., is well known to our readers. Dr. Kraft is on the faculty of th~ Psychology Department of Carlow College where he may be addressed: 3333 Fifth Avenue; Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania 15213. ~1 don't know what's gotten into me, but I do know that I'vemever felt like this. I never thought I could feel so alive, so open, so good. Since becoming friends with Sarah, I feel more confident; it's as though prob-lems don't bother me like they used to. I function better, I'm more open, and life just seems to finally make more sense. Especially when I'm with Sarah, I feel light, energetic,optimistic. It's as if almost anything is pos-sible. "Some sisters label our relationship as exclusive, or God forbid: par-ticular. In some ways, I guess it is. I know I can hardly wait to see her, to spend the weekend with her, to go on vacation with her. And some-times, I think I yearn too much to be with her. And yet, how could some-thing as wonderful and good be bad? True: sometimes we get a bit too physical, but never genital. We really strive to be chaste, but it's diffi-cult at times. I would like to be more physical, to give all, but I know that would be going out of bounds. "Before my friendship with Sarah, I was sort of happy. I was a good teacher and got along okay in the community. But ! always had the feel-ing that I was missing something important, that life should be more than getting by or maintaining the status quo. And I was always kind of shy or constricted. It was as if I had all these flashing red and yellow lights in my mind, and now there are more green lights." This sister has fallen romantically in love--one of our most invigo-rating and seductive modes of love. She has been lured into and is en- 197 Review for Religious, March-April 1989 joying the experience where almost anything seems possible and almost nothing seems impossible. Feeling more courage and confidence, old problems seemed to have changed and new possibilities have emerged. And her friend seems to be the center of her life, the source of her new vision and strength. Her life is so much more alive than her relatively constricted past. Understandably, she wants more of this new life. Such is romantic love. Listen to this male religious. "Something incredible happened to me this summer. While finishing my master's degree, I fell in love. I met. Carol, and my life changed. It wasn't as if I had a game plan; it wasn't even on my mind. It just happened. "It's great. I've never been so open in my life, especially with a woman. I share everything, and it feels so good. We hold nothing back, and we seem to know what each other is thinking and feeling without even saying anything. It's magic. She's on my mind and in my heart all the time, and I can't wait to see her or at least call her. Thank God she lives in the same city. When we are together, time goes so quickly. A few hours seem like a few minutes. "I think others would say that I've been a good religious. I've done well in my ministry and have gotten along in my community. I am grate-ful to my fellow brothers and priests. So it is difficult to think about leav-ing the religious life, and neither is it an easy question for Carol. We love each other very much, but we also love the religious life. And it has been good to us. "When you asked me what is wrong with Carol, I was stumped. I know she is not perfect, but I don't see or feel anything wrong with her. And I feel so much better myself. I'll take your advice to wait until life settles, and not make a hasty decision that would change my entire life. True, I have known Carol for only four months, but it seems like I have known her all my life. "Why shouldn't I leave. True, it would be difficult to find a good job, and family life would certainly be different. But I could still do much of what I do now, and I feel that being married to Carol, I could even be closer to God. I will, with the help of you, my friends, and God discern my experience. But why would God give me such a beautiful gift and then expect me to reject it?" Indeed, romantic love is wonderful. Although this man has been a very rational, successful, and good community religious, he finds him-self in a serious dilemma: to leave or stay in religious life. His past has been good to him, and he to it, but his future seems to offer an even bet- The Power of Romantic Love / 199 ter life. Being immersed in the magic of love, he feels strongly drawn to this land of apparently unlimited possibilities. Both of these religious are enjoying and being inspired and chal-lenged by romantic love. Their love consumes them, embracing all their senses, mind, and spirit. Radically new horizons of meaning have opened up, pressuring them to restructure their lives. What should they do? In this article I will discuss the nature and dynamics of romantic love, its positive and negative possibilities and consequences in religious life, and ways to cope with oneself and others in service of healthy and holy growth. The Nature and Dynamics of Romantic Love Romantic love lures us into a world where there is nothing dull and mundane, a world that promises a new and better life. It offers us an ex-hilarating and inspiring unity of feeling intensely and of being strongly involved with the ideal. To experience transcendence passionately can be awe-fully seductive. Romantic love offers us an exhilarating and inspiring unity of feel-ing intensely and of being strongly involved with the ideal. As romantic lovers we yearn to be with each other, constantly think about and feel for each other, and so it seems touch each other even when we are physi, cally absent. Being without each other, we feel an intense void as well as presence in absence, and being with each other brings warmth, secu-rity, and fulfillment along with this sensuous enrapture. We initially ide-alize each other, feeling that we can do and share anything, and be our most perfect selves. We feel what love can be without its limits, and we want to give, to be,and to receive all that is possible. There is a special magic--a passionate affair with the ideal, an experience of heaven. What happens when we fall romantically in love? Initially we prob-ably feel as though we are walking on clouds, and that everything is pos-sible. We experience each other in terms of perfection, while our imper-fections are denied, minimized or rationalized. We may feel thatwe want to live together, to capture this love forever. This romantic time is one of the most exciting, pleasurable, and satisfying experiences. In the in-itial stages of friendship we may experience new possibilities in testing our limits, risking our vulnerability, feeling more alive than ever before, and willing to do almost anything. We may feel that everything is possi-ble and all right, and that life is radiantly alive. Our romantic friendship usually inspires us to become our best selves, and often new energy and courage provide the way. We can have romantic experiences in solitude. For instance, we may 200 / Review for Religious, March-April 1989 intensely feel the spiritual possibilities of contemplation. We may expe-rience a world of meaning that is transcendent and permanent. To ask ultimate questions and to be confronted with mysterious issues can be a peak experience. T° hear silent music can include the romantic. Romantic lovers--religious, single, or married--initially experience the unlimited potential of each other and concretely celebrate each other's perfection. However, paradise does not last; our romantic time is usually followed by one of imperfection. Sometimes suddenly, instead of experiencing each other as unlimited, we intensely experience our limi-tations. We find ourselves criticizing, obsessed with the other's imper-fections, or perhaps withdrawing from each other. Think of a sister and priest (or lay couple) who fall in love and get married. At first, they radiate with love and cannot stand to be without each other. But sooner than later they begin to test and question their love, and at times cannot stand to be with each other. Instead of diviniz-ing each other, they now demonize each other. For instance, minor hab-its may become irritating. One squeezes the tooth paste from the middle and the other from the ind. His snoring upsets her, while her hair curl-ers upset him. More seriously, she becomes frustrated and angry because he no longer shows his feelings as he apparently once did. He becomes confused and angry with constant complaining about his overworking and in general his unavailability. Whatever the focus of criticism, they focus on eacffother's limits, as contrasted with their past when they en-joyed their unlimitedness. Instead of heavenly, being with each other feels more hellish. Their magic has disappeared. Consider a novice who experiences religious life as a perfect way of living. Particularly in early formation when there is considerable personal affirmation, exploration, and direction, religious life offers extraordinary opportunities for individual and communal growth. However, "reentry problems" may be experienced when a new religious moves from the no-vitiate to living in an ordinary community. Community living seems rnuch~different than it was in the novitiate, or how it was ideally de-scribed. The inevitable imperfection of living with others may feel more like a burden than a joy. A danger is to identify religious life (or any life form or person) with its perfections and possibilities, or with its limits and obstacles to growth. Like any personal (and professional) life, there are more or less problems and opportunities. Positive and Negative Seduction As its etymology indicates, seduction conveys a negative meaning, namely, some thing, activity, or person that leads us astray or into The Power of Romantic Love / 201 trouble. And indeed, this can be the case. However, seduction can also have positive meaning in luring us to a better life. One reason romantic love is important is that it can be a prelude and invitation to a more committed love. Its strong attraction, gentle excite-ment, and erotic idealism make it easier, more enjoyable, and exciting for us to enter love. Since love, especially intimate love, is a risky ven-ture, romantic love makes the entry into love relatively easier, safer, and moi'e fun. It is a delicious taste of heaven. But like food, its satisfaction is temporary, and if we eat too much of that elixir, we can get sick. Ro-mantic love is an intense promise of a more permanent love that is both ideal and limited, erotic and transcendent, for the moment and forever, pleasurable and painful, divine and demonic--a love that embraces and dignifies all of us. If some of us knew the total picture of religious life, especially its hard times, before entering religious life, we may have had second or third thoughts about making a life commitment. Strictly from a rational-istic view, religious life may not have been as appealing. Fortunately our Holy Spirit called us with an alluring voice. Likewise, some of our friend-ships may never have occurred without romantic love's promise of an even .more balanced, wholly, and permanent love. To be sure, not all men and women entered religious life or friendship in a romantic aura. But many did, and few people live without any romanticism. Our spiritual journey with and toward God can also include romantic times. It is not unusual to go through a time--or times--of being roman-tically in love with God. We may suddenly feel that anything is possi-ble, that everything will turn out all right, that everything makes sense. We may bask in a divine light while minimizing, forgetting, or even re-pressing darkness. Although there is much truth in the vision, dark nights will come in service of a deeper and more realistic presence to God. Romantic love is not only a means toward an end. When immersed in romantic love, it is good to celebrate and proclaim our romantic stand in the world. Our experience is a witness to love and often promotes hap-piness for others. We can also build a precious source of memories that can help us gain perspective when going through difficult times. And in-deed as authentic lovers we can, though not constantly, congistently cele-brate times of romantic love. Helping Oneself and Others Think of two religious who care for each other and become close friends. Initially, they may idealize their relationship so that it is basi-cally exclusive. At first, they may wonder how they ever li.ved without 202 /Review for Religious, March-April 1989 each other. Especially if one or both persons have had restricted feelings of affection, now they can feel free to express themselves without re-straint. They feel liberated and more wholly alive. Their "particular" friendship, however, soon incorporates limits and obstacles. For in-stance, they discover that they can irritate and confuse each other, and :they can become hurt, angry, jealous, and perhaps guilty and ashamed. Instead of harboring resentment, or ending the friendship, both persons can step back--physically, psychosocially, and spiritually--and listen to themselves and each other, and hopefully return to renew and deepen their friendship so that it includes both their positive and negative dimen-sions. The challenging ideal is that both the light and dark sides of life be integrated, rather than absolutizing one of them. In fact, these experi-ences point to and affirm what life is--both divine and demonic, light and dark, life and death. When we experience a person as perfect, it is helpful to keep in mind that every person is imperfect. When there are disagreements, past agreements can be remembered as well as agreeing. to disagree. Our challenge is to see potential virtue where there is vice, strength where there is weakness, joy where there is sadness, love where there is hate, life where there is death. Courage and commitment are needed to move with and grow from life's paradoxical rhythm. Although romantic love is particularly enjoyable, the genuine desire to give one's self totally to another p~'esents challenging difficulties. Be-cause of the affective and ideal qualities of romantic love, we may nei-ther want nor perhaps experience any limits, and consequently may yearn to give unconditionally in every way pogsible. As religious we may yearn to celebrate our love in genital experiences, but we can say "no" in serv-ice of a "yes" to our love. What can superiors, friends, or other community members do when they observe religious in romantic love. Particularly when the exclusivity is causing little community I~arm, the wisest approach may be to do noth-ing, that is, to let romantic love run its course from the divine to the de-monic. However, when infatuation occurs or the dark, limited phase ap-pears, interveution may be called for. What you d6 depends on the kind and amount of power and responsibility your superior and others in re-sponsible roles have, as well as what you are willing and able to do, par-ticularly in being willing and able to invest the time and energy on con-fronting, processing, and following through with consequences. A superior may choose to confront a priest with his infatuous friend-ship. Confrontation means to state assertively and with concern what you The Power of Romantic Love / 203. observe in the other's behavior. It does not mean to interpret or analyze a person's behavior, nor does it include verbal oppression or emotional rape. We give feedback, and depending on our authority, we state natu-ral and logical consequences of one's behavior. For instance, if you con-tinue to date this woman as well as isolate yourself from the community, then counseling must be pursued or you will be transferred to another city, or you will be asked/told to leave. It is important to remember that although we impact on one another more or less positively and negatively, we cannot change anyone. We can give others opportunities, feedback, advice, consequences, and so forth, but only they can change themselves. We can only change and con-trol ourselves, and this is accomplished within varying degrees of lim-its. Authoritarian, codependent, and other well-intentioned and overly responsible people may find this fact difficult to accept. Ideally, a radical decision (for example, leaving religious life) or a life commitment (for example, vowed religious life) should not be made in either the so-called divine or demonic phases of love. When we are madly in love and experience no imperfections whatsoever, a life com-mitment is precarious. And we should be equally as prudent about mak-ing radical decisions, those that significantly irnpact on our lives, while in a demonic phase. When life is overwhelmingly dark, any light or re-lief can be tempting. It is better to wait until light emerges in our pre-sent situation--to wait until we make more sense of our struggle and be freer to choose. To paraphrase an old saying: the darkest and coldest time is right before dawn. Ideally, we should also not make a decision for life only out of ro-manticism or infatuation--when there are no limits or imperfections, but rather when we can be open to both the positive and negative factors of our past, present, and future situations. For instance, a brother who falls in love with a sister may be in the divinizing stage of romantic love. When asked what is wrong with his beloved, he may say nothing con-crete. Until he can point out experientially what is positive and negative about her and himself, it is probably better for him to wait before mak-ing such a radical decision such as leaving religious life to get married. A decision to leave, not because of romantic involvement, but be-cause nothing seems right and satisfying is quite tempting. When under enormous stress, we can be duped into feeling that a change in lifestyle will solve personal and interpersonal problems. It is more likely that we will take our problems with us and unconsciously seek a similar situ-ation. It is wiser to look at and deal with the dark side in ourselves and 204 / Review for Religious, March-April 1989 then make decisions. In short, authentic committed love is never perfect or divine, and nei-ther is it always imperfect or demonic. It is a combination of both. When on earth, life and love are matters of heaven and hell. If authentic love were perfect, commitment would not be necessary, there would be heaven, not earth. Because we are a unity of perfection and imperfec-tion, commitment is called for. Seed I .know interpretation has rules, But they should not freeze mystery. Why can't metaphors step between parables, And people and plots mingle? The sower, for instance, and the birds on the wayside who fed, the birds Who never fall unknown any more Than the bum thrown out of the bar And the starving, potbellied African baby. How wide is the wayside'? Past oceans And deserts and ranges and space to Ultimate doing of truth in love? And the rocks (poor Peter), are they always shallow? Have you seen those rock walls on roads Where, in spite of technology, a stubborn Wild shoot adorns the crazy face of An impossible height? or the sturdy Root that splits concrete apart and Frees the seed of a water main (prodigal spill)? Then There's the child who patiently pulls the Tufts from the cracks between bricks And scatters the clumps for the wind To sow next season's crop and chore. But the thistles--I don't know about them. I cringe at the vision of crowns And wonder if scarlet hands too Can drip the seeds of the realm That the sower went out to sow. Clarita Felhoelter, O.S.U. 3105 Lexington Road Louisville, Kentucky 4020'6 The Experience of Mid-Life Divorce and AlienationI David J. Hassel, S.J. Father David Hassel, S.J., is currently Research Professor of Philosophy at Loyola University of Chicago. The contents of this article will be part of his forthcoming book called The Ache of Alienation. His address is Loyola University; 6525 N. Sheridan Road; Chicago, Illinois 60626, Helen,s husband had confronted her a year ago after a very quiet dinner. "Helen," he had said, "there is something we have to talk about in the living room while the kids are out." They had sat there through a long silence before he said in a rush of words: "I want a divorce; I cannot go on living as we have been--distant, on parallel courses, never really meeting. The kids already suspect something and are old enough to han-dle this now. I've made a decision and no talking will change it. I don't want to hurt you anymore than I've already done. My lawyer has drawn up the legal papers; you'll be taken care of financially." Helen, her voice sounding like cracking ice, had said to him: "Joe, it's Anita, isn't it. That day down at the office I saw the glance you gave her--like the one you had once given me." "Yes," he said, "but we are not going into that." Helen could recall herself slowly getting up, slowly going up the stairs to her room, throwing herself on the bed and beginning to shudder with great dry heaves. No tears, only a terrible emp-tiness. When during the course of the following weeks, she had been alone with each of the children, she had received some additional shocks. Jim, the twenty-two year old just finishing college, put it simply: "Look, Mom, where have you been the past two years? Dad has been home less and less, and telling less and less what he has been doing. What have 205 206 / Review for Religious, March-April 1989 you been thinking?" The twins, Edith and Carol, high school seniors, were rather casual: "Morn, this is the way things go these days; you have to be ready for the worst and this is the worst, no doubt about it." Timothy, the twelve-year old, was inconsolable: "Dad's leaving us be-hind and it's unfair; I hate him now. But what can we do? I guess we just get used to it the way Jerry Kanz did when his Dad moved out." Helen, like many another to-be-divorced woman, had looked back over her life and wondered bitterly: Where did it start to go wrong? Where did I fail? Except for Timmy, the children seemed so casual about it all. Were they simply ungrateful, without any affection for her and Joe or were they covering up their anger and disappointment? Her telephone call to her mother had caused a flood of tears and a scalding anger-- more at Helen's stupidity than at Joe's two-timing. Her favorite brother had only said, "Well, the bastard finally owned upto it, did he?" Women friends had been properly shocked and consoling for some weeks; then the telephone calls became less frequent and one friend fi-nally said to her: "Honey, you have to stop lamenting and get your life together--without Joe; the sooner the better." All her doings had be-come meaningless: cooking meals, house-cleaning, shopping, bridge-clubbing, fulfilling the immediate needs of her children, attending Mass, telephoning friends, volunteering at the hospital, watching TV late into the night. Then the depressing guilt-fits began. Why were her children so un-feeling unless she had failed badly in their upbringing? Why had she not noticed sooner her husband's wandering and done something to woo him back? Had she become an insensitive creature herself? Were all her friend-ships superficial, revealing her own lack of depth? Was all her busyness merely a way to hide from herself who she really was: an empty shell of a woman? How could even God find time for her anymore? Actually her past seemed gutted, her present confused and her future dark with anxiety. The Woman Religious' Parallel Experience of "Divorce" Helen's experience, in one form or another, is that of thousands of wives and mothers as divorces continue to multiply across America. But is it so very different from the experience of not a few women religious who at mid-life review the past ten or twenty years of their own lives and wonder where their prayer-union with Christ has gone? The woman religious has been living the regular routines of a life consecrated to Christ: spending some time with him before breakfast and before heading to bed; taking care of his people in hospital, school, day- Mid-Life Divorce and Alienation care center, parish, and social work office; making some friends along the, way; watching TV and going for occasional walks; attending family gatherings, and centering her life in daily Eucharists. But in everything she feels hardly any feedback of gratitude or joy. If she is a social worker, she may have been called a meddler by the fam-ily whose children she has seen through hospitals, remedial reading courses, and angry bouts with their parents. The high school teacher of twenty-five years' experience may have been told by a lay colleague that she is twenty years behind the times in her teaching techniques and thirty years behind in her understanding of today's high schoolers. The sister-nurse may be overwhelmed with the ugly fact that her order's hospitals are now big business and that she had better play it safe with charity cases lest the hospital's budget-report show red ink. An almost exhausted sister may be informed by her superior that if she cannot take this job of religious coordinator at the disorganized St. Dismas parish, she had better find another job.to earn her way. Meaning seems to have drained out of her work. The once beautiful routines connected with teaching, nursing, administrating, catechizing, parish organizing, and social work-ing feel drab, spiritless, and unending. Meanwhile, because of her busy dedication to her order and its works, she has allowed her own brothers and sisters to fade out of her life as they moved to the distant coasts and as she wrote less and less ¯ often. Her parents have become elder.ly, somewhat absent-minded, eager for her presence but hardly able to carry on a relaxing conversation, and evoking melancholy in her at their decline and helplessness. Her sister-friends are as busy as she; glad to see her and to chat for a time, but al-ways on the move to another appointment: little time for long leisurely conversations, not many fun times." Because she is one of the few younger sisters in tier older community, she may have to assume greater responsibilities without any contemporary nearby in whom to confide and with whom to laugh at life's crazy antics. This is a new aloneness never felt in her initial formation. The simple joys of life seem few and far between during these periods of intensely felt alienation. She wonders: is all my past life for nothing? Have I lost the respect of my own family; those who first gave me life and hope? Have I missed out on community life? Or did it never exist and I pretended, that it did? Why has my ministry lost its zest? Have I begun to give up on it and, if so, will I ever find a second ministry and trust myself to its demands for a disciplined life of sacrifice? Do my superiors and fellow religious value me for myself or only for what I can do? Are we all just worker- Review for Religious, March-April 1989 bees in the religious hive? Where is the reality of my prayer life? God seems so distant, so uninterested in me, so unlike the intimate friend of my early religious life. Around me I seem to find so many happy fami-lies and fulfilled career women. Or am I just romanticizing their lives out of my own drabness? Then begin the guilt-fits. Mow did my life dissipate into merely con-stant duties, deadlines, hurried moments of leisure with friends, commu-nity tensions, and superficial moments with Christ? How could I have ¯ let it happen? Does all this mean that I never had a vocation to religious life or that religious life in my particular group is now ,antiquated and no longer viable in ou~ present culture? What is my future--if anything? Who but a recently divorced iaywoman could Fully appreciate these questions and feelings 0f the woman religious. The divorced man, hear-ing a man,religious venice similar questions and feelings, would surely resonate to these pains of the heart and mind. The Feel of Alienation from the Church Among the Divorced and the Alienated The suffering asked of divorced men and women and of alienated re-ligious is scandalous not only to them but to the people who love them dearly. The shock felt by the "divorced" is such that at times they do feel isolated from their family (blood or religious) and perhaps even from Christ's Church. Their great temptation is to cut loose from past ties; to be free from all the b~aggage of the past~ They ask themselves: "Why not just leave the family or the religious order and forget any service of the Church?" It seems so much easier simply to concentrate on a career and, if the occasion offers, to form a small manageable group of new friends. Later some of these "divorced" will leave the Church deliber-ately and others will slowly drift away complaining: "'I'm tiredof fight-ing Church bureaucracy and small-mindedness." There is no denying that, in the twentieth-century Church, the petty pride of place, the drift towards disorder, the trickery practiced in the name of the kingdom, the mechanical use of the sacraments, the eloquent extolling of poverty by comfortable clerics, andthe depreciation of women's ministry are all very much alive. In fact, Christ found them quite active in his first century Church: the women's announcement that they had met the risen Christ was called "women's gossip"; John and James used their mother to agitate for their occupying the seats of power next to Christ; Paul had to confront Peter about using different standards for Jewish and gentile converts; Jerusalem converts tried to saddle all gen-tile converts with the hea~y apparatus of Judaic Law; Ananias and Sa- Mid-Life Divorce and Alienation / 209 phira embezzled the common holdings of the Christian community; some of the apostles, notably Judas, deplored Mary Magdalen's ministry to Christ as frivolous. This is the kingdom, God's people, as Christ de-scribed them in the parables where the net is thrown into the sea to haul in both good and bad fish or where the wheat field is sown with weeds by the enemy. The problem is not that scandal is always in the Church but that faith-fulness is needed to live through the scandalous events amid feelings of alienation. Men and women religious suffering alienation from their com-munities need to share their lives with divorced laymen and laywomen if they are all to remain faithful to the Church and to their families, lay and religious. The pooling of experience, the companioning in common sorrows, the cooperative attempt to let the Church know their agony, the working together to build better futures for each other and for the Church, enable the divorced lay people to take heart and the alienated religious to remain loyal. One woman religious who has been offering a program for divorced women in her motherhouse found that the prayers of the retired sisters gave solace to the divorced women, while the faith of the divorced women amid severe mental suffering proved encouraging to elderly sis-ters, some of whoin felt~ intensely their seeming uselessness to the world and to their Church. One of the divorced women approached this woman religious directing the program and said to her: "Were you divorced be-fore you entered religious life? You seem to read us so well." Aloud the sister said: "No, I've never b~een married," but whispered inside her-self "But I have experienced divorce--from my congregation." Recently women and men religious groups have been welcoming some divorced into their communities and finding that these women and men bring in a dimension of life much needed by the religious order. The divorced woman or man has gone through devastating bereavement from all that once gave meaning t,o her or his life. Through this stripping, they have rediscovered their own personal worth, having learned how to dis-tinguish life-roles (mother or father, wife or husband, secretary or car-penter, daughter or son, sister or brother) from their own selves which play out these roles. The divorced woman, for example, no longer de-fines herself merely by what she can do, but by what she can be--first in herself and then for others. This, of course, affects her relationship with Christ. She is devoted to him, first of all, for his own sake; and she expects his affection to be directed towards her for herself and not sim-ply for her accomplishments. Neither God nor herself is made out to be 210 / Review for Religious~ March-April 1989 an heroic workaholic. Such a mature attitude can be benevolently conta-gious. On the other hand, women and men religious have something to of-fer divorced laywomen and laymen. After all many religious have had to deal with the mid-life transition.2 They have come to see that the "yes-terdays outnumber the tomorrows" and that they have to trim their ap-ostolic sails accordingly. Their eqergy is less, their talents are not quite as rich as they first thought, they must drop some projects totally, oth-ers partially, in order to do the central works. At this point envy of the younger, the more energetic, and the more talented can creep in. Amid these tensions, one becomes more aware of personal shortcomings, pre-tenses, sins of revenge .and cattiness, and suddenly vehement sex-drives. This discouraging aspect of life is often allied with a sense of being enmeshed in a great bureaucratic machine (at the job or in the congrega-tion o~in work with the local government) with which one must battle for personal values without destroying oneself or the organization. At this same t~me friendships take on greater importance and one must re-order one's commitments to people, work, and God. Here the man and woman religious~face bereavement from parents and older friends who die. They have moved away from pet projects, from. former work that gave much satisfaction, and from favorite attitudes or ideas that no longer fit the times.' Death, including their own,.seems at times to totally sur-round them. But at the same time, if the man and woman religious can ride all these waves with some gratitude and graciousness, the slower pace al-lows them to have time for more care of others. A warm Wisdom, the fruit of keeping a sense of humor amid much suffering, can pervade their every day. A new stability may take shape at the center of their being. In their lasting friendships, they may rediscover their faithful God. And all this they can offer to divorced laymen and laywomen out of the very alienations which they had felt towards their own congregations. How bountiful the divorced lay people and alienated religious can be towards each other and thus towards the people of God--even though at times they feel so utterly empty and find themselves walking laboriously as though in desert sands. This desert experience has been chronicled and deserves our attention since out of it can come a conversion which will reveal a new self, a new God, and a new world. The Desert Experience of Transition Before Conversion Two women have given us brutally honest yet sensitive accounts of Mid-Life Divorce and Alienation their transitions from one congregation to another. The great change seemed to them like a lay person's divorce and remarriage with its awk-wardness, periods of loneliness, and rediscovery of self and life.3 Sr. Marie Conn found the loneliness of transfer to a new religious commu-nityunique in its roots and in its intensity. For she left behind a vibrantly rich past with only a vague future in mind. Besides, those with whom she would live her present and future had little idea of her past and she, of their past. When one starts all over with new and slowly developing friendships, with fresh routines, and with no one able to enter into one's more precious memories, one is thrust into a new relati

Issue 45.6 of the Review for Religious, November/December 1986. ; Direction and Reconciliation The Prayer of Being Responses to Rape The Key to Spiritual Direction Volume 45 N umber 6 Nov.IDec. 1986 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd., St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. REVIEW FOR REt.IGIOOS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. © 1986 by REVIEW FOR REL~OOUS. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis. MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription U.S.A. $11.00 a year; $20.00 for two years. Other countries: add $4.00 per year (postage). Airmail (Book Rate) $18.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address, write REVtEW YOn RELIGIOUS: P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Daniel F. X. 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The World Synod of Bishops: The Extraordinary Session of 1985 The Ordinary Session of 1987 Jan Schotte, C.I.C.M. Archbishop Schotte is General Secretary of the World Synod of Bishops. This article is based on his address to the Catholic Press AssOciation Convention, June 7, 1986, the text of which was first published in its The Catholic Journalist, July, 1986, pp. 5-8. ~n this article I will deal with what I have learned, during the past~months since my transfer to the office of Permanent Secretary, about one of the youngest institutions of the Catholic Church, the World Synod of Bishops. When in the course of my remarks I intend also to say a few words about the relationship between the Synod and the media, please accept my contribu-tion as the expressio~n of a deeply held conviction that the media have a major role to play in the mission of the Chm:ch, and especially with regard to the Synod of Bishops. This conviction is based on my experience as a priest and missionary who has been privileged to serve the Gospel of the Lord and his Church in many different functions. I worked with the media as the briefing officer for French-speaking journalists in the 1980 and 1983 Synods of Bishops. In those days, I was somewhat biased in favor 0f media people. Today, as Secretary General of the Synod, I dare to hope that I still carry within me that same favorable bias. I will confine my remarks to.three areas. In the first place, I will share some insight into the preparation, the process and the final product of the Extraordinary General Session of the Synod of Bishops, held in 1985. 801 802 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 Secondly, I will brief the reader concerning the next Ordinary General Session of the Synod of Bishops on the theme "Vocation and Mission of the Laity in the Church and the World, Twenty Years After the Second Vatican Council," which is scheduled to take place from October 1 through 30, 1987. Finally, I will offer some very tentative comments on the relationship between Synod and media, telling what the Secretary General of the Synod expects from the media, and at the same time expecting to hear from the media professionals, what they expect from the Synod Secretariat. I. The Extraordinary Synod of 1985 The Extraordinary Synod, which received more media attention than any of the previous synods, was first and foremost a Synod of Bishops-- just that, but totally that! What Is the Synod of Bishops? It is not easy to give a brief reply to this question. It becomes especially difficult when the person asking the question expects an answer in terms of civil or political administration. Is it a parliament, a Church senate, a private council of the pope, a mini-ecumenical council? Each of these bodies has some analogy with the Synod, but none is apt to explain the true nature of the Synod. The Synod is explainable only in terms of the interior logic of the Church, from within her structure and her life. Dealing with an ecclesial entity, a juridical-institutional explanation is not sufficient, but it is necessary to have recourse to the notion of the Church as mystery and as communion. The Synod of Bishops has become part of the life of the Catholic Church; we accept its existence as normal, undisputed. From 1967 onwards we have witnessed the synodal assemblies treating topics and arguments of great importance and attracting the attention not only of Catholics but also of many others. The Synod of Bishops has become one of the propulsion centers of the pastoral activity of the Church, introducing into its life the more important reforms called for by Vatican I1. We recall the 1967 Synod which discussed several topics: the basic orienta-tion for the New Code of Canon Law; orientations for the reform of semi-naries; mixed marriages; and institution of the International Theological Commission. The first Extraordinary Synod of 1969 contributed to the clarification of the role of the bishops' conferences their relationship to the Holy See. The Synod of 1971 againdiscussed two fundamental topics: one on the identity of the Catholic priest and the meaning of priestly celibacy; the other on The World Synod of Bishops / 803 social justice. The 1974 Synod was dedicated to the theme of evangeliza-tion. It was followed in 1977 by the Synod on catechesis. The Synod of 198Odiscussed the Christian family. The Synod of 1983 addressed the issue of reconciliation and penance. The Second Extraordinary Synod of 1985 evaluated the implementation and impact of the Second Vatican Council. Truly an impressive list for only twenty years of activity. Such fundamental and vast themes together with their links to the Council and the post-conciliar period suffice to show the growing importance of the Synod of Bishops in the life of the Catholic Church. It is an institution with connotations of universality, agility and topicality, which seeks to fulfill its role as Syn-odos, the "walking together" of bishops for the benefit of the universal Church and all humankind. The Synod of 1985 It is necessary to understand that any .session of the Synod of Bishops is a fruit of the Second Vatican Council, and an expression of collegiality and communion in order to fully grasp the meaning of that special event that was the Second Extraordinary General Session of the Synod of Bishops, which took place from November 24 through December 8, 1985, on the theme: "The Second Vatican Council on the Twentieth Anniversary of Its Closing." In recent years, the Church has been subjected to surprises: the death of the smiling Pope John Paul I after only thirty-three days in office; the election of the first non'Italian Pope in four centuries; the vitality and charm of Pope John Paul II who travels to all continents and keeps drawing massive crowds of Catholics and non-Catholics alike. In some way, we have become used to such surprises. Despite all this, when John Paul II made his announcement of an extra-ordinary general session of the Synod of Bishops to evaluate the impact of the Second Vatican Council, the Church and the world were not prepared for this new surprise, so much so that immediately a full-blown debate started in the news media about the purpose Of the Synod, about the intentions of the Holy Father, to say nothing about the feasibility, of calling the bishops to Rome with only eleven months of advance notice. Yet this announcement was fully consistent with the personality and style of the Holy Father, and more especially in accord with his deepest faith convictions. It is no secret that John Paul II has a deep sense of his mission, and that he is constantly looking for ways and means to confirm in the faith his brother bishops and the whole people of God. We also know that he attaches great importance to significant gestures and symbols. We have learned that he is not afraid to face reality and tO assess situations with 804 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 utmost lucidity. All these factors taken together would have been sufficient to explain why he deemed it necessary to convene on short notice an Extra-ordinary General Session of the Synod of Bishops, But there is more. John Paul II is a firm believer in the collegiality of the bishops and he is a convinced defender and promoter of the Second,Vatican Council. The Holy Father has always believed and continues to believe in. the Council, not for strategic ~r.easons but for reasons of faith. Vatican II was for him, who participated in all its sessions as a young bishop, an experience which deeply marked .his entire episcopate and pontificate. A faithful analysis of the unwavering support of the Pope ~for the Council seems the only serious and objective method for interpret!~ng the reasons behind the convening of the Second Extraordinary Synod .without falling into the trap of putting the Pope's intentions on trial or of expressing purely subjective judgments. The Pope could not have stated the objectives~of the Synod more clearly: to celebrate,and re-live the extraordinary spirit of the Council; to verify what has been done to implement the Councilteachings; to promote a deeper awareness of the Council and the application of its principles to present and future problems. To look again at the Second Vatican Council and to assess its implemen-tation was, for the bishops at the Synod, a massive program. Yet it was unrealistic to think that the Pope intended to review every single Council document in a comprehensive way within the twelve ~working days that were available. It was equally unlikely that the Holy Father had a further agenda, a hidden one, to throw into reverse the process of renewal initiated by the Council, or to use expressions from certain journalists, "to bury the Council," "to put the brakes on renewal," "to set the clock back," "to roll back the tide," or "to let theprophets of doom back in after they have been banned from the Church by John XXIII." Preparation of the Extraordinary Synod After the surprise announcement by the Holy Father, the General Secretariat of the Synod began immediately the preparation of this unusual event. N,Iy predecessor, the then Archbishop, now Cardinal, Jozef Tomko initiated a series of consultations with a number of bishops and theologians who had participated in all sessions of the Second Vatican Council. Some of those had played a role of primary importance, either as officers of the Council or as participants or experts involved in the drafting of the Council documents. They were asked to react to the three objectives indicated by the Pope and to formulate guidelines for a consultation of all the bishops' conferences. The World Synod of Bishops / 805 The fifteen members of the Council of the General Secretariat were called to Rome for a two-day meeting, March 14-15, 1985, to examine the answers to the preliminary consultation. It was then decided to mail a questionnaire to the patriarchs and metropolitans of the Oriental Churches, to the presidents of bishops' conferences, to the Union of Supefiors General and to the heads of the various departments in the Roman Curia. This questionnaire Went out on April 1, 1985, with a covering letter in which strong emphasis was put on the necessity for a consultation that would reach as many persons and levels of the Local Church as was feasible in so shol~t a time. It was felt that the opinions should be sought not only of the bishops and the experts of the Conference, but also of the priests, religious and laity at large. It was further stressed that the inquiry should try to focus on the major documents of Vatican II, without excluding any of the others. Th6re was no doubt that the debate in the Synod should focus on the nature of the Church and its mission: what is the inner reality of the Church? How does she see herself and, in the light of that perception, how does she organize herself? How does she relate to the complex structures and needs of the world? Such had been the original and genial inspiration of Vatican II itself; any evaluation twenty years later had to concentrate on those same questions. The answers were expected at the General Secretariat by September 1, 1985. However many factors contributed to delays so that the deadline was not respected. The General Secretariat had received only eighteen answers by September I. In the end, however, the result was quite satisfactory: 73.75°70 of the answers'(out of a possible total of 141) were received in time to be incorpo-rated in a summary which reflected the different regional realities, cultures and problems and which~ represented in an objective way the situation of the Church twenty years after the closing of Vatican II. Not every single response to the questionnaire had the same value or authority; some were very detailed while others remained rather schematic; some reflected the thinking of the bishops while 0thersdrew on a large grass-roots response; some had been fully discussed and formulated by the bishops in conference, while others were the work of experts or the secretariat of a conference; some replies reflected rather local concerns while others definitely attempted to see the problems at the level of the Universal Church. All taken together, however, gave a true image of the situation in the Church. I want to share with you a particular observation with regard to this consultation: the formal answers which we received were not the final answers! After the national hierarchies mailed in their submissions, reflection and discussion continued at the level of the single bishop or layperson as well as in the circles of experts, theologians and ecclesial groups or communio 806 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 ties. Many bishops arrived thus at the Synod with different ideas than those expressed in the answers of their respective Conferences. The Final Product The 1985 Synod issued two documents which I am sure you are all familiar with. I feel therefore dispensed from recalling the content of the "Message to the People of God" or of the "Final Report." I only want to clarify a few points. In the media, the fact of the immediate publication of the Final Report was highlighted as an unusual event. Some saw it in terms of a victory of the bisl~ops who wrested this concession from the Pope. The truth of the fact is somewhat different. Every Synod transmits the result of its exchange for consideration to the Holy Father in the form of a report or a list of proposals, or even by entrusting all relevant working papers to the Holy Father, who then decides in what form the results of the Synod will be made public. After the Synods of 1974, 1977 and 1980, the Pope published an "Apostolic Exhortation" in which he presented the results of the Synod. After the 1983 Synod on "Reconciliation and.Penance" however, John Paul II enlisted the collaboration of the bishops elected to the Council of the General Secretariat in preparing a "Post-Synodal Exhortation." During the preparatory phase of the 1985 Extraordinary Synod, many different possibilities for coricluding the Synod had been examined, and the Holy Father did not exclude any, postponing his decision until the Synod had finished its task. When the reports of the small language group~ were presented to the assembly halfway through the proceedings, it became clear that they contained a very rich material, reflecting a large consensus among the participants in evaluating Vatican II's impact and in proposing ways to promote its further implementation. It was then decided to ask the Rappor-teur to .try drafting a final report that would reflect the consensus and the richness of the contributions. This report was debated and finally voted upon. Separate votes were taken on eighteen different sections of the report, and the approval of each one was almost unanimous. In his closing r.emar~s, which followed immediately after the proclamation of the results of the final balloting, the Holy Father stated: Right from the beginning of this Synod, it has appeared clearly how much all those who. were called to participate in it truly shared in its objectives. The results of your work--contained in the "Message" and in the "Final Report"--are witness to your clear-sightedness and your diligent care as well as to your fine ecclesial sense . Therefore, with joy and with sincere gratitude I accept from your hands the "Message" and the "Final Report" which demonstrate this sense of communion: with my consent these docu- The World Synod of Bishops / 807 ments will be rendered public. May the Lord see to it that they bear abundant fruit. It is now your task to ensure that the great force and the awareness of the importance of the Council penetrate deeply into the Universal Church, into your particular churches, and into the various communities. With these words, the Holy Father indicated his approval for the publica-tion of the "Final Report," and manifested at the same time his profound sense of mission and of collegiality. What the "Final Report" makes especially clear is that the Second Vatican Council is the most important event for the Church in the twen-tieth century. The Council offered orientations and answers not only for the questions of the last twenty years, but for the problems of the future as well. The total richness of the documents of the Council, taken together and not separated one from the other, consists in that it explains what the Church is and how she must be Church in the world. The Extraordinary Synod exploded as it were a number of myths which got hold of the minds of many Catholics in the years after Vatican II, and which conditioned the implementation of the Council teaching. Allow me to list just a few. 1. The myth of the primacy of the pastoral over the doctrinal. The "Final Report" affirms: "Special attention must be paid to the four major Consti-tutions of the council, which contain the key for the interpretation of the other Decrees and Declarations. It is not licit to separate the pastoral character from the doctrinal vigor of the documents." 2. The myth of presenting the Vatican Council as a mere historical event, to be left behind as soon as possible in order to work towards Vatican III. The teachings of Vatican II, although looking at the Church and her mission in the light of the prevailing situation, remain valid because they recall funda-mental tenets of the faith and of the Church. 3.The myth of the contradiction between the teachings of Vatican I and Vatican H. The 'Final Report' states: "The Church is one and the same throughout all the Councils." 4. The myth of the preeminence of the spirit over the letter of the Council. The "Final Report" affirms: "It is not legitimate to separate the spirit and the letter of the Council." 5. The myth that pluralism in doctrine o f faith is the way of the future. The "Final Report" states: "The pluralism of fundamentally opposed posi-tions., leads to dissolution, destruction and the loss of identity." 6. The myth that human development is to be promoted without reference to the mystery of the Chu, rch. The "Final Report" says: "It is. necessary to put aside the false and useless opposition between the Church's spiritual mission and diaconia for the world." 81)8 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 7. The myth that any meeting of the world episcopate dissolves auto-matically into opposing camps of North versus South, of East versus West, of liberals versus conservatives. The openness of the debates and the fraternal spirit that was evident from the very first days of the Synod made manifest that there was complete unity. 8. The myth of the intended "'restoration, "" The Bishops affirmed: "The Synod has been for us an occasion which has allowed us once again to experience communion in the one Spirit, in the one faith and hope, and in the one Catholic Church, as well as in the unanimous will to translate the Council into the practice and the life of the Church." We leave to history the final assessment of the Extraordinary Synod of 1985. However it is not presumptuous to state that it was, in many ways, a truly extraordinary event in the life of the Church. The Ordinary Synod on the Laity, 1987 The Synod of Bishops reconvenes in 1987, in ordinary general session, to discuss the "'Vocation and Mission of the Laity in the Church and in the World Twenty Years After the Second Vatican Council." Inevitably the bishops will return yet again to consider the nature of the Church and the responsibility of all baptized for her mission and ministry. The 1985 Extraordinary Synod has provided us with the right theological context in which to prepare for the Synod on the Laity. As you know, the Synod on the Laity was originally scheduled for 1986, The announcement by the Holy Father of an Extraordinary General Session of the Synod in 1985 made it advisable to postpone by one year the con-vening of the Synod on'the Laity. In so doing, the Holy Father acceded to a suggestion that was made by the many bishops' conferences who feared not to have sufficient time for a thorough preparation and consultation with the laity. The deadline for the submission to the Synod Secretariat of con-tributions by the bishops' conferences was therefore extended by six months to May 1, 1986. Not the First Synod on the Laity? The coming Ordinary General Session of the Synod of Bishops will not be the first that deals with the laity. A simple enumeration of the arguments discussed at the past Synods readily demonstrates the continuing and signi-ficant attention which the Synods have devoted to th& theme of the laity. Thus we had the 1971 Synod with its double theme of "Justice in the World" and the "Ministerial Priesthood." Both topics had a particular relevance for the laity: the first in that it touched upon the role of the Church in society--a privileged field of activity for the Christian laity, and the second The World Synod of Bishops / 809 which explored the ministerial priesthood in its connection also with the common priesthood of all the faithful. The 1974 Synod on "Evangelization" recognized and explicitly promoted the specific mission of the laity. It stated: "Lay people, whose particular vocation places them in the midst of the world and in charge of the most varied temporal tasks, must for this very reason exercise a very special form of evangelization." While the 1977 Synod on "Catechesis" stimulated further appreciation of the role of the laity, especially with regard to youth, even more so did the 1980 Synod in its presentation of the Christian family as the primary and basic form of secular vocation and mission in the Church. Finally, the Synod of 1983 recognized and promoted the task of lay people in the work of Christian reconciliation, which finds expression not only within the ecclesial community but also within human society. Reconciliation is not only a personal challenge for each Christian, but a corporate task for the laity. This summary listing of the topics of the Synods amply demo0strates how the Church, through one of her more important institutions, has taken to heart the deepening of her understanding of the vocation and mission of the laity. It could not have been different, since it was one of the major thrusts of the Second Vatican Council to enhance and promote the partici-pation of the laity in the mission of the Church for the salvation of the world. How Was the Theme for the 1987 Synod Chosen? After twenty years of existence, the Synod of Bishops has developed its own procedures and methods, which are all specifically "synodal." This applies also to the selection of a theme for the Synod. At every Ordinary Synod, towards the end of the proceedings, an open debate is organized on possible themes for the next Synod. The Synod Fathers then express their preferences, indicating at the same time why they propose one topic: rather than another. Already at this stage some themes emerge as being especially timely. Immediately after the closing of the Synod, the General Secretary con-tacts all the patriarchs and metropolitans of the Catholic Oriental Church, the heads of the departments of the Roman Curia, and the presidents of national and international conferences of bishops, inviting them to indicate a theme of their choice. This step is necessary since an Ordinary Synod con-sists only of a relatively small number of bishops, and it is imperative to hear from all bishops through their respective conferences. When all the replies have been tallied, the fifteen members of the Council of the Synod Secretariat are then convened to examine the material and 810 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 to formulate more adequately the themes that seem to emerge. Such a further step is necessary because many suggestions from the bishops' conferences will sometimes deal with the same general topic but under different aspects. The top three themes are then prepared for presentation to the Holy Father, who, as the President of the Synod, sets the agenda and determines the topics to be discussed. Up to now, the Holy Father has always been able to honor the results of the consultation, and has steadfastly chosen the theme that emerged as number one. "Vocation and Mission of the Laity in the Church and in the World, Twenty Years After the Second Vatican Council" was requested. The Holy Father, acceding tO this request, told the members of the Council of the General Secretariat on May 19, 1984, the following: It is not difficult to grasp the motives for such a convergence of opinion. In reality, the mission of the laity, as an integral part of the salvific mission of the entire People of God, is of fundamental importance for the life of the Church and for the service which the Church herself is called to render to the world. Among the different motives which have been presented in favor of the theme, the following can be singled out. Within the context of the specifically secular vocation and mission of the laity, there have been numerous posit.ive results and achievements, such as the commitment of many lay men and women in the area of human development, social justice, human rights, peace and international solidarity, politics, human labor and culture. There are also in this area a number of problems which require critical evaluation. Two tendencies which are prob-lematical and raise questions cannot be ignored. A first tendency concerns those among the laity who are so influenced by secularism and by the values, or non-values, of the world that they no longer see that their whole activity in the temporal order is necessarily linked with their faith. This is the case of those men or women who engage in social, political, economic or cultural activity and feel that the inspiration and motivation for their commitment must be found outside their faith. It is the case as well of Catholic public officials who in order to serve all their constituents assume that they must promote positions or norms of behavior which are in contradiction with their faith and their Catholic identity. Another tendency exists where Christians believe that they can carry out their mission by abstaining from any involvement in the problems of society. They withdraw into a purely spiritual or devotional world and close in upon themselves or upon the very private circle of any group or movement to The World Synod of Bishops / 811 which they belong. The Council has very clearly stated that "by reason of their special voca-tion it belongs to the laity to seek the kingdom of God by engaging in the temporal affairs and directing them according to God's will." The same Council also noted that "the laity can be called in different ways to more immediate cooperation in the apostolate of the hierarchy" and that "they have the capability of being appointed by the hierarchy to some ecclesial offices with a view to a spiritual end." In accordance with this conciliar doctrine, a more direct and wider participation of the laity in the pastoral activities of the Church came about. But together with this positive develop-ment, there exists also on the part of some of the laity a far more extensive and stronger demand fo~: access to various "ecclesial ministries." Not all lay participation in ecclesial ministries is without problems. In some local churches, one notices a tendency to restrict the mission of the laity to ecclesial ministries only. This can involve the danger of confusion with regard to the correct understanding of the respective missions of the clergy and of the laity in the Church. We thus see in some situations a real attempt at "clericalization of the laity," while at the same time we assist at the phenome-non of the "laicization of the clergy," when the latter take over the specific mission of the laity in temporal affairs by becoming merely social workers, or p61itical activists. These and other phenomena derive from a particular interpretation given to the vocation and mission of the laity in the Church and in the world presented by Vatican.II. If that interpretation is not correct, the vocation of the laity will not be ~ruly lived out, with the result that harm is done not only to individuals and groups but to the entire ecclesial community. The latter's credibility is impaired and its pastoral efficacy is restricted. It is therefore clear that the doctrine of the Council on the participation of the laity in the mission of the Church and on their own specific mission in the world must be studied in depth at this time. The Preparation of the Synod As soon as the theme of the 1987 Synod had been established, the Secretariat of the Synod invited the bishops' conferences, the Pontifical Council for the Laity and other representative bodies to submit their views on how to approach the theme. The answers were examined first by a task force of theologians, and afterwards by the members of the Council of ti;e General Secretariat. Following the indications contained in the answers from the bishops' conferences and the guidelines elaborated by the fifteen members of the Council, the General Secretariat then produces a preliminary paper called Linearnenta or "outline of the theme." 812 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 The Lineamenta has been sent to all the Hierarchies, not as a working paper for the Synod, but as a help for further study of the theme and for wider consultation in all Local Churches. The outline document is in no way--nor does it pretend to be--a complete and logically ordered treatment of the theme. Neither is it an outline or a draft of a possible future synodal document. It aims to offer a point of departure for analysis, discussion and reflection on the laity: on the doctrinal and pastoral aspects of the question, on values and needs, on achievements and diffict~lties. Its main aim is to stimulate discussion and help the Local Churches deepen their own thinking in. the matter. In the covering letter which accompanied the Lineamenta, the General Secretary insisted that the consultation not be limited to the bishops or to specialized commissions of the bishops' conferences. The letter strongly emphasized that the very nature of the theme, as well as the direct experience of those who fully live their vocation as lay Christians, demand a large scale consultation of the laypeople themselves. This consultation should not be limited to comments on the Lineamenta only, but should continue up to the opening of the Synod itself, so that the participating bishops can truly reflect the situations and expectations of the laity in their particular Churches. Past experience has proven that such a consultation can be a truly bene-ficial event for the Church. It can initiate a process of deeper awareness of all the faithful concerning their own baptismal vocation. In preparation of the 1980 Synod on the Family, the Bishops' Conference of France was able to collect fifty thousand answers from groups and families. Prior to the 1983 Synod on Penance and Reconciliation, the Bishops of Chile gathered twenty-five thousand answers from parishes and small ecclesial communities. The very process of the consultation cannot but have d profound impact on the life of the Local Church when it is carried out at all levels. In order to facilitate a consultation at the grass roots level, the Lineamenta was published in seven languages, and bishops' conferences have translated the document into many more local idioms. It has become one of the most widely distributed texts. At the end of the three chapters of the Lineamenta some questions have been formulated. The answers to the questions, duly synthesized at the level of the bishops' conference of each nation and supplemented by any con-sideration which the bishops themselves might add, will then serve as the basis for the "working paper" which we hope to forward to the future par-ticipants sometime before the opening of the Synod. As of May 1, the cutoff date for the submissions from the particular churches and bishops' conferences, the Secretariat had received answers to the questionnaire from a grand total of three conferences of bishops! The The Worm Synod of Bishops / 813 Extraordinary Synod has certainly interfered with the preparation of the Synod on the Laity. But I also feel that Synods which follow too closeiy must allow sufficient time for a thorough preparation in a way that the whole People of God can feel involved. When I left my office some days ago, the submissions had begun to arrive in larger numbers. Within the next month a Task Force of experts--priests and laity-~will study all the responses and prepare an outline for the working paper (Instrumentum laboris). The fifteen cardinals and bishops, members of the Council of the Synod's General Secretariat, will discuss and finalize ~the outline at the next Council meet-ing, October 8-11. It is clear that the preparation, of the Synod constitutes a unique chal. lenge but also a sterling opportunity for lay men and women to undertake an assessment of their own involvement as baptized Christians in the Church and the world. For the whole Church, it will be an occasion to deepen the understanding of the true nature of the Church on the eve of the Third Millennium of her history. It is an occasion that the Church cannot afford to miss. For Catholic professional media people, the coming Synod offers the possibility to look at their own involvement in the Church and in society, and to assess the role they are called to play as Catholics and as communi-cators. But at the same time the whole People of God, pastors together with the laity, must reflect on the sacredness of the communic~ator's vocation, charisma and ministry. I hope that the following remarks may somewhat contribute to this process of reflection on your part. The Synod and the Media The surprise announcement of the Extraordinary Synod and the relatively short time allotted for its preparation attracted right from the beginning an unusual amount of comment and speculation. Within the Catholic Church, some seemed to fear that the Synod would be used to point the Church in a new direction, signaling a kind of retreat from the principles and attitudes of the Second Vatican Council. Some, on the other hand, saw the Synod as providing an opportunity to identify and correct what they judged to be the mistakes and abuses of the past twenty years. Most however--and this contrary to the impression given by the mass media in the months preceding the Synod--accepted the Synod gratefully as an oppor-tunity to deepen their understanding of the Council, while others, of the younger generation, hailed it as a welcome occasion to discover for the first time in a deeply personal way the message of Vatican II. In spite of the clearly stated intentions of the Holy Father, a debate con-tinued to rage well up to and into the time of the Synod itself. Taking into 814 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 account that some media people have difficulty not to inject into their report-ing their own perceptions and biases, the future debate at the Synod was presented erroneously as a battle between liberals and conservatives. Some seeds of misunderstanding concerning the aims of the Synod may also have been found in the polarization which exists today within many sectors of the Catholic community concerning the nature of the Church and her role. Not a few h~ve retained a position which has not moved beyond the First Vatican Council, and see the Church almost exclusively in structural, institu-tional terms. They have not given enough weight to the work of the Second Vatican Council. They have failed to recognize the essential truth that the Second Vatican C6uncil does not contradict the First Vatican Council, but complements it. The primacy and infallibility of the pope, defined at the First, are not contradicted but developed further at the Second Vatican Council by a fuller consideration of the role and ministry of the bishops. The Second Vatican Council lays emphasis, then, on the collegiality of bishops, on their respon-sibility for their own dioceses and for the good of the Universal Church, on the true nature of the diocese as the Church of God in each locality, and on the dignity and calling of all the baptized. Part of the Church's task in the past twenty years has been to try to find ways of expressing these complementary truths of the First and Second Vatican Councils in struc-tures and attitudes that do justice to both. Inevitably we have failures as well as successes to look back on. But some people have never accepted that that effort had to be made. Others have failed to see how the Church relates to the modern world. In the past, some Christians saw nothing but threat and danger in the world. According to those, the Church stood apart from the world and tended to oppose, reject and condemn it. The Second Vatican Council taught that the Church must be open to the world, its aspirations and struggles, and seek to provide it with a soul and a conscience. Because of those and similar factors, some Catholics came to view the Extraordinary Synod as a moment simply of crisis or conflict. They failed to understand that there is a very real sense in which the life and work of the Church, of a Council as well as of a Synod, can only be seen through the eyes of faith. Many, however, and towards the beginning of the Synod they were a majority, acknowledged the true intentions of the Holy Father. This progres-sive acceptance of the objective and of the true nature of the Extraordinary Synod was the result of many converging factors. The Holy Father himself spoke repeatedly, on the occasion of the Angelus prayer on Sundays, of the teaching and orientations of Vatican II. Bishops, bishops' conferences, The World Synod of Bishops / 815 theologians and lay people engaged, everywhere in a process of further reflec-tion about the Council. Each in their own sphere and field, they began to take stock of where they stood and what ,they had done to implement the Council. And so it could be said that even before the Synod convened its objectives had already been partially achieved through a greater awareness of the total richness of Vatican II for the Church of today. The media interest during the Extraordinary Synod was exceptional. Over and beyond the two hundred fifty journalists with permanent accreditation to the Holy See, some four hundred ten correspondents from thirty-four countries came to Rome for the sole purpose of covering the Synod event. The media of the whole world followed the 1985 Synod with more interest than any of the preceding Synods. Never had the Church attracted so much attention since the days of Vatican II, not even during the Conclaves of 1978, nor even on the day the Pope was shot. The large majority of media professionals.~faithfully reported the true content of the proceedings and of the concluding documents. Wherever I went after the Synod, I was truly amazed at seeing how most of the people that I met had a correct knowledge and understanding of the Synod. And yet, some publications still keep hammering away at the so-called secrecy of the synodal process, at the insufficient briefings or press releases, at the reluctance of Synod officials to talk, at the exclusion of the journalists from the Synod Hall during the meetings, and so on. I will not endeavor to give a deta!led account of all that was done before and during the Synod in order to improve the flow of information. I can only pledge that Archbishop Foley and myself are determined not to put aside any legitimate suggestion that will contribute to better and more objec5 tive information. Today, I only want to share some general observations regarding the relationship between the media and Synod, hoping that those of you who will cover the next Synod may be helped in their task. 1. A Synod of Bishops is an event that must totally and specifically be seen in the context of the Church. Information on ihe Synod has to do with the image of the Church. When one speaks of the image of the Church, there is more at stake than "image" understood in a public relations sense. Something far more fundamental is at stake, namely the self-understanding on the part of the Church of her very nature and mission. Upon that self-understanding or "image" so much else depends, and, in the case that con-cerns us here, on it depends the understanding of the nature and functioning of a Synod of Bishops. 2. The Synod of Bishops is not an ecumenical council where all the bishops of the world, together with the pope, exercise directly and collegially the supreme authority in the Church. The Synod, as set out in the Code 816 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 of Canon Law, is a limited group of bishops who have been chosen from different regions of the world, and who meet at stated times with the pope-- normally every third year. The scope of such meetings is threefold: to fos-ter closer unity between the Roman Pontiff and .the bishops; to assist the Roman Pontiff in safeguarding faith and morals and in strengthening ecclesiastical discipline; to consider questions concerning the Church's activity in the world (Can. 342). It is the role of the Synod of Bishops to discuss the questions on the agenda and to formulate suggestions, but not to decide the issues or to issue decrees, unless the Roman Pontiff in certain cases has endowed the Synod with deliberative power, and even in this event, it is the pope's prerogative to ratify the decision (Can. 343). It is most important to be clear on this point. 3. It is important to realize that the Synod of Bishops is directly under the authority of the pope, who convenes its assembly, ratifies the election of its members and appoints other members, determines the agenda, presides over the Synod and brings it to conclusion (Can. 344). The Synod, then, is not to be seen as a kind of constitutional "check and balance" to the authority of the pope; it is most certainly not an alternative or rival authority; it is one means by which the bishops of the world are given an opportunity to collaborate with the Holy Father for the good of the whole Church. The bishops gathered in Synod together with the pope are not called to promote their own priorities. In listening to and in exchanging with their brother bishops from all continents, they try to achieve a consensus regarding specific recommendations which they wish to propose to the pope. While aware of the needs of their own particular Churches, they must view all questions from the perspective of the universal good of the Church, and thus give equal consideration to the situations prevailing in their own dioceses or nations, as to those of the most distant regions and peoples. 4. The synodal process is unique and cannot be compared with any other process of group dynamics. In a Synod, bishops come together in function of the episcopal mission which they received through sacramental ordination. A Synod will therefore always be first and foremost an event with a spiritual dimension. All through the days of a Synod, bishops open their hearts and minds not only to their brother bishops but to the voice of the Holy Spirit. They allow their convictions to be shaped by human reasoning, by speak-ing out and by listening, by dialogue and discussion, but above all by their willingness to accept the message of Jesus Christ, while together they fathom its depth and relevance under the inspiration of the Spirit. It is therefore normal that at the end of a synodal process bishops approve proposals and express ideas which they did not hold at the beginning, or which differ from what had been stated by their own conference of bishops before the Synod. The World Synod of Bishops / 817 The process of discernment is so essential to the Synod that it should not be made dependent on the ebb and flow of public opinion. That process would be hampered or even distorted if bishops were concerned more with posturing for the media back home than with the collegial search for insight and consensus. 5. Religious editors and correspondents are by and large professionals in the true sense: they know their business and they have a thorough under-standing of the business of the Church. However, time and again some media send to the Synod correspondents who have earned their kudos on the polit-ical scene but are mere apprentices when it comes to Church activities and religious events. The editor of a serious national newspaper or wire service would not dream of sending one of the staff to cover the tennis open unless he or she had demonstrated a solid grip of the intricacies of the game. Nor would a network dispatch to the Pentagon a reporter who has never heard about military strategy, tactics and hardware. And yet, at every Synod we meet media people who see in the Church nothing more than just another political convention or parliamentary assembly where all results are produced through a majority vote. They do not know that the magic of the majority vote does not work when it comes to the formulation of theological principles or moral doctrine! It is not fair to the professional integrity of journalists when they are put in a position of having to relate or interpret events and statements that are totally outside the scope of their qualifications. Goodwill and hard work are not always substitutes for expertise, knowledge and com-petence. A lack of knowledge about religious matters or Church affairs may lead a correspondent to discard whatever news or issue cannot be reduced to "material" or "secular" or "political" categories. 6. A Synod is also a good place to observe trends that are developing in the Church. The last Synods have clearly shown how the presence of bishops from Third World countries is becoming stronger and more influ-ential. Their voices are listened to with greater interest, all the more so since the churches in Africa, Asia and Latin America often present a picture of dynamic growth and joyful celebration that we so sorely miss in many of the churches in the Western world. The Church is no longer Eurocentric or Occidental. Yet among the journalists and correspondents at the Synod, the overwhelming majority comes from Europe and North America, a situa-tion that accurately reflects the distribution of media power in today's interna-tional community. As a consequence, churches in the Third World are almost totally dependent on secondhand information from western sources, except in the case of the few diocesan bulletins that have the good fortune of receiv-ing reports from their own bishops, faithfully composed at the end of each week during a Synod. 818 / Review for Religious, November-Decetnber, 1986 The situation of the Third World churches merits our attention. It is important, therefore, to become more fully aware of the information needs of the younger churches. Media persons should ask themselves whether some-thing more could be done by their publication, by their diocese, at the level of the national Church, particularly of such entities as the Catholic Press Association. It should not be too difficult to come up with some truly imaginative projects, such as sponsoring a religious correspondent from a Third World Church to theupcoming Synod, or organizing internships for young'journalists from Africa or Asia or Latin America who could accom-pany a Western staff to the Synodl These have the means, and I am sure also the motivation, to find a solution to a problem that cannot be solved by them alone, but that will never be solved without their help. I conclude my remarks. Every Synod of Bishops deals with some aspect of the truth of the Church, and always with the entire truth of the Gospel message. The service which the communications media render is, to use an expression dear to John Paul II, "service of truth." In the realm of religious information, the medium cannot be separated from the message of the Lord. We live in an age of increased complexity, confusion and helplessness. In a time of great change and upheaval, there is always, in the Christian com-munity, the human urge to withdraw in a Church-under-siege mentality, to become obsessed with difficulties and dangers, or to suffer paralysis from too much analysis, In the Church we always have a fair share of prophets of doom, those that pull their hair and wring their hands in lament for the loss of faith in our society, while in their own lives they fail to witness to the truth of the Gospel message. Such prophets of doom deny the power of Pentecost and the working of the Spirit, and go forth to proclaim the Good News. In a very special way Catholic media people must be the bringers oftruth, the heralds of the Spirit and the witnesses of love of the Father as revealed in Christ Jesus. The streets and the squares of our cities and villages are teeming with people who wait to hear the truth of the Lord Jesus. We cannot fail them. Pilgrim and Penitent: Direction and Sacramental Reconciliation Shaun McCarty, S.T. Father McCarty writes in his covering letter: "It seems like ages since I've sent in any-thing . A stint on our general council broke the flow of writing." Actually his last article was in 1978, and was entitled: "Religious Roots: Knowing and Owning Our Own Story." He may be addressed at Holy Trinity Mission Seminary; 9001 New Hampshire Avenue; Silver Spring, Maryland 20903. The emergency call from my niece came early one Friday last winter. Her seven-year-old was balking at the prospect of first confession with her class several weeks hence. Reassurances seemed of little help. But Heather was willing to talk with her great-uncle. Faced with the formidable task of meeting with a seven-year-old (I'm used to dealing with grown-ups!), I agreed to come over after school that day for., what? Was it to be penitential catechesis? Spiritual direction? Pastoral counseling? Talk about intimidation! In my own mind I settled for just an avuncular chat! Some hours later, I found myself in peripatetic fashion sloshing through the melting snowbanks at a local park. In between kicking her patent leathers into every icy puddle along the way (and stopping to watch a freight train pass), Heather's predicament unfolded. (It's O.K. to write about this. She said I could tell.) Yes, she was clear about the meaning of the sacrament (she called it "reconciliation" !) and about the ritual involved. Yes, her God-image was in good shape (God was her "friend"). No, she didn't have trouble telling God she was sorry when she didn't behave properly (though she did have some trouble telling her brother!). No, she wasn't afraid of the priest (he was "real nice" with the kids). What her hesitation came down to was: (a) she didn't want to have to 819 820 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 tell all her sins to anyone (at least no one "outside the family!") and (b) she was afraid that, if she did, the priest would tell her parents (apparently they didn't count as part of "the family"!) After some reassurances that lots of grown-ups had difficulties with confession (she was surprised that grown-ups had to go too!), but many I knew found it very helpful. I asked if she thought she might give it a try. Her response: "I'11 have to think it over." By that time we were back to the house. It seemed right to end this avuncular chat at this point. There is a certain irony in what appears to be a simultaneous rise of interest in prayer in the United States~ and a sharp decline in the number of sacramental confessions by "grown-ups" in the last two decades.2 Nor is the latter decline limited to the United States. Church-wide concern was manifest at the Sixth General Assembly of the Synod of Bishops which addressed "Reconciliation and Penance in the Mission of the Church.''3 At the close of the synod, Pope John Paul II called for a "contemporary penitential catechesis." With personal prayer "up" and sacramental confessions "down," there has been correspondingly an increased search for spiritual directors and a decreased demand for confessors. Perhaps it would be mutually advantageous for both the sacramental ministry of reconciliation and the non-sacramental ministry of spiritual direction to see them in relationship to one another. That might be one step toward a contemporary catechesis, hopefully leading to a deepened understanding and appreciation of both ministries. It is my purpose here neither to analyze the reasons for this simultaneous rise and decline, nor to trace the historical development of either ministry to any great extent. Rather, I shall explore some distinctions'and similarities between the two; weigh the comparative merits of keeping them together or separate; and, finally, suggest ways in which the two ministries might be kept correlative and complementary in the lives of Christians called to be both pilgrims and penitents. My two basic premises are: (1) it is generally helpful and sometimes necessary to talk about one's experiences of both grace and sinfulness; (2) spiritual direction and the sacrament of penance are two distinct, but not necessarily separate forms of pastoral care providing forums for such sharing. The choice is not to be pilgrim or penitent; it is how, when and where to assume the modality of each. I use the term pilgrim in a symbolic sense to indicate a person's graced movement towards God which often leads to spiritual direction; I use the term penitent in a symbolic sense to indicate a person's movement away from sin which often leads to confession. To expand the symbols somewhat, a pilgrim might be described as one Direction and Sacramental Reconciliation / 821 who chooses to embark on an intentional faith-journey. The journey becomes intentional to the extent that a person makes a commitment to give serious and consistent attention to the quest for holiness of life as a disciple. Life becomes a faith-journey to the extent that one believes in and acts as though there is a transcendent dimension to all reality and belief in a God who con-tinues to provide for and to guide creatures as they move through life. There is an outer dimension to this journey as the pilgrim interacts with people, places and events that occur in providential sequence and become part of one's sacred geography. There is an inner dimension to this journey as the pilgrim follows a path that leads to deeper union with the divine. Above all, the pilgrim style is prayerful in that, it provides for uncluttered space for reflection so that the people, places and events of the journey can become revelatory of God's beauty, design and call. For help with this discerning prayer, pilgrims often seek out spiritual directors who act as companions, counselors, guides for the journey. ,. As a symbol, a penitent might be described as one involved in an ongoing process of conversion as a sinner loved by God who shows a spirit of true penitence in seeking forgiveness of sin and reconciliation within the community of believers. Conversion is a lifelong process of allowing the grace of God to unify and to free our divided hearts for perfect love. It is a movement away from self-absorption and towards self-surrender to God's designs. True penitence involves knowing and owning the reality of one's sins, being sorry for them and seeking forgiveness. This inner disposition of penitence becomes outwardly manifest in acknowledging one's sins not just to God, but to another who, as an agent of reconciliation, can enable the process of for-giveness. This mediation can happen in both sacramental and non-sacra-mental ways. Sacramentally it can occur in baptism, anointing and Eucharist as well as in penance. Non-sacramentally, it can happen in a variety of ways including healing services, therapeutic counseling or just a talk with a trusted confidant. There is a splendid example of this latter means in the Fifth of Alcoholics Anonymous' Twelve Steps which states: "Admitted to God, to ourselves, and. to another human being, the exact nature of our wrongs.''4 Prescinding from any canoncial necessity, A.A. attests to the efficacy of confessing to another human being: This practice of admitting one's defects to another person is, of course, very ancient. It has been validated in every century, and it characterizes the lives of all spiritually centered and truly religious people. But today religionis by no means the sole advocate of this saving principle. Psychi-atrists and psychologists point out the deep need every human being has for practical insight and knowledge of his own personality flaws and for a discussion of them with an understanding and trustworthy person. So 822 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 far as alcoholics are concerned, A.A. would go even further. Most of us would declare that without a fearless admission of our defects to another human being we could not stay sober. It seems plain that the grace of God will not enter to expel our destructive obsessions until we are willing to try this.5 Finally, a penitent seeks reconciliation within the community of believers. Since one's sins break or fray the bonds of relationship and tend to alienate or isolate the sinner, there is need to seek at-oneness with others who have been affected by one's dark deeds, words or omissions. And this applies to societal as well as personal sin. For help in seeking forgiveness and recon-ciliation, penitents often seek confessors and confidants with whom they can share their failings and seek absolution. Distinctions Between Spiritual Direction and the Sacrament of Penance Before drawing distinctions between the two ministries, a brief historical sketch of the roles of confessor and spiritual director may prove illuminating. In the tradition of the Eastern Church, there has always .been a clear distinction between confessor (parish priest) and spiritual director (starets). According to P. de R6gis: One confesses to his parish priest, and does so by way of an ecclesiastical obligation. He thus accomplishes a duty of community life. However, he goes to the starers solely with the pure desire for personal perfection . A second trait sets the starets completely apart from the confessor. He is chosen not because of his priestly character, but solely because of his charis-matic gifts which people think they see in him. This situation, without doubt, has always existed everywhere, and it was St. Francis de Sales who recommended that we choose our director carefully from "among ten thousand . ,,6 In the tradition of the Western Church, spiritual direction came to be increasingly combined with sacramental confession, a development that paved the way for the later "confession of devotion.''7 A significant influence in the development of Western sacramental prac-tice has been that of St. Alphonsus Ligouri who, in explaining the duties of a confessor, declares that one of the most important of these duties is that of "directing devout souls.''8 B. Haring reflects this strong Alphon-sian tradition of uniting the role of spiritual director with that of confessor: The confessor must also form the conscience of his penitent to an awareness of the obligation to grow in the love of God . The confesso~:'s role is to guide the penitent through the various pathways to holiness, lighting the way to Christ by helping him to develop a fuller prayer life.9 Others who highlight the liturgical role of the confessor tend to separate Direction and Sacramental Reconciliation / 823 more the ministries of spiritual director and confessor as, for example, L. Hamelin: Nor is the priest I encounter in this sacrament primarily a director of con-science. All the better if he is this, since such direction is a felicitous pro-longation of confession. But it is not essential to the sacrament of reconciliation that the confessor be a good director. The important thing is that he is charged with a mission, namely, the proclamation of the world's salvation. ~o Notwithstanding a variation of stress on the confessor's role as spiritual director, certain distinctions between the ministries of spiritual direction and the sacrament of reconciliation can be made on the basis of purpose (why), minister (who), content (what), process (how), time (when), place (where) and recipient (for whom). These are not meant to be sharp distinctions. Often what happens more properly in one forum occurs also in the other, but in a more secondary way. For example, healing can happen in direction; prayer does occur in the sacrament. Purpose (Why?): Spiritual direction aims primarily at enabling growth in a person's relationship with God and with others in Christ. In addition to proclaiming the world's salvation, the sacrament of penance aims primarily at mediating God's forgiveness and a person's reconciliation with God, self and others. As A. Von Speyer says, "To put the matter simply, we may say that the main function of the confessor is to set free from sin, that of the director to foster growth in divine love.''~ A further distinction should be made within the sacrament itself -- that of penance as a sacrament of necessity, following mortal sin and that of devotion, useful for spiritual progress. This classical distinction is repeated in the revised Rite of Penance (1973) in numbers six and seven, yet, as L. Orsy points out: Strangely enough., it seems that these two distinct operations of penance are lost from sight; the very term "reconciliation" is used indiscriminately for both, although in its proper sense it should be used for those who "have left the house of their Father," not for ttiose who have remained there.~2 Minister (Who?): The present complex practice of the Church is that confessors be ordained priests with faculties granted by an Ordinary for the administration of the sacrament to specified individuals or classes of people. Spiritual directors, on the other hand, do not hold formal office in the Church. Ideally, they are those charismatically gifted and who have the requisite knowledge, experience and skills to enable spiritual growth, and who are sought out by the community. Content (What?): The focus of content in spiritual direction is on the God-consciousness in a person's life and how that person is responding to 824 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 what is heard/seen/felt. The ministry of direction embraces the entire range of a person's religious identity. Key are the questions: Where is God and his offers of grace in the experiences of my everyday life? What are God's desires for me? What am I doing about it? In the sacrament of penance, the focus of content is on a person's need for the forgiveness of sin by an all-loving and merciful God. Key are the questions: What is the shape of my sinfulness for which I am sorry and seek forgiveness? Can I experience God as merciful and myself as a loved sinner? Process (How?): Confession takes place in the internal sacramental forum according to a prescribed rite and is governed by specific laws. In the revised Rite of Penance, there are three modes of sacramental celebration: two com-munal, one individual. For individual, auricular confession, there are pro-visions for praying with and for the penitent, sharing of texts from Sacred Scripture, listening compassionately to the confession of sins on behalf of God and the community, helping to discern the spiritual situation of the penitent, conveying the forgiveness of God by absolution, expressing the exigence of God's call to conversion by the imposition of an appropriate penance and possibly offering counsel as it seems fitting?3 Spiritual direction takes place in the internal, non-sacramental forum, does not follow any set ritual, noris it generally governed by specific legis-lation beyond the basic norms of moral conduct. Direction involves an inter-personal exchange helpful in discerning God's action in the life of the directee. It proceeds according to a style congenial to a particular director and direc-tee, though there are dynamics foundational to all healthy spiritual direction. Time (When?): Spiritual directors meet with directees on a regular basis determined by a working alliance/contract/covenant mutually agreed upon. Penitents are obliged to receive the sacrament of penance as soon as feasible following mortal sin. For confessions of devotion, frequency rather than regularity seems to be the norm suggested for current Church practice. Place (Where?): The ordinary setting for sacramental confession is either a confessional with screen between priest and pentitent, or a reconciliation room specifically appointed for a more personal and informal exchange between the two. (Heather calls the first "the old way" and the second "the new way"! She likes "the old way"!) There is no designated place for sessions of spiritual direction, though consideration should be given to a discreet setting that provides the requisite comfort and confidentiality for a fruitful exchange. Recipient (For whom?): The sacrament of penance is for Christians assuming the modality of penitent.s. Sp.iritual direction is for those assum-ing the modality of pilgrims. Direction and Sacramental Reconciliation Similarities Between the Two Ministries Just as there are differences I~etween spiritual direction and the sacrament of reconciliation, so are there similarities on the bases of purpose, minister, content, process and recipient. Purpose: Both are concerned with the spiritual condition of the pilgrim/ penitent; one stresses the turning away from sin, and the other, the turning towards God -- two sides of the same coin, conversion. Minister: Both confessor and spiritual director see their roles as instrumental, with the Holy Spirit as the principal agent of both forgiveness and spiritual growth. Their instrumentality is enhanced by many of the same qualities and dispositions like prayerfulness, a listening heart, fraternal exchange, respect for the freedom of the other, observance of confidentiality, Christlike love. Content: On the one hand, matters of spiritual growth often receive attention, especially in confessions of devotion. On the other hand, matters concerning forgiveness frequently are dealt with in spiritual direction. A report to the 1983 Synod of Bishops indicates several ways in which this happens: ". certain forms of spiritual direction are of the nature to redeem sins, as, for instance, the revision de vie, the capitulum culpae, a talk with one's spiritual director, confession to a starets in connection with monastic practice." 14 Process: Many of the activities and dynamics that enable effective com-munication with each other and fruitful mutual listening to the Spirit are the same, These would include: prayer with and for the pilgrim/penitent; sharing of texts from Sacred Scripture; affirming grace; challenging growth; occasional instruction; co-discerning the spiritual condition of the recipient; observing periods of silence; gestures communicating God's prodigal love manifested in Christ. Recipient: Pilgrim and penitent are modalities of the same person. Both modalities build on a foundational awareness and acceptance of being a sinner unconditionally loved by a graciousand merciful God. The qualities that dispose one for a more fruitful use of both spiritual direction and the sacrament of reconciliation are much the same: honesty; openness; trust; humility; gratitude and not least of all, the ability to keep one's gaze up and out towards God, and not down and in on one's feet! Together or Separate? There are some notable advantages in combining spiritual direction with the reception of the sacrament of reconciliation: (1) This situates spiritual direction within a liturgical/sacramental context, thus lending it a more visible ecclesial dimension. To the extent that sacramental celebration brings a 826 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 deepened and broadened sense of Church, one can experience more solidarity, support and nourishment in the twin tasks of reconciliation and spiritual growth. J. Sudbrack goes so far as to say: As Catholicism sees it, the most initmate transactions between man and God become authentically visible in the sacrament of the Church. Now as a matter of fact spiritual guidance has often taken place, historically, in the sacrament of penance. The modern practice of consulting the priest in confession is a revival of an old tradition. Even when confession and spiritual guidance cannot be one and the same., it is desirable that such guidance culminate in sacramental confession.~5 (2) Combining both can lessen the tendency to dichotomize one's growth in prayer from the moral attitudes and behaviors of one's life; (3) The for-giving, healing, reconciling action of the Holy Spirit is particularly evident in the revised Rite of Penance. It would seem particularly appropriate that these issues so inimical to spiritual growth -- alienation, isolation, selfish-ness, woundedness -- be dealt with in the same context as one's growth in the Spirit; (4) With keener discernment in "naming one's demons," in being specific about the shape of one's sinfulness, a person is likely to see more clearly those factors as they dull one's sensitivity to the Spirit; (5) Com-bining spiritual direction and confession can become an occasion when one can catch a fuller glimpse of self, both the sin-side and the grace-side. With such fuller perspective it would seem less likely that a person would fall prey, on the one hand, to a self-absorbing remorsefulness over sins or, on the other hand, to hubris (spiritual pride) over spiritual progress; (6) The penitent/pilgrim might see more clearly that God saves and sanctifies right in the midst of one's sinfulness, using even sinful acts and attitudes to lead to deeper union. G. Croft has expressed this well: Like the father with his prodigal son, God permitted Israel's waywardness of old in order that his chosen people might experience what it meant to be separated from their Father, and thus recognize afresh their need of him. So, too, our Lord's consciousness that he had come to save the lost sheep is reflected in knowledge of him as savior, particularly in the moment when the sinner experiences separation from God and the need of his love and mercy. This moment of grace and of conversion each one of us has experienced . not once but many times; so that even when we cry "out of the depths," our seeking is fraught with thanksgiving as we remember his past mercies.~6 (7) The sacrament is a humbling reminder that no one can grow a whit spiritually on his or her own initiative; (8) As both guilt and giftedness are brought to the same session, it can be seen more clearly that both need con-version, lest one become' self-absorbed in either guilt or gift; (9) Coming Direction and Sacramental Reconciliation / 827 at once as pilgrim and penitent can bring a more genuine realization of St. Paul's observation, ". power is at full stretch in weakness" (2 Co 12:9); (10) Finally, having the same person for confessor and director seems more conducive to the integration of these two valuable outside helps to holiness in that one person hears the whole story in the same context. Difficulties in Combining Roles On the side of the confessor/director, the most obvious difficulty is that this limits the ministry of spiritual direction presently to celibate, male clerics. With increasing demands on time and ministerial skills along with decreasing numbers of priests, it seems hardly likely that they could even begin to satisfy the rising need for spiritual directors. Besides, not all priests have the charisms for this ministry, not to mention the knowledge, skills and experience that facilitate the use of the gifts. Confessors who feel called to and who are willing to give a priority to spiritual direction for their penitents need adequate preparation for it. The commission's report to the 1983 Synod expressed this strongly: It is true that today the authentic form of private confession needs to be profoundly renewed in its spiritual aspects, and this in connection with the revised Ordo paenitentiae. Without such a renewal the Church will not be able to cope with the crisis of the sacrament of penance. For this a better spiritual and theological formation of priests is required, in order that they be able to deal with what is now demanded from confession, viz., the latter should contain more elements of spiritual direction and of fraternal .exchange. Under this aspect the so-called confession of devotion retains its importance.~7 On the side of the pilgrim/penitent, unless care is taken, the integrity of the two distinct ministries can become clouded. There may be some danger, too, that by locating spiritual direction within the context of confession, the project of spiritual growth could become too sin-oriented. At times, a person's sense of sinfulness ~can become so humiliating and/or immobilizing that open and honest exchange is flawed. Or the preoccupation with sin can so capture a penitent's consciousness that there is little room or energy for dealing with matters of spiritual growth. When Distinct But Not Separate In practice, the two can be kept distinct, but not necessarily separate. This is more likely to happen when both confessor/director and pilgrim/ penitent are clear about the distinction and habitually differentiate between the two ministries. If a choice is made to combine them, certain considera-tions may prove helpful: (1) Every session of spiritual direction need not 828 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 occur in combination with the sacrament of penance; (2)Especially appropriate times for combining them might be the seasons of Advent and Lent as well as periods of retreat; (3) In preparing beforehand, the very nature of one's examen can be such as to lead to a reflection not only on sinfulness, but also on graced invitations for further growth. For example, the Beatitudes might provide such a growth-oriented examen for pilgrim/ penitents. D. Barry makes this recommendation: The Beatitudes immediately recommend themselves as a blueprint for an updated, life-affirming ethical spirituality especially suited to the Christian mission of healing and reconciliation. Since they summarize the essence of Christlike living in a form that makes for easy recall, the Beatitudes offer a particularly rich source of meditation or conscience examination matter for the maturing Christian . They readily lead us to questions about our attitudes and conduct that get right to the heart of what contemporary discipleship is all about.~8 (4) If the penitent chooses to combine both, there should be some indica-tion of this intent at the beginning of the session. The penitential ritual might then be celebrated by itself at the beginning or the end of the time together or the penitent might indicate a desire to use the entire time to open before God his whole spiritual condition, graced and sinful, with a view to abso-lution at the end. As alluded to previously, one can develop a sensitivity to God speaking in the midst of one's sinfulness showing a side of self not otherwise open to awareness and conversion; (5) It would seem appropri-ate, on the occasion of confession/direction, that a pilgrim/penitent, in addi-tion to expressing sorrow for sins, also express gratitude for the graced times that have occurred. This, too, is with a view to keeping the more complete self in perspective as one considers his or her relationships to God, self and others. When Distinct and Separate Though the 1983 Synod of Bishops was primarily concerned with the sacrament of penance and, consequently, the role of the priest-director, the theological commission's report to the Synod did give recognition to extra-sacramental direction: That form of confession of sins, which is tied to spiritual direction, is a' very ancient treasure of the Church. On the one hand, it belongs to the very structure of the Church. On the other hand, as can be seen in the mg.nastic and spiritual traditions, it also has a place outside the sacrament. Both these data are factors in the development which is guided by the spiritual experience of the Church.~9 In the increasing likelihood that more spiritual directors will not be priests, Direction and Sacramental Reconciliation / 829 it would seem appropriate that the ministries be kept correlative and comple-mentary to the sacrament of penance. Some provisions that might help this happen are: (1) Alert and resourceful confessors might recommend qualified spiritual directors to those whose confessions indicate they would benefit from such further help; (2) Both directors and confessors might alert those who come to them to issues that might be dealt with better in the other forum. For example, a director may uncover some significant area that needs sacramental healing. Even if the person feels more comfortable in dealing with the issue in direction, there is the further possibility of celebrating the sacrament of reconciliation later; (3) The relationship between director and directee should be such that the latter will feel free to confide his or her sinful as well as graceful side with a director, lest either side get compart-mentalized; (4) Confessors and directors would do well to cultivate a mutual understanding of and respect for each other's ministries so as to see them-selves not in competition, but in collaboration with each other in their care of souls. Summary In the preceding pages, using the symbols of pilgrim and penitent, I have attempted to further such an understanding and appreciation of the ministries of spiritual direction and sacramental reconciliation by indicating some dis-tinctions and similarities between the two; by weighing the comparative merits and deficits of keeping them together or separate; and, finally, by suggesting some ways in which they might be kept correlative and complementary in the lives of Christians who are called to be both pilgrims and penitents. I close with some verses from the heart of one such pilgrim/penitent who has been on the journey somewhat longer than Heather (by about ninety years)! They are entitled, "Confessor-Director": And then above the dark horizon of my night There beamed a star that bathed my soul with light And beckoned me upon my pilgrim way. My spirit soared to meet the guiding flame That traced a path illuminated by His name And led me on to greet the dawning day! The Day that dawns to span Eternity. P.S. By the way, Heather did join the class for the sacrament of reconcilia- 83!1 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 tion! It seems that Father offered them the option of sitting in his lap. I forgot to ask if she opted for the "new" way! NOTES ~K.A. Briggs, "America's Return to Prayer," New Yoi'k Times Magazine (November 18, 1984), pp. 107-18. 2T.P. Sweetser~ "What Ever Happened to Confession?" New Catholic World (January-February, 1964), pp. 31-2. 3j. Ratzinger, "The Necessity for Personal Confession," Origins 13 (October 20, 1983), pp. 331-2. 4Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions (New York: Alcoholics Anonymous World Services, Inc., 1953), pp. 56ff. 51bid, pp. 57-8. 6p. de R6gis, "Confession and Spiritual Direction in the Oriental Church," The Sacrament of Penance, C. de Vaux St. Cyr et al. (Paramus, N.J.: Paulist, 1966), p. 94. 7H.B. Meyer, "Confession or Spiritual Direction?" Making Sense of Confession, 0. Betz, ed., (Chicago: Franciscan Herald Press, 1968), p. 128. 8St. Alphonsus Ligouri, Praxis confessarii, nn. 121-27. 9B. Haring, Shalom: Peace (New York: Farrar, Straus & Giraux, 1967), p. 140. ~°L. Hamelin, Reconciliation in the Church, M.J. O'Connell, trans. (Coliegeville: Liturgical Press, 1980). ~tA Von Speyer, Confession (New York: Herder and Herder), p. 214. ~2L. Orsy, The Evolving Church and the Sacrament of Penance (Denville, N.J.: Dimension, 1978). ~3See M. Hellwig, Sign of Reconciliation (Wilmington: M. Glazier, 1982), especially Chapter VIII which treats the role of the confessor. ~41nternational Theological Commission Report to 1983 Synod of Bishops, Penance and Reconciliation, Origins (January 12, 1984), p. 521. ~sj. Sudbrack, Spiritual Guidance (Paulist, 1983), pp. 24-5. ~6G. Croft, "The Sinner Finds God," The Way (January, 1968), pp. 34-40. ~TReport to 1983 Synod, supra, p. 522. ~SD. Barry, Ministry of Reconciliation (New York: Alba House, 1974), p. 111. ~9Report to 1983 Synod, supra, p. 520. Freed for Life in the Spirit -- Together Romans 12:1-8: A Meditation Daniel J. Harrington, S.J. This biblical meditation on Christian life and community was presented at the assembly of the Jesuit New England Province on June 12, 1986. Father Harrington is professor of New Testament at the Weston School of Theology; 3 Phillips Place; Cambridge, Massachusetts 02138. In an extraordinary act of boldness, Paul addressed at great length the Chris-tians of a church that he had not founded. He was bas.ically asking for a room in which to stay before moving on in his mission to Spain. Even before that, he had to bring the proceeds of the collection to J~rusalem, and perhaps also explain his activities to the Christian leaders there. Meanwhile he was hearing reports about frictions within the Roman community, chiefly with regard to divisions between Gentile Christians and Jewish Christians. With all these situations in mind, Paul wrote what has come to be recog-nized as his theological masterpiece -- his letter to the Romans. I find an uncanny parallel between the dynamics, of Romans and of St. Ignatius' Spiritual Exercises. Paul first establishes the need of all persons -- Gentiles and. Jews alike -- for something or someone beyond themselves if they are to find right relationship with God. Then he roots the person of Jesus and his followers in the tradition of salvation history reaching back to Abraham. Next he reflects on the difference that Jesus has made by freeing us from sin, death and the Law, and by freeing us for life in the Holy Spirit. These first eight chapters laid the foundations for reflection on the mystery of Israel in chapters 9-11, and for addressing problems within the Roman com-munity in chapters 12-16. Romans 12:1-8 presents Paul's vision of life within the Christian com- 831 832 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 munity. That life is first and foremost a response to the difference that Jesus has made. That life is communal, the task of persons freed from sin, death and the Law as potential masters of their lives, and freed for life under the prompting of the Holy Spirit. That life takes a variety of forms with the clear recognition that all the tasks undertaken within the Christian com-munity are important. "Freed for life in the Spirit -- together" -- that was Paul's understanding of Christian life. Perhaps he can help us as we try to give shape to our life as religious together. A Response Paul begins his exhortation in this way: I appeal to you, brothers, through the mercies of God to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God, your spiritual worship. Do not be conformed to this age but be transformed by renewal of mind so that you may discern what is God's will, what is good and pleasing and perfect (vv. 1-2). With these words, Paul provides us with a way of understanding our-selves and our brothers and sisters in Christ. Calling upon familiar terms associated with sacrifice and temple worship, Paul insists that genuine worship of God takes place not merely in a designated place at a set time but rather in all that we do and whenever we do it. Everyday life is the "place" in which the Father of Jesus Christ is worshipped. The sacrifice that we offer to God is ourselves, no more and no less. In this framework, when we Christians do come together in a designated place at a set time, we are simply making concrete what happens throughout our 'lives. All our life is an act of worship, a time for praise and thanksgiving, a sacrifice holy and pleasing to God. Our Christian lives can be a continuing act of worship precisely because of the difference that Jesus Christ has made. Even though the kingdom of God, or the age to come, is not yet here in its fullness, we believe that in some way it has been inaugurated in Christ. Therefore we need not be con-formed to what Paul calls "this age"; that is, we need not be dominated by sin, death and the Law. Christ has freed us to live in the age to come, which he has already begun. And because Christ has freed us and invited us to share in the inaugurated kingdom, we can discern God's will. In Paul's perspective, discernment is not simply clear thinking coming to closure. Rather discernment has been made possible by what God has done for us in Christ. Discernment is our way of living in the inaugurated kingdom, in the age to come. Discernment is the way in which we shape our response to the freedom won for us by Christ. Freed for Life in the Spirit / 833 Christian life as continued worship, as living in the kingdom, as dis-cernment in response to Christ's gift of freedom -- these are the chief ele-ments in Paul's understanding of Christian life. Paul's exhortation continues: For by the grace that has been given to me I say to everyone among you not to think more highly than he ought to think but to think with sober judgment, each according to the measure of faith God has assigned to him (v. 3). Paul speaks sternly here. He wants the Christians at Rome to be more modest and realistic. He wants them to put an end to factionalism and com-petitiveness. He wants to deflate their pretensions. Nevertheless, Paul's way of deflating the Romans' pretensions is amazingly creative and positive. He does not downgrade them or criticize their abilities. Instead, he reminds them about the real source of their powers and indeed about the real source of his own power. In appealing to his own apostolic authority, Paul describes it as "the grace that has been given to me." In urging a more sober estimation of their own intellectual power, Paul tells the Romans to recall that whatever spiritual gifts they have were portioned out to them by God. So in the process of calling to task the Roman Christians, Paul insists on the gift that gives shape to all of Christian life. The fundamental gift of God is Jesus Christ. The ways in which that fundamerital gift is made concrete are themselves gifts. Thus the Christian community is the gathering of gifted persons, who all bear witness to God's most basic gift in Jesus Christ. On the one hand, Paul's doctrine of grace encourages humility, does a~ay with factionalism and competitiveness, and deflates pretensions. On the other hand, Paul's doctrine of grace underlines the "gift" character of Christian life, allows us to look on one another as gifted persons, and helps us to see our lives together as reflections of God's fundamental gift of Christ. No one can boast, precisely because all is gift. Life Together Paul continues: For as in one body we have many members, and all the members do not have the same function, so we, though many, are one body in Christ, members each one of the others (vv. 4-5). What coach, what director of a play, what overseer of a trip has not used the body analogy in order to urge greater cooperation among individuals? People of Paul's time were surely familiar with this analogy from a famous fable about the city as a body recorded by Livy. Thus our 834 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 own term, the "body politic." Indeed, there is no need to search for prece-dents or ancient parallels since the analogy is so easy. We all have bodies. Our bodies have many parts. When all the parts work together, each per-forming its proper function, we can accomplish our goal. When one part hurts or fails to function, the whole body suffers. The body analogy is so obvious that we could pass over it quickly if it were not for the small qualifying phrase "in Christ." We are one body in Christ. That is an enormously important qualification. What makes us a body of Christians is not a desire to win a game; or put on a play, or go on a trip: Christ makes us into a body. We become the body of Christ. The life that runs through us all, the spirit that animates us, the force that enlivens us is Christ. Therefore, as we live out our Christian lives as religious, we do so as members of the body of Christ.We are conscious that God has called us to this form of Christian life with other members of Christ's body. We have been called together as a way of responding to God's gift to us. As we work side by side, what we should try to see first and foremost is the life of Christ expressing itself in one another. Service Having laid his foundations about the nature of Christian life and having insisted on Christ as the 'basis of our communal life, Paul now considers the proper response to God's gift of freedom. For what have we been freed? We have been freed for service. In one Of the most tightly packed and meaningful sentences in the entire Pauline co~'pus, Paul says: "Having gifts that differ according to the grace given to us, let us use them . . ." (v, 6a). This dense sentence summarizes Paul's approach to the place of service iri Christian life. In addressing the Romans, he assumes that all Christians are gifted ("having gifts"). The word for "gifts" here is charismata, the singular of which is charisma. But Paul does not use the word charisma as we do in our own day when we talk about charismatic politicians or movie actors -- those who have that certain undefinable something, that magic that makes them attractive to us, whose power comes from some unknown source. Paul knows the source of the Christian gifts. It is the Holy Spirit. Paul knows why Christians can do what they do. It is through the Holy Spirit. Paul knows why Christians do what they do. It is to build up the body of Christ. These gifts (charismata) are according to the grace (charis) given to us, By making this qualification; Paul reminds us that charisms flow from the fundamental grace, which is Christ. Charisms make concrete the grace of Christ. They are the means by which the grace of Christ expresses itself Freed for Life in the SpMt / 835 in our place and in our ~ime. These gifts differ. What sounds like an obvious statement on the logical level is not so easy to recognize in practice. Just as in a body the different members have different functions, so in the body of Christ there is astonishing variety.But sometimes variety is intimidating or frightening, and we want to shape others according to our own conceptions of what is good for them. Paul says no to all such attempts at imposing uniformity on the body of Christ. Variety must be respected not because it is refreshing or interesting but .because it witnesses to the marvelous power of God that can work through so many different instruments. "Having gifts that differ according to the grace given to us . " All of us are gifted. Our gifts are rooted in God's fundamental gift to us. Our gifts differ. The next and, indeed, necessary step is to use our gifts in service. God's gifts are not our personal possessions to be polished and stored away. They are not occasions for pride or boasting. God's gifts are to be used in free response to Christ our Lord~ Unlike most people today who understand freedom as the absence of any restraint upon them, Paul looked upon freedom as service under the only master worth serving. Whereas for many of our contemporaries "free-dom's just another word for nothing left to lose," for Paul freedom meant putting aside false masters for the sake of serving God and his people. Paul gives us some examples of service: ¯ . . if prophecy, according to the proportion of faith; if service, in service; he who teaches, in teaching; he who exhorts, in exhortation; he who shares, in simplicity; he who presides, in zeal; he who is merciful, cheerfulness (vv. 6-8). The list illustrates concrete ways in which God's gifts are made manifest. The'list includes prophecy, service (diakonia), teaching, exhortation, sharing, presiding or administration, and acts of mercy. I will not comrfient on each of these gifts.Nor do I suggest that we can bE satisfied with merely transferring them into the twentieth century. Nevertheless, the list is instructive fo? us on several counts. The emphasis is on activities rather than offices or the persons who hold the offices. Also, there is no discernible hierarchy in the list, unlike 1 Corinthians 12. All the activities are important. Moreover, there is a stress on the spirit in which the activities are carried out -- moving backward on the list, in cheerfulness, in zeal, in simplicity, and so forth. Paul reminds us that actions are more important than status or office, that all the charisms are significant and help toward the health of the body, and that much depends on the attitudes with which we carry out our activities. Prayer of Being: Intimacy at the Center David Hassel, S.J. ,, In this article Father Hassel continues his study of prayer and intimacy. The work he has done on this subject, much of which has appeared in our pages, is being gathered into a book entitled Dark Intimacy; Hope for Those in Difficult Prayer published in the near future by Paulist Press. Presbntly, Father Hassel, as Research Professor, is devoting him-self fully to writing, primarily in the area of philosophy. He may be addressed at Loyola University of Chicago; 6525 N. Sheridan Road; Chicago, Illinois, 60626. People lose heart when God is drawing them into prayer of being, prayer of simple presence. Here is where people feel most useless to God and to themselves, most empty and unworthy of God. For this prayer is quite silent, ord!narily dry, sometimes hollow, angry-fearsome, briefly joyful, and lacking many former certitudes. If ever a praying person feels far from intimacy with God, it is at this critical growth-point of developing union with God. Here, then, such a person needs reassurance against diffidence. Perhaps assurance will be gained if this prayer of being is recognizably described within one's prayer experience, if its nature is revealed in Scrip-ture, if the disciplining action of this prayer can be sketched accurately, and if the way of living in this prayer can be clearly depicted. All these "ifs" form the strategy of this article. How to Recognize Prayer of Being Prayer of being, lying hidden underneath, at least three layers of expe-rience, has paradoxical features. Probably this is because the depth at which prayer of being occurs makes it describable only in limit-statements. The latter plot out the extreme boundaries of any mysterious experience; 836 Prayer of Being / 837 they do not offer a clear X-ray picture of its inner structure. For example, the first feature of thisprayer of being is its silence. It is gestureless, wordless. When one prays, there seems tobe no response, no sense of God's even hearing one's attempts to reach him. The silver arrows of one's petitions seem to hit the tabernacle and to fall shattered at its base. Praying becomes like the mocking echo of one's own voice when. shouting across.a river to a great bluff on the other side. At the same time, paradoxi-cally, the prayer may be noisy with distractions. One's mind feels like a huge warehouse at which gigantic "semi's" are unloading fresh cargoes of distractions on the warehouse dock and forklift trucks are delivering the boxes of distractions to the center of one's attention. Naturally, such distractedness is accompanied by dryness, the second characteristic of prayer of being. One feels no ready satisfaction, no lifts of the heart with joy. One gains no splendid insights to light up one's path; not even the tired insights of past years arise to illuminate the desert darkness. There is little or no heartfelt attraction for Christ, for Gospel reading, or for generous actions; there is only a certain blankness of mind and a wrinkled leathery feeling in the heart. Yet at the same time, after one has weathered the time given to this prayer (e.g., early in the morning) and started towards breakfast, one experiences a quiet worthwhileness and even a restored strength for the day's duties. These qualities are palpably missing when one omits this prayer; instead, one knows an indefinable seine Of loss and a certain lethargic heaviness. Of course, such experience seems somewhat hollow, the third feature of the prayer of being. The absence of satisfaction felt inside oneself is matched in one's outer activities. Hobbies, entertainment, daily work, favorite diversions--all seem strictly routine, not attractive, and rather superficial as though the silence and dryness of prayer had seeped into one's more exterior doings. Yet in the prayer of being itself and in these activities, there is a remote sense of fullness, as though through the deepest caverns of one's praying/working self there runs a great underground river. This remote fullness expresses itself indirectly when the praying person finds himself or herself saying: "Where else would I want to be than here? Nowhere else. What else would I rather be doing? Nothing else." What is this peculiar sense of rightness amid silence, dryness, and hollowness? Because the person now doing the prayer of being has already lived faithfully with the Lord not a few years, there is the fear that he or she is backsliding, is caught in a web of self-delusion. And yet the person may also feel deep anger towards God at the "unfairness of it all." This is the fourth feature of theprayer of being. For the individual begins to question: "What am I doing wrong that the Lord should be so distant?" And then 838 / Review for Religio'us, November-December, 1986 begins some rummaging around in the past for a disastrously wrong deci-sion, a fatal flaw of character, a refused grace of strategic importance. For example, a retreatant was asking these questions of himself from the fifth to the nineteenth day of his. Ignatian thirty-day retreat and came upon this answer on the nineteenth day: "This retreat is a fraud; your life leading up to this retreat has been equally fraudulent; in fact, you've been embezzling yourself from adolescence till now." On recounting this dazzling insight to his director, the latter said to him: ''Be sure to keep up this type of question-ing. And don't for a moment trust yourself, others, me, or God." This response shocked the retreatant into recognizing both the superficial evi-dence that provoked the questioning and the serenity he experienced deep at the center of his being--paradox of paradoxes. Even as he felt whirled about in swirls of confusion, he also knew that in the depths of his being he was resting at home with the Lord in the center of the universe. He felt like the weather-pilot who had been fighting a bucking plane through the tornado and now has suddenly broken into its quiet eye. But where there is fear, there is often also an accompanying anger. Frustrated with my work, my family, my own self, and embarrassed by my anger at God for all this frustration, I am restless, eager to break out of this suffocating cocoon of self. 'Repulsed by, my negative mood, by the stark vision of my sins .and limitations, by my own littleness compared to God's greatness, I experience a profound, but false sense of guilt. For I have forgotten that one gets most deeply angry only with those one loves best and that to be angry with God is to take seriously his goodness and his providence. Anger with a friend (even with God) can be a secret compliment. ~ Thus the angry Jeremiah felt free to call God to his face "a treacherous brook" (Jr 15:18) and to accuse the Lord of duping him (Jr 20:12). For this reason guilt at my anger is a false guilt, which acts like a suit of armor so that I cannot feel God's touch. Even if I did feel his touch I would deny it, because "what god would want to deal with me." Yet eventually, as a fearful, angry person who is doing the prayer of being, I find myself repeating the words of the fiercely angry prophet in the Book of Lamenta-tions: "The favors of the Lord are not exhausted, his mercies are not spent. They are renewed each morning, so great is his faithfulness" (3:22-23). Amid all this confusion, there are occasional leaps of the heart at God's dim presence. They are very brief and widely spaced, with only.a rare moment when he seems to take over completely. Prayer of being, then, is not one long, monotone bore, A person can, however, overlook these quick touches of the Lord. Once a directee confessed: "If I had not kept a daily diary of this dry prayer Prayer of Being / 839 of mine, I would have complained that God was completely absent these past fifty days. But when I read back, I found four or five spots where the Lord made his presence felt for a few moments." Of course, this informa-tion makes quite a difference not only to the directee but also to the director. Soprayer of being is not a state of prayerlessness; its fifth feature is the Lord's quiet signaling of his companionship in our fears and anger. There is, nevertheless, in this prayer of being a gradual loss of youthful certainties. This constitutes the sixth characteristic of the prayer of being. One feels quite uncertain about so many things: political issues, the nature of holiness, the future of the United States, theological schools of thought, personality theories, economic cure-alls, long-standing family arguments, the proper raising and education of one's children, and so on. This deep wondering issues not so much from tired cynicisms as from a new sens( of mystery. Too often the failure of simple solutions has proved the myste-rious complexity of a person or of a situation, or of some vast plan of social improvement. Sometimes the praying person mistakes the deep wondering at such failures fora faith-loss---especially when a glance at the vine of one's apostolate seemingly reveals only shrunken grapes. A compelling temptation can then arise to find new works to do, new people to consult, new plans to promote. There can be even tears at this point though one is not sure why they come frustration, hope, self-pity, consolation? The most acute sufferings occur when the praying person feels seating doubt about whether he or she can love anyone fully, or be lovable to anyone else. And yet as the praying person descends deep into the self without knowing what lies ahead, there is no desire to go back up, even though the darkness seems to be heavier, for one experiences a strange contentment with the, situation--because one feels loved intimately. Does Prayer of Being Deny Intimacy? These six characteristics of prayer of being: silence, dryness, hollow-ness, fearsome anger, rare inbursts of joy, and loss of certainties would seem almost to deny the presence of any intimacy in this prayer. But the opposite is true. First of all, only by going through the various stages of prayer which require deep intimacy (one-to-one prayer, forgiveness, sinful-ness, apostolic more, and powerlessness) can one enter into the prayer of being. To declare that these stages of intimacy lead only to non-intimacy is to join the absurdist philosophers in stating that the human person is a living contradiction for self-destruction. In fact, the state of dryness charac-teristic of prayer of being is normal to all prayer, just as it is the normal 840 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 condition of any human relationship. It is the state lying between the extremes of consolation and desolation, just as the dryness in marriage or in work is the normal feeling between the ecstacy of love or of high success and the despair of lost love or bankrupt business. Dryness in prayer is the balanced state for enduring well everyday living. It is a secret strengthening joy; it is that sustaining intimacy which arises out of suffering well the everyday routines of prayer and life. Indeed, dryness is very instructive for the praying person. It forces the one who prays to distinguish the various levels of human experience, to enter their depths, to learn, more accurately what passive prayer is, and finally to develop a faithfulness to God which is more independent of consolations or desolations, of elations or depressions, and of subjectively estimated successes and failures. Let us glance at the levels of human experience so as to better under-stand dryness in prayer. There is, first, a superficial level, which consists of pleasures and pains present to our awareness like the constant purr of an air conditioner, the heavy perfume of lilacs, the irritation of a skin rash or a raspy voice, the comforting warmth of a May.sun or the soft touch 9f an April breeze and shower. The first level, then, is a constant stream of sensual impressions, the context of life. Underneath this is a second level of deeper experiences, such as the constant ache of neuralgia, or the deep pleasure of loving interchange, or the delight of solving a perplexing business problem, or the lyric leap of an evening at the symphony, or the exuberant planning for the first baby, or the panic fear of a flashing knife. This second level is more meaningful, and it lends depth to the first one. But underlying both these levels is a still more profound set of expe-riences which make up the third level. It is on this level that one experiences the enervating worry at not having a job, the satisfaction of affectionate family living, the sorrow of watching the alcoholic spouse struggle for respectability, the fulfillment of a project successfully completed which demanded ten years of one's life, the sense of worthwhileness in the costly sacrifice for one's beloved. At this third level, a person's deepest hopes are raised or dashed, a person's finest joys are brought into full bloom, a person's crushing sorrows test the stamina of one's very being. Believe it or not, there is also a fourth level, which is the dynamic basis of the three higher levels of experience. Although the top three levels are directly knowable to the subject, this fourth level is discovered and known' only indirectly, that is, only in contrast with the other three. Thus, a woman can be in good health on the first level, can enjoy a full family life on the second level, can see her role in life as richly meaningful on the third Prayer of Being / 841 level, and yet be restless and pain-filled on the fourth level. If it were not for this dramatic contrast with the top three levels, .she could not possibly come to know the fourth level as part of her experience. This revealing contrast can also occur in the opposite manner. A man may be suffering from a fourteen-day cold on the first level, may feel misunderstood by the family on the second level, experience sharp doubt on the third level about his ability to handle his new and complicated position in the corporation--and yet be peaceful at the fourth level, under-neath the disturbing events of the top three. He could well find himself asking: "What's wrong with me? I should feel depressed and desolate, but I don't. Am I becoming schizoid? Or have I lost interest in my family and my career?" But this startling contrast lets him know, if he reflects on it, that there is a fourth level of his experience, one known only by contrast with the upper three levels. This long explanation is meant to lead to the conclusion that great dryness of prayer at the top three levels of experience can be accompanied by a serene peace and sense of personal worthwhileness lurking underneath at the fourth level. Such a discovery lights up prayer of being, since such prayer happens at this fourth level where one comes into contact with one's being, one's fullest identity. Here, too, is the best rendezvous-point for meeting God. As any prayer which leaves us feeling powerless indicates: God is the one doing the praying in us; and he starts it at the fourth level, then lets it percolate up through the other three levels. In prayer of being, however, God may shut off this percolation into the top three levels. When this happens, one can find God only indirectly, through the contrast of the upper three levels with the fourth-level. At this point the praying person finally recognizes that he or she is totally at the mercy of God's initiative. Again, he or she more sharply appreciates the need to be more pa~ssive under God's action. Most of us, nonetheless, fight hard to be the active senior partner in prayer, and so we struggle mightily On the top three levels to keep control. At the first level we may try new vocal prayers, new Zen techniques, new spiritual reading books; at the second level we may try to pump up old emotions we once felt and duly inscribe in our spiritual diaries, or we may review magnificent panoramic insights of our personal salvation history. On the third level, we may investigate our motivations for being good family people, for becoming career enthusiasts, for entering the life of religious vows, for being unmarried or married, for being lazy or aggres-sive, for being liberal or conservative, and so on. In other words, to avoid the passivity of prayer, we strain to climb the sheer glass mountain of mystery by our fingernails. Inevitably we end up at 842 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 the bottom of the mountain, looking at our bloody hands. Slowly it dawns on us that maybe only God can lift us to the top of the glass mountain, that we have to rest passive in his hands as he lifts us gently and gladly, that only after we admit our total dependence on him, will he lift us to the top of the mountain. We learn, then, what the passivity of prayer is: letting God do the praying in and through our four levels of experience, while we simply furnish ourselves--and some basic conditions for prayer, e.g., time carefully set aside, some reading of Scripture and other spiritual works, a reverent body-position, a readiness to go in prayer wherever the Lord leads, and so on. These conditions God can use or not use as he sees fit. There is a third result of recognizing thi.s fourth level: because of dry7 ness at the upper three levels, one develops a faithfulness to God which is more independent of consolations or. desolations, of elations or depres-sions; one becomes aware of the constant presence of God in this fourth level. There, likea great underground river, he quietly nourishes all one's activities on the top three levels, rendering the praying person serene in the sure direction of the fiver, and letting the person know that he or she is never alone, never far from the center of the universe. This quiet reas-surance can occur in the midst of the most joyful, or the most sorrowful happenings on the upper three levels, and thus it nurtures the wholesome independence of the praying person. So it is no surprise that the person finds the edge taken off deep fears, fierce angers dampened down, and pestering doubts stilled. Thusprayer of being is never a lonely experience, since it is a constant, indirect awareness of God at one's deepest level of experience, at the center of one's being. In this way, divine being speaks within the individual person's being. Paradoxically, such communion is wordless at this silent depth. It is a simple presence to each other like that between long-married partners who have great mutual devotion to each other. In this one-to-one awareness, God and the praying person have, by a kind of osmosis, an underlying, indirect appreciation of each other rather than a direct face-to-face meeting as in the beatific vision. Their co-pres.ence is more by being than by insightful action or by tangible feeling. It is as though the praying person reaches behind his or her back to touch God. For each affects the other by pure presence of being, as happens when people are aware of each other even though separated by oceans and mountain ranges. Because this presence is so deep and subtle, it takes long years and much experience for the average praying person to recognize its potential for intimacy. Such mutual awareness is a beingrfor-the-other. This has a rema~:kable effect on the human partner. He or she finds greater empathy for other human beings at a deep level of experience, namely, that of being, of Prayer of Being / 843 radical person-hood. It is this which enables the praying person to enter more profoundly into the routinized lives of God's marginal people, to feel more deeply the emptiness of their sometimes meaningless lives, and the gestureless silence of their listless suffering. As a result the person in prayer of being becomes more ready to sacrifice, more apostolic in intent, in order to fulfill the needs of the Lord's anawim. Perhaps this is the cosmic com-passion of which Christ speaks: "Love your enemies, pray for your persecu-tors. This will prove that you are sons of your heavenly Father, for his sun rises on the bad and the good, he rains on the just and the unjust. In a word, you must be made perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect" (Mt 5:44-48). Because this prayer of being issues in close union not only with God but also with his marginal people, it leads to a dynamic compenetration of the two great commandments: to love God is to love neighbor and vice vers~a. In this way, prayer of being becomes like the background music permeating my consciousness as I wait for a client or work over financial accounts or have my teeth cleaned or do housework and gardening. It is a quiet, strengthening, enlivening presence which I may even take for granted until its temporary shutoff leaves me cold and bereft. Perhaps better, it is like a long-term friendship highly prized yet often taken for granted because it has always been the~:e to guide, envigorate, and challenge me, and, finally, to assure me of a happy future in serving others. Thus prayer of being, if it is anything, is a new depth of intimacy not only with God and self but also with all other human beings. Prayer of Being in Scripture Prayer of being is profoundly embedded in Scripture. Among the multiple translations of 'the divine name Yahweh in the Old Testament is: "he-who-is-for-others." Since Yahweh is the continuing creator and perdur-ing animator of all things, he clearly lives up to his name. He literally brings all things into being out of nothingness and then remains in them to pulse their existence constantly lest they sink back into nothingness. He is being for all other beings. It is no wonder, then, that in theprayer of being, the praying person becomes so sensitive to nothingness or emptiness at the same time as he or she notes the fullness of being around and in him or her. Yahweh, nonetheless, is not satisfied with this degree of intimacy within all created beings. Out of all the nations, he selects the weakest, that motley throng of mixed breeds from Egypt called the Israelites, and begins to form them into his people. To do this, he makes a covenant with them; they are to be his people and he, their God. Actually, it later becomes a marriage covenant since he comes to consider the Hebrew nation his bride. To 844 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 demonstrate this, he even tells Hosea, who had unfortunately married a woman turned prostitute, to remarry his bride. In this way is symbolized Yahweh's remarriage with his adulterous Israelite people, and so drama-tized the intimate relationship which Yahweh wants with the Hebrew peo-ple-- a relationshipfar beyond, yet built out of, the intimate relationship of creator and creature in being. Thus any turning of the Hebrew people to another or false God is considered nothing less than adultery--to be pun-ished, for example, by the great exile of 587 B.C. Such being-for-others (Yahweh himself) makes understandable why the second person of the Trinity would be sent into the womb of Mary to become the Jesus of history. The Christ intimately immerses himself in the being and life of his Jewish family, his town of Nazareth, and his country of Palestine. Jesus becomes. Jewish from the soles of his feet to the top of his head. Thus he literally is the wedding covenant of Yahweh with the Hebrew people; his very flesh and all his historical actions are divine and human, Godly and Jewish, inextricably. In this way, the God-man can enter into and share our gestureless, wordless silence in the hidden life of Nazareth, our dryness from routinized lives in his daily handyman tasks, our felt hollowness from self-emptying sacrifices for those dear to us (Ph 5:2-7), our fears ("My soul is troubled now, yet what should I say-- Father, save me from this hour?" [Jn 12:27]), and our angry frustrations ("What an unbelieving and perverse lot you are! How long must I remain with you? How long can I endure you?'[Lk 9:41]). He also shares our rare leaps of joy ("At that moment Jesus rejoiced in the Holy Spirit"ILk 9:12]), and our hollowness felt at the center of our beings (Jesus sleeping the sleep of exhaustion in the storm-tossed boat). He knew all the ingredients of being human; he, too, did theprayer of being in relation,to the Father. In his bones and nervous system Jesus felt his being-for-others at the three upper levels of his experience. This being-for-others is best seen, however, in his joy at the fourth level underneath his passion at the upper-three levels. The seven last words of Christ express an exquisitely beautiful and expensive intimacy. When Jesus said: "Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me. Weep for yourselves and for your children" (Lk 23:28), could he have been other than a being-for- others amid terrible dryness and felt fear? When he cried out: "Father, forgive them; they do not know what they are doing" (Lk 23:34), was he not a being-for-others amid the deaf silence of his crucifiers? When he turned his head towards Dismas to say: "This day you .will be with me in paradise" (Lk 23:43), was he not a being-for-others in the brief joy of this moment? When he looked to Mary and John and said: "Woman, there is your son; [son,] there is your mother" (Jn 19:28), was he not a being-for- Prayer of Being / 845 others emptying himself of his last possession? When he screamed out: "I am thirsty" (.Jn 19:28), was he not revealing that his being-for-others felt hollow and dry in its helplessness? When he spoke to the Father appeal-ingly: "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" (Lk 15:34), was he not a being-for-others feeling the loss of cherished certainties? When in a final burst of profound trust he shouted: "Father, into your hands I com-mend my spirit~' (Lk 23:46), was he not a being-for-others stripped down to nothing but trust, having given over to the Father all that was dear to him: Mary, the apostles, Mary Magdalen and the other loyal women, his work of the past thirty-five or so years, and the whole future of his Church? Underneath this crush of even~ts commemorated by Jesus' seven last words, underneath the excruciating agony of the physical, psychological and spiritual levels of Christ's ex.perience, is the fourth level of his joyous strength in the Father's love for him, and in the beautiful "background music" of the Father's tender, caring affection for him. For the death of Christ on the three top levels was simultaneous with the subdued resurrec-tion on the fourth level. This was Christ's continual prayer of being within the Paschal mystery. Has there ever been such intimacy in suffering and joy as that of Christ with the Father and with his people? Thus is revealed dimly the structure of the prayer of being beneath its previous paradoxical features. As Letter,to the Hebrews notes: "For the sake of the joy which lay before him he endured the cross, heedless of its shame" (12:2). The Terrible Liberating, ~iscipHne Of the Prayer of Belng Theprayer of being, therefore, carries within it a terrible, yet beautiful, discipline: the willingness to suffer for what is right and just, true and good. The author of Heb~rews put~ ihe meaning of discipline .bl.untly for us:~ "Endure your trials as the discipline of God who deals with you as sons. For what son is there whom his father does not discipline? If you do not know the disciplineof sons, you are not sons but bastards" (12:7-8). Evi, dently God disciplines his people out of affection by allowing them to suffer. As a result, aware of powerlessnes.s, they can be endowed with his power without any fear that th, ey wohld claim this power to be their own. Chapters six to nine of Deuteronomy illustrate how a ,terrible discipline prepares for intimacy with God, for prayerof being. There God declares: "You shall not put the Lord to the test" (6:16), that is, demand that he act in your way at your time and place. Clearly, "It was not because you are the largest of all nations that the Lord set his heart on you and chose you, for you are really the smallest of nations. It was because the Lord loved you" 846 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 (7:7-8); in your littleness you do not set the music of the dance with God. "For forty years now the Lord, your God, has directed all your journeying in the desert, so as to test you by affliction and find out whether or not it was your intention to keep his commandments" (8:2); ". the Lord, your God, disciplines you even as a man disciplines his son" (8:5); ". [lest] you become haughty of heart and unmindful of the Lord" (8:14). God's guid-ance through the desert (of prayer of being) may seem directionless to us and may seem to undermine our certainties. But our trustful following keeps us from the crazy deviations of pride and of secret contempt for God's providence. This discipline of the prayer of b'eing is necessary because "otherwise you might say to 3)ourselves, 'It is my own power and the strength of my own hand that has obtained for me this wealth'" (8:17). "No, it is not because of your merits or the integrity of your heart" (9:5). This last statement is strangely reassuring for the person doi.ng prayer of being and feeling virtueless, angry, fearful and empty. Such a person has reason to hope because Christ anticipated this: "Son, though he was, he learned obedience from what he suffered; and when perfected, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him" (Heb 5:8-9). There is, therefore, a scripti]ral basis for the discipline found in prayer of being. This discipline itself, though painful, is actually a liberation produced by the prayer of being. This liberation, however, is not a secret contempt for the bodily and the sensual; such would be a disincarnation, not an incarnation, of Christ. Nor is this liberation the ability to leave a beloved person or a f~ivorite place-possession-job-ambition without suffering regret; this would be more a cold self-centeredness that is ready to detach itself only in order to grab something or someone better. Rather this liberation is: 1) a willingness to be separated from what one loves for the sake of the beloved without ever ceasing to love this beloved' (seeing off the mis-sionary friend withoUt hope of ever meeting again); 2) a'willingness to let someone dear grow freely without trying to control, even though this means great suffering for both (the parent letting the stubborn twenty-year-old make a d(astic mistake in choosing a job--for the sake of his growth in wisdom); 3) a willingness to risk everything to put God or another person ahead of one's business, sporting succesg, work, comfort, or career, even as one continues tO pursue these ventures; 4) a willingness tO choose the good consistently, i

Issue 45.4 of the Review for Religious, July/August 1986. ; Volume 45 Number 4' July/August, 1986 REVIEW FOR REt.~G~OUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd., St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. REVIEW FOR RELiGiOUS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. © 1986 by REVIEW FOR REI, IGIOUS. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, M O. Single copies: $2,50. Subscription U.S.A. $11.00 a year; $20.00 for two years. Other countries: add $4.00 per year (postage). Airmail (Book Rate) $18.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address, write REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS: P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editor July/August, 1986 Volume 45 Number 4 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELtGtOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindeli Blvd., St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Richard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave.; Berkeley, CA 94709. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REVtEW FOR RELtCtOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N.Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, M! 48106. A major portion of each issue is also available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually impaired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. A Letter to Priests: The Example of St. John Vianney John Paul H As he has done each year of his pontificate, Pope John Paul addressed a letter to priests for Holy Thursday, which is, par excellence, the Feast of Priesthood. The text is taken from L'Osservatore Romano, 24 March, 1986, pp. 1-3. Here we are again, about to celebrate Holy .Thursday, the day on which Christ J.esus instituted the Eucharist and at the same time our ministerial priesthood. "Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end."~ As the Good Shepherd, he was about to give his life for his sheep,2 to save man, to reconcile him with his Father and bring him into a new life. And already at the Last Supper he offered to the apostles as food his own body given up for them and his blood shed for them. Each year this day is an important one for all Christians: Like the first disciples, they come to receive the body and blood of Christ in the evening liturgy that renews the Last Supper. They receive from the Savior his testament of fraternal love, which must inspire their whole lives, and they begin to watch with him, in order to be united with him in his passion. You yourselves gather them together and guide their prayer. But this day is especially important for us, dear brother priests. It is the ¯ feast of priests. It is the birthday of our priesthood, which is a sharing in the one priesthood of Christ the mediator. On this day the priests of the whole world are invited to concelebrate the Eucharist with their bishops and with them to renew the promises of their priestly commitment to the service of Christ and his Church. As you know, I feel particularly close to each one of you on this 481 482 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 occasion. And, the same as every year, as a sign of our sacramental union in the same priesthood and impelled by my affectionate esteem for you and by my duty to confirm all my brothers in their service of the Lord, I wish to send you this letter to help you to stir up the wonderful gift that was conferred on you through the laying on of hands) This ministerial priest-hood which is our lot is also our vocation and our grace. It marks our whole life with the seal of the most necessary and most demanding of services, the salvation of souls. We are led to it by a host of predecessors. The Matchless Example of the Cur~ of Ars One of those predecessors remains particularly present in the memory of the Church, and he will be especially commemorated this year, on the second centenary of his birth: St. John Mary I"ianney, the Curb of Ars. Together we wish to thank Christ, the prince of pastors, for this extraordinary model of priestly life and service which the saintly Cur~ of Ars offers to the whole Church, and above all to us priests. How many of us prepared ourselves for the priesthood or today .exer-cise the difficult task of caring for souls, having before our eyes the figure of St.John Mary Vianney! His example cannot be forgotten. More than ever we need his witness, his intercession, in order to face the situations of our times when, in spite of a certain number of hopeful signs, evangeliza-tion is being contradicted by a growing secularization, when spiritual disci-pline is being neglected, when many are losing sight of the kingdom of God, when often even in the pastoral ministry there is a too exclusive concern for the social aspect, for temporal aims. In the. last century the Cur~ of Ars had to face difficulties which were perhaps of a different kind but which were no less serious. By his life and work he represented for the society of his time a great evangelical challenge that bore astonishing fruits of conversion. Let us not doubt that he still presents to us today the great evangelical challenge. I therefore invite you now to meditate on our priesthood in the pres.- ence of this matchless pastor, who illustrates both the fullest realization of the priestly ministry and the holiness of the minister. As you know, John Mary Baptist Vianney died at Ars on August 4, 1859, after some forty years of exhausting dedication. He was seventy-three years of age. When he arrived, Ars was a small and obscure village in the Diocese of Lyons, now in the Diocese of Belley. At the end of his life, people came from all over France, and his reputation for holiness, after he had been called home to God, soon attracted the attention of the universal Church. St. Plus X beatified him in 1905, Pius X1 canonized him in 1925 and then in 1929 declared him patron saint of the parish priests of the A Letter to Priests / 483 whole world. On the centenary of his death, Pope John XXIII wrote the encyclical Nostri Sacerdotii Primitias, to present the Cur6 of Ars as a model of priestly life and asceticism, a model of piety and eucharistic worship, a model of pastoral zeal, and this in the context of the needs of our time. Here, I would simply like to draw your attention to certain essential points so as to help us to rediscover and live our priesthood better. The Extraordinary Life of the Cur~ of Ars Preparing for the Priesthood The Cur~ of Ars is truly a model of strong will for those preparing for the priesthood. Many of the trials which followed one after another could have discouraged him: the effects of the upheaval of the French Revolu-tion, the lack of opportunities for education in his rural environment, the reluctance of his father, the need for him to do his share of work in the fields, the hazards of military service. Above all, and in spite of his intuitive intelligence and lively sensitivity, there was his great difficulty in learning and memorizing, and so in following the theological courses in Latin, all of which resulted in his dismissal from the seminary in Lyons. However, after the genuineness of his vocation had finally been acknowledged, at twenty-nine years of age he was able to be ordained. Through his tenacity in working and praying, he overcame all obstacles and limitations, just as he did later in his priestly life, by his perseverance in laboriously preparing his sermons or spending the evenings reading the works of theologians and spiritual writers. From his youth he was filled with a great desire to "win souls for the good of God" by being a priest, and he was supported by the confidence placed in him by the .parish priest of the neighboring town of Ecully, who never doubted his vocation and took charge of a good part of his training. What an example of courage for those who today experience the grace of being called to the priesthood ! His Love for Christ and for Souls The Cur6 of Ars is a model of priestly zeal for all pastors. This secret of his generosity is to be found without doubt in his love of God, lived without limits, in constant response to the love made manifest in Christ crucified. This is where he bases his desire to do everything to save the souls ransomed by Christ at such a great price and to bring them back to the love of God. Let us recall one of those pithy sayings which he had the knack of uttering: "The priesthood is the love of the heart of Jesus.-4 In his sermons and catechesis he continually returned to that love: "O my God, 1 prefer to die loving you than to live a single instant without loving you . I love you, my divine Savior, because you were crucified for us. because you 484 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 have me crucified for you."5 For the sake of Christ, he seeks to conform himself exactly to the radical demands that Jesus in the Gospel puts before the disciples whom he sends out: prayer, poverty, humility, self-denial, voluntary penance. And, like Christ, he has a love for his flock that leads him to extreme pastoral commitment and self-sacrifice. Rarely has a pastor been so acutely aware of his responsibilities, so consumed by a desire to wrest his people from their sins or their lukewarmness. "O my God, grant me the conversion of my parish: I consent to suffer whatever you wish, for as long as I live." Dear brother priests, nourished by the Second Vatican Council which has felicitously placed the priest's consecration within the framework of his pastoral mission, let us join St. John Mary Vianney and seek the dyna-mism of our pastoral zeal in the heart of Jesus, in his love for souls. If we do not draw from the same source, our ministry risks bearing little fruit! The Fruits of His Ministry In the case of the Cure of Ars, the results were indeed wonderful, somewhat as with Jesus in the Gospel. Through John Mary Vianney, who consecrates his Whole strength and his whole heart to him, Jesus saves souls. The Savior entrusts them to him, in abundance. First his parish--which numbered only two hundred thirty people when he arrived--which will be profoundly changed. One recalls that in that village there was a great deal of indifference and very little religious practice among the men. The bishop had warned John Mary Vianney: "There is not much love of God in that parish, you will put some there." But quite soon, far beyond his own village, the cure becomes the pastor of a multitude coming from the entire region, from different parts of France and from other countries. It is said that 80,000 came in the year 1858! People sometimes waited for days to see him, to go to confession to him. What attracted them to him was not merely curiosity nor even a reputation justified by miracles and extraordinary cures, which the saint would wish to hide. It was much more the realization of meeting a saint, amazing for his penance, so close to God in prayer, remarkable for his peace and humility in the midst of popular acclaim and, above all, so intuitive in responding to the inner disposition of souls and in freeing them from their burdens, especially in the confessional. Yes, God chose as a model for pastors one who could have appeared poor, weak, defenseless and con-temptible in the eyes of men.6 He graced him with his best gifts as a guide and healer of souls. While recognizing the special nature of the grace given to the Cur6 of Ars, is there not here a sign of hope for pastors today who are suffering A Letter to Priests from a kind of spiritual desert? The 1Vlinistry of the Curb of Ars Different Apostolic Approaches to the Essential John Mary Vianney dedicated himself essentially to teaching the faith and to purifying consciences, and these two ministries were directed toward the Eucharist. Should we not see here, today also, the three objectives of the priest's pastoral service? While the purpose is undoubtedly to bring the People of God together around the eucharistic mystery by means of catechesis and penance, other apostolic approaches, varying according to circumstances, are also neces-sary. Sometimes it is a simple presence, over the years, with the silent witness of faith in the midst of non-Christian surroundings; or being near to people, to families and their concerns; there is a preliminary evangeliza-tion that seeks to awaken to the faith unbelievers and the lukewarm; there is the witness of charity and justice shared with Christian lay people, which makes the faith more credible and puts it into practice. These give rise to a whole series of undertakings and apostolic works which prepare or con-tinue Christian formation. The Cur~ of Ars himself taxed his ingenuity to devise initiatives adapted to his time and his parishioners. However, all these priestly activities were centered on the Eucharist, catechesis and the sacrament of reconciliation. The Sacrament of Reconciliation It is undoubtedly his untiring devotion to the sacrament of reconcilia-tion which revealed the principle charism of the Cur~ of Ars and is rightly the reason for his renown. It is good that such an example should encour-age us today to restore to the ministry of reconciliation all the attention which it deserves and which the Synod of Bishops of 1983 so justly emphasized.7 Without the step of conversion, penance and seeking pardon that the Church's ministers ought untiringly to encourage and welcome, the much desired renewal will remain superficial and illusory. The first care of the Cur~ of Ars was to teach the faithful to desire repentance. He stressed the beauty of God's forgiveness. Was not all his priestly life and all his strength dedicated to the conversion of sinners? And it was above all in the confessional that God's mercy manifested itself. So he did not wish to get rid of the penitents who came from all parts and to whom he often devoted ten hours a day, sometimes fifteen or more. For him this was undoubtedly the greatest of his mortifications, a form of martyrdom. In the first place it was a martyrdom in the physical sense from the heat, the cold or the suffocating atmosphere. Second, in the moral Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 sense, for he himself suffered from the sins confessed and even more the lack of repentance: "I weep because you do not weep." In the face of these indifferent people, whom he welcomed as best he could and tried to awaken in them the love of God, the Lord enabled him to reconcile great sinners who were repentant, and also to guide to perfection souls thirsting for it. It was here above all that God asked him to share in the redemption. For our own part, we have rediscovered, better than during the last century, the community aspect of penance, preparation for forgiveness and thanksgiving after forgiveness. But sacramental forgiveness will always require a personal encounter with the crucified Christ through the media-tion of his minister,s Unfortunately it is often the case that penitents do not fervently hasten to the confessional, as in the time of the Cur~ of Ars. Now, just when a great number seem to stay away from confession completely for various reasons, it is a sign of the urgent need to develop a whole pastoral strategy of the sacrament of reconciliation. This will be done by constantly reminding Christians of the need to have a-real relationship with God, to have a sense of sin when one is closed to God and to others, the need to be converted and through the Church to receive forgiveness as a free gift of God. They also need to be reminded of the conditions that enable the sacrament to be celebrated well, and in this regard to overcome prejudices, baseless fears and routine.9 Such a situation at the same time requires that we ourselves should remain very available for this ministry of forgiveness, ready to devote to it the necessary time and care, and I would even say giving it priority over other activities. The faithful will then realize the value that we attach to it, as did the Cur~ of Ars. Of course, as I wrote in the post-synodal exhortation on penance,~0 the ministry undoubtedly remains the most difficult, the most delicate, the most taxing and the most demanding of all---especially when priests are in short supply. This ministry also presupposes on the part of the confessor great human qualities, above all, an intense and sincere spiritual life; it is necessary that the priest himself should make regular use of this sacrament. Always be convinced of this, dear brother priests: this ministry of mercy is one of the most beautiful and most consoling. It enables you to enlighten consciences, to forgive them and to give them fresh vigor in the name of the Lord Jesus. It enables you to be for them a spiritual physician and counselor; it remains "the irreplaceable manifestation and the test of the priestly ministry." ~ The Eucharist: Offering the Mass, Communion, Adoration The two sacraments of reconciliation and the Eucharist remain closely linked. Without a continually renewed conversion and the reception of the A Letter to Priests / 487 sacramental grace of forgiveness, participation in the Eucharist would not reach its full redemptive efficacy.~2 Just as Christ began his ministry with the words "Repent and believe in the Gospel,"~3 so the Cur6 of Ars gener-ally began each of his days with the ministry of forgiveness. But he was happy to direct his reconciled penitents to the Eucharist. The Eucharist was at the very center of his spiritual life and pastoral work. He said: "All good works put together are not equivalent to the sacrifice of the Mass, because they are the works of men and the holy Mass is'the work of God."~4 It is in the Mass that the sacrifice of Calvary is made present for the redemption of the world. Clearly, the priest must unite the daily gift of himself to the offering of the Mass: "How well a priest does, therefore, to offer himself to God in sacrifice every morning!"~5 "Holy communion and the holy sacrifice of the Mass are the two most efficacious actions for obtaining the conversion of hearts."~6 Thus the Mass was for John Mary Vianney the great joy and comfort of his priestly life. He took great care, despite the crowds of penitents, to spend more than a quarter of an hour in silent preparation. He celebrated with recollection, clearly expressing his adoration at the consecration and communion. He accurately remarked: "The cause of priestly laxity is not paying attention to the Mass!''~7 The Cur6 of Ars was particularly mindful of the permanence of Christ's real presence in the Eucharist. It was generally before the tabernacle that he spent long hours in adoration, before daybreak or in the evening; it was toward the tabernacle that he often turned during his homilies, saying with emotion: "He is there!" It was also for this reason that he, so poor in his presbytery, did not hesitate to spend large sums on embellishing his church. The appreciable result was that his parishioners quickly took up the habit of coming to pray before the Blessed Sacrament, discovering, through the attitude of their pastor, the grandeur of the mystery of faith. With such a testimony before our eyes, we think about what the Second Vatican Council says to us today on the subject of priests: "They exercise this sacred function of Christ most of all in the eucharistic liturgy." ~8 And more recently, the extraordinary synod in December, 1985, recalled: "The liturgy must favor and make shine brightly the sense of the sacred. It must be imbued with reverence, adoration and glorification of God . The Eucharist is the source and summit of all the Christian life."19 Dear brother priests, the example of the Cur6 of Ars invites us to a serious examination of conscience: What place do we give to the Mass in our daily lives? Is it, as on the day of our ordination--it was our first act as priests!--the principle of our apostolic work and personal sanctification? What care do we take in preparing for it? And in celebrating it? In praying 41111 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 before the Blessed Sacrament? In encouraging our faithful people to do the same? In making our churches the house of God to which the divine presence attracts the people of our times, who too often have the impres-sion of a world empty of God? Preaching and Catechesis The Cur~ of Ars was also careful never to neglect in any way the ministry of the Word, which is absolutely necessary in predisposing people to faith and conversion. He even said: "Our Lord, who is truth itself, considers his Word no less important than his body."20 We know how long he spent, especially at the beginning, in laboriously composing his Sunday sermons. Later on he came to express himself more spontaneously, always with lively and clear conviction, with images and comparisons taken from daily life and easily grasped by his flock. His catechetical instructions to the children also formed an important part of his ministry, and the adults gladly joined the children so as to profit from this matchless testimony which flowed from his heart. He had the courage to denounce evil in all its forms; he did not keep silent, for it was a question of the eternal salvation of his faithful people: "If a pastor remains silent when he sees God insulted and souls going astray, woe to him! If he does not want to be damned, and if there is some disorder in his parish, he must trample upon human respect and the fear of being despised or hated." This responsibility was his anguish as parish priest. But as a rule, "he preferred to show the attractive side of virtue rather than the ugliness of vice," and if he spoke--sometimes in tears-- about sin and the danger for salvation, he insisted on the tenderness of God who has been offended, and the happiness of being loved by God, united by God, living in his presence and for him. Dear brother priests, you are deeply convinced of the importance of proclaiming the Gospel, which the Second Vatican Council placed in the first rank of the functions of a priest.2~ You seek, through catechesis, through preaching and in other forms which also include the media, to touch the hearts of our contemporaries, with their hopes and uncertainties, in order to awaken and foster faith. Like the Cur6 of Ars and in accor-dance with the exhortation of the council,22 take care to teach the Word of God itself which calls people to conversion and holiness. The Identity of the Priest The Specific Ministry of the I~iest St. John Mary Vianney gives an eloquent answer to certain question-ings of the priest's identity which have manifested themselves in the course A Letter to Priests / 4119 of the last twenty years; in fact it seems that today a more balanced position is being reached. The priest always and in an unchangeable way finds the source of his identity in Christ the priest. It is not the world which determines his status, as though it depended on changing needs or ideas about social roles. The priest is marked with the seal of the priesthood of Christ in order to share in his function as the one mediator and redeemer. So, because of this fundamental bond, there opens before the priest the immense field of the service of souls, for their salvation in Christ and in the Church. This service must be completely inspired b.y love of souls in imita-tion of Christ who gives his life for them. It is God's wish that all people should be saved and that none of the little ones should be lost.23 "The priest must always be ready to respond to the needs of souls," said the Cur6 of Ars.24 "He is not for himself, he is for you."25 The priest is for the laity. He animates them and supports them in the exercise of the common priesthood of the baptized--so well illustrated by the Second Vatican Council--which consists in their making their lives a spiritual offering, in witnessing to the Christian spirit in the family, in taking charge of the temporal sphere and sharing in the evangelization of their brethren. But the service of the priest belongs to another order. He is ordained to act in the name of Christ the head, to bring people into the new life made accessible by Christ, to dispense to them the mysteries---the word, forgiveness, the bread of life--to gather them into his body, to help them to form themselves from within, to live and to act according to the saving plan of God. In a word, our identity as priests is manifested in the "creative" exercise of the love for souls communicated by Christ Jesus. Attempts to make the priest more like the laity are damaging to the Church. This does not mean in any way that the priest can remain remote from the human concerns of the laity. He must be. very near to them, as John Mary Vianney was, but as a priest, always in a perspective which is of their salvation and of the progress of the kingdom of God. He is the witness and dispenser of a life other than earthly life.26 It is essential to the Church that the identity of the priest be safeguarded with its vertical dimension. The life and personality enlightening and vigorous illustration of this. Configuration to Christ and Solidarity with Sinners St. John Mary Vianney did not content himself with the ritual carrying out of the activities of his ministry. It was his heart and his life which he sought to conform to Christ. Prayer was the soul of his life: silent and contemplative prayer, gener- 4~0 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 ally in his church at the foot of the tabernacle. Through Christ, his soul opened to the three divine persons, to whom he would entrust "his poor soul" in his last will and testament. "He kept a constant union with God in the middle of an extremely busy life," And he did not neglect the Office or the rosary. He turned spontaneously to the Virgin. His poverty was extraordinary. He literally stripped himself of every-thing for the poor. And he shunned honors. Chastity shone in his face. He knew the value of purity in order "to rediscover the source of love, which is God." Obedience to Christ consisted, for John Mary Vianney, in obedience to the Church and especially to the bishop. This obedience took the form of accepting the heavy charge of being a parish priest, which often fright-ened him. But the Gospel insists especially on renouncing self, on accepting the cross. Many were the crosses which presented themselves to the Cur6 of Ars in the course of his ministry: calumny on the part of the people, being misunderstood by an assistant priest or other confreres, contradictions, and also a mysterious struggle against the powers of hell, and sometimes even the temptation to despair in the midst of spiritual darkness. Nonetheless he did not content himself with just accepting these trials without complaining; he went beyond them by mortification, imposing on himself continual fasts and many other rugged practices in order ''to reduce his body to servitude," as St. Paul says. But what we must see clearly in this penance, which our age unhappily has little taste for, are his motives: love of God and the conversion of sinners. Thus he asks a discouraged fellow priest: "You have prayed . you have wept . but have you fasted, have you kept vigil?"27 Here we are close to the warning of Jesus to the apostles: "But this kind is cast out only by prayer and fasting."28 In a word, John Mary Vianney sanctified himself so as to be more able to sanctify others. Of course, conversion remains the secret of hearts, which are free in their actions, and the secret of God's grace. By his ministry, the priest can only enlighten people, guide them in the internal forum and give them the sacraments. The sacraments are, of course, actions of Christ, and their effectiveness is not diminished by the imperfection or unworthiness of the minister. But the results depend also on the dispositions of those who receive them, and these are greatly assisted by the personal holiness of the priest, by his perceptible witness, as also by the mysterious exchange of merits in the communion of saints. St. Paul said: "In my flesh I complete what is lacking in Christ's afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the Church."29 John Mary Vianney in a sense Wished to force God to grant these graces of conversion, not only by his prayer but by the sacrifice of his whole life. He wished to love God for those who did not love him and even A Letter to Priests / 491 do the penance which they would not do. He was truly a pastor completely at one with his sinful people. Dear brother priests, let us not be afraid of this very personal commit-ment-- marked by asceticism and inspired by love--which God asks of us for the proper exercise of our priesthood. Let us remember the recent reflections of the synodal fathers: "It seems to us that in the difficulties of today God wishes to teach us more deeply the value, importance and central place of the cross of Jesus Christ."30 In the priest, Christ relives his passion for the sake of souls. Let us give thanks to God, who thus permits us to share in the redemption, in our hearts and in our fles!! For all these reasons, St. John Mary Vianney never ceases to be a witness, ever living, ever relevant, to the truth about the priestly vocation and service. We recall the convincing way in which he spoke of the great-ness of the priest and of the absolute need for him. Those who are already priests, those who are preparing for the priesthood and those who will be called to it must fix their eyes on his example and follow it. The faithful too will more clearly grasp, thanks to him, the mystery of the priesthood of their priests. No, the figure of the Cur6 of Ars does not fade. Conclusion Dear brothers, may these reflections renew your joy at being priests, your desire to be priests more profoundly! The witness of the Cur6 of Ars contains still other treasures to be discovered. We shall return to these themes at greater length during the pilgrimage which I shall have the joy of making next October, since the French bishops have invited me to Ars in honor of the second centenary of the birth of John Mary Vianney. I address this first meditation to you, dear brothers, for the solemnity of Holy Thursday. In each of our diocesan communities we are going to gather together, on this birthday of our priesthood, to renew the grace of the sacrament of orders, to stir up the love which is the mark of our vocation. We hear Christ saying to us as he said to the apostles: "Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends., I have called you friends.TM Before him who manifests love in its fullness, we priests and bishops renew our priestly commitments. We pray for one another, each for his brother and all for all. We ask the eternal Father that the memory of the Cur6 of Ars may help to stir up our zeal in his service. We beseech the Holy Spirit to call to the Church's service many priests of the caliber and holiness of the Cur6 of Ars: In our age she has so great a 492 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 need of them, and she is no less capable of bringing such vocations to full flower. And we entrust our priesthood to the Virgin Mary, the mother of priests, to whom John Mary Vianney ceaselessly had recourse with tender affection and total confidence. This was for him another reason for giving thanks: "Jesus Christ," he said, "having given us all that he could give us, also wishes to make us heirs of what is most precious to him, his holy mother.'S2 For my part, I assure you once more of my great affection, and with your bishop, I send you my apostolic blessing. From the Vatican, March 16, 1986, the fifth Sunday of Lent, in the eighth year of my pontificate. NOTES ~Jn 13:!. 2See Jn 10:11. ~See 2 Tm 1:6. aSee Jean-Marie Vianney, Curb d' Ars, Sa Pensee, Son Coeur, presented by Abbe Bernard Nodet, Editions Xavier Mappus, Le Puy, 1958, p. 100. Henceforth quoted as: Nodet. 5Nodet, p. 44. 6See 1 Co 1:28-19. 7See John Paul II, post-synodal apostolic exhortation Reconciliatio et Paenitentia (Dec. 2, 1984): AAS 77 (1985), pp. 185-275. sSee John Paul I1, encyclical letter Redemptor Hominis (March 14, 1979), no. 20: AAS 71 (1979), pp. 313-316. 9See Reconciliatio et Paenitentia, n. 28. ~°.See ibid, 29. ~'John Paul II, Letter to Priests for Holy Thursday, 1983, No. 3: AAS 75 (1983), Pars I, p. 419. ~2See Redemptor Hominis, n. 20. ~JMk 1:15. ~4Nodet, p. 108. ~5Ibid, p. 107. 161bid, p. 110. ~7Ibid, p. 108. taSecond Vatican Council, Lumen Gentium, n. 28. 191I, b, b/1 and c/l; see LG n. 11. 2°Nodet, p. 126. 2'Second Vatican Council, Presbyterorum Ordinis, n. 4. ~See ibid. 23See Mt 18:14. 24Nodet, p. 101. 2~Ibid, p. 102. ~6See Presbyterorum Ordinis, n. 3. 27Nodet, p. 193. 2SMt 17:21. 29Co1 1:24. 3°Final Report, D/2. 3lJn 15:13-15. 32Nodet, p. 252. Religious Life: God's Call and Our Response Christopher Kiesling, O P. Father Kiesling is professor emeritus of systematic theology at Aquinas Institute in St. Louis, and former editor of Spirituality Today. He may be addressed at liis residence: 97 Waterman Place, Saint Louis, Missouri 63112. What is religious life--an institution of life? Actually, it is both, but it does not make a difference how we view it primarily. From an observer's point of view, it is an institution, an organization of life to achieve a specific goal by particular means. From a participant's perspective, it is life which, as it unfolds, assumes a pattern. If we think of religious life first as an institution, emphasis falls on the organizational elements. It then appears as a more or less fixed framework existing "out there" into which people must learn to fit. On the other hand, if religious life is perceived primarily as life, the stress is on the religious development of the people who constitute a community. This article considers religious life from a participant's viewpoint and describes it as a call from God to which we respond, both call and response mediated by Jesus Christ, the Church, a religious congregation, and personal history. A call is something with which we are familiar. People call us to catch our attention when they want us to do something. We receive telephone calls. A call comes from outside of ourselves. It enters into us and evokes a response of attention or rejection and, if attention, a further response of action or refusal to act. Religious life'is aptly regarded as a call. We commonly refer to religious 493 4~1 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 life as a vocation, which means "call." We religious are aware that our religious life comes from outside of ourselves, that is, our controlling ego, whether we imagine the call as coming from above us or from the depths of our being. We can explain to people why we are religious. But even as we offer reasons for our choice of religious life, we are conscious that even the totality of answers does not adequately explain our choice. The "why" of our religious life always contains an element of mystery. In the light of faith, we attribute this mystery, not simply to our ignorance of our com-plex and often subconscious motivations, but to God's call as the ultimate and inexplicable reason for our being religious. God's call to choose this way of life has entered our controlling ego, caught our attention, and won a response of action from us. God's call is enduring. It continues to invite us to renew radically our choice of religious life or to choose activities which confirm our radical choice. God's call is effective. It accomplishes what it asks, provided that we do not place obstacles in the way. God called creation out of nothingness, Israel out of Egypt, Jesus out of death. So to say that religious life is a call from God is not to affirm only that it begins with God's catching our attention and proposing a way of life for our choice. God's call enables us to attend to it and to respond to it initially and continually. Our religious life, in other words, is God's work in us. Yet we freely choose religious life; it is also our work. One reason why explanations for our choice of religious life seem inadequate is that they do not amount to an absolutely compelling set of motives for our choice. We could have done, and even now can do, otherwise than follow this way of life. If we follow it, we have freely chosen to do so. Hence religious life is both God's efficacious call at work within us and our response freely given: it is life issuing from our own hearts as well as from God's call. As the call is enduring, so is the response in the form of periodic radical renewals of our choice of religious life and in the form of daily choices of activities confirm-ing the radical choice. How religious life can be the result of both God's efficacious call and our free response is, of course, a mystery which theologians over the centuries have not been able to illuminate, much less explain, in a way agreeable to all. It is a mystery we are forced to acknowledge, however, for we cannot deny our experience of freedom and respons~ibility on the one hand and, on the other, the necessity of God's grace for us sinners to live a life pleasing to God. Our response to God's call to religious life is not only.free but is meant to embrace the whole of our lives. Religious life is life. It is more than a Religious Ltfe: God's Call / 495 particular organization of life and more than a job to be done. It embraces our bodily being, sensible perception, emotional functioning, and spiritual operations. Following Bernard Lonergan's lead,~ we can list a host of activities which we can attribute to our spirit, a spirit of inquiry, and which we constantly perform as we go about daily living: we experience, observe, note, gather information, seek insight, discover intelligibility, conceptualize, find words to express our ideas, check our ideas against reality (that is reason about them), judge them to be true or false in comparison with what is, evaluate the goodness or badness of what we find in reality, decide whether or not to choose this or that good, choose, and act to carry out what is chosen. These activities prompted by the spirit of inquiry engage, it should be noted, not only intellectual operations (e.g., questioning, seeking insight, reasoning) but also bodily activities (e.g., experiencing, observing, noting), emotional reactions (e.g., evaluating), and operations of the will (e.g., choosing, acting). So the response which constitutes, with God's efficacious call, religious life is very comprehensive. Religious life as response to God's call entails the whole of life in several ways. It involves giving of the whole of ourselves to God, all the components of our persons and personalities. We are called to give the whole of our-selves wholly, that is, to direct all our energies to the giving of the whole of ourselves to God. And we are called to give the whole of ourselves wholly for the whole of life, for the vocation is not to a training period in religious behavior, or to an extended retreat, or to a supervised experience of com-munity living (as valuable as such experiences may be for some people), but to religious life. To achieve, or rather approach achievement, of such totality of response to God's call is a lifetime task. Religious life as composed of God's call and our response is, then, ongoing dialogue and interaction between God and ourselves. It is event, something that happens, a dynamic reality. It is highly personal. It is not a relatively rigid framework into which everyone must fit in exactly the same way, but cooperative,activity between ourselves and God. It assumes insti-tutional form because it is social and occurs in community. But it always overflows its organization because it is first of all life adapting itself to changing circumstances in dialogue and interaction with God. Periodic congregational and provincial chapters required by canon law are recogni-tion that religious life is primarily engendered in dialogue and interaction with God in changing situations, rather than being relatively unchangeable institutional organization. The Bible contains numerous stories of God's call to various persons and their responses. We think of God's call to Abraham (Gn 12:1-9), Moses (Ex 3:1-4:17), Joshua (Dt 31:14-15, 23; (Jos 1:1-9), Gideon (Jg 6:11-24), 4~6 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 Samuel (1 Sam 3:1-21), Saul (1 S 9:1-10:24), Isaiah (Is 6:1-13), Jeremiah (Jr 1:4-19), Ezekiel (Ezk 1:3-3:15), Joseph (Mt 1:18-25; 2:13-15, 19-23), Mary (Lk 1:26-28), Jesus (Mt 3:13-17), Simon, Andrew, James, and John (Mt 5:18-22; Lk 5:1-11), Matthew, or Levi (Mr 9:9), and Paul (Ac 9:1-19). These accounts of God's call and the initial response of certain biblical figures together with further narratives of their carrying out their response are a source of reflection for religious. They alert us to the variety of ways in which God calls people and the diversity of responses that are possible. They help us to hear God's call to us today, to interpret it, and to answer it appropriately. God's call is not a divine shout or whisper which we hear with our ears, or even an interior imagining of such a vocal invitation. God's call--and our response also--are mediated. They are mediated first of all through Jesus Christ. God's call comes to us in the urging of Jesus to follow him (Mt 4:18-22; 8:19-22; 9:9-13; 10:37-38; 19:16-30 and parallels in Luke and Mark). Religious life is rooted in Jesus' call to become his disciples, for religious life developed in the Church as a way of responding to Jesus' call to discipleship. The scriptural passages recounting Jesus' invitation to come after him are, therefore, important for religious to meditate on because in them they "hear" Jesus' call and, through that call, the call of God whom Jesus addressed as Abba (Father)? God's call is mediated not only by Jesus in his earthly life remembered in the Scriptures but also by Jesus in risen glory. The basis for saying this is the continuance of Jesus'. followers' discipleship after the resurrection (Ac 1:3) and their being sent by the risen Lord to forgive sin (Jn 20:21-23) and to preach his message throughout the whole world (Mt 28:18-20). Another basis is the resurrected Jesus' call of Saul on the road to Damascus (Ac 9:3-6). Still another foundation is the conviction of religious through the centuries that Jesus' call comes to them not merely in the memory of his earthly life recorded in Scripture, but that Jesus the risen Lord calls them personally now as he once called his followers after his resurrection in Palestine nearly two thousand years ago. Our response of religious life is also mediated by Jesus. By his self-offer-ing on the cross, Jesus reconciled us to God, removing the obstacles between us and God, and giving us access to God. His sacrifice won for us the divine help, grace, whereby we are enabled to live for God. The risen Jesus now "forever lives to intercede for us" (Heb 7:25). He prepares a kingdom, which includes the lives of religious, that he will hand over to his Father at the end of time (1 Co 15:24-25). He lives in us, making our discipleship in religious life a reality (Jn 15:4-5; Ga 2:20; Ep 4:16; Col 1:27). Jesus is the mediator of our response to God's call also in the sense that Religious Life: God's Call / 497 his life is the model for the kind of response we as religious seek to make to God's call. Our religious life, then, is like our liturgical worship: it is "through Christ our Lord," in regard to both God's call and our response. Jesus' call to religious life, both the earthly and the risen Jesus' call, is mediated to us by the Church. The celebration of the word and the sacra-ments in the liturgy, evangelization, catechesis, preaching, religious educa-tion, theology, pastoral counseling, spiritual direction, doctrinal teaching regarding faith and morals, dogmatic definitions--all these ecclesial activi-ties recall the memory of the earthly Jesus, convey the action of the risen Lord through his Spirit, and so extend God's call in Jesus to discipleship and thus to religious life. Not less worthy of consideration are the activities of parents, school teachers, religious sisters and brothers, parish priests, Newman chaplains, and others who in various ways make Jesus' call to discipleship a particular invitation to us. The Church, we must absolutely not forget, consists of all the baptized faithful, not only the clergy, or the bishops, or the pope, or the Roman curia. The Church's mediating Jesus' call to us is experienced chiefly in the direct encounters we have with a variety of Church members at a local level. The mediation of the Church is a crucial factor in God's call coming to us. The faithful gathering of God's people through the centuries for wor-ship, for care for one another, for all the needy, and for the reform of society has had an impact on people. It has raised questions in people's minds about the purpose of life and the value of their occupations. It has thus led to the discovery of God,s call in Jesus to discipleship and life with the Father and all his children. At times parts of the Church, whether among the clergy or the laity or the religious, have not been very edifying in their lives or credible vehicles conveying the call to follow Jesus. But God overrides these obstacles and somehow uses them, faulty as they may be, to quicken the life of his people. God raises up saints, canonized and noncanonized, in every age. Even the unchurched depend upon the Church, for if they have faith in Jesus Christ, if they treasure the Bible, if they seek to imitate the conduct of Jesus, they have inherited all these values from the community of the faithful, from the Church, which has preserved them over the centuries through times of unity and division, fervor and laxity, freedom and persecution. As we religious think of the Church as mediating God's call through Jesus, we ought not to romanticize our idea of the Church, but accept it in all its weakness, defects, and even sins. Despite imperfections and even perversities, it remains a vehicle whereby God communicates to us the divine word and the power to renew our lives. Through the Church we tlgl~ / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 have access to God. The Church may be a besmirched sacrament of God's union with humanity and of all men and women with one another--a sacrament badly in need of being cleansed and polished. But it is still that sacrament and our need of it is profound. And it may not be as badly besmirched as many people take for granted in this era of suspicion towards all institutions. The Church civilized barbarian Europe, preserved the vestiges of classical culture, and provided for the sick, handicapped, and poor until the modern state developed and could take over social concerns. Even now it is the Church, along with other voluntary associa-tions, which cares for people who fall between the cracks of social welfare in modern society. Not only is Jesus' call to religious life mediated by the Church but also our response. Founders of religious orders and congregations, the ancient commentators on monastic life, preachers of retreats, congregations' chap-ters, and canonical legislation over the centuries have interpreted the so-called evangelical counsels, laid down rules to safeguard their practice, and confirmed the constitutions of orders and congregations. Religious respond to God's call in Jesus by using this interpretation, these regulations, and these constitutions in the guidance of their lives. The Church, moreover, prays for religious. This is eminently obvious in the liturgies for religious profession, but appears also from time to time in the general intercessions at Mass and in the Liturgy of the Hours. Many members of God's people, such as parents or friends, pray for religious in unofficial ways. All these prayers intercede for religious, not simply that they be called by God, but that they cooperate with that call by responding with the gift of their lives. The apostolates which religious engage in are approved by the Church, or assigned by the Church, or carried out in the name of the Church, and serve the needs of the Church, both in its inner life and in its mission to the world. Insofar as the ministry of religious constitutes part of their response to God's and Jesus' call, that part of their response is also mediated by the Church. We religious need to be increasingly appreciative that the ecclesial life in which we participate is a concrete way of saying yes to God's call through Jesus Christ. God's call and our response, constitutive of religious life, are further mediated by a religious order or congregation. The call through Jesus and the Church comes to an individual through some community whose members, ideals, apostolate, and lifestyle attract attention and evoke a desire to participate. Perhaps only one religious community has ever been enticing, or several may have proved interesting but eventually one is singled out as the concrete form of God's call and of personal response. Sometimes the religious congregation that draws a person is one encoun- Religious Life: God's Call / 499 tered first in childhood; sometimes the one known most recently in adult-hood embodies God's call. The contact with the religious group may have been initiated through vocational literature or through acquaintance with some members of the congregation. The admissions procedure and basic formation program of a religious community mediate God's call either to that community or to some other group, or even to another way of Christian life. A community's constitutions, its chapters' decisions, and its ministries are all further mediations of God's call to the community's members. The congregation's life and mission, taken up and lived by the members of the community, become the concrete form in which they say yes to God's call through Jesus Christ mediated by the Church. Religious life as life which flows from the depths of persons toward God assumes a pattern of organization which characterizes a particular religious group. Hence the importance of appreciating one's congregational history, life, ministry, constitutions, and members, for they all convey concretely, existentially, in a down-to-earth way both God's call and our response through Jesus Christ and through the Church. Finally, God's call is mediated through our personal history. It is not difficult to see our response to God's call as mediated through personal history, for our response is precisely our living out in time our personal religious life. But personal history also mediates the call from God. Our temperament, character, personality, neuroses, talents that incline us to find religious life attractive and a particular congregation congenial have been inherited from parents, family, teachers, friends, and other significant people in our lives. The social environment in which we grew up, the schooling we had, work experiences, and events which made deep impressions on our psyches have all left traces in us which contribute to making religious life appealing and this order or congregation attractive. In religious life many similar factors enter into our history to confirm our continuation in that way of life. Still other factors peculiar to religious life support our further dedication, such as agreeable experiences of com-munity, enjoymeht and success in ministry, satisfaction of the desire for prayer, and the gratifying sense of helping others in need. Since we believe that our lives are guided by divine providence, we believe that all these factors which make religious life attractive and fulfill-ing are indeed God's call to us to follow Christ in religious life. Self-knowl-edge, then, plays an important role in discerning God's call to religious life and in assessing the quality of our response to that call. Why do we need to consider these mediations of God's call and our response? The answer is: to be realistic and avoid false idealism. We need to recognize that the mediation of God's call through Jesus, especially as 500 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 further mediated through the very human realities of the Church, a religious community, and personal history means that the call is now always going to be clear. At times we may scarcely "hear" it; at other times it will seem obvious. On some occasions it will appear to be a certain path on which to follow Jesus; but at other times it will seem risky, a gamble, of dubious value. The mediation of our response will sometimes be exciting, adventur-ous, a joyful and deeply satisfying enterprise; at other times it will be prosaic, routine, dull, and even boring; and at still other times it will be chaotic, exasperating, and exhausting physically and emotionally. So fidelity to the moments of obvious call and fulfilling response must tide us over times of obscurity and dullness. Young religious in particular are apt to idealize elements of religious life. They expect more from religious community than it can actually provide. Unrealistic expectations of the change that they can effect in the lives of individuals and society through their ministry can lead to disap-pointment and discouragement when those expectations are not fulfilled. But if we understand that even in these less satisfying and less brilliant moments of religious life God is efficaciously calling us and we are working out our response, some value can be found even in the commonplace and unsuccessful. Indeed, those situations can purify our motivation. We hear and answer God's call because it is God's call and we wish to give our lives to God, not because we find delight or satisfaction in the particular form in which God's call comes or in which our response is given. God's call is mediated through Jesus. Jesus referred to God as his Abba (Father) and so distinguished his person from the person of Abba. Our call to religious life, and the one to whom we respond, is ultimately the first person of the Trinity, the font of divine life in the Trinity, the origin without origin among the three divine persons. Jesus as Son is the image of the first person of the Trinity and in his humanity conveys to us the Father's call to share in the divine life. The Son incarnate also provides for us the model for sharing in the life of the Trinity, namely, to receive all we have from the Father and return it to the Father. We are enabled to regard the first person of the Trinity in this way and to have faith in the Son incarnate as conveying God's call to us and exemplifying for us our response because Jesus' Abba and the risen Jesus have poured forth into our hearts their Holy Spirit, the third person of the Trinity. The Spirit is the love binding Father and Son together in the divine life, and the Spirit then binds us into the triune life through the life which she engenders in our hearts. God's call and our response which constitute our religious life entails Religious Ltfe: God's Call / 501 our being related to each of the three divine persons of the Trinity: being called by the Father, responding by the power of the Spirit, hearing the call and making our response through the Son. NOTES ~Method in Theology (New York: Herder and Herder, 1972), pp. 2-20. 2For studies of these scriptural passages in relation to religious life, see Francis Moloney, Disciples and Prophets (New York: Crossroads, 1981) pp. 9-12, 19-31, 62-63, 89-90, 105-14, 133-54; John M. Lozano, Discipleship: Toward an Understanding of Religious life (Chicago: Claret Center for Resources in Spirituality, 1980), pp. 5-18, 31-38. Christ the Center of Our Vowed Life b.v Boniface Ramsey, O.P. Father Ramsey's three articles on the vows of religion are available as a single reprint: i - The Center of Religious Poverty ii - Christocentric Celibacy iii - Cruciform Obedience Price: $1.75 per copy, plus postage. Address: Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. .St. Louis, Missouri 63108 Expectations in Religious Community James Fitz, S.M. Father Fitz is a member of the provincial administration of the Cincinnati province of his community. Prior to that, he was director of novices for six years. He may be addressed at the Marianist Provincialate; 4435 East Patterson Road; Dayton, Ohio 45430-1095. In the Old Testament, God and Israel are major partners in covenant. God has certain expectations of Israel; Israel has certain expectations of God. These mutual expectations become a source of security for Israel and a call for Israel to be what it is capable of becoming. The very nature of covenant implies life-enhancing expectations. In the New Testament, we, the Church, have become the people of the new covenant. Again expecta-tions are part of the covenant. For example, "This is my commandment: love one another as I have loved you"(Jn 15:12). Faithfulness to the cove-nant is one of the characteristics of our God; unfaithfulness has often been our response. However, God continues to call us, his people, to all that we are capable of becoming. Our God is faithful even when we are unfaithful. Covenant is the basis of our commitment to one another in religious communities. We join communities because we can do some things in community that we cannot do alone. In community we find the support and challenge to be the disciples of Christ that we are called to be. The Christian call is a continual call. We are made to be in union with others; none of us is complete in ourselves. Since we are made in the image and likeness of our God who is loving, generative and faithful, we will not be fulfilled unless we love, give life and are faithful. In the covenant communities we form as religious, we too have expec-tations of one another. Although expectations are not the only ingredient 502 Expectations in Religious Community / 503 for good community, I have learned during the past nine years in a leader-ship role in religious community the important role expectations play in building community and also the problematical role of hidden and unreal expectations. There are two important dynamics in terms of our expecta-tions in community. First, it is important that members of communities identify their expectations of one another in order that hidden expectations do not lead to unnecessary tension and conflict. Secondly, after expecta-tions are identified, it is important to sort out which are life-enhancing and which are not. It is important to identify expectations that we are capable of meeting, which call us to be the persons God calls us to be, and in which it is worth investing our energy. I have found it helpful to understand clearly what are fai? and realistic expectations. These expectations are based on who we are and what we are capable of becoming. On the one hand, we cannot expect from others something that is not truly possible for them to be. On the other hand, our expectations should call them to be the best that they can be. Since our expectatigns are to be fair and realistic, there are some things we cannot expect. We can hope that they happen, but we cannot expect them. An example may be illustrative. We can hope that we will have a deep friend-ship with each member of our local community. However we cannot expect or demand that each becomes our friend. Friendship is a gi~ that must be received, not an expectation that can be demanded. Fair and realistic expectations, clearly stated, are the building blocks for a Gospel community of one mind and one heart. With obvious room for forgiveness for human failings, it is important in covenant community that we invite and challenge each other to meet the fair and realistic expectations we have set in our covenant. If we grant that clear expectations are important to community, then it is important to identify the realistic expectations we can have in Christian community. What are the expectations that call us forth to build together the community of one mind and one heart that is the invitation of the New Testament Scriptures? There are probably many that could be listed. My experience has surfaced five important expectations: respect, honesty, care, forgiveness and faithfulness. Respect The dignity of the human person is one of the basic principles of Catholic social thought and an important basis for building Christian community. Therefore, the mutual respect of the dignity of each person is an important expectation in community. Members of a community will never bring their human potential to actuality unless there is a true respect 51~4 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 of that potential and the invitation to use it. There are many ways that we can demonstrate respect for one another in community. For example, it is important that we listen to one another when we speak. We do not have to agree with others, but the Gospel calls us to give others our full attention when they speak. For example, do 1 try to hear another's concern? Do I listen well enough to be able to feed back that concern, or am I busy formulating a response before I really hear what is being said? Do I try to be sensitive to nonverbal as well as verbal messages? Another form of respect would be to respect one another's privacy and .need for quiet, to respect one another's personal belongings. Examples of respect could be multiplied. It should be clear that without a mutual respect, little can be done to build a rich community experience. Honesty Honesty is one of the basic elements for building any type of relation-ship but especially a trust relationship. Since some level of trust is necessary for community, honesty is an important covenant expectation. The honesty about which I speak is not a harsh, brutal honesty but an honesty that proceeds from a loving and compassionate heart modeled on Jesus. It is an honesty based on the conviction that the truth will set us free (Jn 8:32). I find that the lack of honesty in community is one of the principal obstacles to real growth in the common heart and soul to which we are invited by the New Testament experience. Religious, in my experience, often have difficulty expressing and dealing with their true feelings, whether positive or negative. Fearful of phony affirmation, some religious are afraid to say what they like about their brothers and sisters. Others of us have difficulty accepting positive affirmation when it comes our way. We also have problems with negative feelings. Somehow we hope that they will go away or no one will notice. However, as we know, negative feelings generally do get expressed, sometimes in passive-aggressive behavior. I sometimes marvel at how long it takes us to express our negative feelings when a discussion of them could eliminate a great deal of tension. Our fear of confrontation can lead us to hold onto our negative feelings. But have we not also learned that the honest and charitable discussion of our feelings can lead to deeper and more understanding relationships? Some of my best friendships have come to fruition because I have honestly shared some negative feelings in a desire to create deeper relationships. Even when honesty has not led to deeper, relationship, the mutual understanding and respect has most often led to the lessening of tension. One of the greatest hurts for me in community is hearing criticism second hand. It bothers me Expectations in Religious Community because it means the possibility of deeper relationship is blocked. When we care enough for others to affirm and confront them honestly, there is a possibility of deeper relationship and for a union of hearts. Compassionate and loving honesty is not the only ingredient for unity in community. But no community can develop without it. Without an expe-rience of honesty, we can never feel secure enough to trust one another, and share on the level that bonds more deeply in our mutual covenant. Care The expectation of care flows from the call of the Gospel: "Whatever you do to the least of my brothers and sisters, you do unto me" (Mt 25:40). We are called upon to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, visit the sick (notice the Gospel does not say we must be attracted by them). We are asked to care. In community we should care about each of our brothers and sisters. We should care about their spiritual growth, their physical health, and their other needs for full life. It would be a tragedy in my mind if a brother in my community were in the hospital and none of us had the time to visit, if a brother was struggling with his commitment to celibacy and no one cared enough to talk to him about the issue, or if a brother was drinking himself into the grave and no one intervened. It is true that if we are not careful some can manipulate us in this area by trying to lay guilt on us. But that should not stop us from honestly giving of ourselves in care of others. In fact our care should lead us to challenge the manipulating brother or sister; it should lead us to challenge him or her firmly and compassionately to adult living. In order to avoid unreal expectations, it is important to distinguish care from friendship. Care and friendship are not the same. We can honestly care for a brother or sister who is not a friend. Friendship is a relationship of mutual attraction, sharing and trust. In Christian community, we can reasonably expect some care when we are sick or hungry or lonely. How-ever, we cannot demand friendship. We can offer the gift of care, love, and trust and hope for a response to that gift, but we must remember that these can never become a demand. Forgiveness Forgiveness is also an important expectation in community. We are all imperfect human persons in process towards fullness of life; we are reli-gious on a journey. Like St. Paul, we do the things we do not want to do and do not do the things we want to do. Therefore, we must be willing to forgive our brothers and sisters when they ask for forgiveness. Forgiveness does not necessarily mean to forget as some popular wisdom has it. But it 506 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 does mean to heal the events of our lives. Some of the hurts in our relationships with fellow community members may be hard to forget but healing will lead us to remember the events in a new way. We can grow to view these events as moments of grace in our relationship and remember them in that way. They become moments of reconciliation. So we need to forgive others and to forgive ourselves; we need others to forgive us. Both dynamics are necessary if we are to grow together in the common heart and soul of the New Testament ideal. Faithfulness Finally, I .feel we can expect faithfulness in community since we are made in the image and likeness of a faithful God. This faithfulness is expressed, for example, in community agreements and in the community mission. If, for our growth as a faith community, we agree to pray together in the morning and evening, then it is fair to expect members of the community to be present. If we agree to meet on Monday evening to develop and coordinate our common mission, then it is fair to expect that we will all be there for the meeting. If we decide to live simply by sharing the cooking, then we can expect all to share the task. Obviously we can make exceptions to an agreement. But those with whom we have made an agreement have a voice in the exception. For example, if we have agreed to do the cooking, and one member finds it difficult or impossible to do, he or she should share that with the community either at the time the agreement is made or when he or she finds out that it is impossible to fulfill the terms of the agreement. Then we can renegotiate the agreement in some way satisfactory or at least acceptable to all involved. We are made in the image and likeness of a faithful God; we should invite and challenge one another to be the faithful people we are capable of becoming. Conclusion There are probably other expectations that are fair and realistic in covenant community. But the ones developed in this article are essential if our community life is to have a healthy sense of security and is to be life-enhancing. Communities can even agree to more expectations of one another (times of prayer, sharing personal faith, simple living statements, and so forth). The important thing for developing a community of one mind and one heart is that expectations be as clear as possible. Without clear expectations we create an environment for tension and conflict. Clarified expectations will not lead to deep community life. This is only a start. As I mentioned at the beginning, expectations are not the only ingredient in good Christian religious community. I have found that good Expectations in Religious Community / 507 community goes beyond expectations. There are many attitudes that con-tribute to good community life: trust, generosity, patience, and so forth. In focusing on expectations, the most important attitude to keep in mind is generosity. "If your brother (or sister) asks you to go one mile, go two" (Mt 6:41). We should not count in community. We should not first be concerned about how others perform. We should examine our own per-formance. "Remove the plank from your own eye first; then you will see clearly to take the speck from your brother's (sister's) eye" (Mt 7:5). Our God is faithful to us even when we are unfaithful. To be a creative agent of community we must remain faithful to our covenant even when our brother or sister is unfaithful. We should be generous as our God in heaven has been generous with us. "Love one another as I have loved you" (1 Jn 15:12). God has taken the initiative in our lives; we are called to do the same for our brothers and sisters. If everyone is giving generously in community, we have the foundation on which deep Christian community can develop. We have the strongest foundation for a life of one mind and one heart. Friendship It seems but a word on this page. It cannot, does not, describe-- a patient listening, a gentle touch; soft, comforting nearness, forgiveness--waiting ready before the hurt, hilarity shared together (Snoopy-dancing--you are a crazy person, you know!) tears--hard-coming, yet trustingly dampen my heart, insights, thoughts, dreams, ESP?. yes! remembering--in prayer, close to my heart honest, pulling and dragging (sometimes fearfully) each the other-- forward, closer, faithful It cannot contain--my friend, my other self., this mere word Love. Sister Mary Therese Macys, S.S.C. 2601 W. Marquette Road Chicago, Illinois 60629 ToSee the Other Side. George J. Schemel, S.J. Father Schemel is founder and director of the newly formed Institute for Contempor-ary Spirituality at the University of Scranton (Scranton, Pennsylvania 18510). An earlier article of Father Schemel was "In Time of Consolation." which appeared in the issue of January/February, 1985. The need for enabling and empowering structures for groups increases as the group's complexity increases. There are just and unjust structures right within our own apostolic and community operations. To be insensitive to our own unjust structures and processes makes us less believable when we address such structures in society at large. The injustice is found in the very process of coming to decision. It is this unjust process that allows us to walk over the deeply held personal values of another. It is truly a personally oppressive structure, inefficient in method and leading to poor apostolic decisions. Yet it passes unnoticed and uncorrected because of ignorance and lack of awareness in this area, though often little personal culpability is involved. The objective wrong is great, however, and cannot be condoned just because of ignorance or lack of awareness. The average community meeting, with its amorphous structure and ill-defined processes is often a nightmare of unjust structures. In general there are few, if any, haphazardly just structures. What just structures and processes there are, flourish because of much examination, evaluation, and consistent implementation. Not to be consciously structured is usually to be unjustly structured. It is my observation and experience that most unjust structures in religious life, both on the one-to-one interpersonal level and on the level of . 5O8 To See the Other Side. / 509 the group apostolate or community, come from lack of "thinking" as this is understood in the Jungian perspective. This notion of thinking is character-ized by discursive logic and the isolation of variables. There are other sources of injustice in our apostolates and community life, of course,~ but none is so pervasive as this lack of thinking. The orientation and cast of our religious apostolates and communities are so overwhelmingly affective that the lack of formal thinking is not even noticed directly. We become aware of it only in its effects; the disruption and confusion caused by processes which largely ignore the thinking function. It is taken as axiomatic in the realm of interpersonal relationship that we must not hurt anyone's feelings. It is my contention that one's thinking is due the same respect and care; this is far from obvious in most religious circles today. I would like to present a proper process of coming to decision that will be just, efficient and phenomenologically correct. Reflecting on the process will also help "convict and convert" attitudes; unjust processes and atti-tudes will show up in high relief. The process will involve achieving consen-sus on different levels of an issue and moving through to a final decision. It will move from an assimilation of pertinent facts and data, through an appreciation of the interrelatedness, interconnections, and potentialities of the data and facts, through a discursive rationality of necessary causal nexus, to final judgment of fittingness and suitability. It will follow the functionally sequential "gradient of more difficult consensus." S--N--T--F In order to establish an adequate vocabulary with which to talk about this problem, I would like to call on the matrix of psychological types elaborated by C.G. Jung and its current popularization by the Myers Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI). I will give only a short summary here, and refer those interested in a further development of psychological types and the MBTI to other sources where a more complete understanding may be pursued.2 Those already very familiar with type theory may want to skip to page 513. Type Theory In order to account for certain consistencies and inconsistencies in behavior that he observed among different types of people, Jung elabo-rated his theory of psychological type. The theory, in essence, sees all conscious mental activity as reducible to two main processes, perception and judgment. Perception is a process of "becoming aware of."; of gathering data, taking in information. It is a non-rational process. We do this work of ~$'10 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 taking in data in one of two ways: either by "sensation" or by "intuition." Actually of course we use both these functions, Sensation and iNtuition, to gather in information, but we have a decided preference for one way or the other. We cannot take in data by both Sensation and iNtuition at the same time. At best, they can operate sequentially, but one way will be decidedly preferred to the other. (Note that it is common usage to indicate Sensation by "S" and intuition by "N'; 'T' is reserved for Introversion). Sensation is perception or data gathering by the concrete singular. It takes in specifics, by use of the five senses. It perceives things one at a time. Sensation is tolerant of routine, sameness, specified procedures. Sometimes it can't see the forest for the tree. Sensation has a present-time orientation. The other form of perception is intuition. It perceives in terms of patterns, relationships; intuition sees possibilities, interconnections, impli-cations. It is perception by way of the unconscious. INtuition likes variety, challenge, is future-time oriented. Sometimes it can't see the tree for the forest. Besides the non-rational perceptive functions Sensation and intuition which simply take in information and gather data, there are two rational functions, Thinking and Feeling. The rational functions prioritize, rank, sort out the data taken in. They hierarchize the information and make judgments on it. They come to closure on perceptions. These are the two judging functions whose work it is to come to conclusions about the data taken in. They are opposing ways of judging, and cannot proceed at the same time. At best they can be sequential.3 Thinking moves to conclusion from principles, logically attending to necessary connections and cause-effect relationships. Consistency and validity are important, and principles are applied objectively, "whether I like it or not." The value sought is "The True." Thinking has an a-temporal and un-contextualized time orientation. Feeling comes to conclusion by an associative process, by analogy, comparison, association. Harmony and suitability are important, and are judged from a more subjective stance. The value orientation is toward "The Good." Feeling has a past and traditional time orientation. One of these, either Thinking or Feeling, will be much preferred to the other for making judgments and coming to conclusions. It is important to note that we cannot use opposing functions at the same time. Sensing halts Intuiting; Intuiting halts Sensing. Thinking halts Feeling; Feeling halts Thinking. Neither can we perceive and judge at the same time. Judging halts perceiving; perceiving halts judging. Nor do we use all four functions with equal skill and confidence. Yet quality decisions are made only with the adequate contributions of all four functions. Indi- To See the Other Side. / 511 vidually and especially in groups, it is important to implement structures which assure the application of all four functions to any given issue. Since the natural autonomy, even antipathy, among the four functions precludes their being applied at the same time, they must be applied sequentially. A person will have an attitude toward the outside world that takes its cue from the judging functions (Thinking or Feeling) and will be called a Judging attitude, or he or she will have an attitude toward the outside world that takes its cue from the perceiving functions Sensation or iNtui- " tion) and will be called a Perceiving attitude. Note that both these attitudes, J and P, are toward the outside world. This attitude toward the outside world J or P is not to be confused with Extraversion or Introversion, which indicates the person's "preferred world." The preference for the world inside oneself--the world of ideas and thoughts and inner feeling is known as Introversion. Its opposite, a prefer-ence for the world outside oneself--the world of people, events, happen-ings, objects--is known as Extraversion. Both introverts and extraverts have an attitude, either J or P, toward the outside world. For a treatment of Extraversion and Introversion see Gifts Differing. A person's type is constituted in large part by his or her preference for one of the two perceiving functions, S or N, and one of the two judging functions, T or E The possibilities are: ST, SF, NT, NE One perceiving . function plus one judging function constitute the preferred functionality of the person. Of these two functions, however, one will be favored and preferred over the other. One will be the "boss" function, and the other the helper function. So an individual will be one of the following: ST, ST, SF, SF, NT, NT, NF, NF, where the underlined function is the "boss" or Dominant function and the other is the helper or Auxiliary function. The dominant function is the real rudder or kingpin of the psychological type. In "conflict of interest" cases, the dominant always gets its way. For an understanding of the Judging and Perceiving attitudes and the Extraverted and Introverted attitudes, which also throw much light on meeting dynamics, see some of the literature cited. There is a dangerous misunderstanding current concerning the Feeling function--"F"--among those who use the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator and the psychological matrix of C. G. Jung which undergirds it. It is widespread even among those who administer and teach the instrument. It is doubly dangerous because it leads to a misunderstanding of the correlate of Feeling, which is the Thinking function, "T." One frequently hears the (mistaken) pronouncements: "Feeling is interested in values, Thinking is interested in principles and logic." "Feeling is personal, Thinking is impersonal." Both of these statements are half- 512 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 truths, and therefore very dangerous and misleading. Let us analyze the Thinking and Feeling functions for a more accurate understanding than these too-easy assessments afford. To say that Feeling is interested in values and Thinking is interested in principles and logic is to compare apples and oranges, process and product. The value that attracts Feeling is "The Good." The value that attracts Thinking is "The True." The process used by Thinking is objective (in that sense impersonal) proceeding from principles, using logic and cause-and-effect relationships. The process of Feeling is a subjective (in that sense personal) associative process, a process of comparison, analogy, using per-sonal association and past experience. Neither Thinking nor Feeling in the first instance says anything about emotion. Emotion is the first register of value in the human person, whether that value is seen as coming under the aegis of "The Good," (Feeling), or as coming under the aegis of "The True" (Thinking). Both Thinking and Feeling according to Jung are rational functions. They both hierarchize, rank, come to closure, judge on the basis of the value that attracts them: The Good for Feeling and The True for Think-ing. Ideally, or one might say transcendentally, both The Good and The True are the same. But each person has a particular and delimited appreci-ation of that higher unity according as he or she judges by Thinking or by Feeling.4 An example may further help clarify and distinguish the Feeling func-tion from its first register of value, emotion. (The first register of value for the Thinking function is also emotion.) St. Thomas Aquinas addresses the question: "Whether Christ's mother remained a virgin after his birth?" (S.T. Ilia, Q.28, a.3) St. Thomas cites several well-known texts from Scripture that would indicate that Mary had other children after the birth of Jesus: Mt 1:18, 1:20, 1:24, Rm 8:29, Jn 2:12, Mt 27:55, Jn 19:25. He then puts together these last two texts to form an argument that Mary had other children after the birth of Jesus. Mt 27 says: "Many women were there [that is, by the cross of Christ] watching from a distance, the same women who had followed Jesus from Galilee and looked after him. Among them were Mary of Magdala, Mary the mother of James and Joseph, and the mother of Zebedee's sons." Thomas puts this together with the Jn 19 text: "There stood by the cross of Jesus, Mary his mother." It follows that if Mary the mother of Jesus who was standing by the cross and the Mary who was the mother of James and Joseph was the same Mary, then Mary had other children besides Jesus. St. Thomas takes care of the exegetical questions adroitly enough, so that Scripture is not gainsaid. The clinching reasons against Mary having other children after the birth of To See the Other Side. / 513 Jesus, however, are Feeling reasons, in the true sense of Feeling. He says it is unthinkable that Mary would have other children besides Jesus, because, ". as he [Jesus] is in his divine nature the only-begotten of the Father and his Son, perfect in every respect, so it was fitting that he should be the only-begotten of his mother, as being her perfect offspring." Another rea-son Thomas gives--a Feeling reason--is that it would make Mary seem ungrateful, not to be content with such a Son. Note that these are not the same kind of reasons given for Jesus not being the only child of Mary: If the Mary of Mt. 27 (mother of James and Joseph) Is the Mary of Jn 19 (the mother of Jesus) Then Jesus was not the only child of Mary. This is "T"--Thinking rationality. But ". as he was the only-begotten of His Father, so He was the only-begotten of His Mother" is not "T," Thinking rationality, it is "F," Feeling rationality. It is a reason from fittingness, appropriateness, seemliness; it is ~'becoming" that Jesus be the only child of Mary. This is the meaning of Feeling in the Jungian matrix and the Myers-Briggs. It is not emotion or feeling in the common parlance, but a judgment of fittingness, seemliness, becomingness. It is brought to bear after the Thinking judgment has done what it can with the data, not before Thinking or instead of Thinking. It is the ambit of "F," Feeling rationality, to historicize and contextual-ize the a-temporal judgment of "T," Thinking, but not replace it.5 Feeling needs to be fed and focused by the objectivity of Thinking. Otherwise one has inauthentic Feeling and a too subjective Feeling judgment. Thinking needs the completion of another rationality, one not necessitated by logic and cause-effect relationships, but personalized/subjectivized and opened out to a wider gestalt. Feeling, without the backbone of Thinking behind it, is purely subjec-tive, personal and, therefore, not interpersonal. It can indeed become emo-tion and not be a rationality of fittingness or suitability, but mere whim or fancy. This is what is meant by a "mood," which is not a personal expe-rience. The mood has the person rather than the person having the mood. It is the opening door to projections and confusion, especially in a group. Application to Meetings Equipped with this understanding of psychological functionality, let us reflect on the relatively unstructured or poorly structured meeting. The purpose of most group meetings is to come to some kind of consensus. That is why the meeting is held in the first place. Many come to a meeting assuming there is already a consensus on a given issue. This is 5111 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 often more counterproductive than assuming that there is not. A consensus is a delicate affair; it is a "con-sentire," a "feeling-together-with." An assumption either that there is a consensus on a given issue or that there is not, is vastly disruptive of the possibility of arriving at a consensus. Since a consensus is a delicate affair, it must be wooed, as a lover is wooed. One has to have the tact to know where to begin to discover what consensus is there already, and to raise it to the level of insight and usabil-ity. An attempt to "build a consensus" on a given issue is counterproduc-tive. Rather, one first discovers what consensus actually exists, and brings that to consciousness and articulation. Once that consensus is recognized and owned, the scene is set to pass on to a higher level of "con-sentire." The process of arriving at consensus is not a "building"; this has too much the connotation of hammer and nail, muscular effort to persuade, even coer-cion. Rather, the process of arriving at consensus is one of discovery and articulation. Once a group (meeting) articulates a true consensus, it has already passed beyond it, and it is ready for the next discovery, the new and higher level of consensus. It must be, however, the articulation of a true consen-sus. It must not be assumed. It must be articulated and all must agree to the lower level of consensus before attempting to arrive at a higher level. Perhaps this will come as a surprise, after saying how delicate is the matter of arriving at consensus, and that one should not assume that there is a consensus on a given issue. There is, however, always a consensus in a group! Perhaps not on a given issue, or on the level of consensus one would like, but there is always a consensus in a group. Otherwise the group would not be meeting. This is the key assumption that I am making. A moment's thought will indicate that if a group (not a "crowd" or a "gang") comes together, it is coming together for a purpose. Implicit in this broad purpose are concrete points of consensus and a desire for further consensus. There already exists the consensus that "we want" a "con-sentire'" if at all possible. There is the further shared hope that we can arrive at a consensus on some particular issues. There are many other points of concrete consensus in the group also. (Deficiency in these attitudes will indicate the highly controlling or manipulative person.) The place to start looking for consensus on pro-gram level issues is here, among the patterns of consensus that already are resident in the group. A group does not arrive at a consensus by building from the top down any more than a construction company builds a building from the top down. One starts from the bottom up. One begins at the bottom and works up. Whenever a group can articulate a consensus, it has already passed beyond it and is ready for the next level of insight and consensus. Once it To See the Other Side. / 515 has articulated and owned that next level of insight and consensus, it is ready for the next, and so on. Thus the group is moving toward its limit of consensus consciousness bit by bit--by articulating known levels of con-sensus and allowing the group to find its way to ever higher and more specific and programmatic levels of con-sentire. A functional, structural way to help a group move from a lower and perhaps largely unconscious level (myth level) of consensus to an ever higher level of programmatic consensus is to follow the natural order of perceiving, then judging. The schema herein suggested implicitly takes into account dominant and auxiliary functions and introverted and extraverted functions. Since coming to a consensus judgment implies a need to perceive in order to judge, there is a "natural" sequential order to arriving at quality decisions, whether personal or group decisions. Perceiving comes before judging. In attempting to unearth any resident consensus in the group and free it to move toward higher levels of programmatic consensus, the natural sequential dependence of the functions should be followed: S--N--T--F The group, just as an individual, will have a strong bias to spend time and energy in its Dominant and Auxiliary functions. It sometimes wants to wallow in its Dominant, without using even its Auxiliary, let alone using its non-preferred functions. It is here too that many religious groups with a preponderance of people with a preference for "F" rationality unwittingly thwart their own process of coming to consensus. Almost always they begin looking for consensus on the "F" level. This is to begin the process at its end-point! Each individual has a preference for one of the two perceiving func-tions (either Sensation or iNtuition), and one of the two judging functions Thinking or Feeling) already established in the Dominant and Auxiliary (with an inclination more toward perceiving or more toward judging). Most often, the importance of the other perceiving function and the other judging function is not recognized. Yet these less preferred functions are also necessary not only for quality decision making, but even for adequate decision making. Thus a person who is an NT will naturally prefer to do his perceiving by iNtuition and his judging by Thinking; but he needs the help of Sensate perception and Feeling judgment if his decisions are to be quality decisions, reflecting the objectivity and contextuality of sensate perception and feeling rationality. So with all the various preferences. 516 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 Both Sensate and intuitive perception are necessary for judging. Intui-tion depends on Sensate details, however slightly noted, for registering Intuitive connections and possibilities. The Sensate process may be less conscious, but the Sensate function is always at work recording sensate impressions. The Intuitive process may be less conscious, but the intuitive function is always registering connections and relations among sensate data perceived. Even when the Thinking function is not preferred or developed, the Thinking function first examines intuited connections and possibilities and determines inevitable cause-effect consequences. Whether carefully attended to or slight and unobserved, the Thinking function provides the Feeling function with an an.alysis of what has been perceived. The Feeling function receives what has been thus perceived and judged, and examines it in the light of contextual suitability. Whether carefully attended to or slight and unobserved, the Feeling function completes the judgment of present per-ceptions and present consequences in their historical context and in terms of the rationality of suitability, appropriateness, fittingness. Just as each individual has her profile and preferences, so a group has its profile and its preferences. The group profile is the sum and extrapola-tion of the profiles of the individuals who compose it.6 The disciplined group asks its members to first "S" it on a given issue, to use the Sensate function. Get the raw data. Get the concrete informa-tion. While doing this, those who naturally prefer "S" as their perceiving function are in their element, and the Intuitives are asked to stretch a bit, as the whole group strives .to assimilate the Sensate data. Once that task is accomplished, the Sensate data is handed over to intuitive perception to see the possibilities inherent in the data; to see the interconnections and implications and future potentialities. During this part of the group's task the iNtuitives will be in their element and the Sensates will be required to do the stretching now. But it is a temporary inconvenience for a permanent improvement; the group now knows "what it is talking about." The issue has been perceived with no prejudice as to function; all perceptions have been honored. We have moved thus in the natural sequence: S~N Now comes a big moment. It is time to hand over the matter perceived to judgment. Here the group must be very careful that it does not get into the final Feeling judgment. It is not yet asking the final question, the "go or no-go" decision. It is not asking yet "what will the traffic bear?" Or "should we do it or not?" It is asking for the Thinking judgment of the group to be applied. It is looking for inevitable consequences, cause-effect relation- To See the Other Side. / 517 ships, what are the necessities involved. Symbolically it can be represented like this: S--N--T Perceiving is finished, and the group is entering into the first stage of judgment, Thinking judgment. Now all are asked to "T" it--to use Think-ing judgment. Here those who naturally prefer Thinking judgment for coming to closure and conclusion are in their element, and those who prefer Feeling judgment are asked to stretch a bit. If this phase is neglected, even those who naturally prefer the Feeling function for their decision making will feel restless and insecure in their Feeling judgment. It will be almost intolerable for those who naturally prefer the Thinking function for their decision making if this phase is slighted; as intolerable for Thinkers as it would be for Feelers if no Feeling function were ever brought to bear. A Thinker might well be feeling: "I won't hurt your feeling if you don't hurt my thinking." That is, there are certain aspects of rationality that must be taken care of or the Thinker is "stuck"; he can't go forward. He cannot proceed to a "con-sentire,"a feeling-together-with, to a fruitful and con-textualized judgment of fittingness--the Feeling judgment. Having done its perceiving by both Sensation and intuition, and handed the matter thus perceived over to the first phase ofjudgment--"T" rationality, the group is now ready to pass on to the final and most difficult phase of consensus seeking, that of Feeling rationality. S--N--T--F In this phase the judgments of fittingness, suitability, appropriateness are in order--but not before this phase. This is the ". all things consid-ered, this is where I am" time. But a group should not be in that time unless it has passed through the previous three phases in sequence. This is in accord with what was said above--letting the group move upward from consensus to consensus from the lower to the higher "con-sentire." Note that moving according to the sequential dependence of the functions: S--N--T--F is following "the gradient of more difficult consensus." The easiest area to find consensus is in the sensate data. It is the area most open to "consensus consciousness." Sensate data is available to the five senses, is the most objective kind of perception and is least open to subjective and idiosyn-cratic interpretation. There is no judgment involved; it is simply reporting "the facts." Next in order of ease of arriving at consensus consciousness is 5111 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 still perception, but now iNtuitive perception. INtuitive perception takes in many things that "are not there" for Sensate perception--interconnections, relatedness, future possibilities--yet which can be assimilated by Sensation rather easily once they are pointed out. Now comes "the great divide." Moving into the area of judgment poses a new level of difficulty in coming to consensus consciousness. Though Thinking judgment, the fir~st phase of rational judgment, is more objective than Feeling judgment, it is still a quantum leap in trying to arrive at consensus here over against consensus in perception. Still, there are cause-effect relationships and necessary consequences, and a compelling logic to help find the consensus in this area of Thinking rationality. S--N--T The most difficult area for consensus consciousness to emerge is in the area of Feeling judgment. This is the most personal-subjective area of judgment--the judgments of fittingness, suitability, appropriateness-- "what I like"; "what I want." Still, a true suitability and appropriateness can unify and focus a group, especially if the prior phases of Sensate and iNtuitive perception and Thinking rationality have prepared the way. S--N--T--F The various levels of consensus, of con-sentire, are, again, not some kind of equality in emotional states, but an experience of union in the proper object of the function S or N or T or F. It may, further, be an experience of union in the transcendental concern of that function--The One, The Beautiful, The True, The Good. This latter was briefly treated in the Essay on The Constructive Use of Differences. Thus, to go against or violate the "gradient of more difficult consensus" is self-defeating. Many religious groups immediately jump in to the area of Feeling judgment in considering an issue, and try to begin the consensus seeking process at its end-point. They move directly against the gradient of consensus. They go against traffic on a one-way street, and leave all kinds of mayhem and injustice in their wake. If a group hopes to focus and harness the energies and commitment of its members in a consensus decision by a process that does justice to all, following the gradient of consensus, S -- N -- T ~ F will prove a graced and productive structure. Summary In this article 1 have tried to point out: 1) Religious groups that are composed mostly of people who prefer To See the Other Side. / 519 Feeling rationality to Thinking rationality should be especially careful to employ structures that invite the contribution of Thinking rationality to decision making. Truly unjust structures can ensue from this neglect. 2) Feeling judgment in the Jungian and MBTI matrices is not emotion or sentiment; it is a judgment of suitability or appropriateness, and has noetic reference. Emotion is the first register of value for both Thinking and Feeling. 3) Consensus is a "con-sentire," a "feeling-together-with." There is always a consensus in a convening group. This resident consensus is the place to start in seeking further consensus. By the process of articulating what consensus is present in the group, the group has already passed beyond that consensus and is moving toward a new and higher level of consensus. 4) Following the sequential dependence of the functions, the "gradient of more difficult consensus" S -- N -- T -- F is a graceful structure in group work, and its understanding and application can greatly help the attitudes and contributions of those involved. NOTES tOne thinks of course of projecting our own neglected psychic concerns on others, stereotyping, transferences, and so forth. These are always present, especially, but by no means exclusively, where men and women work together. 2See Isabel Briggs Myers, with Peter B. Myers, Gifts Differing, (Palo Alto: Consulting Psychologists Press, 1980); Isabel Briggs Myers, Introduction to Type, (Gainsville: Center for Applications of Psychological Type, 1980); George J. Schemel and James A. Borbely, Facing Your Type, (Wernersville: Typrofile Press, 1982); C.G. Jung, Psy-chological Type, vol. 6, Bolingen Series XX, (Princeton, Princeton University Press, 1971). 3"Rational judgment is based not merely on objective but also on subjective data. The predominance of one or the other factor, however, as a result of psychic disposition often existing from early youth, will give the judgment a corresponding bias. A judg-ment that is truly rational will appeal to the objective and the subjective factor equally and do justice to both. But that would be an ideal case and wouldpresuppose an equal development of both extraversion and introversion. In practice, however, either movement excludes the other, and, so long as this dilemma remains, they cannot exist side by side but at best successively. Under ordinary conditions, therefore, an ideal rationality is impossible." C. G. Jung, Psychological Types [644]. 4Noting the correspondence of the four transcendentals with the four functions is not Jung's observation, but my own. The One--Sensation; the Good--Feeling; the Beauti-ful- Intuition; the True--Thinking. See Facing Your Type, pp. 3 and 4. 5George J. Schemel and James A. Borbely, Facing Your Type, (Wernersville: Typrofile Press, 1982), pp. I l- 12. 6See Facing Your Type, pp. 17-20. Religious Charism: Definition, Rediscovery and Implications Jean Marie Renfro, S.S.S. This article is based on a talk given by Sister Renfro, of the Sisters of Social Service, at a regional meeting last fall of California's Catholic Conference (CCC), the CMSM and the LCWR. Sister Renfro may be addressed at her residence: 1120 Westchester Place; Los Angeles, California 90019. We are indebted to Paul of Tarsus for putting the word charism into our religious vocabularies. We are indebted to Paul VI for giving the expression a specific meaning for us as religious women and men.~ Although Paul the Apostle used the Greek charismata a number of times, and it was often translated into Latin as "gift" or "grace," the most striking use of the word is in his first letter to the Corinthians? The classic passage speaks of (a) the great variety of gifts, (b) which the Spirit gives, (c) each one different from the other, (d) each given for the common good, (e) each given for the building up of the Body of Christ. The apostle makes a key point: he is not speaking of the baptismal grace of the presence of the Holy Spirit which belongs to all baptized Christians, but of special gifts given people with special missions. The passage is not so much about gifts as it is about the Spirit who gives the charismata. That Spirit is the one whom Jesus describes as wind which blows where it will; that Spirit whom Luke says is like a dove, a bird which takes off and flies; that Spirit who in Acts is fire and in John is living water. Now wind, fire, water are hard to contain, hard to pin down. In speaking of religious charism the underlying, fundamental premise is that Religious Charism / 52"1 we are in the realm of that unpredictable Holy Spirit. Charism was not a commonly used word down the ages, but it did strike a chord in the hearts of the Fathers of the Second Vatican Council, who used it in the same sense as did the Apostle Paul. By choosing the expression a number of times, although never in relation to religious life, they made it quite clear that the special gifts of the Spirit are not restricted to the apostolic community. Having defined the Church as the People of God, Lumen Gentium points out that there are special graces of the Spirit ("apart from the sacraments and the ministrations of the Church") which are distributed "among the faithful of every rank," gifts which make the people "fit and ready to undertake the renewal, and whether these charisms be very remarkable or more simple and widely diffused., they are fitting and useful for the needs of the Church." At the end of the passage bishops are charged with judging the genuineness and proper use of these charisms and at the same time they are reminded that their office is not to extinguish the Spirit.3 The renewal of the Church then, while under the guidance of the bishops, is truly the work of God the Holy Spirit. Religious Charisms Now if charisms are given "to the faithful of every rank," it follows that religious must also receive the Spirit's special grace. In November 1964 that seemed an obvious enough statement and it caught no one's attention. Neither Lumen Gentium's Chapter VI on religious, nor Perfectae Caritatis (October 1965) specifically used the word charism in relation to religious life; however, the concept of charism, of special gifts given for the development of religious life, was not new. For centuries there had been a common belief that the founding persons of religious communities were the recipients of special grace. The Jesuit, Jerome Nadal, writing in 1554 said: When God wants to help his Church, he first raises up a person and gives him or her a special grace and impulse under which he or she may serve God in a particular manner. This is what he did in the case of St. Francis: God gave him a particular grace for his personal growth as well as for his companions . In the same way he raised up Ignatius and granted him a grace, and through him to us . ,,4 For a millennium, pope after pope had commented on the unique gifts given to this founder, and (after a few centuries) to that foundress. This concept, together with the direction the council documents had taken, surely paved the way for the expression used by Paul VI in his Apostolic Exhortation, Evangelica Testificatio, On the Renewal of Religious Life. The Pope said that religious who wish to be faithful to the teaching of the council are those who, seeking God before all else, combine contempla- 522 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 tion with apostolic love. He continued: "By the former they cling to God in mind and heart; by the latter they strive to associate themselves with the work of redemption and to spread the kingdom of God. Only in this way you will be able to reawaken hearts to truth and to divine love in accordance with the charism of your founders, who were raised up by God within his Church."5 (Emphasis mine) The expression has been used again and again in subsequent papal docu-ments. Evangelica Testificatio was dated June 29, 1971, and countless communities were already well into the work of renewal. To understand what that phrase, "charism of your founders," meant and has come to mean to us, it is necessary to look for a moment at religious life in the 50s. The Leveling of Religious Life for Women The following observations may not apply to men's communities. They flow from my own experience of two dozen women's communities with whom I worked closely and sometimes stayed between 1953 and 1968. If anything can be said of religious women when the council began, it must be that we were faithful. We were faithful to the Church, to the pope, to our foundresses, to our constitutions, and to our communities. We meticulously kept the rule, performed our apostolates, learned to walk, to write, to speak and to dress exactly as Mother Mary Someone did one hundred, or perhaps two hundred years before somewhere in Europe. We kept her customs to perfection, whether or not they made any sense in our culture, because we believed that was what God and the Church asked of us. Consider one example among many. Visualize a group of healthy American women, some with Ph.D.s, sitting at table in silence, passing around a pan of suds to wash their dishes. No wonder we were the quaint little nuns! We reverenced everything about our lives. And everything had equal value. The special gifts which the Spirit gave the foundress were on a par with how people in her culture peeled potatoes. We were equally careful about both. Everything was leveled. Our special charism, our uniqueness, our gifts from the Holy Spirit were lost in a sea of trivia. We could have invented Trivial Pursuit. Nor was that totally our fault. In a sense the whole Church behaved in that way. We were taught to give the same credence to the teaching on Limbo and the doctrine of Resurrection. Recently I had an experience which let me see in an instant how communities lost sight of their charisms. I went to Sequoia National Park on a field trip with a geographer, who on the way up pointed out character-istics of various trees to be found in the forest we would visit. He described the giant sequoias, the biggest, the oldest trees in the world. Trees which live for two thousand years, but trees with a very shallow root system, Religious Charism having roots which extend from the trunk for yards, but always very near the surface. Because of this shallowness the sequoia needs a fire from time to time to clear the surface brush so that its roots can get the necessary nutrients. The tree itself is protected from fire by a very heavy bark with a high content of tanic acid. The sequoia is totally different from the juniper, which has an extremely long tap root, quite capable of making its way through granite, thus allowing the juniper to live on the edge of a precipice, to survive comfortably where the sequoia would never take root. Each tree has a wholeness in itself, its own beauty, its own reflection of the creative magnitude of God. I had been thinking about charism for a long time and the parallel was obvious. A few hours later I was walking in the forest, caught up in its lavish-ness. For a moment I was alone, in silence and in awe, when the silence was broken by a voice coming from the trail below me. Someone said, "Oh, sequoias, junipers, cedars--to me they are all just trees!" In an instant that person had leveled the wonders of that forest to just trees. Gone the marvelous integrity of each species. They were all just trees. That is what happened to women's communities before the Council called us to search for our own charism. We were all leveled to be just "the sisters." First everything in our lives was of equal importance, and secondly, we might as well have been one gigantic community. We knew we were different from one another and meant by God to be different, but it was an intuitive kind of knowl.edge, with not much to support it. To the rest of the world we were distinguished from one another only by some aspect of our dress. (And when we started studying the Gospels we found that the only group distinguished by its clothing had broad phylacteries and long tassels.) Frequently we did not even have a name. People, including our clerical brothers, simply said, "Sister," and we replied. Canon law leveled us still further, qqaere were pages and pages of canons that required communities of women to do things in a uniform way. Communities founded in the twentieth century ended up with virtually the same constitution as all the others, with only a paragraph, or at best a page which pertained to itself alone. I once indexed our constitution and was astounded that a Society called Sisters of Social Service had only one reference to social welfare. One final word about the leveling process. The Vatican Council, in telling us to find our own integrity, our own identity, called a sudden, sharp halt to the leveling, at least for a time. But it does continue. People find it easier to deal with, or perhaps to dismiss, the quaint little nun in her medieval garb than they do with many of today's religious women. We have educated ourselves about our charisms and their implications, but we 594 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 have not educated others. Having gone through much to discover and attempt to be faithful to our own charisms, it is painful to have people-- sometimes those who should understand--seemingly seek to level us again. For example, while I greatly admire Teresa of Calcutta, it is problematic to see her work and her way of life held up as the ideal for our day. It is the leveling process at work again; we do not all have the same charism. The Call to Renew In 1962, when the Holy Spirit and John XXIII convoked the Council, most of that amorphous mass called "the sisters," absolutely dedicated to faithfulness to the Church, were quite ready to do as we were asked--to undertake an interior renewal and to make exterior adaptations suitable to our own time. No one .yet spoke of "charism" as the Council Fathers presented us with the now famous steps to renewal. First, since the "final norm of religious life is the following of Christ as it is put before us in the Gospel, this must be taken as its supreme rule by all institutes." In other words, we were told to go back to Scripture and make it, like the Eucharist, our daily bread. Secondly, the Council Fathers were at pains to point out in several passages that there is a "wonderful variety of religious communi-ties," and that variety needed to be reemphasized. To bring about renewal we were to seek the authentic spirit of our individual founding persons, but what exactly did that mean, and how were we to go about it? Finally, since the whole Church had to learn to read and respond to the signs of the times, certainly we did, too. But how were we to adapt our lives to the changed conditions without destroying ourselves, since we saw our lives as a seamless garment. Entering into the work renewal asked of us, sparked a variety of responses in the early days. Some said we do not need to renew; we have never departed from the vision and way of life of our founder. Some women's communities, desirous of becoming fully competent in ministry, were already into Sister Formation, and were hungry for what renewal promised. We were at various stages of our journey when in 1971, Paul VI, in Evangelica Testificatio, spoke of the charism of your founders. The expression was noticed immediately because it shed great light on our search for the authentic spirit of the founder, for ''the primitive inspira-tion of the institute." By definition, charism is gift from the Spirit, generally for the good of others, but sometimes a personal gift as well. Charismata, if accepted and freely given back to the People of God, build up the Church. The concept of "charism of the founder" narrowed the focus of our search from the founder's whole way of life to how God worked in him. It led us to concentrate on the way the Spirit gifted the foundress, rather than on the Religious Charism / 525 accidents of her culture. To be told by the Church that the cultural mores of another age were not essential to our vocation was at once startling and freeing. Never again could everything about our life be valued equally. It now became urgent that we rediscover our unique identity, that we sort out the charism from the cultural traditions. Simultaneously we searched the past and the present. I suspect many communities shared the experience of my own community, the Sisters of Social Work. It seemed perfectly evident that if there is such a thing as a community charism, then it must somehow be lived by us, its members. We looked around and we were/are all so different. We asked what do we hold in common? What we shared was so obvious that we missed it at first. We did not know that we knew who we are. We did know that we were founded by women already working to alleviate and prevent social evils, and we knew we would die out if we ever ceased to fight contemporary social problems. We knew that since we often work alone on uncharted paths our ministry demanded an attentiveness to the Spirit. We knew that we were not Benedictine sisters, yet our spirit is powerfully influenced by the Benedictine tradition. We knew we were not Religious as such, but rather members of a Society of Common Life (now "Apostolic Life"). Different as we were, we shared these elements with each other; gradually we realized they came from our foundresses and define us. The late 70s were a time when many communities, struggling to find their true identity, finally understood that they did know their own unique essence, that they did know more of their own integrity than they could easily verbalize. But first many questions had to be answered. Charism and the Gospel One of the first questions with which we had to come to grips was how the Gospel, now the supreme rule of our lives, related to our charism. Some of us, overwhelmed with a new reading of the Word of God, asked why do we need anything more than the Gospel? Is not everything necessary for renewal right there? It was an honest question, for indeed it is all there. But everything needed for a holy life in any lifestyle is there. The G0spel points the way for all invited to Christian baptism, not just for religious. Then it became clear. No one person, no one community could manifest all the attributes of the Lord. Each religious family reflects a particular aspect, or a particular combination of aspects of the Gospel. Margaret Slachta, the foundress of the Sisters of Social Service, some fifty years ago, spoke of the concept of charism, although she did not name it as such. She said: God has all perfection. It's as if the perfections of God are a great globe 526 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 and religious communities are a thousand mirrors reflecting one or other of the divine attributes. The Franciscans reflect the spirit of poverty to a world always attracted to riches. The Dominicans reflect truth to a world ever flirting with error, while we reflect the sanctifying love of God to a world which does not know the Spirit.6 All of us need the Gospel as the final measuring rod of our lives, but each community needs its own special gift or specific combination of Gospel attributes or gifts from the Spirit to give it its own identity. The Founding Charism A unique gift or combination of gifts was originally the special charism of our founding mothers or fathers. That raised many questions which needed answers.7 What aspects of the Gospel were especially attractive to our founder? What ignited a flame in the heart of our foundress? What combination of Christian characteristics makes this religious family different from that one? These questions sent us scurrying back to our earliest documents, back through legend and history to the flesh-and-blood men and women through whom God gave us life. To clearly describe our founding charism it was necessary to go back to the founding person's historic life, necessary to learn the culture, the social and political situation in which the founder awoke to a personal call from God. It was necessary to see how the foundress responded to the signs of her times. We searched our primary sources with new eyes as we sought to find how the Spirit of God was manifested to our founding persons. What was the conversion experience from which there was no turning back? Was it in a cave like Subiaco or Manresa, or as with the foundress of my community, after coming home from a colorful, exciting ball in a luxurious salon in Budapest? How was the challenge met? How did the person read the message? What did Benedict or Francis or Dominic or Ignatius or John Bosco intend as they gathered disciples, as they structured a way of life which would allow their disciples to experience God as they had? What was the intent of Angela Merici, Louise de Marillac, Catherine McCauley, Elizabeth Seton, Frances Cabrini, or Margaret Slachta as they found like-minded women and began to pray with them, began to prepare them to attack some grave need felt by the People of God? We found life-giving answers to our questions. We discovered the why our founders did what they did, and the how was no longer so important. Most of their customs were the ordinary customs of their day. Take clothing for example. Many founding persons, both women and men, in many different centuries and different places wore the oridinary clothing of the poor or of the common people of their time. What they wore was the least Religious Charism / 527 of their concerns. Of course the "why" and the "hows" of the past brought us up sharply to the present and another set of questions. How does the present moment relate to what the founder was all about? In our great faithfulness to the foundress, to her customs and her way of doing things, did we lose sight of her vision? What would the founder do if called by God to begin the community now, today? Which of the foundress' gifts are being incarnated in the members of the community today? We have become very aware that the heart of the charism given our founding person must be enfleshed in our time or we have no deep ties with our roots. In our communities we are very conscious of our diversity, of the richness of personality of our members. Each of us comes with valued and often unique gifts from the Spirit which become the treasure of the whole community, yet we are also aware that we share, and in a radical way, the attraction, the charism of our founding person. Personal Charism of the Founder/Foundress Most communities discovered that the charism of the founding person was somewhat different from the charism of the community itself. Some gifts of the Spirit were for the foundress alone, some aspects of the founder's charism necessary only to the work of foundation, some strengths needed to give life to the new group in its formative years. In seeking out our own individual roots many of us became very conscious that the founder's specific time in history was so unlike our own, that the foundress brought the community to life often out of a specific need of her culture which does not exist in our technological age. Again it became evident that customs, manner of responding to need, which were a part of the initial environment in which the community was created, may have been a part of the personal charism of the foundress, but were not a part of the community's charism. If the charism is at the heart of the community's identity then the charism must transcend both the time and the culture in which the community was founded. Elements of Religious Charism The charism of a religious community is that gift or combination of gifts which God the Holy Spirit gave to the founding person so that the community might come into existence in the first place. The gifts reflect certain attributes of God, or in more contemporary language, aspects of the Gospel which the founding person lived out in her or his life. The gifts were given for the common good, to build the Body of Christ in the time in which they were first manifested. This gift, or special combination of girls, 5211 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 is not limited by time or culture and is found in, and is enfleshed by, the present-day followers of the founding person, enabling them to live his or her vision in our own time. The charism gives the community its basic identity, provides it with its own wholeness, gives it its own unique meaning within the total family of religious institutes. Because the charism is the gift of the Spirit, its expression is never static, it can lead a group in unpredict-able ways, and as the bishops were told in Mutuae Relationes, Mutual Relations Between Bishops and Religious, sometimes it can be quite trouble-some to deal with.8 Founders, foundresses and their religious communities have generally discovered that following one's charism usually involves a risk, always a challenge, and not infrequently, misunderstanding. As initially the primitive charism did not bring riches, honor, power, neither does its rediscovery. Charism and Daily Life If we want a wholeness about our lives, consciously or unconsciously we take our charism into consideration in all that we do. Formation personnel should be very clear about the community's charism, should test candidates precisely in the area of the charism. In the matter of the vows which the new members will take, we profess the evangelical counsels within the context of a particular religious family with its own particular charism. We understand our vows and live out our vocation as the com-munity understan

Issue 52.2 of the Review for Religious, March/April 1993. ; re lig oIJS C~stian Heritages and: Contemporary Living MARCH-APRIL 1993 . VOLUME 52' ¯ NUMBER 2 Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Telephone:314-535-3048 ¯ FAX: 314-535-0601 Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP ¯ 5001 Eastern Avenue ¯ P.O. Box 29260 ~.Vashington, D.C. 20017. POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. SUBSCRIPTION RATES Single copy $5 includes surface mailing costs. One-year subscription $ l 5 plus mailing costs. Two-year subscription $28 plus mailing costs. See inside back cover for more subscription information and mailing costs. 01993 Review for Religious for religious Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Assistant Editors Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Michael G. Harter SJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe Joann Wolski Corm PhD Mary Margaret Johanning SSND Iris Ann Ledden SSND Edmundo Rodriguez SJ Se~in Sammon FMS Wendy Wright PhD Suzanne Zuercher OSB Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living MARCH-APRIL 1993 " VOLUME 52 ¯ NUMBER 2 contents 166 feature Leadership, Authority, and Religious Government Mary Linscott SNDdeN clarifies the interrelati6nship of leader-ship, authority, and religious government in the development of religious life up to the present. 194 202 213 220 226 evangelizing The Meaning of Evangelization Today Janice McLaughlin MM suggests that in the light of her experi-ence in Africa evangelization involves us in a process of change and choices which turn us upside down. Broken African Pots and a Mission Spirituality Mario I. Aguilar SVD proposes that African pottery making pro-vides a model that fits our need for spiritual fulfillment and the j3resence of God in our lives. aging in christ A Spirituality of Aging Michael D. Moga SJ invites the elderly to explore a spirituality well suited for their final years. Soul Making and Life's Second Half Anne Brennan CSJ and Janice Brewi CSJ encourage people in mid-life and beyond to open themselves to the fullness of their inner lives. Life Review, Families, and Older Religious James J. Magee DSW offers a model of life review for older reli-gious to modify their own anxiety in the face of family issues and to help other family members also to work with the issues. 162 Review for Religious 236 238 241 living religiously Hope in Loneliness James Martin SJ searches the emptiness of loneliness and finds space for God and others. Thoughts from Death and Life Vera Gallagher RGS offers a personal reflection on dealing with a serious diagnosis of illness. May I Love You, Lord John Patrick Donnelly SJ provides the first English translation of a psalm-prayer composed by the fifteenth-century Dominican Girolamo Savonarola. 247 259 275 283 visioning religious life Galile£n Perspectives on Religious Life Anne Hennessy CSJ suggests that the sometimes blurred focus on the person and message of Jesus Christ can be helped by a Galilean perspective. Religious Life in Nigeria Today Mary Gerard Nwagwu gives a summary picture of the various forms and influences of consecrated life now common in Nigeria and their influence on society. I Have Kept Faith: Clare of Assisi Karen Karper PCPA highlights some incidents in Clare's spiritual growth and the approval of her religious rule of life. report U.S. Hispanic Catholics: Trends and Works 1992 Kenneth Davis OFM Cony reviews the various events and writings in the Catholic Hispanic experience. departments 164 Prisms 304 Canonical Counsel: Common Life 311 Book Reviews March-April 1993 163 prisms a~tican Council II is frequently described as a watershed event in the history of the Catholic Church. Certainly through our eyes now and even in its actual hap-pening the council was one of those precious creative moments which take place randomly, but consistently, in our human affairs. Just as consistently, creative moments are followed by a period of consolidation. A common example (perhaps too easily caricatured) from the history of religious life is the creative action of St. Francis of Assisi in calling forth his gospel-based mendicant group and the later consolidation efforts of Brother Elias to establish solidly this ideal in a lasting community form. Some would term the present period in the Roman Catholic milieu a period of consolidation. As evidence they would point to the promulgation of the Codes of Canon Law for both the Latin Church (replacing the first Code of 1917) and the Eastern Churches (the first for-mulation of a Code). The publication of the new Universal Catechism is another piece of evidence for a consolida-tion movement. With the 1994 Synod of Bishops sched-uled to consider consecrated life, there appears to be a completing of the review of all the groupings which make up the People of God. Consolidation periods lack the euphoria and excite-ment of the creative moments, but they are just as impor-tant if life is to keep its direction and to flourish. We may have a fear of consolidation movements because they seem to represent a rigidity and to forebode an age-long immutability. Others of us may too readily desire consol-idation as a way of returning to the way things were, of rejecting a certain period of time as an aberration. 164 Review for Religio~s Consolidation, after a period of creativity, is meant neither to set in stone the present reality nor to throw aside recent history and return to a fixated tradition. Consolidation is meant much more to be a plateau where gains and losses are assessed, directional lines reviewed and discerned anew, and energies replenished for the continued journey forward of this pilgrim people. Although we have frequently used the word transition to cap-ture these times for our church and for religious life, perhaps more pointedly we might now use the word consolidation. For example, the FORUS study published in our last issue provides religious life with a consolidation document. Religious groups would be using it without serious thought or reflection if they were to reject the legitimate and church-expected experiments of these past decades. Consolidation works only when there have been some creative moments preceding. Without creative moments, life--any life, religious or other--weakens and faces death. That continues to happen to lifeforms throughout our planet and, more pointedly, may be happening to some religious congregations at this time. On the other hand, without consoli-dation creative moments are only ephemeral and their energies dissipate to exhaustion. Consolidation is necessary for true growth and sure direction in continuing the movement so that we can focus our energies for the New Evangelization of our time. Consolidation remains just as necessary on the micro as on the macro stage, that is, in our everyday life as well as in the large-scale reflections which we have been making about religious con-gregations. Too often we can pass by the efforts necessary for a consolidation review in our own individual-lives and our living together. Why do we live the way we do, why do we do the works we do? How is this related to my and our love of Jesus Christ and what does it have to say about the evangelizing quality of my and our works? These simple questions are necessary as we look towards the solid future of religious life. David L. Fl.eming SJ Marcb-Atrril 1993 165 MARY LINSCOTT Leadership, Authority, and Religious Government feature More than twenty years ago, in 1969 and 1970, I attended two meetings in St. Louis which were a turning point in the history of the Conference of Major Superiors of Women in the United States. Various developments ensued, one of them being a change of name from Conference of Major Superiors of Women (CMSW) to Leadership Conference of Women Religious (LCWR). In this case the rose by another name did not immediately smell as sweet. The then Sacred Congregation for Religious and Secular Institutes (SCRIS), which had to approve the change, was reluctant to do so on the ground that it involved more than a matter of simple terminol-ogy. The Language and the Reality For the congregation, "major superiors" and "leader-ship" were not synonymous terms; the use of the one for Sister Mary Linscott SNDdeN is a former superior general of the Sisters of Notre Dame de Namur and a former president of the International Union of Superiors General (UISG). She has worked in the Congregation for Institutes of Consecrated Life and Societies of Apostolic Life (CICLSAL). This article is the somewhat shortened text of a talk which she gave in April 1992 to English-speaking superiors and councilors general in Rome and which appeared originally in UISG Bulletin 89. 166 Review for Religious the other could create confusion and even lead to changes of a more ~ubstantial kind, notwithstanding the likelihood that the sisters intended the words to denote the same reality. (We have to bear in mind that the change of name for the conference in the Uiaited States coincided with the reaction against authority which followed the special chapters of renewal and with the beginning of considerable modifications in the structures of religious gov-ernmerit. Moreover, the national conferences [or councils or unions] mandated by Perfectae Caritatis §23 and Ecclesiae Sanctae §42 and §43 were to be of major superiors, both for men and for women.) At all events, SCRIS felt that the substitution of "lead-ership" for "major superiors" could raise problems in an area where clarity was needed. Pc mission for the change came only after long reflection and on condition that the interpretation of the name was in accord with the provisions and intention of the Second Vatican Council. After twenty years the use of the word leadership in documents other than constitutions and directories has become quite widespread. We are used to headlines in our congregational pub-lications: "Province X Elects New Leadership" or "A Report from General Leadership." In some institutes "leadership group" has replaced "team" to denote sisters serving according to the con-stitutions at different levels of government. The usage seems to be mainly in the English-speaking world. Unless the word leaders is ~dopted without translation, as it is occasionally by French- or Spanish-speaking sisters, the concept which it expresses is usu-ally paraphrased or simply implied. For historical reasons the Italians avoid duce and the Germans fiibrer. The French always have responsable to fall back on. In English writing, however, there is a rather frequent use of leader and leadership. Over the years, what has happened to SCRIS's initial diffi-culty about religious institutes' use of the word leadership? A first remark ~hould be, I think, that the distinction of meaning made after 1970 still obtains. Leadership is a charism, a spiritual real-ity given freely by God to individuals for some special purpose in a community; authority in religious institutes is a canonico-juridi-cal as well as a spiritual reality. The two, therefore, are not syn-onymous and not interchangeable. Second, there has been a period in which popular writing and parlance about religious life have tended to avoid the word authority. Instead the term leadership was used but given much of the content that belongs to author- March-April 1993 167 Linscott ¯ Leadership, Authority, and Religious Government ity. This produced some confusion that weakened religious gov-ernment at all levels, but especially the local. In a third phase, more recently, we have had a certain clarification along this line: that, while leadership and religious authority are indeed different and distinct, they do not have to be in conflict, and in fact both are needed for good government. In this clarification some understandings have emerged which I will use for the purposes of this paper. With regard to leadership, wider and more immediate communications, the influence of the international institutes, and the cumulative effects of structural renewal have all helped to bring out the .concept of leadership as a personal gift in its own right. It is a charism expressed in per-sonal qualities which inspire respect, trust, following, sometimes enthusiasm. Since it depends on the qualities of a person, lead-ership is an enduring gift, not something assumed for a certain time and laid down at the end of a mandate. It is not conferred or limited by constitutions, and it cannot be legislated. It does not go with any given responsibility, and in itself it is no more account-able than any other charism. It derives, not from external cir-cumstances, but from inner sources, and it is linked much more with what a person is than with what she does. Leadership is found in many spheres other than government. It exists quite apart from authority. At the same time, the lengthening experience of renewal and the revision of the constitutions have pointed up the need for other elements besides leadership for the effective running of a religious congregation: functional government structures and clearly invested religious authority are essential. Religious author-ity, like that of the Lord from which it ultimately derives, involves a certain power, but it is power as service and for the sake of the mission. Such authority goes with the vow of obedience and is conferred for the achievement of the goals of the congregation: the spread of the gospel in and through the unity, growth, and service of the sisters. Necessary for the religious institute as a human organization, religious authority is also ecclesial in that it derives from constitutions approved by the church. Since it is attached to an office, it is an authority of status. It is given for a specified period to persons duly appointed or elected within the limits of the constitutions and church law. Religious authority has to be accountable. It is personal but not exercised in isola-tion. It can be legislated and must be provided for constitution- 168 Re~iew for Religious ally. It is assumed on a specified date and is laid down at the end of a mandate. It relates to what a person does and to what her responsibilities are, rather than to what she is in herself. Of itself it neither confers nor presupposes leadership, though leadership qualities are obviously desirable in a sister exercising authority. Government is a matter of duly chosen individuals inspiring, directing, and admin-istering with a.uthority the affairs of a con-gregation according to its spirit and sound traditions and according to church law and its own. Of itself government gives a lead, and in a religious congregation it is a con-crete expression of the charism acting to attain the congregation's purpose. I would say that these recent clarifications are helpful. Leadership, authority, and government are now seen as distinct from each other but closely .related in complementarity and all of them necessary for the healthy functioning of religious life. There are difficulties only when they are confused with each other, when one or other of them is not working properly, or when any of them tends to dominate the remaining two. I propose to look at the three elements in interrelation from two different angles. The first is historical. As phenomena in reli-gious life, leadership, authority, and government have come into being at different times in response to different needs, and in the course of history they have had different emphases. A look at their roots and evolution may help us to see better where we are at present with regard to them and may give us some ideas for future direction. The second angle is contemporary. Later in this article I will share with you what a surv4y of sixty approved con-stitutions seems to tell about leadership, authority, and govern-ment in congregations across the world today. The two angles will bring together the past and the present in view of the future. Where does religious government come from? The Phenomenon Where does religious government come from? Perfectae Caritatis §2a says: "Since the final norm of the religious life is the following of Christ as it is put before us fn the gospel, this must be taken by all institutes as the supreme rule" (see canon 662). It was the desire to follow Christ with greater liberty and to Marcb-/lpril 1993 169 Linscott ¯ Leadership, Authority, and Religious Government imitate him more closely that prompted men and women from very early times to practice, in various ways, the evangelical coun-sels (see PC §1) and thus live the gospel radically. As the great persecutions of the early church came to an end, many persons gave gospel witness by withdrawing into the desert and under-taking heroic acts of self-denial and penance as a substitute for martyrdom. Their life was a combat with the forces of evil, whose last stronghold was the wilderness. The call was often solitary, but among those who sought God in the desert there were inevitably some who were experienced and some who were begin-ners, renowned persons and those who were unknown, persons sought out for advice and guidance and those who still had a lot to learn. Without any structure, when there was as yet no orga-nization that required formal authority and government, a kind of leadership based on competence, personal qualities, and experience in the ways of the Lord brought into being some very personal relations between teachers and disciples. The earliest elements of religious leadership may be here: persons together seeking God's will and ways, with the gifts of the one at the service of the other and both persons helped towards the fullness of a Christian vocation. The living of the gospel was still the supreme goal and rule when, in the face of the decline of the desert type of life and because of the changes brought about by the barbarian invasions of western Europe and northern Africa, people grouped together in a more stable manner. Once there was grouping, some kind of agreement, however simple and loose, was necessary for order and peace. In this is the first seed of religious government. Humanly speaking, there would be leaders for the sake of unity if for no other reason. Once grouping was a stable way of life, the leader would usually be the one who founded the group, who accepted followers to form the group, and who contributed most to shaping its way of gospel living by example, prayer, teaching, and organization. It would be up to that person to ensure fidelity to the accepted way of life, to lead in the deepening of spiritual values, to give direction, to ensure viability. Everything would be geared to the gospel as the purpose of the group's existence, )nd the founder would lead in virtue of an authority of competence recognized by the members and by the church. This stable way of life affected the church both locally and universally. The stability of vows, the public witness of life, 170 Review for Religious required contacts with church authorities, especially the local bishop. There had to be the possibility of representation. Moreover, basic though the gospel was, no founder ever felt it sufficient simply to put the gospel text into the hands of his or her religious. The way of living out the gospel in any given congre-gation was expressed in a rule or constitutions usually drawn up by the founder and always approved by the church. The fact of liv-ing vowed life together, therefore, created human, ecclesial, and theological conditions that required the service of some member or members to the others in a way that fostered spiritual values, unity, fidelity to the founding bond and spirit, discernment of direction, links with the church, correction, spiritual and material provision, viability. Such responsibilities could not be undertaken without some kind of authority within the group itself. We there-fore find the elements of religious government coming into being as founders, who by the fact of founding showed qualities of lead-ership, accepted the responsibility of directing their religious fam-ily and each of its members towards the agreed-upon goal of the gospel by a service of authority recognized by the church. This service of authority was still needed in succeeding gen-erations, and for the same reasons as those which first prompted it. Once the founding generation was gone, however, the choice of members who would exercise authority was less obvious. It was not that there were no religious who had the competence, but rather that none had the unique claim of the founder. Loyalty, support, and obedience were given to the member who was duly elected or appointed to exercise authority, and with that there came into being an authority that could be apart from that of competence: an ex officio authority derived from role or status. The Evolution before the 19th Century All this needed considerable time to evolve, and it took on different patterns and structures according to the different charisms which it expressed. Moreover, it developed as new forms of religious life came into being to meet the needs of successive times. The first appearance of religious in the form of monks and monasteries was a spontaneous phenomenon in the church, a free action of the Holy Spirit, but by the 5th century their random multiplication had become such a problem that the Council of March-April 1993 171 Linscott ¯ Leadership, Authority, and Religious Government Chalcedon (451) established the requirement of episcopal per-mission for the founding of a monastery and made monks subject to bishops. It was recognized, however, that the community of monasticism required a certain independence in internal matters. Religious government, therefore, came to have two aspects, inter-nal and external, both involving authority. Over a long period the image of episcopal authority, which of its nature is hierarchical in the church, to some extent colored that of religious authority. Certainly the balance between the degree of freedom necessary for internal affairs and the submission to the bishop, which was equally necessary for the good of the local church, was a feature of canonical legislation for religious for centuries. The great founders and reformers somehow found ways to handle both the internal and external relations of religious government. Internally, St. Benedict, father of western monasticism, respected the whole community and united it around the abbot under the discipline of the Rule. Authority, leadership, and government came together harmoniously in his provisions. Externally, in centuries after his own, there were problems over necessary relations with bishops and civil rulers. When Benedict's work was refounded in the Cluniac and Cistercian reforms, Cluny managed to be subject neither to king nor to bishop. It was one of the first of a system of exemptions by which the evolution of religious life was handled. After the desert and the monasteries, both of which types of religious life continue today, a third period with new needs was that of the mendicants. Here the pattern of life was no longer the stability and close unity of the monastery, but instead the diverging travels of friars who went about preaching the good news, begging their way, and giving to the poor. They belonged to a more fluid community often located in a town that had been revitalized either by a growing medieval university or by the com-merce that followed the Crusades. In pursuit of the same gospel ideal as the monks and the desert dwellers, the mendicants orga-nized their lives differently. They did not have stability in Benedict's sense. Their forms of leadership and government had to suit their kind of public witness and the flexibility of their out-reach. The religious whose authority and responsibility for the whole group would parallel those of Benedict's abbot were sig-nificantly given different and suggestive names: guardian for the Franciscans and prior for the Dominicans. With the age of discovery and reform, new forms of religious 172 Review for Religious life, those of the apostolic orders, were the response of the Holy Spirit to the mission opportunities in newly discovered conti-nents and to the theological and educational needs nearer home. Religious life in the Latin church, still very much a European phenomenon, needed people like Francis Xavier, Jean de Br~beuf, and Junipero Serra to carry it to India, Japan, and the Americas. This out-reach in itself was a challenge to structures of government. The pio-neer missionaries were often at great distances from their original commu-nities. They were inevitably few, at least at the beginning, yet they were an important growing point of the institutes to which they belonged. They needed good leadership quali-ties themselves and a considerable del-egation of authority. The kind of religious government that was strong primarily at the local level did not really match their gift. There had to The Jesuits in their government heightened both leadership and authority and gave a new importance to what would henceforth become general-level administration. be support from a higher level where the overview of everything could unify the various local endeavors and thereby achieve a par-ticular witness to Christ. Not by coincidence is the general supe-rior of the Jesuits called the praepositus. Exempt from immediate episcopal control so as to be free for papal mandates, the succes-sors of St. Ignatius had to combine leadership by competence, which was vital, with the authority to inspire and administer a far-flung apostolic enterprise while strengthening the service given in pastoral, social, and academic fields in Europe. The Jesuits in their government heightened both leadership and authority and gave a new importance to what would henceforth become general-level administration. The Evolution after 1800 With the cataclysm of the French Revolution came various needs which were met by the most recent type of organized reli-gious life: institutes dedicated to works of the apostolate. Although by no means all of these are for sisters, the period since the Marcb-April 1993 173 Linscott ¯ Leadership, Authority, and Religious Government Napoleonic Concordat of 1802 has been marked by an extraor-dinarily high proportion of women's foundations. It is on these that I now focus. Very many institutes of sisters came into being as the response of the Spirit to the needs created by the industrial revolution, the successive waves of emigration from Europe to the new world, the opening up of Africa and Asia, and the series of revolutions which swept Europe from 1789 to 1848. They were founded not only to live the gospel themselves and to witness to it in a society that was mainly one of believers, as many previous religious had done, but also to be Christ the teacher or healer or shepherd or apostle of the Father, in ways specified by their founding gifts, in a society which was increasingly post-Christian and material-ist. Their vocation was apostolic, and the government they needed had to provide for apostolic mobility, with its requirement of cen-tralization as well for effectiveness at scattered locations as for unity and corporate direction throughout. They needed their own internal authority. As for leadership, it became clear as time went on that leadership gifts of many different kinds were required for the effective service of these institutes, particularly in areas of the apostolate which involved specialization. A new responsibility for sisters exercising authority was the fostering and harmonizing of these leadership gifts among the members for the unity of the whole and for better service in mission, even though in this case leadership was not related to government but to the apostolate. The governmental needs of the new institutes with regard to centralization and internal authority were not at first easily met. We have to remember that, during the century before 1901, sis-ters in institutes dedicated to apostolic works were technically not recognized by the church at all. It had been the ecumenical councils which determined and enunciated the church's provi-sions regarding religious life, and in the early 19th century the lat-est of these was still the Council of Trent. Trent had made a serious effort to tidy up a very complicated situation according to the signs of its own times. Three years after the close of the coun-cil, the decree Circa Pastoralis (1566) had stated the basic law of the church for religious, summarizing the canons of Lateran IV (1215), Lyons (1274), and Trent that referred to them. According to Circa Pa.storalis, religious were members of the church living a common life with solemn vows and cloister. All orders which were not exempt were subject to the local bishop. By 174 Review for Religious implication, therefore, members of groups which did not have solemn vows or which were not cloistered were not religious, and .they were subject to the local bishop without full internal reli-gious authority of their own because .they were not among the exempt orders. Institutes of sisters dedicated to apostolic work lived and served as religious, looked like religious, had the goals of religious, and gave the witness of religious while having sim-ple vows, little or no cloister, and a different way of living life in common from religious who were in accord with Circa Pastoralis. They needed an internal authority similar to that of the exempt congregations and for reasons like those of the apostolic orders. Actua.lly, the praxis of the church was ahead of its legislation in the 19th century, and both pontifical approval and the approval of several far-seeing bishops cleared the way for institutes of sisters. In 1900 Leo XIII, in Conditae a Christo, anticipated what was an evidently necessary change in church legislation~ He opened to religious groups with decrees of praise the formal right of cen-tralization under a superior general with real, personal authority throughout the institute. This recognized sisters in institutes ded-icated to works of the apostolate as re!igious in their own right: a third kind of entity with those conforming to Circa Pastorali's and with th~ exempt clerical orders. The recognition was' welcome, but it could not of itself erase the long experience of ambiguity, which was the only one that most institutes of sisters knew at first hand. Authority and gov-ernment were the issues on which the matter of recognition was solved, and both were associated with the image of the local bishop. Leo XIII followed up Conditae a Cbristo in 1901 with a set of norms which were a blueprint for the future Code of Canon Law (1917). The sisters updated their constitutions in the light of .,both documents; and, perhaps because in terms of religious life the autonomous government of institutes of sisters as a reality canon-ic~ lly recognized and supported was something relatively new, both a.uthority and government structures loomed large in the revisions. Great attention was given to new structures, especially those of provinces and general chapters; roles were spelled out in considerable detail. Time would bring out what this implied and how it would work out in practice. Of the three elements leader-ship, authority, and government, attention concentrated on the last two, which were concrete and could be legislated, even though the previous image many institutes had of them did not necessarily March-April 1993 175 Linscott ¯ Leadership, Authority, and Religious Government reflect their founding charism, but was colored by the rightly hierarchical character of the authority of the local bishop. Leadership was either taken for granted or channeled into apos-tolic enterprises. These sociological traits be~zame even more marked as the pressures of works and of professionalism came to bear on institutes in the mid 1950s. The Situation after Vatican II Less than fifty years after the Code of 1917 came the mandate of the Second Vatican Council to renew religious life according to the criteria of the gospel, the founding charism, and the signs of the times and to revise constitutions and directories in accord with this renewal. To make sure that the renewal actuaily took place, every institute was to celebrate a special general chapter within a period of two or three years. The chapter had excep-tional authority for this one occasion and was to be prepared with the widest possible involvement of all members of the institute. In the case of sisters dedicated to works of the apostolate, the timing of the conciliar mandate was critical. It came at a histor-ically ripe moment. The educational movement of the 1950s, the communications explosion of the 1960s, the influence of the human sciences, the authority crisis, and the development of fem-inism were only some of the elements which affected the way in which sisters tried to reexamine totally a life which they had taken very much for granted. They worked under pressure of time, with no precedent, technically unprepared, but with very much good-will. Inevitably, the sisters went first for adaptations: concrete changes which could be seen to be done and where change was clearly necessary. These involved structures and processes, plan-ning, participation, the Vatican Council's principles of subsidiar-ity and coresponsibility, the insdtute's style of life, and a review of apostolic works and resources. As sisters came to grips with these things, new leaders of a charismatic or natural kind--"born lead-ers"-- began to emerge. Their competence might be a particular professional field or an ability to communicate or the capacity to articulate well a personal vision for the future of the institute or a good grasp of dynamics. Whatever their gift, these leaders often came to the fore at the expense of leadership based on authority and experience of government. The membership of general chap- 176 Review for Religious ters from 1967 onwards was of a different composition from those which went before, and the influences on government and author-ity were consequently different. There was less experience of gov-ernment and more creativity; less hard information and more "dreaming" in the positive sense; less his-tory and more sociology; less theology and more impact from the human sci-ences. It all needed to be balanced out if it was to produce good religious govern-ment. A time of struggle, confusion, and emotion, however, is not the best time for balancing, and the difficult 1970s and early 1980s did not allow time to evaluate objectively what was happening. Nor was it possible to have the distance necessary for objectivity. The individualism of the period produced leaders in plenty, but not a similar number of sisters willing to accept responsibility. At the same time, various forms and degrees of resistance to authority made religious government very difficult. Expectations were not clear, and it was far easier to raise questions than to find constructive responses. All the while, people were aware that the overall num-bers of sisters were declining, that departures were frequent, that needs were multiplying and not being met, and that religious life was a microcosm of a church and world which were also in flux and seeking their way. In all this how did leadership, authority, and government fare? They were much-discussed topics in renewal, and it is in the con-text of renewal that we have to see them. Renewal involves inter-nal change. It causes us to interiorize and make our own--here and now, as individuals and as communities--the teaching of Jesus as it is lived in accordance with the charism of our religious insti-tute. Renewal affects beliefs, relationships, values, commitment, attitudes, and zeal. It determines how we live and serve, and it involves a conversion that is corporate as well as personal. Being basically interior and spiritual, renewal cannot be brought about simply by legislation. It needs the example and personal influ-ence of leadership, which i~ of its nature an agent of internal change. But leadership in religious renewal has to be enabling, Being basically interior and spiritual, renewal needs the example and personal influence of leadership, which is of its nature an agent of internal change. Marcb-April 1993 177 Linscott ¯ Leadership, Authority, and Religious Government helping sisters renew themselves and their institute by consis-tently proposing the gospel goal and ideal and by encouraging involvement, conviction, and commitment. Such enabling lead-ership is increasingly seen as necessary today. It is not in excess supply, for it requires an unusual blend of Christlike poverty of heart and inner freedom and at the same time strength, empa-thy, and clarity. It is ~ charism and, as such, cannot be conferred ex officio or be legislated as a predictable and controllable part of government. Yet without it even the most clear-cut exercise of legitimate authority does not succeed in changing fundamental attitudes and values, whatever it may do to outward forms. The very fact that leadership is neither predictable nor con-trollable from the point of view of legislation means that it needs a balance which can be predicted, controlled, and legislated. The balance is authority. In the years after the Second Vatican Council, the balance afforded by religious authority was significantly down-played, largely as reaction to the authoritarianism in the precon-ciliar years and also because of the trend towards greater participation. Pa~'ticipation, however, does not remove the need for authority, and authoritarianism is an abuse which can be reme-died without touching the principle o.f authority itself. If no chan-rlels of legitimate authority are provided, one of two things seems to happen: either (1) the group crumbles from within because there is no commonly acknowle.dged center, no one has respon-sibility at the corporate level, and each sister has to go her own way, interpreting her religious life to the best of her ability; or (2) some sister emerges as a leader without religious authority, either by fo.rce of con.viction or natural gifts or charism or plain per-sonal aggressiveness. In either case the important value of re!igious obedience gets lost. Yet it is through religious obedience that we understand religious authority, and it is the two of them together that create the unique relationship in which a properly autho-rized leader can enable sisters to grow, not in passivity and not in external adaptation only, but in an active collaboration which make~ for joy and greater fullness of life. Religious government, therefore, needs both leaders.hip and authority and needs them together. Authority wi'thout leadership can become an insecure and heavy-handed exercise of power. Leadership without authority can lack sound direction, responsi-bi! ity, and accountability," making for disturbance rather than for peaceful growth in the Lord. Structures of government somehow 178 Review for Religious have to harmonize the two. Authority is usually provided in struc-tures at general, provincial, and local levels that maintain personal authority balanced by councils, chapters, and assemblies according to particular traditions, and that indicate an unambiguous line of accountability. Leadership, which cannot be legislated so directly, is implied in statements about the charism, spirit, and vision of the institute, in the qualities required in sisters exercising author-ity, and in the details of responsibilities and job descriptions. Moreover, it has been characteristic of the structures of religious government that authority is not exercised in isolation, nor should it be exercised in a way that creates a gap between those exercis-ing authority and those accepting it. This last point is a matter of style rather than of structure and is as much a challenge for teams and groups, even when the respective responsibilities and rela-tions are well spelled out, as it is for individuals. The revision of constitutions has led to some solid rethinking in the whole area of leadership, authority, and government. As we have seen, the theme goes far back in the history of religious life, and the strands intertwine inextricably, like differently colored ply in a length of wool making a single thread. Sisters today are certainly clearer on the issues than they were at the turn of the 1970s. All the same, we are never free from the responsibility of asking ourselves: (I) Has the basic function of leadership, author-ity, and government in religious life changed? If it has, why? And to what? (2) Do our structures correspond to their purpose and function? Now I would like to share with you what some samples of recently revised and approved constitutions from different parts of the world have to say to us about leadership, authority, and government in religious life today. In the light of these concrete statements, I will afterwards pick up again the two questions I have just raised. Sampling Some Revised Constitutions During my period of service at the Congregation for Institutes of Consecrated Life and Societies of Apostolic Life (CICLSAL), about 1500 revised constitutions received their decrees of approval, and there have been a few more since then. Among this overwhelming amount of material, my only option was to take a sampling. I decided on five criteria of choice. March-April 1993 179 Linscott ¯ Leadership, Authority, and Religious Government 1. My first criterion was to restrict myself to constitutions presented in English. There are more than enough of these to give a range of thought and experience, and I have the advantage of knowing them well and of having worked with many of the sisters who produced them. 2. My second criterion was to cover the different spiritual traditions in religious families, since these affect concepts and structures of government. I took sisters' constitutions deriving from the inspiration of the classic founders Alphonsus, Augustine, Benedict, Dominic, Francis, Ignatius, and Paul of the Cross. I also took some from the women's congregations that have a com-mon source of spirituality: Ursulines, Sisters of St. Joseph, Sisters of the Presentation, Sisters of Mercy, Sisters of Charity, Sisters of the Incarnate Word. I sampled as a further category congrega-tions with a strong and clear individual charism that are not notably indebted either to one of the major religious families of men or to other groups of sisters. 3. My third criterion was to cover a wide range of cultures, since these are important in the expression of values and princi-ples. The English-speaking world is notoriously extensive, and also some institutes present their texts in English either because this is an acceptable second language or because their principal growing points are in English-speaking areas outside their coun-try of origin. I ended up with constitutions from Australia, Austria, Belgium, Canada, England, France, Holland, India, Ireland, Malta, New Zealand, the Philippines, Rome, South Africa, and the United States of America. 4. A fourth criterion was to include a few constitutions of men religious by way of comparison. 5. Lastly, I included a random sampling of the remaining texts to a total of sixty constitutions. Fifty-five are by sisters and five by men religious: two clerical institutes and three of brothers. My observations are based on these sixty texts. Initial Impressions As one would expect of approved constitutions, on the subject of leadership, authority, and government, all the texts are canon-ically accurate inasmuch as they all harmonize with the present law of the church and with the values, principles, and basic structures deriving from their own previously approved founding charisms. 180 Review for Religious Yet no two are alike, and when I speak of a certain degree of com-monality I am not referring to common material or even to depen-dence on a common Code, but to a certain convergence of values and thinking across texts worked out independently and expressed with a great deal of diversity. Convergence. The highest degree of convergence is in the impor.tance attached to authority in regard to both government and leadership. In almost every case, whether the actual words are used or not, there is the idea that authority is to be exercised in government by sisters with qualities of leadership. The three elements go together, and it is authority that links the other two. There is a high degree of convergence also on the source of reli-gious authority being ultimately God himself and on the spirit of service which marks its exercise. Jesus Christ, whether as shep-herd, servant, son, or savior, is the model for the kind of exer-cise of authority in leadership that should characterize religious government. This spiritual level is usually clear and well expressed with a direct application to unity and mission. Areas of Diversity. The convergences are not bland, because there is no uniformity in the concrete provisions that express the converging values and principles. Each institute has not only its own founding gift, but also its own living tradition and experience, its own "now," and its own vision of the future. So, for example, even institutes which have the Rule of St. Augustine or that of the Franciscan Third Order Regular or the Constitutions of St. Ignatius as part of their proper law will have their own ways of incorporating these in concrete enactments. A good deal can be inferred, therefore, from the way in which the principles of government are actually spelled out. There are nuances about authority, leadership, and government to be found in the job descriptions given for moderators at the different lev-els, in the qualities and priorities looked for in those who will be responsible for government, in provisions for a particular style of operation, or in the way that responsibility and accountability are handled. Relationships and structures are the other areas with rich implications. The way in which a text expresses the com-bined responsibility of the membership and the various sisters in authority for the well-being of the institute is also instructive. So are the relations and interaction of moderators and councils and of both with chapters. Something can be learned from the way that the material on March-April 1993 181 Linscott ¯ Leadership, Authority, and Religious Government authority and government is organized and presented. Some con-stitutions begin with people, some with types of norm; some begin with the whole entity of the institute as the body expressing the corporate charism and recognized as such by the church, some with the rights and responsibilities of the individual sister. Most start at the general level, since this avoids having to repeat and anticipate, but some begin with the local level. Perhaps the most revealing thing is terminology. If we raised our eyebrows in 1983 over the Code's use of"moderator," it was only because we had not yet realized our own creativity in find-ing names for those who were once uniformly referred to as supe-riors and for the sisters who work immediately with them. All the constitutions I studied were approved between September 1982 and May 1991. In them I met superiors, abbesses, prioresses, directors, facilitators, coordinators, sisters-in-charge, guardians, custodians, mothers, moderators, ministers, and presidents. These are helped and advised by councils, cabinets, government groups, boards, teams, and assistants and are accountable to assemblies, senates, and chapters. When the substance of all these is actually spelled out in terms of purpose, function, authority, and account-ability, there may not be any great difference at present between one reality and another. I have a strong sense, however, of dif-ference in climate and general approach between sisters who are superiors with a council responsible to a general chapter and sis-ters who are presidents with a cabinet responsible to a senate. What is denoted is similar, but the connotations are different, and it remains to be seen where that will take us. Leadership, Authority, and Religious Government in the Texts First of all, let me say that the three concepts, though they are present in each of the sixty texts, are not always specifically named. Neither do they receive equal emphasis. Authority gets by far the most attention, even in the two constitutions where the writers did not use the word itself. Government also gets pretty full treat-ment, especially in the abstract, and texts which reflect some reluctance to say that a moderator governs will spell out for her a number of responsibilities which are clearly those of govern-ment. Leadership is stressed much less. The word rarely occurs except in phrases such as "the general moderator is the leader of the congregation" or "the sister chosen as the general moderator 182 Review for Religious should have qualities of leadership." Leadership in its ordinary sense, however, is very often implied, and the spiritual role of leadership is clear. Religious Government and Authority. Statements about gov-ernment alone are usually clear and often pithy. They tend to ~pecify purpose: "Government in the eongregation provides structures and offices that facilitate our common life and ministry by ordering relat!onsh'ips and designating the functions of the members" (U.S.A.). "Governance is the means through which the resources of the congregation are unified, directed, and integrated" (U.S.A.). More subjec-tively descriptive but still purposeful is a' statement such as this: "Government is an experience in relationships, in deci-sion making, and in communication. Through itwe strive together to seek and do God's will" (Rome). From England comes the observation, that government is par.t of any organized society and that, in the case of rel!gious, it maintains the inspiration, nature, and purpose of an institute as living reali-ties. Most of the provision for government follows statements on authority which place its source in God o1: in Jesus Christ and which distinguish it from other kinds of personal power: :'Christ's authority given him by the Father was clearly .distinct in its exer-cise from the authority of the rulers of this world who lord it over their subjects," says an Irish text. "Christ expressed his authority in loving service: to heal, to forgive, to give life, to send in mis-sion." Some texts underline the ecclesial dimension: "Authority is given by God to the church, and it is from the church that the congregation receives its recognition as a religious institute and therefore a share in the authority of Christ" (England). "Authority in our institute is of an ecclesial nature and should reflect the self-g!ving of our divine master" (Philippines). "God is the source of all authority, but in working out his plan he asks for our coop-eration" (England). Some constitutions refer authority directly I have a strong sense, however, of difference in climate and general approach between sisters who are superiors with a council responsible to a general chapter and sisters who are presidents with a cabinet responsible to a senate. March-April 1993 183 Linscott ¯ Leadership, Authority, and Religious Government The model of religious authority is, without exception, Jesus Christ. to superiors and chapters, but at least one broadens it to this: "From Jesus, proclaimed in the gospel, the authority of the . . . congregation, mediated and affirmed through the church, resides in the communion of its members according to their respective roles" (U.S.A.). The model of religious authority is, without exception, Jesus Christ, "the master who made himself servant in order that those he served might share his life and mission and that they in their turn might minister to others" (England). "Evangelical author-ity," says a congregation based in Rome, "is service which reflects the humility and self-giving of Jesus." Another one says: "Authority is founded on Christ, who received it from the Father and who came as one who serves. The example and teaching of Christ inspire sisters in positions of authority and all of us to serve as he did" (Rome). From Austria comes this statement: "In a religious con-gregation, the only model of authority is Jesus." The same arti-cle goes on to say, "Being a Marian congregation, all authority should reflect the gentleness and motherliness of our blessed Mother." This unanimously affirmed source and model determines to a great extent what the constitutions have to say about the nature of religious authority, what it requires, what it extends to, and how it is exercised. The question "What is it?" is variously answered: "It is a service meant to help the sisters discern and accomplish God's will" (U.S.A.). "It is a ministry of service which has as its object the fostering of unity in our diversity and the promotion of our mission in the life and work of the church" (England). "It helps us incarnate the vision of our founder in our time and to go forward together in the same spirit towards the same end" (Canada). Unity, mission, identity, and the discerning of God's will recur constantly as themes of response to the ques-tion "What is religious authority?" or "What is it all about?" It is interesting that the attempts to define authority as principle, which tied some of the renewal chapters in knots in the late 1960s, have been abandoned in the approved constitutions. There is no dictionary definition but rather a description, or an inference from needs and consequences, which is concrete rather' than the- 184 Reviev~ for Religions oretical. It expresses a basic principle, however, and links it with government, charisms, obedience, and leadership. This principle is nearly always taken from the standpoint of faith. What is required for the exercise of religious authority is expressed in terms of values, attitudes, qualities, and relation-ships. Sisters exercising authority do so for the sake of unity, wit-ness, effective corporate service, the growth of their sisters towards the fullness of Christ, and the building of the kingdom of God (Belgium, France, South Africa, U.S.A.). They are asked to be unifiers, animators, discerners, listeners (England, Holland, Ireland). The qualities looked for in a good superior at whatever level are instructive. In these texts there is much less of the utopi-anism that characterized the early 1970s and scared away many a good potential superior by requiring a combination of qualities which an archangel would have had a hard time meeting. The requirements now are geared to a more realistic perception. "A sis-ter who exemplifies the spirit and life of our congregation" (India) is a requirement which recurs fairly often and which applies to religious Pope Paul VI's observation that the people of our time respond better to example than to theory. "A woman of prayer and faith, close to God in her personal life" is also often mentioned. Then come the personality traits: compassion, courage, vision, love for the institute and for the sis-ters, practical intelligence; then the qualities that relate specifically to the exercise of authority: perceptiveness, good judgment, patience, balance, firmness, experience of life, and the capacity to listen, to collaborate, and to decide. It is noticeable that recently approved constitutions take it for granted that the qualities of those exercising authority need to be complemented and com-pleted by those of their immediate collaborators and by the sisters at large. Hence the importance of relationships, not only in the sense of personal relations--as, for example, between a superior and her councilors or with her sisters--but also in the deeper sense of the necessary interrelation of authority and obedience for the common project, or in "the sense that all the sisters in their various ways are responsible for the good of the institute. "There can be no community among us," says one text, "unless our com-mon life and mission are governed by deliberations and decisions that draw us all towards a u.nity of thought, sentiment, and action. To those deliberations and decisions we are all obligated as reli-gious pledged to obedience--both to contribute and to respond" March-April 1993 185 Linscott ¯ Leader'sbip; Authority, and Religious Government (U.S.A.). A text from England sees sisters serving in authority as "challenging each sister to fidelity in our shared spirit and charism so that our way of prayiiag, living, and working together may be fruitful for burselves and for others." This kind of statement car-ries religious authority beyond the juridical limits of the consti-tfitions and church law according to which it is exercised and into the realm of th~ basic values of religious life for which it is given. Principies foi" the exercise of religious ~iuthority receive more attention in recently approved ,constitutions than in preceding texts, where they tended to be taken for granted. As early as 1966, Ecdesiae Sanctae provided for "an ample and free consultatiofi of all [the religious in an institute]" in the preparation of the special general chapter of renewal (ES §4), and this basic concept of par- ~igipation echoes in practically every text. One document puts it like this: "Since the Holy Spirit works in all, we encourage the active pai:dcipation of each in the decision-making process within the community and the congregation. Our acceptance of respon-sibility for implementing the decisions made is a source of unity among us" (U.S.A.). Participation is seeh as a source of mutual support (India) and is meant to further the aims and goals of the congregation (U.S.A.). More specific than participation as a gen-eral principle is participative government which, according to one text, "includes these elements fundamental to government struc-tures: sl~ared responsibility, subsidiarity, accountability" (U.S.A.). These last three principles, together with the need for commu-nication, are mentioned in practically all tiae constitutions stud-ied and directly reflect the influence of Vatican II. The American text just quoted says that shared responsibility, subsidiarity, and ac6ountability are fundamental to government structures. In one' way, such structures exist to make religiofis authority effective: They channel authority and locate it, limit it, and focus it. They are, therefore, very specific to each institute, reflecting as they do its charism and traditibns, it~ circumstances and its cultures. The connection.wii:h charism is usually evident. Congregations whose founding gift requires a stable way of life in the sense of a fair amount of residential stability and a good deal of authority at the local level will have structures that allow for decentralization and immediate participation. Congregations whose founding gift requires apostolic mobility will have more centralized general structures if things are to work well, and par-ticipation in matters beyond the local level will often be limited i 86 Review for Religious to elected representatives. For example, three congregations in the Benedictine tradition from three different continents all have structures which move solidly from the individual sister to cor-porate unity. Two institutes strongly in the Ignatian tradition begin with the need for someone "who holds the charge of the entire body of the society and whose duty is the good government, preser-vation, and development of the whole body" (Ireland). Here the starting point is the superior general. Most institutes lie on an arc somewhere between these two. The fact is that structures, all of which are approved as adequate in their provisions for government, can be as varied as the charisms they reflect. Circumstances diversify them still further, for there are bound to be dif-ferences in structures of government between an institute many of whose sis-ters are centered in one house Structures, all of which are approved as adequate in their provisions for government, can be as varied as the charisms they reflect. (England), an institute whose sisters are in small houses near to each other (Belgium), and an institute whose members are widely scattered across vast areas in the prairies of the United States or the outback of Australia. Cultures, too, certainly affect structures and in particular the way in which structures are regarded. Institutes of the same reli-gious family and with a good deal of common tradition keep adapting their structures differently according as they are in Australia, Canada, Rome, or the United States. The European texts lay stress on the persons who exercise authority, their qual-ities, responsibilities, soundness of judgment, relation to others, accountability. There is an underlying element of trust and need to support, and an implication that, given the right persons, things cannot go too far wrong even if the structures themselves are less than perfect. This, however, is not an excuse for poor structures. The structural provisions are generally good. The Indian texts have greater structural detail, but still a considerable stress on the person. Some of the American texts, however, are very strong on structure, almost as if good structure of government could protect an institute from any kind of abuse of power. This is by no means a universal feature of texts from. the United States, but March-April 1993 187 Linscott ¯ Leadership, Authority, and Religious Government where it occurs the structures are given in great detail, there is generally a system of checks and balances, a high proportion of the whole text is devoted to government, and there is not very much about the kind of sister looked for to exercise authority. In an extreme case, there is no more than the bare juridical require-ments. Again, between the two extremes, there is a wide range across the sixty texts. Each of them has been approved in its own right. The only point I make here is that, beyond the influence of charism and of apostolic circumstances, governmental structures for the exercise of religious authority are affected to some extent by culture. This has its own repercussion, of course, in interna-tional congregations. Religious Authority and Leadership. That the duty of leading is an aspect of government and that religious authority is given for this purpose is clear in most of the constitutions. "Those who hold authority in the institute have the right and responsibility to lead it in fidelity to its spirit and mission," says a text from Australia. There are also many references to general and local superiors being leaders of the whole institute or of the local com-munity respectively. What this leadership consists in emerges from the qualities looked for in a superior: "A woman of faith, discretion, and courage, she cultivates a spirit of availability and openness. A woman of compassion and understanding, she inspires, unifies, directs. A woman of fidelity, she fosters a response to the church and the world in accord with our charism. She is responsible for creating an atmosphere conducive to the spiri-tual, intellectual, and affective growth of each member, and she should show more concern for the Holy Spirit and for persons than for structures as such and for the letter of the law" (U.S.A.). This pastoral approach reappears in very many texts. Superiors lead by what they are and what they do: "She is steward of our way of life., of the heritage and mission of the congregation and of the gifts of each sister . She leads by her example, teaching, and decisions . . . and she exercises her authority with pastoral con-cern" (Australia). If the superior is expected to have leadership qualities, they are of a Christlike kind and facilitate her free and simple exercise of authority. One constitutional text notes that, when this is the case, the leadership qualities in the sisters are also fostered. "The right exercise of authority encourages each sister to become that per-son whom the Father called in Christ. The superior is confident 188 Review for Religious that the Spirit who creates diversity is able by his loving influ-ence to preserve union of mind and heart among the sisters. In this encouraging atmosphere, the graces of our baptism and religious vocation give rise to a number of leadership qualities among the sisters, all contributing to the vitality of community and the ful-fillment of our mission in the church" (U.S.A.). The role of authority in its pas-toral leading then becomes the encourage-ment and harmonizing of the leadership gifts in the community. This very fact points out the distinc-tion between the authority to lead that is vested in one person with assistance from others and the leadership gifts that can be in any community member. The two are not the same and are usually distinguished when they appear in constitutions. For example, we have from Australia: "The superior exercises her authority according to the spirit and laws of our congregation. In giving leadership, she encourages the participation of all the members," and from the United States: "The community min-ister is the canonical leader and unifier of the congregation. She has authority and responsibility for spiritual and apostolic lead-ership." If the kind of leadership expected of sisters in authority is implied in the qualities desired for eligibility, the direction of that leadership is usually implicit in their functions. At the general level, a superior "unifies in charity, urges fidelity to the gospel and to the constitutions; calls individuals and groups to core-sponsibility and account; keeps abreast of movements in the church and in society; enunciates goals and priorities as a com-munity in mission; focuses the corporate nature of our life and mission; and serves in various representative and governmental capacities" (U.S.A.). At the local level she serves the action of the Holy Spirit who is forming the community from within into a single body for the building of the kingdom (Canada). In texts from Malta, India, the Philippines, and New Zealand, too, this is spelled out in terms of animation, administration, and forma-tion. The role of authority in its pastoral leading then becomes the encouragement and harmonizing of the leadership gifts in the community. March-April 1993 189 Linscott ¯ Leadership, Authority, and Relig4ous Government The ideal would seem to be that a sister who exercises reli-gious authority is a leader and that her leadership qualities are evident in her governing as she encourages and draws on the gifts of her sisters, especially those who more immediately share responsibility with her, for the well-being of the community. Leadership and Government. For the sake of completeness, there should be a word about what the constitutions give us on leadership and government. It is a short word, because they say very little on the point directly. For the constitutions, leadership is a quality desirable in sisters exercising authority, and govern-ment is the concrete process by which authority is exercised to unify and animate the institute so as to attain its goal. The texts take both leadership and government in relation to authority, not in relation to each other. We are obliged, so to speak, to go via authority if we want to link the other two. This is probably an inevitable state of affairs, for constitutions are spiritual juridical documents which give principles and norms for what can be leg-islated. Both authority and government are patient of legislation; leadership is not. So it is normal that, while several texts hope for leadership as a quality in those vested with authority to gov-ern, nobody assumes that it is a quality conferred by the fact of having that authority. This in itself is a realistic step forward. Conclusion How can we summarize all this? The new elements that mark the current phase of religious government in contrast to those which preceded it seem to be: ¯ a renewed sense of the spiritual dimension and of the kind of responsibility which it involves; ¯ a sharp awareness of the rediscovered founding charism; the concept of authority as service reflecting the Christ who came not to be served but to serve; ¯ the idea of complementing necessary gifts; openness to a wide participation of the sisters in general according to their roles and experience, continuing the thrust of the Second Vatican Council on the dignity of each person and expressing the belief that the Holy Spirit can work through each one for the good of the whole; ¯ the adoption of responsibility, subsidiarity, and account-ability as basic principles; ¯ the recognition by many that religious government is inseparably linked with the founding charism and with 190 Review for Religious the vow of obedience and so has a dimension of faith and of relation to the church that distinguishes it ultimately from administration, organization, management, or indeed any other form of government. At the same time, pro-cesses of consensus and discernment, variously under-stood, have been widely adopted. The evolution of the understanding and praxis of leadership, authority, and government in religious life is continuous. It is not in itself an experiment which can be tried out for a certain num-ber of years and then be confirmed, modified, or dropped, although individual structures expressing it can be handled in this way. In itself the evolutitn is essential and consistent. It is, there-fore, from the viewpoint of the present moment in an evolving continuum that we can pick up the two questions we raised some pages back. Has the basic function of leadership, authority, and government in religious life changed? If it has, why? Ana to what? We have seen that the goals and values for which leadership, authority, and gov-ernment exist in religious iife go far back in history, emerging from the following of Christ in radic~il gospel living as it was first understood bythe desert fathers and mothers and the early mqnks. From at least the time of St. Benedict, these goals and values have included the promotion of individual and community growth towards the full maturity of Christ; th~ fostering of unity, peace, and mission at the service of the church; the encouragement of fidelity; the ensuring of forrhation; the provision of the necessi-ties for consecrated life, all in accord with the particular found-ing charism of the institute. It is evident from the survey of the sixty recently approved constitutions that these basic goals and values remain constant. The stated purpose and function of gov-ernment is always that the institute a~hieve the goal for which it exists in the church: a specific pu.blic witness to Christ and his gospel in unity, prayer, and growth in love and in the service of mission. As regards these purposes, there is little change. What has changed, from the evidence of quite a few texts, is something which is not directly within the competence of con-stitutions: the kind and extent of responsibility actually involved in undertaking the service of government today. Whereas, even into the 19th century, religious government was (and in principle still is) primarily a spiritual and ecclesial matter, for many insti-tutes of sisters today there are accretions which create a further and different kind of responsibility. A superior general who has March-April 1993 191 Linscott ¯ Leadership, Authority, and Religious Government been elected to see to the growth and mission of her sisters in service to the sick with Christ the healer may find herself by that very fact fostering that growth as president of a multimillion-dol-lar hospital corporation. The superior of an institute with an apos-tolate of education may well be ex officio a member of the boards of various colleges and universities. She will almost inevitably find herself ultimately responsible for the administration of homes for the aged sisters and for dealing with financial reports. The spread of an institute and the desire for hands-on government may call for wide travel, a knowledge of languages, and the capac-ity for inculturation. Both public relations and communication, with all their current technicalities, will claim attention. Clearly, responsibilities have to be delegated. However, under this kind of pressure, things may get treated from the point of view of the accretions instead of the essential. This substitutes administra-tion for religious government. It tends to depersonalize, to use authority for efficiency only, without the spiritual quality which should animate the government of religious. The accretions, which are many and demanding and which show no sign of dimin-ishing of their own accord, are the proper field for delegation and group work. To elect superiors and councilors or tdam mem-bers in view of the accretions instead of the capacity to serve the basic goals and values of the institute would be to build in a dis-tortion. Somehow, the different responsibilities have to be dis-tinguished and provided for in their own right. Do our structures com'espond to their purpose and function? This is a question that each institute has to answer for itself, because each one has its unique charism that determines the purpose, function, and structures of its government. Certain circumstances, however, have influenced structures and government in many institutes of sisters dedicated to works of the apostolate; there are reflections of them in the constitutions studied. It may be worth noting them, for they could still clog the wheels in some institutes. Among such circumstances would be: ¯ an institute's existence before canonical recognition when there was not a corpus of canons a.dapted to the needs of sisters and when, in consequence, individual traditions of government could range from the very firm to the very loose according to personalities and to the local circum-stahces-- such precanonical traditions may well have an influence still; ¯ the high degree of uniformity in provisions after 1917; 192 Review for Religion, s ¯ the tendency to authoritarianism and the stress on author-ity of status between the Code of 1917 and the renewal initiated hy Vatican II; ¯ the rapid change in structures and praxis that followed the special general chapters at the end of the 1960s; ¯ the impact of social, political, and psychological change brought about by major movements over the past thirty years: peace and justice, solidarity with the poor, femi-nism, rapid communication, even the recent collapse of communism; ¯ internal tensions regarding identity vis-a-vis the laity, lifestyle, mission, place in the church, raison d'etre; ¯ some confusion of the functions of consultation, consen-sus, and discernment with the functions proper to gov-ernment. SCRIS had a point in the early 1970s when it held that lead-ership and religious authority are not the same thing and that their respective relations to government are different. Time has brought out, however, that religious government does not impose a choice between the two. On the contrary, both are needed, although in different ways. Good religious government reflects not only the word of the gospel, but the Word himself, who leads as pastor and as servant precisely because he so evidently has authority. Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is not extended to copying for commercial distribution, advertising, or institutional promotion of for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will be considered only on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. March-April 1993 193 JANICE McLAUGHLIN The Meaning of Evangelization Today evangelizing The Shona people of Africa have many names for God. My favorite is "Chipindikure"--The One Who Turns Things Upside Down. Chipindikure comes from the root word kupinduka, which means transformation or revolu-tion. This is what God is doing in the life of each of us and in our world. And this, I think, is what evangelization is all about; letting God's message--which is the most revolu-tionary message the world has ever known--letting that message transform us, turn us upside down, so that we in turn may transform society. Evangelization, then, is about change and about choice. I can say no to change. I can choose to stay in my little rut and refuse to be shaken up and turned upside down. But God does not give up that easily. Like St. Paul, God knocks us off our horse over and over again until we get the message. We have all had these moments of insight in our lives, these turning points, which open us to n~w possibilities. Let us look at some examples of what I mean from my experience--after which I hope you will look at examples from your own experience. After I entered Maryknoll in 1961, I became involved in the civil-rights movement and the antiwar movement. Janice McLaughlin MM spent 22 years in Africa. She recently completed her doctoral dissertation on "The Catholic Church and Zimbabwe's War of Liberation 1972-1980" at the University of Zimbabwe. She may be addressed at Community Office; Maryknoll Sisters; Maryknoll, New York 10545. 194 Review 3~br Religious I also worked with the "war on poverty" program in the small town of Ossining, New York, near Maryknoll. But I think that my eyes were really opened for the first time when I went to East Africa in 1969. Learning another language and living in another culture is perhaps a shortcut to transformation. It forced me to give up my old way of looking at things--my Pittsburgh, St. Lawrence O'Toole Parish, McLaughlin, United States way of looking at life, at God, at the world. It is a shock to learn that you do not have all the answers and that you are not even asking the right questions. The wonderful people of Kenya, and later the people of Zimbabwe and Mozambique, taught me that people are more important than things; that being is more important than doing; that God and relationships are at the heart of everything. In 1977 I went from Kenya to Zimbabwe, which was Southern Rhodesia at that time, and worked as the press secre-tary for the Justice and Peace Commission. I was detained and then deported for telling the truth about the war that was taking place there. Racial segregation and discrimination were govern-ment policy, as they had once been here in the United States. I saw that the war of liberation was an Exodus experience for the African people as they journeyed from slavery to freedom. I came to realize that this iourney goes on in each of our lives as we seek to free ourselves from whatever enslaves us. For some peo-ple it is drugs or alcohol or a history of physical or sexual abuse. For us religious it is often our fears, our inflexibility, and our selfishness. Later I worked with refugees from the war and saw that we are all refugees on a journey through life to our true home. The refugees showed me that, the less we carry on the journey, the easier it will be to reach our destination. In fact, life is a process of stripping us of all we cherish until God is all and everything for us. This is the mystery of death and resurrection which is at the heart of our faith--dying to self so that we may live in Christ. Thus refugees and displaced persons, political prisoners and freedom fighters, and the courageous men, women, and children of Africa who never give up hoping in the midst of so much destruction and death have evangelized me and have shown me that evangelization is incarnational and prophetic and is rooted in prayer. March-April 1993 195 McLaugblin. Evangelization Evangelization Is Incarnational Valentine, one of my students at a school for freedom fight-ers in Maputo, Mozambique, helped me see how incarnation works today. He told me how he had joined the liberation strug-gle after his graduation. "I thought I was better than the others because I had finished high school," he confessed. "I thought that I would be made ~ commander. But I was treated like everyone else." He said that his clothes became torn, that he had no soap for bathing, and little food. He began to think that he had made a mistake and that life was better under colonialism. "Then in my downtrodden position," he said, "I learned the beauty of the revolution. I learned that my suffering was to help others. My life now is to serve the people." Valentine was turned upside down, from being a conceited, selfish youth to becoming a person for others. "From my down-trodden position, I learned. ," he said. This is how God teaches all of us. When we are down and out; when we have lost what is precious to us; when we do not have all the answers; when we feel useless, lost, and alone: God reaches out and touches our pain, our suffering, our loss, turning our little daily deaths into new life. "She who loses her life will find it," God has promised. The happiest moments of my life were the times when I had the least, when, like Valentine, I was downtrodden and suffering with and for others. The three weeks I spent in solitary confine-ment in a Rhodesian prison, for instance, I had few material pos-sessions: a prison uniform, a lumpy bed, and lousy food. But this hardly mattered because the other prisoners reached out to me and welcomed me in their midst. They sang freedom songs at night and smuggled notes to me during the day. They even sent me food when they learned that I liked their African diet. I felt part of something bigger than myself. I was suffering for a cause, and the pain and fear no longer mattered because I was not alone. I was with the oppressed people, and God was there with us in our prison cells. I had this same experience of solidarity and closeness to God in the refugee camps deep in the forests of Mozambique. There I was the one who was weak and powerless. I did not know how to survive in the forest, so the children became my caretakers and guides. They would keep me company to cheer me up; they would teach me their language and share with me any special treats like sugarcane or maputi (a kind of popcorn). They were ministering 196 Review for Religious to me. I did not have to produce or perform, but merely to be there with them in their exile from home. This incarnational approach from within is very different from the balcony approach, where we stand outside and above, pointing fingers at what is wrong and telling others to change. Too often church people, including us religious, stand on our bal-conies criticizing and throwing stones at the world instead of immersing ourselves in the pain and suffering of the poor and oppressed, as Christ did. This immersion enables us to see the world from a new perspective. It is what turns us upside down. Evangelization Is Prophetic When we have been changed, then we are ready to change the world together with the victims. I remember an African sis-ter in Zimbabwe, Sister Marie Theresa Paulino, who explained to me how she became involved in assisting the freedom fighters during the war of liberation. "I thought of Jesus carrying his cross," she told me. "Everyone stood on the sidelines and watched. Only one woman had courage and came forward to wipe his face with her veil. I decided that I could not stand on the sidelines and watch my people suffering, but like Veronica I must have courage and do something to help." She was a nurse. She would disguise herself as a peasant woman, tie her medical instruments around her waist, and walk long distances to mountain caves where she would treat freedom fighters who had been wounded. This was a very risky thing to do. She could have been arrested and even killed if caught by the government authorities. Who knows what the church authorities would have done if they had known of this single sister's act of courage to wipe the face of her suffering people? Each of us is called to have this kind of courage, to wipe the faces of suffering people: the homeless in our streets, the drug addicts, the AIDS patients, the gangs in our inner cities, the sin-gle mothers, the abused and abandoned children, the new immi-grants. I have discovered in the months that I have been back in the United States that there are endless problems here needing to be solved. In fact, it seems tp me that the people of the United States are much more needy than the people I have known in Africa; people in this country of excess and abundance are in dan-ger of losing their souls. Marcb-Atrril 1993 197 McLaugblin ¯ Evangelization Prophetic action is needed to turn the values of this country upside down. We need more than a new president or a new congress or a balanced budget, though these might help. We need more than family values, though these too might help. If we want to save this country, save this planet, and save ourselves, we must return to the radical message of Christ in the gospels. What would the world look like if we truly walked in the footsteps of Christ? Do you think we would turn back Haitians fleeing the poverty and violence in their country? Would we exonerate the police-men who beat up Rodney King? Would we doubt Anita Hill? Would we bomb Iraq or any other so-called enemy? Would defense be our largest industry? Would we fail to sign environ-mental treaties at the Earth Summit? Would we allow thousands of Africans to die of starvation? Would we walk by the homeless in our streets? Would we allow violence and sex to dominate our television and movie screens? Would we let money rule our lives and rob our souls? Someone must stand up and say that t.he emperor has no clothes. Emperors, whether in the church or in society, do not like being reminded of their nakedness, and so we can expect to be condemned and criticized. Do we expect that we his servants should not suffer as Christ, our master, has suffered all these things for our sakes? Let me tell you of a friend of mine in Zimbabwe, Father Michael Lapsley. He is an Anglican priest from New Zealand who has spend all of his adult life condemning the sin of apartheid in South Africa. He was deported from South Africa and from Lesotho. Then two years ago in Harare he opened a package that had come to him from South Africa. It was a letter bomb. It blew off both his hands and destroyed one of his eyes. When I went to see him in the hospital a few days after the bombing, he had two bandaged stumps where his hands had been and a gaping hole that had held his eye. If it had been me, I would rather have been dead. But Michael was cheerful, and he said, "The Boers took my hands and my eye, but they left me my most powerful weapon, my tongue. And with my tongue I will continue to denounce apartheid until the day I die." This is what it means to evangelize the world, to live as Christ did and in so doing to change the world. 198 Reviev; for Religious Evangelization Is Rooted in Prayer We cannot hope to lead such radical lives without the sup-port of prayer. Prayer will give us the courage to take risks, the wisdom to expose the lies of our society, and the strength to join the victims. My understanding of prayer, too, been changed by my expe-rience in Africa. The African leader and philosopher Leopold Senghor has said, "Faith here [in Africa] is as essential to the soul as is bi'ead, rice, or honey to the body. Africans' gift to humankind is their ability to.perceive the supernatural as something really natural--so to speak." Creation spirituality, then, is nothing new to the people of Africa. It is their cul-ture and their way of life. They do not dis-tinguish between the sacred and the secukir. God is perceived as being tru.ly present everywhere and in all things. So they respect other human beings as the temples of God, and they respect the earth and all its creatures as God's dwelling place. African spirituality is all-embracing; there is nothing outside its scope. During Zimbabwe's war of lib-eration, for instance, the traditional religious leaders set down rules of conduct for the freedom fighters. VChile these spiritual men and women who are prophets, healers, bringers of rain, and mediums between the living and the dead were not able to prevent the war, they were able to humanize it by forbidding the needless shedding of blood and the destruction of wildlife and vegetation. African religion thus played an important role in introducing spir-itual norms and values into the freedom struggle. A recent article about prayer from South Africa's Institute for Contextual Theology points out the surprising fact that Jesus had not been teaching his disciples how to pray. They had to ask him. The article explains that Jesus wanted his followers to experience prayer as a need rather than a duty, and notes that there is no commandment in the Bible which says, "Thou shalt pray." It goes on to explain that prayer is like eating and sleeping. Unless there is something wrong with us, we will all eventually feel the need for food and for sleep. The same is true of prayer. How we pray will vary with each person and with our situation. Prayer will give us the courage to take risks, the wisdom to expose the lies of our society, and the strength to join the victims. March-April 1993 199 McLaughlin ¯ Evangelization Africa has taught me to be still and listen to God speaking through all creation and through the people and events I encounter each day. It has taught me to take time for silent pr.ayer, as well as to join in religious celebrations of the people. I have learned to trust the action of God in my life and in other people, rather than trying to do everything myself. Conclusion Life, then, is a journey towards God and with God. Evangelization involves becoming aware of this presence of God in our lives and then sharing this knowledge with others. I believe that this awareness grows when we immerse ourselves in the real-ity of the poor, whether in Zimbabwe, New York, or New South Wales. Their suffering and their faith shatter our complacency, forcing us to question all our preconceptions and prejudices, turn-ing us upside down. We can either become cynical, hopeless, and bitter, or we can face our own powerlessness and grow in faith, hope, and trust in God. Steve Biko, the South African leader who was tortured and died in prison, once said that comfort and security are incom-patible with leadership. I would add that they are incompatible with religious life. We will rarely be turned upside down in the comfort and security of our middle-class convents, spending all our time looking inward at our own spiritual growth. When we come down from our balconies and go out to oth-ers, especially the outcasts and the most needy, we will come alive. It is prophetic just to take the poor seriously in this society where wealth, possessions, and power mean so much. I should add that as women we are also among the poor and the oppressed because we have so little power in our society and in our church. Making the voices of the poor heard in our churches, homes, and offices and in the corridors of power throughout this land can make a difference. I firmly believe that we religious women can turn this society upside down. Let us do it! 200 Review for Religious Questions for reflection and sharing: i. Reflect on some of the turning points in your own life. How were you turned upside down? 2. What do you think needs to be turned upside down in your present situation? 3. What do you think needs to be turned upside down in this society? 4. What action will you take to make at least one of these changes? A Daughter's Monologue with Her Mother You are my child now. Now, you are my child. You may raise your brows at my leaving, or close your eyes on approach, wanting more nearly to turn toward the wall, to shut out the world long since set aside; one you no longer speak to. I will make room for your mood; your darkness, delight. You are my child now; who shall I name you ? You are my child now. There's no wanting in you but ¯ merits my care. You can wear soft hair in brhiding or turned in a bun. Neither will burnish my love nor undo it. Rest quietly, then, macushla. You can't disappoint me. Just who you are is my best expectation. You are my child now; I am the mother. Ann Maureen Gallagher IHM March-April 1993 201 MARIO I. AGUILAR Broken African Pots and a Mission Spirituality MwisSionary work in Africa has for years been associated ith lonely and courageous missionaries, single indi-viduals or very small communities of religious and lay people who have preached the gospel on the African continent in very diffi-cult circumstances. While the former facts are true in some way, in this article I want to look at the particular experience of a group of religious women and men working in Garba Tulla, Kenya, and their own sense of achievement and failure. Although this case is a very localized one, it opens the way to another understanding of missionary spirituality and, I would say, missionary work. I kvill focus, not on missionary strategies--that would constitute mate-rial for missiological studies--but on African pottery. I believe it can help to illustrate a spirituality for mission. In this article I assert that spiritual fulfillment, failure, and possible despair in missionary work are directly related to our own expectations coming from our own sense of achievement and self-understanding. The particular goals and expectations that missionaries arrive with permeate their sense of fulfillment and failurein their missionary work. What one person considers to be success and fulfillment can seem to be failure and reason for despair to somebody else. For this reason I suggest that the African way of making pottery could help us discover God's pres- Mario I. Aguilar SVD has taught Scripture and religious studies in Kenya and anthropology at the University of Vienna. His present address is: School of Oriental and African Studies; Department of Anthropology; Thornhaugh St. Russell Square; London WC1H 0XG; England. 202 Revie~ for Religious ence in different cultures--something I would consider the final goal in missionary work and in our own search for a spirituality of mission. On the other hand, there is this about African pottery: it involves making, breaking, and remaking pots. It is a constant process, one which never ends. Garba Tulla Parish: A Case Study The parish of the Good Shepherd (Parokia Tissitu Dansa) of Garba Tulla is located in the Isiolo deanery of the diocese of Meru, Eastern Kenya. The parish as such was created in 1987, after years of being an outstation of the Isiolo parish and then a so-called Catholic mission. By most people it is still considered the Garba Tulla Catholic Mission. Located in a semidesert area and in the middle of Garba Tulla town, it has a very short history as a so-called missionary presence among th~ Boorana people of the area. From the late 1970s, priests from the Isiolo parish (120 kilo-meters away) had gone to Garba Tulla, mainly on weekends, in order to celebrate the Eucharist with the Catholics who worked in the area. It cannot be denied that their missionary presence was oriented towards the conversion of the Muslim Boorana towards Christianity and specifically towards the Catholic Church.' In 1985 one priest and two brothers established their resi-dence for the first time at the Catholic Mission in Garba Tulla, but my case study begins in 1986, when a group of religious sisters joined the men religious who had been working in the area. At that time the missionary personnel working in Garba Tulla started considering themselves a team, a mission team of religious rather than a number of individuals working in the area. In a deanery where most of the priests come from diocesan backgrounds, this missionary team of religious constituted a novelty. Regarding a missionary strategy, the team went through stages of understanding their presence and work in the area. During the first stage, 1986-1987, the team moved towards being a Christian presence among the people, i3ut with the spiritual goal of fulfill-ment through the conversion of Muslims to the gospel. Their sense of spiritual fulfillment in mission came from the fact of their presence there and from the hopeful possibility that some Muslims would eventually believe in the gospel. New enterprises and new expectations, especially for a team Marcb-~lt~il 1993 203 Aguilar ¯ Broken African Pots Each one of the religious on the team felt that his or her spiritual fulfillment depended on the implementation of a particular model of mission. which had just arrived in the area, provided a time of search for strategies and for a religious spirituality that stressed God's dia-logue with his people, but also stressed the need people have for Christ as the ultimate revelation of God. That was expressed in the creation of many projects of development and in efforts to form a praying community among the team, because of the lack of Christians from the Boorana people of Garba Tulla themselves. The team comprised seven people, who came from seven different countries--a nat-ural richness, one would say. Nevertheless, it created a deep crisis of purpose, because of the different understandings of mission work present among members of the team. By 1987 the leader of the team was changed under difficult circumstances, and a search for a new purpose began once again. There was a new sense of searching for fulfillment after the damage caused by the team's fail-ures of communication and understanding had somehow been repaired. (I believe that those scars will never be healed completely.) The spiritual failure felt by the team was ¯ explained as part of the problem of having a team with individuals of different nationalities and therefore with different models of mission. There were ethnocentric tones to the problem as well; people failed to understand one another's attitudes. Nevertheless, I would say that, by itself, the variety of spiritualities present in the team caused enough internal tensions for a complete breakdown in communication and cooperation. Each one of the religious on the team felt at one point or another that his or her spiritual fulfillment depended on the implementa-tion of a particular model of mission. New attempts to unite the team around a particular model of mission work have in reality also failed, even as new leaders in the team have moved to a second stage, dialogue with the Muslim community, and a third stage, the strengthening of the parish. Those two attempts provided a complete change from the above-mentioned first stage, which was concerned with the actual con-version of the Muslim community towards Christianity. This case could sound like a very familiar story among reli- 204 Review for Religious gious, but to me it posed many questions regarding spiritual ful-fillment, acceptance, failure, and even despair in missionary work. The result of that time of tension was a new beginning, a new search. Years later the team is still searching for answers. Years later different nationalities are still trying to understand what went wrong with those religious at that time, and the scars are still present. As a member of the team which followed the 1987 crisis, I asked myself many times if what actually went wrong was con-nected, not to mission strategies, but rather to a very limited understanding of a spirituality for mission. That mission team ran out of their spiritual resources as religious because they failed to accept that personal fulfillment also requires failures and even despair at certain times of our lives. It is in this sense that I pro-pose that African pottery provides a model that fits our need for spiritual fulfillment and the presence of God in our lives. Success and Failure in an African Pot In 1992 I had the wonderful opportunity to sit surrounded by potters at a village of the Nkhoma mountains in Malawi. The potters were women who belong to the Chewa people. I was acquainted with the art of pottery in my home country, Chile, and also as a religious I had explored the possibility of prayer involving the use of clay and pottery, with very limited results. But now I felt the need to relate a spirituality for mission, based on my experience in Kenya, to the feelings and events of those days spent under the sun in the mountains of Malawi. Among the Chewa people, women produce pottery while men weave mats. A group of women sit in front of a house, surrounded by their children. Usually one woman has learned the techniques of pottery from another village and teaches the others. The clay is prepared by being pounded in a mortar so as to eliminate impu-rities. Pottery making begins when the woman takes a lump of clay and proceeds to pick out of it the hard little pieces that are still present and would cause problems as the clay is molded. The complete process is simple and at the same time elaborate; skill comes only with practice. The more pots you make, the more skilled you become. The clay is pounded with the palms of both hands till it becomes like a flat plate. Then it is slapped at the sides, till the March-April 1993 205 Aguilar ¯ Broken African Pots A broken pot is never thrown away; it becomes an important part of the process of making new pots. actual form of a vessel begins to appear. This is done with round movements of the hands, with the clay in the air. The shoulders give a certain rhythm to this hard process. A lot of strength is required to shape the clay, and what looks like easy work---and fun, too, in a way--is really hard physical work. The potter's hands become hard and dirty. (A skillful potter can make six or seven new pots in a morning's work.) Finally the pot begins to take shape, and what was a piece of clay looks like a new creation. The whole activity of pottery making is witnessed by a group of the village com-munity. Small girls try their luck at pot-tery making. They mold smaller pieces of clay into small pots, their own contribu-tion to village life and a particular com-munity activity. Less-skilled women who are still learning the potter's art are helped regularly by those who have more experi-ence and skill. The whole activity becomes a community activity, in which individu-als are not ashamed of being helped in their process of pottery making. Individual women are encouraged by others with the phrases "Press harder, . Push the clay up," "Make sure both of your hands are molding the clay," and so forth. There is a constant concern for each other. At the proper moment the new, shaped piece of clay is placed on pieces of broken pots that have been spread out on the ground. Those pieces come from pots which broke while being fired or broke while being used for cooking on the family fire. Broken pots, therefore, are still useful for the community in their cre-ative activity. A broken pot is never thrown away; it becomes an important part of the process of making new pots. Broken pots symbolize the continuity of a particular village, where new pots could not be made and would not exist without the contribution made by those broken pots. The past of a people is symbolized by the broken pots, which become part of a present and provide con-tinuity for the future of a people who need to be fed in order to have a future. In the pottery process the potters constandy apply water to the 206 Review for Religious clay while they shape it. The broken pots and the water both con-tribute to the making of new pots. The clay placed on the broken pieces of pottery lies at arms' length in front of the potter as she sits spread-legged on the grtund. When one asks the women why they work this way, they simply say it l~as always been like this. For my part, I am reminded of the act of giving birth. Just in front of the womb, a new creation is b.eing shaped and brought to "life." The process is like giving birth, I could not help thinking how distant, by contrast, from the work of their hands first-world potters appear to be, while in the African villages there is a close union between the potter and her creation, the new pot, nourishment and new life for her own village and community. A piece of wood is used to shape the sides of the pot. The bottom of the pot is shaped with a knife. The inside is cleared of any extra superfluous clay, and the pot is left to dry in the sun-- except during October, when the pots are shaded from the very strong sun of that time of year. After the clay has dried some-what, the pot is smoothed with a stone and decorated and is then ready for firing. Mthough the potter may modify the traditional line-and-dot patterns of decoration, there is a tendency.towards a good deal of continuity. When a woman ig learning pottery, she is taught how the lines and dots are "supposed to be." The process of firing the pots, which takes place some days later, provides a very interesting sight. The pots are lined up and covered.with leaves and branches, Thes~ are then set on fire. The whole community sit~ around the fire and watches as a few women take care of it. There is~ a great sense of expectation as the proc.ess goes on. Some pots will break. Others will come through in good shape and will be ready ftr the final decorations made with some roots~ while the pots are still hot. The "paint" for the decorations (red and black) is provided by local roots which the commufiity also associates with initiation and maturation.' When I was present for the first time, only one pot out of ten broke during the firing process--considered a real success by the community. Usually more pots break. Following the firing of the pots, the whole community cele-brates the event with a meal. After all, the community itself will store and cook their food in those pots and will also generate some income when they sell some of the pots at the local market. March-April 199~ 207 Aguilar ¯ Broken African Pots Not every region produces pots, for the right kind of soil is pres-ent only in the dry areas of the Nldaoma mountains. Wonderfully, the dry soil of arid mountains is the means of feeding these com-munities and thus sustaining life. Creating and Breaking Pots in Mission Work It seems to me that when one talks about potters and pottery, one assumes (as in Jeremiah 18:1-6) that God is the potter and we are those pots of clay that he is molding. What would happen if we consider ourselves the potters and that the clay symbolizes the cultures and peoples we are trying to evangelize, such as the Boorana of Garba Tulla, Kenya? When a mission community moves in and establishes itself, a particular group of people encounters another particular group of people. Each group has its own culture. The so-called "mission-aries" have the idea of forming a Christian community with the other group. Their effort can be compared to the making of pots, for that process, too, is culturally shaped, and people's expectations derive from tradition. Without excluding the possibility of lay people being mis-sionaries and therefore "makers of pots," I will explore these con-cepts with reference to Garba Tulla and its particular makers of pots and the particular missionary community in the parish of the Good Shepherd. The potters involved here came from different cultures. They all had experience of pottery making, and all of them recognized that it could be done only in a particular, culturally constructed way. Pottery making as the creation, subsistence, and growth of a Christian community required a certain experience and a certain risk. All those missionary religious had already experienced mis-. sionary work in other cultures and had brought with them whole bundles of assumed knowledge and expectations. Because of those past experiences, the process of learning pottery making in the Garba Tulla context was already shaped by their backgrounds. There were no teachers involved in this pottery making. Each one just did as he or she knew best. The clay had been prepared by the Italian missionaries who had lived among the Boorana before. When the new potters took over, there was no period of preparation, and the process of mak-ing the pot began immediately. The pot had to be shaped accord- 208 Review for Religious ing to the potters' expectations, and everyone's expectations were different. Although fulfillment, success, and failure can be assumed in the community of African women making pottery, there was no sense of one community of pot-ters among those missionaries. The making of pots was being done individually; different pot-tery techniques were being used. While it is true that a pot is a pot and not something else, the same word when used by different peo-ple evokes different images, shapes, and colors. And so, with-out some discussion and planning and some exchange and dialogue concerning the matter, there is no way to know somebody else's ideas about the making of pots-- or the making of a Christian community. While a pot is being made, much cooperation is needed. People offer each other valuable suggestions about the shape and consistency of a pot. The water needed for making the pots needs to be shared cooperatively. But for both potters and missioners, the process of firing a pot is the crucial moment of. fulfillment or failure. Without some discussion and planning and some exchange and dialogue concerning the matter, there is no way to know somebody else's ideas about the making of pots-- or the making of a Christian community. Towards a Spirituality of Broken Pots The pots need to be fired in order to be ready for use. In fir-ing, the makers of pots learn how successful their work has been. After the ashes are cleared, some of the pots will be found broken and later find themselves part of a new effort to make pottery. The time when the community witnesses the firing of pots is a very exciting time. A whole community effo]'t is being judged and evaluated. Our Western attitude looks almost exclusively at the result: if the pots that have broken amount to none or only a few, then the whole exercise has been a great success. If the bro-ken pots are numerous, then the whole community exercise is a disaster. March-April 1993 209 Aguilar ¯ Broken African Pots Even if all the pots break and there is none left, they still rejoice because they have exercised a community moment, they have strengthened their common effort to keep their community fed. The African attitude toward such evaluations is completely different, and it hassomething to contribute to a missionary spir-ituality. Very few times in their lives hive the potters seen no broken pots after the firing. Even when a great number of pots breaks, they rejoice in the sturdy few that will increase the num-ber of cooking pots or the income of their community. Even if all the pots break and there is none left, they still rejoice because theyhave exercised a community moment, they have s.trengthened .their common effort to keep their community fed. If the number of new pots is none, they still have the broken pots, which are needed for the making of new ones. With these thoughts in mind, I consider no missionary effort ever to be in vain; any attempt at community life and at preaching the gospel through that community life cannot be in vain. Even the¯ so-called "fhil-ure" of the religious missionary team in Garba Tulla at a particular time, has aided new attempts to proclaim the gospel among the Boorana peo-ple. Through the life of those reli-gious, broken pots have become new pots once again. New expectations have arisen, and new people have arrived. Once again some individuals have disagreed with one another, but new expec-tations l~ave been created. Some will become'broken pots, others goo.d pots, but they will all eventually be part of each other. If'one looks at success and fulfillment and at failure and frus-tration in mission work, one realizes that the fulfillment or frus-tration among religious does not come from the visible or measurable results, but from the attitude towards those events. The sense of expectation and purpose in a religious community is the guide to the true meaning of fulfillment or frustration in mis-sionary work. Of those religious who served in Garba Tulla dur-ing that time of "crisis," some would consider that period a failure because the objectives of the planned mission work were not real-ized. Others, instead, would see tl~at period as a fulfilling and 210 Review for "Religiom. gratifying one because they provided it the much-needed experi-ence of learning how to cooperate on an international religious team. Success and failure among religious men and women can-not be evaluated in a simple empirical way, as in the business world, but they coincide with our own attitude towards the whole process of preparation for that particular time in our lives and towards the spiritual fruits which can appear during that time and afterwards. Further Points for Reflection. The lessons for a spirituality for mission based on the process of molding and firing pottery can be summarized in the follow-ing points: ¯ The whole process calls for an openness to the Spirit so as to recognize the whole process as already a "success." ¯ We need to accept that we are always learning and that oth-ers are also learning. The whole process of going through a learn-ing period in our lives is also a success. Hopefully that process of learning will never end. ¯ Pottery cannot be properly made by one person; it has to be a community effort, because we all need others to help us. Religious doing missionary work also need others in order to bear fruit and make new beautiful pots. ¯ Different people have learned pottery from different teach-ers and designs from different regions and villages. The beauty of it lies in its diversity. The success in our process of learning pot-tery comes from the realization that a proper diversity brings beauty and opportunities for exchange and dialogue. When reli-gious come from different countries and different cultures, they also experience success if they are able to recognize and appreci-ate the beauty of their diversity. ¯ The pot of water that is shared by the potters is needed for the flow of moisture in the making of pots. That water is passed around when somebody realizes that somebody else is in need: the other person's pot is also my concern. Success in missionary work begins when one realizes that all persons, including even oneself, need water at one point or another. The fact of caring for one another's project is already a success in life. ¯ The broken pots become important because they symbolize the continuity of a group of people, of a community. They are March-April 1993 211 Aguilar ¯ Broken African Pots used in a new effort to make pots for the community, for the stor-ing and preparing of food for the life of the community. The bro-ken pots become more important than the good pots because the pots that turn out fine after firing will eventually be sold to mem-bers of another community. The broken pots provide continuity of life that the village community needs. Maybe a spirituality for mission could be called a spirituality of broken pots: the more pots we break, the more successful we are, for we have experienced the past and present community pulling together, and we have recognized the need for others if we are to be successful. A spirituality of broken pots would recognize the need to accept that we cannot fully control the firing pro-cess. Whatever we do, some pots may end up broken, and so there is the possibility of trying again. Other pots may turn out well and then, in one way or another, will help the community to serve other people, even other potters, and people in other villages. The broken pots retain their unique importance because they provide the foundation for a new making of pots and thus for the food and life of the community. I feel that a spirituality for mis-sion should be a spirituality of broken pots--and that a spiritual-ity of broken pots always creates success, as Jeremiah shows: "So I went down to the potter's house; and there he was, working at the wheel. And whenever the vessel he was making came out wrong, as happens with the clay handled by potters, he would start afresh and work it into another vessel, as potters do." Note 1 See M.I. Aguilar, "Nagaa: Centro de Encuentro con el Islam," Chile Misionero, 9 (1992), and "Dialogue with Boorana Religion: A Path of the Gospel in Garba Tulla, Eastern Kenya," The Seed (Nairobi), October 1992. Review for Religious MICHAEL D. MOGA A Spirituality of Aging In life we are confronted with many spiritualities and are frequently forced to make a choice among them. There is the spirituality dis6nctive of a diocesan priest and there are many spiritualities of religious life. The spirituality of a contemplative religious is quite different from that of a religious engaged in the active apostolate. The spiritual-ities offered by oriental religions differ from those of Western religions. The theme of this paper is simple: the spirituality for an older person is quite different from the spirituality for a younger person. As we grow older the Spirit of God leads us through certain approaches and principles that are distinctive to the particular period of life in which we find ourselves. Human life is constantly changing and we are chal-lenged to move with those changes. We move through the stages of childhood and maturity into old age which demand that we leave behind one way of living to face life in a new and different way. The adjustments are difficult and may take many years to accomplish. The change from maturity to old age challenges us once again to leave something behind and to adjust to a new situation of life. Like the passage from childhood to maturity this new change presents us with a difficult Michael D. Moga SJ has taught philosophy in various seminar-ies and colleges in Mindanao. His address is Xavier University; Cagayan de Oro City; Philippines. aging christ March-April 1993 213 Moga ¯ A Spirituality of Aging adjustment which will demand a great deal of effort and pain before it is fully accomplished. I find it strange that a rather long portion of time and edu-cation (as much as 40-45 years) can be set aside to prepare a per-son for adult life whereas little or no attention or time is devoted to planning for one's final phase of life (which can sometimes last as long as 25 or 30 years)! In our early training as religious we were presented with a certain spirituality that for the most part fitted the life of a young person. It emphasized generosity ("to give and not to count the cost"), high ideals (working for "the greater glory of God"), and commitment. This spirituality was exemplified in a saint like Francis Xavier who lived a life of generous commitment until his early death at 46. He did not live long enough to face the need to change his spirituality. A spirituality for an aging religious must, of necessity, be quite different. I suggest that John the Baptist, who said: "He must increase and I must decrease," would be a fine model. John saw that his disciples were leaving him and following Jesus. He sensed that his basic work was completed and his role in God's plan had been fulfilled. He accepted all of this. He did not try to hold on to his disciples nor did he need to continue his previous work of preparing for the Messiah. He stepped back and let Jesus pro-claim his message, trusting that God was working through Jesus and through others. In a spirit of trust he lived his statement: "He must increase and I must decrease." Aging religious find themselves in the situation of John the Baptist. As they grow older many things are taken from them. As they diminish in body, mind, and spirit their influence in the world around them is lessened, and they are called upon to find God in these losses. Instead of emphasizing generosity as they did as a young religious, they are called to accept these dimin-ishments and even to rejoice in them. The total commitment to apostolic work of the young religious is set aside. Instead of giv-ing themselves more fully to apostolic involvement, aging reli-gious are called to withdraw from such involvements. Above all they are called to trust, to believe that as they decrease, Jesus increases. They are called to trust that their diminishment is part of God's way of furthering the kingdom. A spirituality of aging can take many different forms. Let me present a few of them. 214 Review for Religious 1. The spirituality of an old person should include a serious preparation for death. Death is not simply something that happens to us. It is one of the most important actions of our lives, for in death we go back to God. Such an important movement of our lives should be given due attention and concern. Just as in our younger lives we took the choice of our careers very seriously, so is death a similar crucial moment which deserves to be treated with similar seriousness and to be prepared for. The period of aging has been given to us by God as a time of intense preparation for death. It would be a mistake to be so busy with our work and other affairs that we give no time, thought, or effort to this approaching event in our lives. We may want to die with our boots on but such an attitude may possibly manifest a lack of faith. We are, of course, called by God to do our share of the work of building the kingdom. But our faith affirms that we are called by God to pass beyond ~his world to live with him in an eternal kingdom. It would be wrong in our present lives to be so occupied with the "God of this world" that we ignore that "God of the future" and the life that he calls us to. One way that we prepare for death is to begin to put things aside. Since in death we will be forced to leave our involvements in this world, a preparation would be to step back from these involvements, to become less absorbed in our concern for the achievement of goals and the attainment of success. Nature aids such stepping back from involvements. For an aging person the world often becomes rather "tasteless." The process of aging may not only reduce the sensitivity of our taste buds but also diminish our hunger for the activities and concerns of the world around us. We can find ourselves not caring which basketball team is the champion this year, which songs are the most popular, or who is the most popular movie star. When we were young such things made a difference, but as we grow older we find ourselves losing touch with these "popular" concerns. The tendency to lose touch need not be conceived as a sad thing, a loss. It is clearly the way nature guides us to turn away from unimportant things and to focus our lives on what is more Aging religious find themselves in the situation of John the Baptist. March-April 1993 215 Moga ¯ ~1 Spirituality of Aging essential--on the death that is coming, on the God we are soon to meet. Thus as we prepare for death we are challenged to free ourselves from all that is unimportant in life. In our journey through life we easily let ourselves get caught up in concerns, possessions, and habitual ways of thinking and being. How won-derful it would be if the contemplation of death could make us truly "free" of all these petty things so that we might live for what is truly important. Preparing for ~something means that we focus on it. The preparation for death demands a positive focus on that meeting with God which is found in death. Preparing for death thus invites us to turn toward God and give ourselves directly to God. Older religious shbuld be freed from apostolic involvements precisely so that they might have more time for prayer, more time for God. Every year we prepare to meet God in our celebration of Advent. During Advent we join with the people of the Old Covenant in their "waiting for God." We also join with Mary as she waits for her child to be born. During Advent we Christians give our energies to "waiting," to living out our waiting in a full and complete way. The lives of aging religious can embody this spirit of Advent and be filled with a "waiting for God." 2. A challenge to accept. One major characteristic of a spiritu-ality of aging is its emphasis on a person's acceptance of dimin-ishment. As we grow older various things are taken from us. There is a basic lessening of energies as we grow older. Vision and hear-ing begin to deteriorate. Health fails as we encounter various ill-nesses and pains. Control over one

Issue 60.5 of the Review for Religious, 2001. ; A Discerning Way Personal Wi~tne,ss Consecrated Life Religious Vows SEPTEMBER' OCTOBER 2001 VOLUME 60 NUMBER 5 Review for Religious helps people respond and be faithful to God's universal call-to ,holiness , by making available to them 'the spiritual legacies that flow from the charism~ of catholic consecratea life~ Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bimonthly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Telephone: 314-977-7363 ° Fax: 314-977-7362 E-Mail: review@slu.edu ° V~reb site: "~wcw.reviewforreligious.org Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393 Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP Mount St. Mary's Seminary; Emmitsburg, Maryland 21727 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©2001 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. 0 religious LIVING OUR CATHOUC LEGACIES Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Clare Boehmer ASC Philip C. Fischer SJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Judy Sharp James and Joan Felling Adrian Gaudin SC Sr. Raymond Marie Gerard FSP Eugene Henseli OSB Bishop CaHos A. Sevilla SJ Ernest E. Larkin OCarm Miriam D. Ukeritis CSJ SEPTEMBER OCTOBER 2001 VOLUME 60 NUMBER 5 contents 454 466 474 a discerning way Exercising Power and Discerning Spirits Janet K. Ruffing RSM alerts us to the ways we are called to be attentive to both subtle and profound movements of the Spirit of God in our midst and attentive to our need for ongoing conversion in our use of power personally and communally. Personal and Social: Shared Experience Can Renew Us Dennis J. Billy CSSR examines the interplay between the individual and the community which releases creative energies to help the community remain faithful to its tradition while adapting to the challenges and needs of the present. Examining My Conscience: Do I Have an Attitude? Brendan Kneale FSC proposes a refinement of our examination of conscience that deals with acquired attitudes or mindsets or preconceptions over which we have some supervision. personal witness 479 Mother Teresa's Charism 494 J. Neuner SJ, using some of Mother Teresa's writings, sketches the charism of the Missionaries of Charity, the loving appropriation of the crucified Jesus' "I thirst." Mother Teresa: Joy in the Night Albert Huart SJ shows--from letters which are part of the beatification process for Mother Teresa--that spiritual darkness was a constant companion of this joy-giving woman of our day. Review for Religious 503 507 Multicultural at Our Very Heart: The Little Sisters of Jesus Cathy Wright LSJ shares some of the story of the Little Sisters of Jesus, founded by Magdeleine Hutin, as an example of multicultural religious living. Millennial Stirrings in Religious A. Paul Dominic SJ reads the signs of the times to picture the healthy stirrings of growth in religious life. 52O 536 re~Ogious vows Poverty as Charity: The Search for a Lifestyle Norm Garth Hallett SJ presents a resolution to the confused practice of religious poverty by a more definite norm, one more surely grounded in the New Testament. Untying the Nots: Vowed Commitment Today Philip Armstrong CSC traces his own transition in understanding the vows of poverty, obedience, and chastity with the three key identifying words of onptiness, openness, and ftTziq%lness. departments 452 Prisms 543 Canonical Counsel: Exclusion from Profession at the Expiration of Temporary Profession 548 Book Reviews September-October 2001 prisms Hospitality has become a popular theme recently in the commentaries of scrip-ture scholars and in the books of current spiritual writers. Perhaps the popularity is a reactive response to the individualism prevalent in contemporary cul-ture, to the isolating security measures in the face of crime, and to the anonymity of suburbia or apart-ment living. But stressing hospitality is not a con-temporary creation. Hospitality as a theme runs through both Old and New Testament writings. Hospitality describes succinctly the double com-mandment of love of God and love of neighbor. Hospitality has two aspects: being at home one-self and making another feel at home. There is an old saying: Home is were the heart is. Home may be connected with certain physical surroundings, but location is not the focus of being "at home." Any place can become home for us when our heart finds its rest there. When we make others feel at home, we have welcomed them in such a way that, by being with us, they find rest at their heart's center. Welcoming the other, welcoming the stranger, may often seem to put the focus only on the object of hos-pitality. But welcoming involves relationship. It takes two--the one being hospitable and the one receiv-ing hospitality--and it is for both to experience that "home" is being shared because the hearts of both parties are involved. Review.for Religious The incident of Jesus' enjoying the hospitality of Mart_ha and Mary in Luke's Gospel (10:38-42) has traditionally led to an interpretation of personality types labeled as Marthas or Marys or to an interpretation of the alternative religious ori-entations of active and contemplative life. Perhaps greater insight into our Christian and Catholic living will be gained if we view both Martha and Mary under the lens of hospitality. Martha is certainly esteemed by biblical tradition for being busy about the efforts of making another feel at home. Mary, for her part, is praised by Jesus in the provocative expression of "choosing the better part" for making him feel so much at home. Together Martha and Mary represent the essentials of hospitality. Mary, listening to Jesus and sitting at his feet, symbolizes the stance of every disciple. She finds her home in God, and her heart is at rest. She has the more essential quality (the "better part"), because she is at home in the deepest part of herself with God. Knowing her true home, she is empowered to offer hospitality to others. Martha represents the other essential quality of hospitality--the work of seeking out and actively inviting others to find a home. Hospitality is the prac-tice which images our living the one commandment of love of God and neighbor. The exercise of hospitality in our personal interaction with friends and strangers, in our religious community, and in our parish life provides us today in our times and cultures with the sign similar to the one distinguishing the first Christians: "See how they love one another." In the midst of the contentious-ness that we often find in our dealings with people who differ with us or who are different from us, we are called to live a hospitality that remains true to our biblical tradition and to the best that is in human hearts. Hospitality becomes the expression on the faces of people seeing Christ in one another. David L. Fleming SJ September-October 2001 JANET K. RUFFING .Exercising Power and Discerning Spirits a discerning way A critical relationship to our exercise of power is a spiritual task for all Christians. This is true, then, for all the sisters who participate in congregational assem-blies or chapters, and not just for those elected to lead-ership. There are many sources of power: wealth, education, ethnic origin, family status, professional role, elective and appointive offices, reputation, organiza-tional skill, control of information, and personal gifts. In a number of situations, we fail to take into consider-ation the presence of these various powers among us. As Christians we are responsible for our exercise of power on behalf of the human community and of indi-vidual persons within our spheres of power. We are called to live our lives in the service of the kingdom of God and the values of the gospel regardless of our par-ticular settings and regardless of how others may exer-cise power around us. Choices about our exercise of power may be difficult if we have not had helpful role models. Nevertheless, it is through the critical exercise of power that we inhabit more fully our humanity, empower others, respond to the power of Jesus' spirit Janet K. Ruffing RSM, professor of spirituality in Fordham's Graduate School of Religion and Religious Education, last wrote for us in July-August 1997. Her address remains GSRRE, Fordham University; 441 East Fordham Road; Bronx, New York 10458. Review for Religious within the community, and effect change in the world. Our response to God's Spirit in us is such an exercise of power. The New Testament speaks about a kind of power that is based neither on domination nor position. It is the power that comes from on high over Mary: the Holy Spirit, who effects her con-ception of Jesus and who comes upon the community gathered in his name after the resurrection. Jesus' ministry is characterized by a release of God's power as he expels demons and heals those who believe. The woman with the issue of blood touches Jesus, and power goes out from him. In Luke, all try to touch Jesus in order to be healed because power emanates from him. When Jesus sends out his disci-ples to preach, he confers power on them, not to rule but to heal and to cast out demons. Jesus brings into our midst freedom from all that binds us. He heals and forgives sin, and through the Spirit he shares this power for good with us. We share in this healing and reconciling power. The Spirit is poured forth on the entire gathered community after the resurrection, and our gathered communities continue to share in that outpouring. We, as apostolic women, are empowered by that same Spirit. We are called to develop ways of making decisions, organizing our lives, and harmonizing our gifts so that this holy power is released in each of us and in the group as a whole for mission. The disci-ples had trouble understanding this, too, for they kept mixing up these two kinds of power--wanting to rule and lord it over others rather than releasing the God life to its own ends. Religious communities are meant to be places where this power of God's Spirit is manifest in concrete and particular ways. It is part of our witness to the world. Many of us have worked long and hard to change the way we relate to one another through our shared exercise of power so that the life of God filling us with desire might be released in God's people. In She Who Is, Elizabeth Johnson describes what the experience of the Spirit is like at the level of institutions: Religious communities are meant to be places where this power of God's Spirit is manifest in concrete and particular ways. September-October 2001 Ruffing ¯ Exercising Power and Discernin~ Spirits On the le,bel of the macro systems that structure human beings as groups, profoundly affecting consciousness and patterns of relationship, experience of the Spirit is also medi-ated. Whenever a human community resists its own destruc-tion or works for its own renewal; when structural change serves the liberation of oppressed peoples; when law sub-verts sexism, racism, poverty, and militarism; when swords are beaten into ploughshares or bombs into food for the starving; when the sores of old injustices are healed; when enemies are reconciled once violence and domination have ceased; whenever the lies and the raping and the killing stop; wherever diversity is sustained in koinonia; wherever justice and peace and freedom gain a transformative foothold-- there the living presence of powerful, blessing mystery amid the brokenness of the world is mediated. And it is known not in the open, so to speak, but as the ground of the praxis of freedom that survives and sometimes even prevails against massive violence; as the ground, in Peter Hodgson's telling words, of those partial, fragmentary, disconnected, transient, tiny, yet transforming rebirths that enable history to go on at all in the midst of vast discontinuities and meaninglessness. So universal in scope is the compassionate, liberating power of Spirit, so broad the outreach of what Scripture calls the finger of God and early Christian theologians call the hand of God, that there is virtually no nook or cranny of reality potentially untouched. The Spirit's presence through the praxis of freedom is mediated amid profound ambigu-ity, often apprehended more in darkness than in light. It is thwarted and violated by human antagonism and systems of collective evil. Still, "Everywhere that life breaks forth and comes into being, everywhere that new life as it were seethes and bubbles, and even, in the form of hope, everywhere that life is violently devastated, throttled, gagged, and slain-- wherever true life exists, there the Spirit of God is at work." This is not to say that every person who reflects on the world would arrive at this same conclusion. But, within the Jewish and Christian faith, the Spirit's saving presence in the con-flietual world is recognized to be everywhere, somehow, always drawing near and passing by, shaping fresh starts of vitality and freedom.' We are often privileged to witness the vitality of freedom in these fresh starts and often fragmentary rebirths around us. Yet, I believe, all of us still have much to learn about our exercise of power. This task requires us to be attentive to both subtle and profound movements of the Spirit of God in our midst and atten-tive to our need for ongoing conversion in our use of power per- Review for Religious sonally and communally. Where God's Spirit is authentically at work, individuals experience an increase in energy, creativity, and humanization. Challenge and Conflict Because we live in times of unprecedented cultural change, leadership in women's communities i~ increasingly charged with tasks of"nonroutine" or adaptive work, to use the vocabulary of Ron Heifetz. Leadership in such times is charged not only with routine administration, but also with guiding a community through adaptive challenges. We have commonly used the vocabu-lary of transformational leadership for this function. Adaptive or transformational change requires changes in values, beliefs, and behaviors. It requires much more of both leaders and members than simple modification; it will not occur unless leaders identify con-flict and work with it rather than avoid it. Groups themselves rarely, if ever, correctly identify the deep-level challenges to which they need to respond. The work is simply too hard, and the ordinary members are frequently lacking the "big picture" or the specific informa-tion that would impel them ko initiate change. Members are usually so thoroughly immersed in their own ministries that these eclipse the bigger picture even if they have access to it. Leaders often work with this bigger picture every day. This is one reason why leaders have a responsibility to share infor-mation and to articulate their perceptions to the group engaged in deep change. For communities to flourish at the present time, they need skillful administrators who effectively direct the tech-nical or routine details of the group's life and mission, and they need leaders who can distinguish among these tasks while attend-ing to the transformational change process and orchestrating it. Change at this level can result only from a collective and con-templative process. Religious communities are now at risk of stow extinction if their leaders think their only task is to implement the consensual decisions of the group. Septentber-October 2001 Ruffing ¯ Exercising Power and Discerning Spirits Religious communities are now at risk of slow extinction if their leaders think their only task is to implement the consen-sual decisions of the group. Although this function is necessary, the process is slow 'and cannot keep up with the pace of change. Leaders need to anticipate and help the group keep moving toward the next change. Yes, women leaders do tend to use their collaborative skills to achieve consensus instead of imposing their solutions on the group, but a group can come to consensus on only so many issues, values, decisions. The energy and skill used in developing consensus, if not focused on really important choices, may drain energy from hard adaptive work that remains to be done. In religious life today, leaders often need to initiate change by correctly identifying unavoidable challenges and helping the group see that some of these challenges must be resolved by a deep level of change, and not merely by technical solutions or skill. For this task, leaders need all of their motiva-tional skills to keep the group engaged in the process, and they need to create a safe enough space for fearful and distressed members to do what they would just as soon avoid doing. Tranformational change is the occasion for a considerable amount of distress. Leaders need to anticipate this distress, which often manifests itself as resistance, and endeavor to alle-viate enough of it so the group can do the work required. From leaders this requires all of the qualities the FORUS study in the early 1990s identified in authentically spiritual leaders. Leaders must demonstrate, on the bne hand, a radical and genuine trust in God and in the future into which God invites us and, on the other hand, must not minimize the distress in the group. Leaders need to hbsorb a great deal of the distress and not pass it on, but also to get the group to confront the change. This graced abil-ity to remain unflappable under pressure is difficult. Leaders need to have acquired considerable spiritual, psychological, and emotional resources to do this without damage to themselves. Leaders need not convince members to resolve challenges exactly as they would prefer. What they must do is continue giving the task of finding creative solutions back to the group-- or to one or more committees if that seems more practical. Effective responses can and do emerge out of careful handling of conflicting points of view. Frequently the resolution is not going to be what the leaders envisioned. This is why nominees, when asked what they would do in a particular situation, can Review for Religious rarely answer convincingly. They simply do not know what the emerging issues are or will be. Only as new issues arise can lead-ership identify them and focus attention on them. To ignore these late-rising issues would be to ignore the rest of the work to be done. Leadership serves the group by continually trying to think ahead of it and be ready to help the group respond to emerging issues. For the prophetic or dissenting voices to have any impact in the group at all, leaders will need to make room for both the novel and the differing until they get enough hearing to enable the group to shift. Whenever the novel emerges, the group needs time to welcome the possibilities it offers and to negotiate the many subtle interior shifts that such a change might require. It is difficult for people to receive the novel if its herald is not one of the more acceptable and respected members of the group. Yet the proposed newness may be exacdy what is needed. This deeper level of change can never happen in a group unless the positional leaders, the women elected to leadership and bearing the right to exercise authority in the name of the group, use that power skill-fully until the tensions can be resolved.2 Some of the studies on women in leadership show that women leaders tend to rely more on their personal power than on their official authority. If those of you who are leaders in a specific situation are wondering if you have authority or not, it may be because you are not making enough use of it as you invite, cajole, encourage, inspire, and entice the group to do what it needs to do. Some of you may avoid using your posi-tional authority in order not to evoke old transferences to authority. Women leaders and their communities need to see authority as a resource to be used for the sake of the group. Most members want to be challenged to be their best selves, even though everyone is aware that conversion and growth cannot be coerced. In facing the particular challenges of transformational change, we as women let our historical wounds regarding authority heal. We develop the skills of being leaders and mem-bers in partnership, in mutuality. We focus our energies in harmony with the divine energies for the sake of mission. I want now to reflect more at length on the exercise of power in a discernment mode--in the context of choosing leaders and gath-ering together in assembly or chapter. Septentber-October 2001 Ru~n~ ¯ Exerdsin~ Power and Discernin~ S~irits Discernment of Spirits My reflections draw on some themes from Catherine of Siena's teaching on discernment of spirits and also on the skills and wisdom of the Quaker tradition of communal discernment. Although Catherine of Siena does reflect incidentally on various interior movements in the course of her Dialogue, she emphasizes discernment. For her, discernment has more to do with right relationships and living in harmony with God, whom she often calls Truth. Because discernment is rooted in supreme Truth, "it rightly sets conditions and priorities of love where other people .are concerned. The light of discernment, which is born of charity, gives order to your love for your neighbors . The pri-orities set by holy discernment direct all the soul's powers to serving Me courageously and conscientiously.''3 Discernment is born of charity. This implies that an open, unselfish, loving heart fosters discernment by the ordering activity of love. Discernment is a virtue that puts everything in perspective and shows us what we owe to each person and situation. Catherine insists it grows and develops as we do in the life of God; it enlarges our capacity for love expressed in ministry. As we grow in our love for God, so do we grow in our discernment. Catherine has three stages to the spiritual life, to growth in charity, and to discernment which she calls the first, second, and third lights. Discernment is the light which" dissolves all darkness, dissi-pates ignorance, and seasons every virtue and virtuous deed. It has a prudence that cannot be deceived, a strength that is invincible, a constancy right up to the end, reaching as it does from heaven to earth, that is, from the knowledge of Me to the knowledge of oneself, from love of Me to love of one's neighbors. By this glorious light the soul sees and rightly despite her own weakness.4 There are, I believe, several implications that we might draw from this teaching. As a community gathers for decision making in a discernment mode, no two people in the group are able to participate in" exactly the same way. As we assemble, we are all in different places. The more each of us knows and loves God, the more we understand ourselves. The more we know and love our neighbors, the more we love God. Catherine recognizes that dis-cernment as a virtue grows and develops over the course of our graced history and in proportion to the intensity of our love for God and for others. This growth reveals to us our particular weak- Review for Religious nesses, blind spots, cowardice, and resistances and our reactions under stress--all of which, sowing confusion and doubt, may keep us from making costly decisions. This self-knowledge is extremely important. If we do not know our characteristic ways of responding to stress or distress, our blindness may increase the confusion and doubt of the gathered community. Some members may be skilled in this discernment, and others, for various reasons, may not have the same clear perception of a situation or the same capacity to accept God's invitation to move forward. This incapacity may come from current cir-cumstances: a recent bereavement, phys-ical illness, or recent ministry challenges that have left them benumbed. The best preparation before we gather for communal discernment is to increase our prayer, to seek self-knowl-edge in the present moment, and to heal and reconcile anything we can with other members. Intensifying our connection to God, gaining self-knowledge, and recon-ciliation efforts can remove potential blocks within the group. If any member speaks the truth about an issue, situation, or challenge that the group needs to face, every other member must receive it and "test" its possibilities for herself and for the group. If this truth is spoken by a member whose opinions people frequently perceive to be "off the mark" or whom they tend to dismiss because of past performance, the others may fail to respond with openness to conversion, that is, with willingness to change their minds. Individuals and the group need to allow enough time for such a potential shift to occur among themselves. This is a quite different process from the response those readily receive who--by reason of their education, their election, or their previous performance--are customarily taken seriously. In Catherine of Siena's system, those who practice discern-ment according to the third "light" are those who have "clothed" themselves in God's will. They are attuned to God and God's desire. This harmony with God's will is not necessarily about specific issues; it is a matter of practical insight into the Mystery If we do not know our characteristic ways of responding to stress or distress, our blindness may increase the confusion and doubt of the gathered community. Septentber-October 2001 Ruffing * Exercising Power and Discerning Spirits of Jesus' total self-giving love for us in the paschal mystery. The touchstone is not seeing a single issue clearly, but living constantly within the Christ mystery. Such "seeing" elicits desire to imitate Jesus' self-giving love without counting the cost to self. In Catherine's words, such a person "loves me sincerely without any other concern than the glory and praise of my name. She does not serve me for her own pleasure, or her neighbors for her own profit, but only for love." Such persons are alive with the charism of their community. Full of apostolic zeal, they basically love in un-self-serving ways. Such persons are not prevented from choosing God's will because of their own selfishness, nor does suffering or antic-ipated difficulty prevent them from choosing what is best for God, others, and self. What is sought is God's will, which Catherine assumes leads us to what is best for everyone. Communities today face many pressing issues. What is best for one community may not be best for another. What God may be calling one community to at a particular juncture is not the same as another. With who we are, where we are geographically, and where we are in our communal and personal histories, what is best for our mission, our selves, and those with whom we minister? From the rich Quaker tradition of discernment, I will discuss only three themes: unity, peace, and clarity. Quakers, like other Christians, draw on the "fruits of the spirit" as sketched by Paul in Galatians 5:23 as a touchstone for discernment. "The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patient endurance, kindness, generosity, trust, gentleness, and self-control." This cluster of outcomes or fruits resulting from behaviors, attitudes, spiritual practices, and interactions with others reveals lives authentically lived in the Spirit. These fruits are all interrelated. For the Society of Friends, privileged unity in God's love was an important result in commu-nity life of various impulses or "leadings" of the Spirit in individuals. At certain times of corporate "waiting on the Lord," they experienced their unity, their being gathered in God, as a palpable mystical experience. This unity bore fruit in love of neigh-bor. For them kindness and gentleness were dimensions of the fruit of love. Traditionally they came to ask whether a particular course of "action would produce more or less love, greater or less unity, more or less joy.''s They valued Truth as well, assuming that, once the community Review for Religious was deeply "gathered in unity," an individual under divine guidance would be consistent with the perceptions of others who were also attuned to divine guidance. So the quality of love which could gather the community in unity also led to discerning the truth. As Patricia Loring describes it, the unity sought is not simple agreement, not consensus, compromise, or an irreducible minimum of views. What is sought is a sense of deep interior unity which would be a sign that the members are consciously gathered together in God and may therefore trust their corporate guidance: The felt gathering in God tends to illuminate and clarify motives, to dissolve or harmonize differences-or allow them to stand side by side in the tenderness accompanying gath-ering in the spirit of God. Unity may enable a way forward to be found even if members continue to hold differing views. Divisiveness, disruption, or simple lack of unity indicate that one, all, or some members of the group are not fully under guidance.6 Peace is yet another important touchstone of the gathered community. The unity of the gathered community brings about peace by harmonizing disparate elements within the community and within the self. Quakers discovered that "the reconciliation of disparate parts of one's self or of one's experience in a new, sometimes unexpected direction or action can issue in a deep interior sense of peace . Living close to the Spirit has the effect of such harmonizing and reconciling both within and between persons." For Quakers, peace as a touchstone in communal discernment is "the feeling of being at peace with a decision or an outcome, even if it is not what one sought or hoped for, even if it calls for considerable hardship or change.''7 Often a new burden or task disturbs one's peace initially. Peace or ease is restored only when one accepts the burden or fulfills the task. In leadership selection processes, frequently those being considered experience considerable lack of peace. Sometimes, when a nominee is graced to accept a potential call to leadership, a flood of peace results. When or if this deep peace makes itself felt, a leader may confidently trust the election and will often return to this initial grace of leadership in difficult times. Lack of peace is as important as peace. When peace is disturbed, some action is called for. Sometimes the action or resolution is neither simple nor obvious. At times individuals and groups suffer a prolonged period of living with disquiet before the fitting response becomes clear. September-October 2001 Ruffing ¯ Exercising Power and Discerning Spirits Quakers often used the word "clear" as in "getting clear" to describe an outcome of discernment. Sometimes it had the con-notation of being released from a burden. At other times it involved acting on a "leading" (that is, a matter discerned) and faithfully carrying it out. In this early form, getting clear was closer to how we might describe feeling free. Quakers now use the term clarity or clearness in the sense of coming to intellectual clarity about what they are to do or what a "leading" might be about, and much of their individual discernment is aided by convoking a clearness committee. The membdrs of such a group are invited on the basis of their spiritual sensitivity and typically only ask questions which might help the individual discerners clarify their inner truth. They help them clarify their situation, motives, and "leadings": they do not offer advice. As Patricia Loring describes such a gathering, it first of all opens itself to divine guidance. For Quakers this is not a per-functory moment of silence, but a much deeper recollection: "for an intentional return to the Center, to give over one's own firm views, to place the outcome in the hands of God, to ask for a mind and heart as truly sensitive to accepting of nuanced intimations of God's will as of overwhelming evidences of it.''s This is an attitude of receptivity to subtle hints of God's will as well as to unmistakable clarity. Discernment is, then, a habit of the heart. From my perspec-tive it is intimately linked with our spiritual development. When we exercise power in any context, but especially when it is time for major decision making in community or when we are in offi-cial positions of authority, we need discernment to ensure that we are exercising our power in service of the reign of God and not for self-serving benefits of any kind. When we or our communities are thus "gathered" in God, an incredible amount of energy is released for the sake of others and of ourselves. When we enter into this discernment in partnership with God, whose Spirit impels us toward goodnes{, toward love, toward peace, and toward patience, the results are energy, enthusiasm, gentleness, and joy. Notes l Elizabeth Johnson, She Who Is (New York: Crossroad Publishing Company, 1993), pp. 126-127. 2 Katherine Clarke, "Leadership When It's Time for Adaptation," Human Development 18 (Fall 1997): 5-11. Review for Religious 3 Catherine of Siena: The Dialogue, ed. and trans. Suzanne Noffke (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1980), §11, p. 44. 4 Dialogue, § 11, p. 44. s Patricia Loring, Spiritual Discernment: The Context and Goal of Clearness Committees, Pendle Hill Pamphlet 305 (Wallingford, Penn.: Pendle Hill Publications, 1992), p. 7. 6 Loring, p. 8. 7 Loring, p. 9. s Loring, p. 24. The Woman Arusha, Tanzania So short the bridge on the main road in the city few notice the deep stream, nor see, among the bustling feet, a woman, in rags, on the dusty pavement, leaning against the stone parapet, clutching a begging cup. One sprawling leg wears a tattered shoe, the other a soiled bandage lying loosely where a foot should be. I walk grimly on, and on, and on. Troubled, I turn, walk back two blocks and share my conscience with a leper. Hugh Sharpe CFC September-October 2001 DENNIS J. BILLY Personal and Social: Shared Experience Can Renew Us Religious live in community and profess the evangelical counsels of chastity, poverty, and obedience. These common features make religious into countercultural and eschatological signs of radical discipleship. Living together under a rule dedicated to the spread of gospel values, they remind others and themselves of the presence of the kingdom of God within them, in their midst, and still to come. Religious do this through the individual and communal expression they give to the vows. In this essay I will look at the reciprocal relationship between the personal and social, giving special attention to discrepancies between vision and practice and to the value of interpersonal sharing of experience for the community's renewal. A Circular Relationship I begin with a hypothesis: A relationship of circularity exists between people's personal expression of the vows and the gospel culture promoted by their community. This link between the personal and the communal comes from the vows themselves. They embrace all of human existence: the physical, the emotional, the intellectual, the spiritual, and the social. ~ Human existence is constituted by individual consciousness, which itself is shaped, at least in part, by social ties (parents, family, schools, churches, social clubs, charitable organizations, athletic Dennis J. Billy CSSR continues to write from Accademia Alfonsiana; C.P. 2458; 00100 Roma, Italy. Revie~v fbr Religious teams, and so forth). From birth, infants interact with this social environment; gradually maturing, they have a greater impact on it. This creative interplay contributes to the values people adopt and affects the choices they make in life. The formation of religious in discipleship roughly parallels this human growth and development. By their very nature the evangelical counsels are derived from, fostered by, and oriented toward life in community. This social dimension of the vows has its origin in the reality Paul found in the body of Christ, and it appears on various levels within the religious community itself, in the community of the church, and in the world at large.2 In this circular relationship, the individual and the communal presuppose and cannot do without each other. Every religious community comprises a variety of members who bring their unique potentials, gifts, and perspectives to the living out of their congregation's charism. Each individual has an impact on the evangelical life of the community. Although this impact may be greater for some than for others, no contribution may be regarded as insignificant. Each individual, moreover, is supported by and lives out his or her vows through life in community. Although group will vary from group in external expression, the purpose of each community is a life of discipleship within a common evangelical witness. A community helps to shape individuals' understanding of the evangelical life in many and varied ways (initial and ongoing formation, community structures, common devotional practices). That understanding, that vision, gives meaning and relevance to their individual lives and, in turn, has an effect on the community's self-understanding. This, again, further refines the individuals' experience of religious life. This circular interplay between the individual and the community releases creative energies to help the community remain faithful to its tradition while adapting to the challenges and exigencies of the present. When this adaptation occurs, the community has struck a healthy balance between the individual and the communal expression of the vows. When it does not, something has gone awry that, if not checked, can do serious harm to all involved. " Finding Discrepancies The question arises: What happens when this circular relationship Septentber-October 2001 Billy s Personal and Social is interfered with or in. some way broken up? A number of things can happen. Individual religious may distance themselves psychologically from the community and gradually lose touch with its motivating gospel principles. The community, moreover, may be too rigid (or too flexible) in the way it adapts to the cultural milieu of the day. The lack of vocations and a steady flow of people leaving the community may seriously affect its morale and self-confidence. Secularizing trends in society may also tear away at the fabric of community life and eventually leave little or nothing for members to share. Any of these factors could affect the reciprocal relationship between the individual and communal expression of the VOWS. Added to these possibilities is the gap that can grow between the community's officially stated vision of itself and its actual lifestyle. If the inconsistencies become too numerous, the community may be unable to attract new members and those already within it may become disillusioned or, worse yet, numb to their need for change. To some extent, every community experiences a discrepancy between its ideals and the way it practices them. Any attempt by sinful human beings to embrace the high ideals of radical discipleship falls short in some respect. If the discrepancy is too large, however, community members need to reexamine its structures and processes. The question to ask is whether the gap between their stated ideals and their lifestyle is decreasing or increasing. If decreasing, they need strategies to continue the trend and, if possible, even accelerate it. If the gap is increasing, they need to find ways of reversing the process so that the community can once again "live with itself." If they fail to do so, the circular relationship between the personal and communal expression of the vows will continue to break down, and the community will in time become a loose collection of individuals united only by externals (such as name, shelter, and finances). If this occurs~ it will be difficult, if not impossible, to decrease the gap between their ideals and their lived experience. One way of estimating the discrepancy between vision and practice in a religious community is to keep in mind the various levels of spirituality commonly accepted by scholars: the experiential (level one), the doctrinal (level two), and the academic (level three).3 Since the Second Vatican Council, religious communities have spent much time and effort rewriting their rules and statutes (level two) and studying the history of their founders Re~ie~ for Religious and the nature of their founding charism (level three). At this time they need to put equal effort into level one, the actual living of the vows in the context of community and their founding charism. Since religious communities need a strong, positive continuity between all three levels of spirituality, now is the time to raise level one, the experiential dimension, up to the other two. An Experiential Turn For this shift in emphasis to occur, a retrieval process is needed: Communities need to get back in touch with the circular relationship between the personal and the communal in their expression of the vows and the common life. They could begin by forming small dialogue groups to share their experience of religious life with one another. From there, they could comb their tradition for hints of bold initiatives they might undertake in the life of discipleship. They could ask communities with a similar charism what they have been doing to make their vision of religious life relevant to people's needs. Most importantly, they could rediscover the value of certain forms of prayer in common and choose to make practical daily use of the best of them for uniting the personal and the communal. The question is whether they have the courage to do so and are willing to pay the price that such a decision might entail. To speak of an "experiential turn" in religious life today means that community members need to step back from the swirl of their activities and take stock of their lives on every level: the anthropological, the physical, the emotional, the intellectual, the spiritual, and the social. Once they have done so, they will more easily ponder the ideals they profess and discover if they are living up to them. This means taking steps individually and together and naming what they are 'going through, evaluating their experience against specific criteria, and responding to the evaluation in a responsible, practical way. Another way of making this experiential turn is for religious to seek a proper balance between action and contemplation. Such a balance requires time and effort. Once achieved, however, it helps Every community experiences a discrepancy between its ideals and the way it practices them. September-October 2001 Billy ¯ Personal and Social religious to put petty differences aside and to unite around matters of common concern. Such balance helps community members to recognize the discrepancy between their ideals and their lifestyle, to be disturbed by it, and to do something about it. They become motivated to overcome their past indifference, and they take steps toward personal conversion and the renewal of their institutes. By concentrating on both the personal and the communal aspects of their experience, community members are well on their way toward reintegrating the two and bringing steady incremental change for the better into their individual lives and their communal life. Observations At this point, a number of remarks are in order concerning the effect of this "experiential turn" on religious life and on a community's wimess. 1. Living the vowed life in common contains experiential components that affect religious both as individuals and as a group. Religious should be aware of these components. In this light, chastity is not a mere solitary concern, but a gift to be nourished in a vibrant, caring community. Poverty, in turn, takes both personal and communal forms in the daily life of a religious community, and obedience makes little sense except in terms of an individual's free and loving response to the needs of the common good. Even community life itself must take into account both an individual's and the group's experience of its general regimen. In their response to the call to radical discipleship, religious must keep in touch with their personal and communal experience for their reciprocal interaction to be helpful and creative. 2. When a community gives adequate attention to the personal and communal dimensions of its lived experience, a noticeable change takes place in the quality of its witness to the life of discipleship. This change normally occurs in a gradual, incremental manner. It comes about because members of the community are no longer relating to each other as isolated individuals, but as members of a family with stories to tell, experiences to share, and suggestions to offer. Once individuals have been given the opportunity to share the wide range of their life experiences as religious, there occurs a growing tendency within the community to treat each other with gentleness and respect. The sharing of these experiences gives community .members the impetus to make appropriate changes in Review for Religious the structures of community life so that the gap between their ideals and lifestyle may be reduced. When this happens, community members begin to feel that they have more say in the day-to-day activities of the community. They begin to take ownership of their community and are willing to invest more of their time and energy in its success. 3. To say that the quality of a community's witness to the life of discipleship will rise as a result of its paying close attention to the personal and communal components of its members' lived experience does not mean that the road to renewal will be without problems. On the contrary, buried memories and pent-up frustrations may give way to heated displays of anger. These outbursts should be expected and even wel-comed. When they occur, those venting their anger should be carefully listened to so that the issues behind their raw emotions can be understood. When anger is expressed, the com-munity should not run away from it or feel threatened or intimidated by it, but should confront it, letting the under-lying needs come to the surface and seeking appropriate ways of dealing with them. Some may be so angry at the community that they can see no other alternative than to leave. Others will stay, but may have strong issues to deal with in their personal relationship with the community, even as that community tries hard to change. Still others may wish that the community had never begun to make changes in the first place. Focusing on lived experience elicits different responses from community members. They should all be listened to with care and dealt with sensibly. The community should be aware that its numbers may have to decrease before the quality of its witness begins to rise. 4. After giving its attention to the members' personal and communal experiences, the community needs to weigh matters carefully in the light of its charism and the church's teaching on religious life. As for the charism, the community should examine its The sharing of experiences gives community members the impetus to make appropriate changes in the structures of community life so that the gap between their ideals and lifestyle may be reduced. Septentber-October 2001 Billy ¯ Personal and Social constitutions and statutes to see where the experiences that have surfaced fit into its stated self-understanding. As for the church's teaching, the community should give its attention to the Vatican II documents, the Code of Canon Law, and Pope John Paul's recent apostolic letter Vita consecrata (1996). The goal here would be to strengthen the continuity between the experiential and the doctrinal levels in Christian spirituality, that is, the community's lived experience and official teaching about itself. By comparing the personal and communal experiences of the community (level one) with the pertinent ecclesial (level two) and congregational (level three) documents, the community can gauge which experiences are part of the call to radical discipleship and which are not. Then the members can discuss what elements of their constitutions and statutes need to be adjusted or perhaps even changed. The very rereading of these documents in the light of their experience can be inspiriting. 5. Diminishing the gap between a community's vision and its lived experience is a thorough process. A single attempt, however intensive or prolonged, will do little. Practical arrangements are needed whereby members can examine their personal and communal experiences and then make reasonable proposals for change. These arrangements should not be imposed, but should evolve from within the community. Whatever they may be (weekly or monthly reviews of life, common retreat days, group spiritual direction, dialogue groups with a facilitator, and so forth), they need to be evaluated regularly to ensure that they continue to be perceived as vital to the community. Their purpose is not to turn the community in upon itself in an unhealthy, introverted way, but to enable it to see its shortcomings and take steps to get beyond them. These arrangements should provide continuing support for members' personal lives and their communal life. A Final Observation Healthy communities are always seeking practical ways of narrowing the gap between ideal and practice, in the hope that the gap will one day disappear entirely. An awareness of the circular relationship between the individual and the communal experience can do much toward this goal. Such awareness may include wading through powerful streams of emotion to get to where unmet needs can be understood, acknowledged, and addressed. Review for Religious Religious are called to be signs of hope to the hopeless. To do this, they must be aware of what they themselves are called to become and take positive steps to attain it. Only by confronting first the discrepancy between vision and lifestyle in their own lives will they be able to help others to do the same. Religious cannot remove this discrepancy through their own efforts. They must cooperate with the Spirit in their following of Christ. They need to put complete trust in the Lord's love and concern for them. His Spirit alone will shape them and sustain them. His Spirit alone will carry them into intimate fi'iendship with God. His Spirit alone will reveal to them, and to those whose lives they touch, the kingdom that is within them, in their midst, and still to come. Notes ~ See Dennis J. Billy, "~'ta Consecrata and the Anthropology of the Vows," Review for Religious 58, no. 4 (July-August 1999): 384-392. 2 See ~ta consecrata, §51. 3 See Walter H. Principe CSB, "Toward Defining Spirituality," Studies in Religion / Sciences religieuses 12 (1983): 135-136. There is something made known each autumn in the voices of leaves, red, orange, yellow clear choral anthems conducted by the wind which sends me into the chilled morning my breath a white wraith staring back, touching my face. I open my eyes to thankfulness singing and waving, carelessly brushing away my own apparition too briefly present before I could ask, dear child, who are you. ? C.J. Renz September-October 2001 BRENDAN KNEALE Examining My Conscience: Do I Have an Attitude? ~wehen we first were trained to examine our conscience, probably confined ourselves to matters of stealing, lying, swearing, disobedience, bad thoughts, and fighting. As we grew older and had new responsibilities, we enlarged our scope beyond the commandments of God to the "the commandments of the church"--attendance at Mass and similar requirements. Later, perhaps, we looked beyond action to habit, that is, to. the virtues and the vices--our faith, our humility, our temperance, as well as our anger, gluttony, sloth, and so forth. If we became members of the consecrated life, we added concern about the vows connected to the evangelical counsels. What may lead us to refine our examination of conscience even further is the experience of recidivism, our repeated lapses into the same sins and failings. We suspect a root cause, some factor or factors below the surface that lead us to fall again and again into the same culpable behavior. Another occasion for deeper search might be a friend's calling our attention to some failing of which we were unaware. And we may occasionally sur-prise ourselves by an act of sudden anger or other fault and then wonder, "Where did that come from?" As Isaiah says, "The heart is more devious than any other thing, perverse too." A tendency at this juncture is to claim that we are victims. We may feel that we fall repeatedly or unexpectedly into certain faults Brendan Kneale FSC, a previous contributor (1988), writes from 4403 Redwood Road; Napa, California 94558. Review for Religious because of forces beyond our control. For example, traumas early in life may later induce us to behave neurotically and compul-sively. However, as one prominent non-Catholic psychologist has written, a great value of the Catholic practice of confession (and its attendant examination of conscience) is that it gets us to take personal responsibility for our bad conduct, and not to claim victimhood when it is not justified. Notice that the implication here is that we are dealing with "conscience," not the subconscious. We are not urging personal psychoanalysis, however valuable that may be. Rather, the ques-tion here is about morality, a domain that deals only with actions and omis-sions in which there is at least some degree of improper behavior (or omission), sufficient awareness, and some consent of the will. For exam-ple, it does not take a person addicted to swearing (and currently more or less unmindful of his habitual behavior) much effort to realize that he has set up the habit himself by per- Without a correction of attitude, recidivism and recurring "surprise" behaviors can be expected. sonal choices made long before. He was not, and is not, an unblamable victim. It is only right that he be responsible for the consequences of those choices, that he examine himself on the personal sources and the moral responsibility involved. Our Attitudes The kind of probing advocated here, and requiring a refine-ment of examination, has to do with ~cquired attitudes or mind-sets or preconceptions over which we have supervision. Do we approach situations with an "attitude"? For example, persons brought up in an atmosphere of racial prejudice may need to examine more than their overt actions or even their more or less conscious behavior patterns, and take a close look at their basic attitudes. Repeated lapses into offensive words or deeds may require not only regret but also examination of deep-seated causes, basic attitudes that perhaps were acquired nonsinfully. Otherwise, without a correction of attitude, recidivism and recur-ring "surprise" behaviors can be expected. Of course, there may be other causes for our repeated sins--the three concupiscences-- Septentber-October 2001 Kneale ¯ Examining My Conscience What are our preconceptions about the homeless, the panhandler, the handicapped, the addict, the "great unwashed"? but here we are looking at an .operative cause that may precede (or follow) such passions and that we can bring into examination when we try to analyze our moral behavior. Are we rightly accused of being "judgmental"? Are we saddled with attitudes that damage our relations with God, our neighbor, and our own self?. Is it a false estimate of our present stance--whether we are in youth, maturity, old age--that is the source of our sassiness, bossiness, crotcheti-ness? Does our ironic view of things lead to hurtful sarcasm? Does our cynicism lead to real contempt? Insofar as our culture shapes our attitudes or outlooks on such matters as promiscuity, illness, consumerism, status, race, authority, work, time, privilege, food, fun, humor, recreation, comfort, entitle-ments, adventure, celebrity, revenge, violence, death, and so forth, we should search to see if these attitudes need revision as part of our effort to turn away from gen-uinely culpable thoughts or actions that we notice in ourselves. Typical questions for ourselves might be: Has my culturally induced attitude toward illness led to hypochondria or to an objectionable fussiness? Does an attitude toward entitlements make me an unpleasant person or a seeker of unjust privilege? Do people find my attitude threatening? To be sure, our culture induces many good attitudes--about democracy, equality, service, private property, education, nonex-ploitation, rewarding merit, conservation, and so forth. We should look at these good attitudes, too, in order to check whether we have blocked some of the good ones along with the bad. A recommended test of our attitudes is to ask what our out-look is on cultural icons, TV heroes, and popular fictional char-acters. Do we find ourselves adopting the mentality of, say, the headline-hunting celebrity, the compromised politician, the self-indulgent artist, the know-it-all intellectual, the snobbish sophisticate, the ruthless tycoon, the swaggering athlete, the gos-sipy columnist,~ the rash liberal, the entrenched traditionalist? If we are quick to praise one of these, why 'is that? Do we almost unconsciously try to shape our self-image to be like them? On the Review for Religious other hand, of course, we need to look at our inner view of those whom our culture tends to despise. What are our preconceptions about (and our resultant behaviors toward) the homeless, the panhandler, the handicapped, the addict, the "great unwashed"? Motivating Ourselves It is probably not easy to refine our examination of conscience to these levels--and surely not to levels beyond them. Why make the effort? Such an examination is one way to get closer to a state of "justice beyond that of the scribes and phar-isees," that is, to grow in the justification talked about by St. Paul. When I think of "justification," I think of what carpenters and mechanics mean by the word, namely, a fitting together and good lining up of items in their handiwork. If these items are all squared away, then they are fully "justified." The Pauline usage seems analogous. He sees God giving us the grace to be squared away, to be right with God, to be righteous, in perfect relation with Him. This justification or righteousness is initially and rad-ically conferred in baptism and is capable of growing and being perfected. In the process, the basic need is for us to adjust our attitudes to those of Christ, to "put on the mind of Christ" (to accomplish literally a metanoia, a change of mind for the better) and thereby get closer to a final justification or righteousness. In the case of Mary Immaculate, of course, such perfection was unimpeded. Since she was conceived without darkness of intellect, weakness of will, or disorder among her passions, it fol-lowed that her attitudes needed no further rectification, and so her growth in holiness and her ability to overcome temptation were rapid. In our case, we need the special help of fasting, prayers, and sacraments. The sacraments help us to pursue a perfection like hers. And a penetrating examination of conscience helps us profit more from those sacraments. The purpose here is not to induce scrupulosity (which is gen-erally a sign of pride), but to get at factors behind or beyond the routine examination lists of commandments, virtues, and vices-- important and revealing though they are. Surely the capital sins of pride, covetousness, lust, anger, gluttony, envy, and sloth deserve scrutiny vis-~l-vis ourselves. But, if we fail often in their regard, we may need to look further into our unexamined lives, into those attitudes that we adopt as normative and that stoke September-October 2001 Kneale ¯ Examining ~Iy Conscience the fires of our behavior. The basic question: Is my attitude that of Christ? Attitudes lead to priorities in our values, values lead to our choices, choices to our actions, actions to habits, habits to deeds of consequence. Each element of this sequence can be conducive to something Christian or to something not Christian; each deserves inspection. Confession to Sumac Anonymous before the frost, the sumac, frozen, blooms resplendent on the freeway grade, innocent of motives, yet sensuous, seductive. Red, orange, or scarlet - blood, a Rothko, Rauschenberg. What it is and must be one, with no apologies. Review for Religqous The beauty of the trees accuses me. My greater gifts I squander by my sins; in dying autumn color they proclaim obedience unto death. Rebellious, though, I languish in the dark. Ed Block J. NEUNER Mother Teresa's Charism On 26 July 1999 the cause for the beatification of Mother Teresa was officially opened in Calcutta. Pope John Paul II had granted an exception to the general regulation that such proceedings can be taken up only five years after the death of the Servant of God. Mother Teresa had died only on 5 September 1997. The early inauguration of the proceedings was granted on account of the worldwide request to have her officially recognized by the church as a model of compassionate love reaching out to all strata of society, especially to the rejected and exploited. For the proceedings in Calcutta, all the documents connected with her life and work had to be collected.1 They opened insights not only into the incredible complexity of her work spread over all continents during a short time but also into her personal life, which had remained hidden from the public and, to a great extent, even from her own community. They reveal many details of the development of the Missionaries of Charity (MC), but also the hidden sources of Mother Teresa's untiring work and inspiring personality, which fascinated people of all strata of society and of all religions. These few pages are an attempt to present this inner sphere, God's work in her heart, which bore so much fruit in her life and work. J. Neuner SJ, who knew Mother Teresa, writes from Sanjeevan Ashram; 38 Sassoon Road; Pune 411 001; India. September~ October 2001 Neuner ¯ Mother Teresa's Charism "I Thirst" Among the Missionaries 10 September 1946 is celebrated as the birthday of the congregation. Mother Teresa had come to India as a novice of the Loreto Sisters. She was very happy in her community and as a teacher in Loreto, Entally (Calcutta). A totally unexpected experience came to her on that day in the litde train climbing up from Siliguri to Darjeeling: the thirst of Jesus and a call to give her life in service to the poor and rejected in the slums. She was deeply disturbed: it might have been a temptation of the devil. But her confessor was convinced of the divine inspiration and told her to communicate it to Archbishop E Perrier of Calcutta. The archbishop hesitated more than a year and kept her waiting--a painful time--but finally supported her application to Rome to leave the Loreto Sisters and start her own congregation. According to her constitutions, it is the aim of the congregation "to quench the infinite thirst of Jesus on the cross for love of souls by the profession of the evangelical counsels and the wholehearted and free service of the poorest of the poor" (Const 3).z This twofold aim is the ever recurring topic of her instructions. But only towards the end of her life does she speak more explicitly about her transforming experience. On 25 March 1993 she writes to all the sisters, brothers, and priests of the Missionaries a letter that is "very personal" and "comes from Mother's heart." She is deeply concerned for her society not to lose our early love, especially in the future after Mother leaves you . The time has come for me to speak openly on the gift God gave me on Sept. 10th, to explain as fully as I can what means to me the thirst of Jesus. For me the thirst of Jesus is something so intimate, so I have felt shy until now to speak to you about September 10th . Everything in MC exists only to satiate Jesus. His words on the wall of every MC chapel are not from the past only, but alive here and now, spoken to you . Jesus Himself must be the one to say to you "I thirst." Hear your own name, not just once, every day. ¯. "I thirst" is something much deeper than Jesus just saying "I love you." Unless you know deeply inside that Jesus thirsts for you, you cannot begin to know what He wants to be for you and what He wants you to be for Him. This personal union with Jesus must become fruitful in the service of the poor--the Missionaries' fourth vow: The heart and soul of MC is only this: the thirst of Jesus' " heart hidden in the poor. This is the source of every part of Review for Religious MC life. : satiating the living Jesus in our midst is our Society's only purpose. The two dimensions of M. Teresa's charism, the intimate union with Jesus and the' work for the poor, can never be separated: "I thirst" and "you did it to me," remember always to connect the two . Do not underestimate our practical means, the work for the poor, no matter how small and humble; they make our life something beautiful for God. The poor are the medium through which we touch Jesus: They are God's most precious gift to our Society--Jesus' hidden presence so near, so able to touch. (Srs 25.3.93) Mother Teresa sees her vocation, the life and work of her sisters, as part of the mission of the church, to participate in the saving passion of Jesus. The Epistle to the Colossians understands the trials of the Apostle as the continuation of Jesus' saving passion: "I am rejoicing in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am completing what is lacking in Christ's affliction for the sake of his body which is the church" (Col 1:24). This participation in Christ's redemptive passion is realized in the mission of her sisters: Try to increase your knowledge of the mystery of redemption. This knowledge will lead you to love, and love will make you share through your sacrifice in the passion of Christ. My dear children, without suffering our work would just be social work very good and helpful, but it would not be the work of Jesus Christ, not part of the redemption. Jesus wanted to help us by sharing our life, our loneliness, our agony and death. All that He has taken upon Himself and has carried it in the darkest night. Only by being one with us has He redeemed us. We are able to do the same. All the desolation of the poor people, not only their material poverty but their spiritual destitution, must be redeemed, and we must have our share in it. Pray thus when you find it hard: I wish to live in this world which is so far from God, which has turned so much from the light of Jesus, to help them--to take upon myself something.of their suffering. Yes, my dear children, let us share the sufferings of the poor, for only by being one with them can we redeem them; that is bringing God into their lives and bringing them to God. (Srs Ist Friday, July 61) She herself had to experience the pain of poverty in a very personal manner. We have a diary of the early months of her new life when she was struggling to find a place for her small group and had to experience the trials of helplessness. Mostly the notes of the September~ October 2001 Neuner ¯ Mother Teresa's Charism booklet are factual, the daily happenings. Once they have a very personal ring: Today I learned a good lesson: the poverty of the poor must often be very hard for them. When I went rounding, looking for a home, I walked and walked till my legs and my arms ached. I thought how they must also ache in body and soul looking for home, food, help. Then the temptation grew strong: the buildings of Loreto came rushing into my mind, all the beautiful things and comforts, the people they mix with, in a word, everything. "You have only to say one word and all this will be yours again," the tempter kept on saying. Of free choice, my God, and out of love for you I desire to remain and do whatever be your Holy Will in my regard. I did not allow a single tear to come. Even if I suffer more than now, I still want to do your Holy Will. This is the dark night of the birth of the Society. My God, give me courage now, this moment, to persevere in following your call. (Notebook 16.2.49) It was her charism not only to work for the poor, but to share in their pain and so to have her part in Jesus' redemptive work. But, even more, she was also called to share in the pain of his thirst. How Mother Teresa Lived Her Charism Thirst is painful longing. Mother Teresa saw it in Jesus on the cross, and her life was devoted to satiate it. It became her most personal vocation to share in it through the lasting darkness that enwrapped her life. Some experience of darkness is part of every spiritual life. She knew it also in her earlier years. At the time of preparing for her final vows, she wrote to her spiritual guide that her life was "not strewed with roses . Rather I have more the darkness as my fellow friend . I simply offer myself to Jesus" (Early letters 8.2.3 7). These were passing experiences. But, with the beginning of her new life in the service of the poor, darkness came on her with oppressive power. In the diary of those early months mentioned above, we have another very personal entry: Today, my God, what torture of loneliness. I wonder how long my heart can suffer this . Tears rolled and rolled. Everyone sees my weakness. My God, give me courage to fight self and the tempter. (Notebook 28.2.49) Father C. Van Exem was her spiritual guide at the time. She had told him to destroy all letters--so we have no letters to him Review for Religious from that time. However, he had asked her to turn to the archbishop, who in the early years--before her own constitutions were approved and she could take vows in her new congregation-- was actually the superior of the young community. She turned to him in growing confidence: I want to say to you something that I do not know to express. I am longing--with painful longing--to be all for God, to be holy in such a way that Jesus can live His life to the full in me. The more I want Him, the less I am wanted. I want to love Him as He has not been loved--and yet there is that separation, that terrible emptiness, that feeling of absence of God. For more than four years I find no help . I am not writing you as His Grace--but as the Father of my soul, for to you and from you I have not hidden anything. Tell me what I should do~I want to obey at any cost. (AP 8.2.56) And again: There is so much contradiction in my soul, such deep longing for God, so deep that it is painful, a suffering continual--yet not wanted by God, repulsed, empty, no faith, no love, no zeal . Heaven means nothing to me, it looks like an empty Place. yet the torturing longing for God. (AP 28.2.57) One day, wfien the archbishop celebrated the requiem Mass for Pope Pius XII in the cathedral, she asked for a sign: There and then disappeared that long darkness, that pain of loss, of loneliness, of that strange suffering of ten years. Today my soul is filled with love, with joy untold, with an unbroken union of love. (AP 17.10.58) Still, soon she has to write: Our Lord thought it better for me to be in the tunnel--so He is gone again, leaving me alone. I am grateful to Him for the month of love He gaye me. (AP 16.11.58) She received new life through Father T. Picachy, at the time rector of St Xavier's College, later archbishop of Calcutta and cardinal. Besides personal letters to him, we have also two documents written at his request (undated, but probably written in 1959 or 1960), in which she presents her state of mind in a coherent manner) In prayer form she writes of her closeness to Jesus in earlier years, yet now, Jesus, I go the wrong way. They say people in hell suffer eternal pain because of the loss of God . In my soul I feel just this terrible pain of. loss, of God not wanting me, of God not being God, of God not really existing. Jesus, please September-October 2001 Neuner ¯ Mother Teresa's Charism forgive the blasphemy--I have been told to write everything--that darkness that surrounds me on all sides¯ I can't lift my soul to God: No light, no inspiration enters my souk And yet, though there is no faith, no love, no trust, there is so much pain, the pain of longing, the pain of not being wanted. I want God with all the powers of my soul, and yet there is that terrible separation . I no longer pray, my soul is not with you, and yet, when alone in the streets--I talk to you for hours of my longing for you. This darkness, however, does not hinder her work: [Though] the dark holds no joys, no attention, no zeal . . . I do my best, I spend myself. I am more convinced that the work is not mine. I do not doubt that it was you who called me with such great love and force. It was you . . . it is you even now--but I have no faith. In spite of the lasting pain, she is ready to accept the darkness as her special way to satiate Jesus' thirst: If my pain and suffering, my darkness and separation give you a drop of consolation, my own Jesus, do with me as you wish. ¯. I am your own. Imprint on my soul and life the suffering of your heart . If my separation from you brings others to you and in their love and company you find joy, my Jesus, I am willing with all my heart to suffer all that I suffer . Your happiness is all that I want . I want to satiate your thirst with every single drop of blood that you can find in me . Please do not take the trouble to return soon. I am ready to wait for you for all eternity. (Pi, undated) Experiences of darkness are found in the lives of many mystics, but it may be difficult to find a parallel to the lifelong night that enwrapped Mother Teresa. It must be seen in the context of her particular mission. It came to her at the time when she embarked on her new life in the service of the abandoned. From the beginning she had to experience not only their material poverty and helplessness, but also their abandonment. This same darkness, however, was for her also the special way in which she shared in Jesus' saving passion. It was the redeeming experience of her life when she realized that the night of her heart was the special share she had in Jesus' passion: I have begun to love my darkness for I believe now that it is a part, a very small part, of Jesus' darkness and pain on earth. Review for Religious It is the spiritual side of her work: Today I really feel a deep joy that Jesus can't go any more through the agony but that He wants to go through it in me. More than ever I surrender myself to Him, more than ever I will be at His disposal. (undated) Thus we see that the darkness was actually the mysterious link that united her to Jesus. It is the contact of intimate longing for God. Nothing else can fill her mind. Such longing is possible only through God's own hidden presence. We cannot long for something that is not intimately close to us. Thirst is more than absence of water. It is not experienced by stones, but only by living beings that depend on water. Who knows more about living water, the person who opens the water tap daily without much thinking, or the thirst-tortured traveler in the desert in search for a spring? The darkness and the painful longing for the Jove of God became also her safeguard in a danger that could have harmed her mission: her ever growing popularity, the admiration she received all over the world, the numerous rewards bestowed on her. They could not touch her heart, which was absorbed in an unfulfilled longing for God. When she had to go to Manila to receive the Magsaysay award, she wrote: "I had to go to Manila . It was one big sacrifice. Why does He give me all these but not Himself?. I want Him, not His gift or creatures" (10.9.62). The eyes of the whole world were focused on her when she received the Nobel prize. She thinks only of the poor: "Hundreds of letters still keep coming. The reward has helped many people to find the way to the poor" (9.1.80). And later: "The year offered many opportunities to satisfy the thirst of Jesus for love of souls. It has been a year filled with the passion of Christ. I do not know which thirst is greater, His, or mine for Him" (15.12.80). Mother Teresa's charism comprises both the contemplative and active dimensions of Christian life. Contemplative and Active Mother Teresa's charism comprises both the contemplative and active dimensions of Christian life. The congregation aims at September-October 2001 Neuner *Motber Teresa's Charism quenching Jesus' thirst by the union with him in "the profession of the evangelical counsels and wholehearted and free service of the poorest of the poor" (Const 3). From the beginning she insisted on their inseparable complementarity. Both dimensions must be realized by every member of the congregation. Though in later years she established contemplative branches for sisters (1976) and brothers (1979), she insisted on the oneness of the society: ONE Society, bound by ONE Constitution, with the SAME vows and spirit, with ONE Superior General" (Const i1). "We are consecrated to Him. Jesus has chosen us for Himself. What joy is ours that we can at all times be in close contact with Christ in His distressing disguise" (Srs 1 st Friday, June 61). This mutual penetration of personal union with Christ and actual service of the poor is rooted in the gospel. Jesus himself was united with the Father in a unique manner and made this union fruitful in his daily care for the people. In his message the love of God, whom we cannot see, is tested in the love of neighbor, whom we see. Also the council has emphasized that the union of the self-gift of God and of apostolic concern for the neighbor are part of all religious life: it includes listening to God's word and engaging in his work. "The members of each community should combine contemplation with apostolic love. By the former they adhere to God in mind and heart, by the latter they strive to associate themselves with the work of redemption and to spread the Kingdom of God" (PC 5). Thus Mother Teresa does not accept the frequent division of religious communities as active or contemplative. Of the contemplative sisters she demands, along with their duties of "eucharistic adoration, contemplation, silence, solitude, fasting, penance," also "going out to the spiritually poorest of the poor for two or three hours a day and proclaiming the word of God by our presence and spiritual works of mercy" (Const 5). For the contemplative sisters, "going out" is not meant as a relaxation of the severe seclusion: "Never miss it--for you it is a temptation, for this is our fourth vow" (ContS 20.10.82). Contemplation does not consist in seclusion from the world but closeness to God in every sphere of life. According to the "Spiritual Directory," which contains the guidelines of her spirituality, "a contemplative is a person who lives twenty-four hours with Jesus. and all she does is to Jesus through Mary and Joseph" (Intro. to Section B). Review for Religious She also considers her active sisters contemplatives because their entire life and work consist in beirlg close to Jesus, whom they meet in the poor: "you did it for me." She wanted her whole work to be understood in this perspective even by outsiders. When she received the Nobel prize she said it before the whole world: We are not really social workers--we may be doing social work in the eyes of the people, but we are really contemplatives in the heart of the world, for we are touching the body of Christ 24 hours. We live 24 hours in His presence. All are invited to do the same by truly loving each other, beginning at home: How much we do does not matter., but how much love we put in that action, how much we do to Him in the person we are serving. (Oslo 11.12.79) This is the spirituality she tries to communicate to her sisters in countless instructions. She never proposes a systematic method--in her own dark night it would have been of no help. She tries to lead them to total surrender to Jesus. Four features seem particularly prominent in this spirituality. It begins with a firm decision to free ourselves from all clinging to our own needs, our ambitions: The first step is to will it . My progress in holiness depends on God and myself--on God's grace and my will . Into this "I will" I must put all my energy. A saint is "a resolute soul . The resolution to be a saint costs much. I will despoil myself of all that is not God; I will strip my heart and empty it of all created things." (Srs 1st Friday, Oct. 60) The readiness to renounce self opens the heart to a life of loving service. Mother Teresa finds the inspiring example of loving, humble service in Mary, who holds a central place in her spirituality. Her life overflows with God's generous gifts, yet it is totally empty of any form of conceit. She conceives Jesus, who is her child, but she knows that he belongs to the world. Her entire life is drawn into the mystery of God's love giving Jesus, his Son, to the world. Her closeness to Jesus "engenders in her zeal and charity, zeal to give Jesus through works of charity. . The fruit of this union was service of love for the neighbor . She only thought how to serve." So she becomes the model for the Missionaries of Charity: "This life of Mary is so much like ours."' The sisters, too, are united to Jesus: Septentber-October 2001 Neuner ¯ Mother Teresa's Charism Now that Jesus and I are one, has Jesus in me given me that zeal and charity as the fruitof this union? . . . Do I really go to the poor as the handmaid of the Lord, filled with Jesus, to give only Jesus to the poor I serve? Is my service to the poor devoted, tender, intimate? Do I [do] to them what Mary did to Elisabeth? (31 Oct. 66) We may still ask how she could teach her sisters to pray, for she confesses frequently that in her darkness she was unable to pray. She never taught a method, but wishes her sisters to learn the simplicity of personal union with Jesus: "A Missionary This cleaving of Charity who is not united heart and soul with Christ will not be able to live the spirit of total to each other, surrender, loving trust, and cheerfulness." The mere recital of prayers has no meaning: "To pray the prayer Jesus and I, means to be completely united to Jesus in such a way is prayer, as to allow Him to pray in us, with us, for us. This cleaving to each other, Jesus and I, is prayer." This union with Jesus is realized equally in the silence of the chapel and in daily work: "Learn to pray the work as Jesus did in Nazareth for 30 years . Learn from Jesus to pray and allow Him to pray in you, and put the fruit of prayer into living action of love in loving one another as Jesus loved each one of you" (Srs 27.7.83). We only need a humble and pure heart: "We could see God in our Sisters and the poor we serve. Is it not wonderful that we could be real contemplatives 24 hours if only our hearts were humble and pure?" (Srs Aug. 84). Finally the life and work of a Missionary of Charity must be filled with joy. Such was Jesus' desire: "He wants to share His joy with the Apostles: that my joy may be in you." Joy is not a matter of temperament, it does not consist in comfort: "The service of God and of souls is always hard." But true love brings joy: "A joyful heart is the result of a heart burning with love." Joy not only enriches our life but is "a net of love by which you can catch many souls." It is vital in the life of the sisters: "A cheerful disposition is one of the main virtues required in a Missionary of Charity" (Srs Easter, Apr. 64). The Four Vows The concrete form in which Missionaries of Charity live their union with Jesus are the four vows. In their profession they "bind themselves by the four vows to Jesus Christ Review for Religious with undivided love in chastity through freedom in poverty in total surrender in obedience in wholehearted and free service to Him in the distressing disguise of the poorest of the poor. (Const 36) In the early constitutions of 1954, Mother Teresa still followed the traditional order of the three evangelical counsels beginning with poverty. But the core of her charism is the total union with Christ expressed in the vow of chastity. She explains the coherence of the four vows: The vow of chastity makes us cleave to Christ, and the fruit of our union with Christ is the vow of charity (4th vow). We must love to be pure, we must use every means to keep ourselves pure, body and soul; Jesus must be able to use us fully. To enable the vow of charity to grow we make the vows of poverty and obedience; just as a lamp cannot burn without oil, so the vow of charity cannot live without the vows of poverty and obedience; and all three vows are because of chastity. So live the vow of chastity. (Srs 27.6.65) Poverty is needed in the total self-gift to Jesus: "To be able to be all for Jesus, to love Him with undivided love, we need a pure heart purified by the freedom of poverty." Poverty is not primarily economic want but an attitude of sharing, self-giving. Mother Teresa liked the paradox: "The less we have [for ourselves] the more we can give [of ourselves]. In possessing Jesus we possess everything. That is why we can give more, because we can give Jesus" (Srs 23.1.82). "Jesus saved us through His poverty: He made Himself poor for your sake so that through His poverty you may become rich (2 Co 8:9): We too must become poor for love of Jesus and the poor we serve. For to be able to.understand the poor, to be able to proclaim the Good News to the poor, you must know what poverty is." After enumerating the legal implications of poverty, she continues: "Our poverty should be true Gospel poverty--gentle, tender, glad, open-hearted, always ready to give an expression of love. Poverty is love before it is renunciation" (Srs 23.1.82). Similarly obedience is part of our self-gift to Jesus: "We have to belong to Jesus fully, in total surrender without any reservation, for He alone is worthy of our love. If we really fully belong to Him we must be at His disposal that He may be free to use us and to do with us whenever and whatever He wants--through our Superiors, whoever they may be" (Srs 8.7.76). Obedience is the most beautiful September-October 2001 Neuner ¯ Mother Teresa's Charism --490- offering to God because our will is the only gift of God which is our own and which God will never take by force. He will accept it only when we surrender it" (Srs 2.1.87). This is a sublime vision of religious life. We are, however, not surprised that Mother Teresa had to experience disappointments. The life of the sisters is hard, the work in the slums is dangerous. Day after day the sisters have to work together with people of all strata of society. Each time she received the news that a sister left the community, she felt deep pain. Poverty also caused many problems. Most sisters came from simple surroundings and had never handled large amounts of money. Most disturbing were reports about the disunity among sisters, about young superiors who were not sensitive to the feelings of the sisters, about jealousies, offensive language, hurting, humiliating. In a letter from the hospital she wrote: "You do not know what terrible pain these words cause to my heart . I have to take five different medicines for my physical heart, but I long for the best medicine, your love for one another" (Srs 27.10.67). All such texts in her letters must be read against the background of Mother Teresa's joy and appreciation of her sisters, of their spiritual growth and their faithful work, of which her letters are full. Still, they point at some limitations in the development of her Society. There is first her own traditional background. She received her own religious formation in the firm disciplinary frame to which young religious had to conform, under the authority of the superiors. It became a great help for her: discipline and firm authority were absolutely necessary for the fast-spreading communities. But community life and the work for the slum people also demanded initiative, creativity, and much personal responsibility. More training in community relations and in dealing with difficult situations was needed. Mother Teresa was very much concerned with the formation of the young sisters. But with the growing number of novices--there were over a hundred in the crowded house in Calcutta--it became ever more difficult. In the chapter of 1997, in which she laid down her responsibility as superior general, it was admitted that more ongoing formation was needed for the sisters, mostly for superiors. Connected with the training is also the almost exclusive spiritual motivation of her sisters for their personal and community life and for their work. The love of Jesus Christ surely remains the firm basis of the entire life of the Missionaries of Charity. But God's Review for Religious grace becomes operative within the frame of human life, personal and social. Formation must include the entire person and the concrete social conditions. The emphasis on authority resulted also in a centralization that created difficulties in the growing complexity of administration and work. This obviously is not the place to discuss these tensions in detail. They lead us, however, to the underlying problem: How can a charismatic vision be realized in a concrete organization? The problem became even more acute with regard to the co-workers. The Co-Workers The work of the sisters in the slums naturally demanded much collaboration with many people, men and women of different strata of society, including Hindus and Muslims. It gradually developed into the organized group of Co-Workers. In the introduction to the constitutions we read: From the early days of the Society, the Missionaries of Charity attracted lay people in every part of the world who wished to have some part in the work of loving service to God in the person of the needy. Out of this group grew the international association of the Co-Workers of Mother Teresa, whose Constitutions were blessed by His Holiness, Pope Paul VI, on 29th March 1969. Mother Teresa never considered the Co-Workers as an organized extension of her work. She saw in them the spreading of her community into all strata of society. The important thing was not merely their work but that they shared in the spirit. In one of her letters to them she wrote: I can give you "no better message than copy of one of the rules which applies to each one of us." Then she quotes from the (old) constitution, no. 92: As each one of this Society is to become a Co-Worker with Christ in the slums, each ought to understand what God and the Society expects of her. Let Christ radiate and live His life in her and through her in the slums. Let the poor, seeing her, be drawn to Christ and invite Him to enter their homes and their lives. Let the sick and suffering find in her a real angel of comfort and consolation. Let the little ones in the streets cling to her because she reminds them of Him, the friend of the little ones. (CoW 20 Apr. 66) From Co-Workers she expects the same attitude as from sisters: September-October 2001 Neuner ¯ Motber Teresa's Charism to know the poor, to love the poor, to serve the poor (see CoW 4.10.74). With the growth of the Society, the association of the Co- Workers also spread. It was inevitable that it developed into a full-fledged organization on the pattern of modern enterprises¯ Was this the spirit of her congregation? She felt the need to take a firm step: As we depend on Divine Providence for our needs and those of the poor, I feel that fund-raising and regular monthly contributions are against our spirit. Therefore we do not give any person or organization permission to have fund-raising or collection of contributions for our work. (CoW 27.9.81) An even more radical decision seemed necessary: "We do not need the Co-Workers to function as an organization" with governing body and officers, links and bank accounts. I do not want money to be spent for Newsletters and travel of Co-Workers . If you see anyone raising money in my name, please stop them . Let us remain united in the heart of Jesus through Mary as one spiritual family. My gift to you is to allow you to share with us in God's work, to be carriers of God's love in a spirit of prayer and sacrifice. (CoW 30.8¯93) Shordy before her death, after she handed over the government of the Society to her successor, she was once more disturbed. Was her drastic decision right? ,Once more she writes to the Co- Workers: "Do you feel the need to have an international link through a Newsletter? Do you like to have a national link as well? . ¯ . I would like to hear from you" (CoW Easter 97). Again the problem: How can a charism be organized? Charism and Institution We have tried to trace the main features of Mother Teresa's charism. She had to make it live in her Society. Can a charismatic vision be institutionalized? We know of the phenomenal development of the Missionaries of Charity during fifty and more years, spreading over the world, established in more than a hundred countries, animated by the same spirit. We have seen also, very briefly, the problems of living this life personally, in communities, in daily work and monotony, in the complexity of modern society. The charism must always remain a deeply personal commitment to Jesus Christ, but it must unfold in personal growth and in Review for Religious community and must be lived in the modern world, to bear fruit in our society. It needs planning and organization. Is this possible? The problem is common to all religious communities. One thinks of the ideas of poverty so deeply understood and radically lived by St. Francis--how difficult it was for these ideas to be institutionalized in different forms in the church of the Middle Ages! We may ask even more radically: How did Jesus himself succeed in institutionalizing his vision of a redeemed humanity in God's kingdom, of a new society comprising all people in solidarity and love, with God as the center and supporting power? Vatican Council II tells us that the church "received the mission of proclaiming and establishing the kingdom of Christ and of God among all nations." It could, however, not identify the church with the kingdom, but had to add the humble statement that "she is the seed and beginning of this kingdom on earth" (LG §5). The growth of God's kingdom on earth remains the task of Jesus' followers in all new generations, in ever new situations. This is also the legacy of Mother Teresa to her congregation: persistently to strive for the realization of her charism and make it fruitful for our society. Notes 1 Most of the documents, and the copyright ©, belong to the Missionaries of Charity; some documents belong to the archbishop of Calcutta and to St. Xavier's College, Calcutta. 2 Abbreviations: AP-Letters to Archbishop Perrier. Const-Consdtutions of the Missionaries of Charity. ContS-Letters to the Contemplative Sisters. CoW-Letters to the Co-Workers. LG-Lumen gentium, Constitution on the Church. PC-Perfeaae caritatis, Decree on the Renewal of the Religious Life. H-Letters to Father T. Picachy SJ. Srs-Letters to the Sisters. 3 Some of the texts in which Mother Teresa reveals her darkness to Father T. Picachy, at the time rector of St. Xavier's College, have been presented by A. Huart SJ in Vidyajyofi: Journal of Theological Reflection (VJTR) 64 (September 2000): 654-659, and also below in this issue of Review for Religious. September-Oaober 2001 ALBERT HUART Mother Teresa: Joy in the Night The lasting impression that Mother Teresa, Missionary of arity, left with those who met her was one of radiant joy-fulness. Who has not observed, at least in photos, her homely face all wrinkled up in smiles as she fondles a baby orphan, greets a girl in rags, or comforts a dying beggar? How, people wondered, can a person daily immersed in the depths of human misery keep going with such unflagging joy-giving vitality? Yet very few, even among her close associates, knew that for many years Mother radi-ated this joy from a heart plunged in excruciating darkness. The priests who were her close spiritual confidants have almost all departed from this world. I cannot claim to have been one of them. Yet, during a retreat that I directed for her sisters and for herself, she confided to me the pain and bewilderment that enveloped her. I was at the time a young priest with little experience. During my theological studies, I had gone through the writings of John of the Cross. Persuaded as I was that she was a true woman of God, I surmised that I was in the presence of the Dark Night of the Spirit that this great doctor of the mystical life so powerfully describes. I was confirmed in this impression when Mother added (I quote from memory): "The strange thing is: when I speak to my sisters and other people about God, Jesus, the presence of Jesus Albert Huart SJ published a different version of thisarticle in Vidyajyoti, New Delhi. He is assistant to the provincial of his Calcutta province, and his address is Xavier Sadan; 9/3 Middleton Row; Calcutta 700 071; India. Review for Religious in the poor, I cannot fail to realize that the message passes and evokes a deep response in them. But, within my own heart, it is all darkness." As I listened to her, the image that emerged in my mind was that of a chalet basking in warm bright sunshine, surrounded by lush vegetation and flowers, yet, within, all dark and cold. What I surmised in this brief encounter was confirmed many years later, after her death. I then had the opportunity of going though the letters addressed by Mother to Father Lawrence Trevor Picachy, a Jesuit priest then residing in St. Xavier's College, Calcutta, subsequently bishop of Jamshedpur, archbishop of Calcutta, and a cardinal. A folder containing these letters was found among the cardinal's papers after his death. It remained unopened until the beginning of Mother's beatification process. These letters are the one written source on which this article is based. All the signposts mentioned by John of the Cross for ascer-taining the Night are strikingly in evidence. As he describes it, when a person generously responds to grace in her spiritual pilgrimage, a time comes when she is led by the Spirit through a desert--often in two stages (which may be consecutive or overlapping). The first one--the Night of the Senses--generally follows an initial period of easy and joyful prayer. It is felt mostly at the level of the emotions and feelings. These gradually go dry and numb, at times becoming distressingly painful. The second--the Night of the Spirit--goes deeper, even to the deepest point of the human spirit. Not many are led through this (though perhaps more than we might think). The persons suffer greatly, mostly from an acute sense that God is absent or has actually abandoned them even though they have an ever growing painful longing for God. Initially they may be tempted to give in to discouragement, attributing their condition to their own sinfulness and unfaithfulness. God may send a soul friend to give them courage and hope and to help them recognize God at work within this darkness--as for some years Father Picachy did in Mother Teresa's case. According to John of the Cross, the chief signs for distin-guishing this Night of the Spirit from psychological depression or spiritual sluggishness are: (1) Most importantly: the person is unremitting in her commitment to duty and to her mission, even if she encounters trials and failures in these. (2) Although the per- Septentber-October 2001 Huart * Mother Teresa son experiences prayer as dark, painful, and fruitless, she yet feels drawn to prayer¯ (3) Gradually, underneath the darkness that weighs on her, she discovers a quiet and growing spring of peace¯ (4) Later, when she ultimately emerges from this dark trial (which may take years), she looks back on it as a most blessed and life-giving period of her life. John of the Cross sings: "Oh Night that was my guide, / fairer by far than dawn when stars grow dim! / Night that has unified / the Lover and the Bride, / transforming the beloved into Him." The extracts from Mother's letters quoted below may give the impression of a litany of gloom¯ In fact, such cries of distress only come up in flashes among a great deal of no-nonsense disposal of business at hand and joyful accounts of God's grace and help in the work for the poor. .~.:.:. ¯ "In the darkness . . . Lord, my God, who am I that you should forsake me? The child of your love - and now become as the most hated one. The one - You have thrown away as unwanted - unloved. I call, I cling, I want, and there is no one to answer. ¯ Where I try to raise my thoughts to heaven, there is such con-victing emptiness that those very thoughts return like sharp knives and hurt my very soul. Love - the word - it brings nothing. I am told God lives in me - and yet the reality of darkness & coldness & emptiness is so great that nothing touches my soul . "The whole time smiling - Sisters and people pass such remarks - they think my faith, trust, and love are filling my very being & that the intimacy with God and union to His will must be absorbing my heart - Could they but know - and how my cheer-fulness is the cloak by which I cover the emptiness and misery. In spite of all, this darkness and emptiness is not as painful as the longing for God . "When You asked to imprint Your Passion on my heart, is this the answer? If this brings You glory, if You get a drop of joy from this, if souls are brought to You, - if my suffering satiates Your thirst - there I am, Lord. With joy I accept all to the end of life. I will smile at your Hidden Face always" (undated). ¯ "If you knew.what I am going through - He is destroying everything in me - but I hold no claim in myself- He is free to do anything. Pray that I keep smiling at Him" (26 January 1957). ¯ "You must have prayed much for me - I have found real Review for Religious happiness in suffering - but the pain is sometimes unbearable - You don't know how miserable and nothing I am. Pray that I may love God with a love - with which he has never been loved before. What a foolish desire" (28 June 1958). ¯ "I did not know that love could make one suffer so much - that was suffering of loss - this is of longing - of pain human but caused by the divine. Pray for me" (6 November 1958). ¯ "I want God with all the power of my soul - and yet between us there is terrible separation. I don't pray any longer. I utter words of Community prayers . . . and yet when alone in the streets - I talk to You for hours - How intimate are those words - and yet so empty for they leave me far from You" (3 September 1959). ¯ "Pray for me - that 1 may not refuse God - It comes to the breaking point - then it does not break - I wish I could tell or write what I long to tell - but I find no words" (25 October 1959). ¯ "Pray for me, Father. Inside of me there is so much of suffering - pray for me that I may not refuse God in this hour - I don't want to do it, but I am afraid I may do it. Pray for me" (13 December 1959). ¯ "Keep my soul with all its darkness & loneliness, its longing and its torturing pain close to the altar - Pray for me - much and often - for now it seems He has cut off one more human help and left me alone - to walk alone in darkness. Pray for me - that I may keep up the smile, of giving without reserve - pray that I may find courage to walk bravely and with a smile. Ask Jesus not to allow me to refuse Him anything however small - I rather die. To ask you to come - I think that I will not do but if Jesus asks you to come - Please come I will be grateful" (4 April 1960). ¯ "I have been on the verge of saying - No. It has been so very hard - that terrible longing keeps growing - & I feel as if something will break in me one day - and then that darkness, that loneliness, that feeling of terrible aloneness. Heaven from every side is closed. Even the souls that drew me from Home from Loreto as if they don't exist - gone is the love for anything and any-body - and yet - I long for God. I long to love Him with every drop of life in me. I want to love Him with a deep personal love - I can't say I am distracted - my mind and heart is habitually with This darkness and emptiness is not as painful as the longing for God. Septentber-October 2001 Huart ¯ Mother Teresa God - How this thing must sound foolish to you because of its contradiction. "For my meditation I am using the Passion of Jesus - I am afraid I make no meditation - but only look at Jesus suffer - and keep repeating - 'Let me share with you this pain!' "When you go to Jesus - make one fervent act of love for me - since I can't make it myself" (20 October 1960). ¯ "He want to make sure to drain out of me every drop of self - Those weekly helps He has taken also so that darkness is so dark and the pain so great but in spite of it all - my retreat resolution was the same a hearty 'Yes' to God, a big 'Smile' to all. and it seems that these two words are the only thing that keeps me going" (15 June 1961). ¯ "As for me - thank God we have been told to follow Christ - as I have not to go ahead of Him even in the darkness the path is sure. "When some daysare above the average - I just stand like a very small child and await patiently for the storm to subside" (1 September 1961). ¯ "Often I wonder what does really God get from me in this state - no faith, no love - not even in feelings. The other day I can't tell you how bad I felt - there was a moment when I nearly refused to accept - deliberately I took the Rosary and very slowly without even meditating or thinking - I said it slowly and calmly - the moment passed - but the darkness is so dark, and the pain is so painful - but I accept whatever he gives and I give whatever He takes - People say they are drawn close to God - seeing my strong faith. Is this not deceiving people? Every time I have wanted to tell the truth - 'that I have no faith' - the words just do not come - my mouth remains closed - and yet I still keep on smiling at God and all" (21 September 1962). ¯ "I must have been so very full of self all this year - Since God is taking so long to empty me - I hope one day when I am fully empty He comes. Pray for me" (13 February 1963). ¯ "In my soul - I can't tell you how dark it is, how painful, how terrible. I feel like 'refusing God' and yet the biggest and the hardest to bear is the terrible longing for God - Pray for me that I may not turn a Judas to Jesus in this painful darkness. I was looking forward to speaking to you v I just long to speak - and this too He seems to have taken the power from me. I will not complain - I accept His Holy Will as it comes to me. If you have Review for Religious the time please write & do not mind my inability to speak to you - for I wanted to speak - but I could not" (9 January 1964). ¯ "I want to want it as He wants it. Only pray that I may keep up joy exteriorly. I deceive people with this weapon - even my Sisters" (undated). Even in her darkest moments, one thing always remained with Mother: the unshakable conviction that the mission entrusted to her and to her sisters among the poorest of the poor was God's, his entirely: ¯ "I know that I want with my whole heart what He wants, as He wants, as long as He wants. Yes Father - this 'aloneness' is hard. The only thing that remains is the deep and strong conviction that the work is His" (18 May 1962). It is no doubt from her own experience of the night that she could reach out to those who were journeying along a similar road. In a page of breathtaking beauty she wrote to a priest: ¯ "You have said 'yes' to Jesus and He has taken you at your word. The Word of God became Jesus the poor one. And so this terrible emptiness you experience. God cannot fill what is full. He can only fill emptiness - deep poverty - and your 'yes' is the beginning of being or becoming empty. It is not how much we really 'have' to give - but how empty we are - so that we can receive fully in our life and let Him live His life in us. In you today - He wants to relive His complete submission to His Father - allow Him to do so. It does not matter what you feel but what He feels in you. Take away your eyes from yourself and rejoice that you have nothing - that you are nothing - that you can do nothing. Give Jesus a big smile each time your nothingness frightens you. This is the poverty of Jesus. You and I must let Him live in us and through us in the world [.] Cling to Our Lady for she too - before she could become full of grace - full of Jesus - had to go through that darkness" (7 February 1974). At times God provided an oasis of peace: ¯ "You must have prayed very fervently for me because it is now about a month that there is in my heart a very deep union with the Will of God. I accept not in my feelings - but with my will, the Will of God. I accept this Will - not only for time but for eternity" (9 January 1964). Yet, in 1970, she still could write: ¯ "I can't tell you how bad I feel - but this too I have to accept. The devil must be mad September-October 2001 Huart * Mother Teresa with the good the Sisters are doing- & so the revenge" (16 September 1970). Most of these letters are from the mid 1950s to the mid 1960s. In later years, in her letters to Bishop and then Cardinal Picachy, she seldom comes back to this protracted trial. Does this mean that the darkness has by this time been lifted and that she now dwells in light and peace? When Father Picachy was appointed bishop of Jamshedpur and left Calcutta in 1962, she wrote to congratulate him and told him that, as he would be busy with weightier affairs, she felt she should not burden him any more with her own troubles. Is this why her spiritual confidences to him became gradually much less frequent? Or had she come to recognize that this darkness was God's way for her, along which she could be one with the poor and abandoned, and with the Sitio (the "I thirst") of Jesus on the cross? In the chapels of the Missionaries of Charity, next to a large crucifix, you will always find the words "I thirst" prominently displayed. Whatever happened afterwards, I hold it from reli-able witnesses that, in the period immediately before her death, she was in great and agonizing spiritual darkness. Further docu-ments and witnesses are likely to throw light on this, but per-haps fewer than we might hope. Mother always enjoyed speaking about God, Jesus, and the poor, but she was very reserved about her own inner life, except in those moments of night when she could not suppress a cry of pain. To Cardinal Picachy she confided how painful it was for her to open about it even to him. After meeting him she more than once wrote: ¯ "I wanted so much to speak to you, but something kept me back." In fact Mother tried persistently to get at confiding letters to destroy them. Many got lost in this way: ¯ "Please. destroy my letters or anything I have written - God wants me to open my heart to you - I have not refused. I am not trying to find the reason - only I beg you destroy everything" (26 April 1959). Cardinal Picachy did not comply, but kept all these letters-- presumably because he foresaw what would happen after her death. Her fear was that, if divulged, the letters might draw attention to her. She was convinced that the work she had been entrusted with was entirely God's, not hers. She was--as she repeatedly said-- only the small pencil stub that God used in writing his poem. She would add: ¯ "If God could have found a person smaller and more worthless than me, He would have chosen her instead." Review for Religious :" Would Mother, now that she is no longer with us on earth, still object to these letters having been preserved by Cardinal Picachy and now, after her and his death, brought into the open? By now she no doubt has understood that she belongs to the church. It is traditional teaching that the mystical charism of God's close friends is meant not primarily for themselves but for the good of the whole church. Many people who go through similar trials may gain courage and hope from these letters. There are probably many more such persons than we think---though in various degrees of intensity. About the Nights anyone can read in the writings of great mystics. Yet is it not encouraging to real-ize that darkness has been daily bread for a most joy-giving little woman of our days? At first sight Mother Teresa might stand in sharp contrast to little TMr~se of Lisieux. The latter lived within the routine of a contemplative convent, the for-mer was fully immersed in the world of the poor and later trav-eled incessantly around the world to visit her sisters. There may, however, have been a great closeness of spirit between the two. When Mother was asked whether she took her name from the great Teresa of Jesus, she answered: "Oh no, nothing so grand for me! For me it is the little one." She often fondly spoke of her. Just before dying she wrote a letter to her sisters, making special mention of her little life-friend. We mentioned above Mother's small parable comparing herself to the useless little pencil stub in the hand of God, Does this image not remind us of Thtr~se of Lisieux's Little Way? Would their similai'ities not come in large measure from their pilgrim-age through the same Night? It is well known that Th~r~se of Lisieux, for years before her death--and increasingly as she approached death--lived in a deep darkness of the spirit. This she bore heroically in union with the many in her age who were over-whelmed by the spirit of unbelief. Mother lived it in union with the vast world of those who live in misery, loneliness, and rejection. This article does not attempt to give a balanced account of Mother Teresa's spirituality. It is very one-sided, emphasizing In the period immediately before her death, she was in great and agonizing spiritual darkness. September-October 2001 Huart * Mother Teresa Mother's Night pilgrimage, a dimension of her life that is little known. There is any amount of documentation focusing on her immense compassion for the poor, her organizing dynamism, her spirit of faith and joy-giving. It seems good now to bring out the dark mystical dimension, which might place her along with the great contemplative apostles of the world. Some trends nowadays would claim that a Christian is called to be carried on an ever flowing stream of spiritual joy. Here there would be no darkness of spirit that a good mix of psychotherapy and spirituality could not do away with. I remember Cardinal Picachy, the recipient of the letters we have been quoting above, asking in gentle bewilderment after listening to a talk on such lines: "What on earth has become of the Night?" He may have been thinking of what his friend had gone through, and of the joy-giving fruit it has borne for many. Leaves Dried, dead leaves, brown, brittle, broken, scraping the concrete, whisked by the wind. Fodder for fire, fun for squirrels and birds, who walk, scamper, and squawk in the midst of them. Pounded by nature, they melt, mushy, into the ground, giving nourishment, substance, peat to a new generation. I am not unlike the leaf. Michael J. Lydon Review for Religious CATHY WRIGHT Multicultural at Our Very Heart: The Little Sisters of Jesus There is a lot of research and talk today about multi-culturalism in religious life. My reading about it has been limited, but I think that my community, the Little Sisters of Jesus, has a certain experience of it that might be interesting to simply share. We were founded in 1939 by Magdeleine Hutin, who started in Algeria among nomadic tribes of the Sahara, intending to be a simple presence of friendship and God's love. By that very presence in love and respect, she sought to break down barriers of prejudice. While not monastic, we are called to be contemplatives, to seek the face of God in a life that is lived amid ordi-nary people who have suffered from poverty or exclusion of one kind or another. Magdeleine never expected her community to be more than a small group fitting into the desert's nomadic Muslim population. But a strange thing happened. After World War II many women, especially in her native France, became captivated by this way of "presence." As the numbers increased, some began asking to go to other countries, and in 1947 Magdaleine understood that this "vocation of Bethlehem and Nazareth" could be lived Cathy Wright LSJ lives in Chicago. More information and resources about the Little Sisters are available on their Website: www.rc.net/org/littlesisters. September- October 2001 Wright ¯ Multicultural at Our Very Heart anywhere. With the audacity of all our founders, she got herself a ticket to travel around the world. Wherever she found a willing bishop--and there were many who refused her--she would leave a few young sisters behind to "do it." With many adventures they did. Some of those places were the industrialized urban centers, where the sisters worked in fac-tories. Some of those places were deep in the Amazon or in remote villages of Alaska or Australia. And some were in areas torn by the violence of hatred and war. She would go almost anywhere, but particularly where the church was not present or where people suffered from discrimination, violence, division, or poverty. Foundations on every continent resulted in women from those countries asking to join. Magdeleine saw in this a wonderful way of being a living sign of unity. She was not a woman of theories, but one of dreams, seemingly undaunted by the inconveniences of what she was undertaking. She was not naive about the demands of the lifestyle, but was convinced that the power of love could continue working miracles in our day. If anything, Magdeleine erred on the side of multicultural-ism. As soon as women from a country were professed (and some-times even before), she gave them leadership roles in the congregation. She encouraged sisters from different countries, races, and cultures to live together as visible witnesses and signs that love can overcome the divisions created by prejudices. She quickly had sisters from different countries and races taking their place on the general council. Ag a way of further encouraging this intermingling, forma-tion sessions and theology studies were organized first in Algeria and later in Rome so that all could have the experience of living together for a significant length of time. When people from around the world spend a year or two together deepening their faith and their common vocation, friendships are created that sustain us when we return to our own little corners of the world. As I said, Magdeleine was not a woman of theory. She just went on and dreamed wonders into being. She knew how to celebrate and rejoice in the diversity of cultures. Besides the personal letters exchanged by friends now living all over the world, we have a system of circular letters, very con-crete sharings gathered from those faraway places. We know about land-reform issues in the Amazon through our sisters who have lived among the Tapirape people for fifty years, and the genocide Review for Religious in Rwanda had a personal face to it--sisters and their families and friends. I have lived with sisters from many countries and partic-ipated in their celebrations. We have eaten each other's food, sometimes with delight and sometimes just trying to get it down. We learn to laugh and cry together, both by sharing about what goes on back home and by the inevitable joys and pains of learn-ing to live together. Being part of such a community has its challenges. It is not always simple to bring such diversity together, especially from peoples that may have a long his-tory of conflict and misunderstand-ing. These can be painful situations, and trying to find a way together can only be done through the heart of the Crucified One. But finding a way is a gospel imperative. In my own experience, the cul-tural differences are not the hard-est. We expect them to be there even if sometimes we are surprised by them and trip. The differences of personality and temperament-- realities that are present in each cul-ture- are much harder to deal with on a daily basis. On one occasion I spent the better part of a year in a group of eighteen of us. Within that group there were two sisters each from Nigeria, Japan, Germany, India, and Ethiopia. In each instance the personalities and temperaments of the two from the same country were so different as to wonderfully break down any national stereotypes that we might have had of each other. And, rather than trying simplistically to think that all national cultures are much the same, is it not better to notice the many variations on a theme? It seems to me that the most important element of any cross-cultural community project is the attitude with which we approach it. Do I believe that each culture is good even if I will always be more at home within my own? Am I comfortable enough within my own culture so as not to be threatened by another's? As obvi-ous as it may seem, I found myself realizing one day that each cul- When people from around the world spend a year or two together deepening their faith and their common vocation, friendships are created that sustain us when we return to our own little corners of the world. ¯ September-October 2001 Wright ¯ Multicultural at Our Very Heart ture, including my own, is in need of evangelization in the deep-est and best sense. There is no need to idealize away our sins and shortcomings. We are all in need of redemption. In crossing our cultural boundaries, it is important to be not only willing, but eager, to learn from each other--and to be convinced that others have something to reveal to me not only about themselves but also about myself and God. I have learned much by simply being part of a diverse com-munity. I have especially learned that my way of seeing the world is very relative. I have been privileged to visit or live in other countries and cultures, and this has fashioned the way I see the world. At present my community numbers about 1300 women from 67 nationalities living in 72 countries. There are only 25 of us in the United States. Of that number about half have been born in the U.S. 9f European or Mexican ancestry. The rest come from France, Belgium, Switzerland, Germany, Japan, and Sri Lanka. Little sis-ter Magdeleine dreamed us into existence through the grace of God and her audacity to believe that what was deemed folly in the eyes of many was really the wisdom of God. She just went on and did it, believing that "Jesus is the Master of the Impossible." None of us will ever do it perfectly. We have made plenty of mis-takes, and will find new mistakes down the road. In a global world, I am grateful for Magdeleine's vision. For her the differences of culture, race, religion, temperament, and age were cause for celebration and mutual enrichment. She believed that embracing these differences is a sign of the reign of God. It is a response to Jesus' call to be one, to build a world where we are all sisters and brothers to one another. Review for Religious A. PAUL DOMINIC Millennial Stirrings in Religious Life ~/ n~w spiritual awakening is occurring in human culture, an awakening brought about by a critical mass of indi-viduals who experience their lives as a spiritual unfolding, a jour-ney in which we are led by mysterious coincidences.'" No matter who wrote those words--though in fact they are by James Redfield, author of the bestselling Celestine Prophecy--they are likely to evoke a pleasant, hopeful response in many a reader around the world. I asked myself whether such an awakening is occurring in religious life. I answered yes at once. But, as I wanted to share my convic-tion with others, I began wondering how to express it in a way that would be both familiar and striking. No ideas came, and, without a library at hand, I laid aside my little project and devoted some time to prayer. Afterwards I was about to do something else when I felt urged to pick up at random one of a little collec

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

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