Suchergebnisse

Issue 19.6 of the Review for Religious, 1960. ; SACRED CONGREGATION OF RITES Litany of the Precious Blood [On February 24, 1960, the Sacred Congregation of Rites issued .the Latin text of a new litany to be included in future editions of the Roman Ritual immediately after the Litany of the Sacred Heart. The,:original text may be found in /lcta Apostolicae Sedis, 52 (1960), 412-13. On March 3, 1960 (Acta Apostolicae Sedis, 52 [1960], 420), the Sacred Apostolic Penitentiary granted an indulgence of seven years each time the litany is recited with contrite heart; moreover once a month a plenary indulgence can bi~ gained under the usual conditions provided the litany has been said daily for an entire month.] Lord, have mercy on us. Christ, have mercy on us. Lord, have mercy on us. Christ hear us. Christ graciously hear us. God the Father of heaven, have mercy on us. God the Son, Redeemer of the world, have mercy on us. God the Holy Spirit, have mercy on us. Holy Trinity, one God, have mercy on us. Blood of Christ, only Son of the eternal Father, save us. Blood of Christ, incarnate Word of God, save us. Blood of Christ of the new and eternal testament, save us. Blood of Christ, flowing to the earth during the agony, save us. Blood of Christ, poured out during the scourging, save us. Blood o[ Christ, streaming forth during the crowning of thorns, save us. Blood of Christ, shed on the cross, save us. Blood of Christ, price of our salvation, save us. Blood of Christ, without which there is no forgiveness, save us. Blood of Christ, purifying drink of souls in the Eucharist, save us. Blood of Christ, river of mercy, save us. Blood of Christ, conqueror of the devils, save us. Blood of Christ, courage of the martyrs, save us. Blood of Christ, strength of confessors, save us. Blood of Christ, seed of virgins, save us. Litany ot the Precious Blood VOLUME 19, 1960 ~2! Blood of Christ, strength of those in danger, save us. Blood of Christ, solace of the suffering, save us. Blood of Christ, consolation in time of grief, save us. Blood of Christ, hope of penitents, save us. Blood of Christ, comfort of the dying, save us. Blood of Christ, peace and sweetness of hearts, save us. Blood of Christ, pledge of eternal life, save us. Blood of Christ, liberating souls from Purgatory, save us. Blood of Christ, worthy of all glory and honor, save us. Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world, spare us, O Lord. Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world, graciously hear us, O Lord. Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world, have mercy on us. V. You have redeemed us, O Lord, in Your Blood. R. And You have made us a kingdom for our God. Let us pray Almighty, everlasting God, who made Your only begotten Son the Redeemer of the world and who willed to be pro-pitiated by His Blood: grant, we beseech You, that we may venerate this price of our salvation and be defended on earth by Its power from the evils of the present life, so that we may thereby enjoy the perpetual reward of heaven. Through the same Christ our Lord. Amen. ÷ ÷ ÷ Sacred Congregation o~ Rites REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 322 JOSEPH F. GALLEN, S. J. The Constitutions Questions, difficulties, and cases on the constitutions ot religious institutes are of frequent occurrence. It seems more practical to retain the question and answer form for this matter than to synthesize it in the abstract form of an article. I. The Obligation to Strive for Perfection 1. What is the obligation o] a religious to strive ]or perfection? All authors admit the existence of such an obligation, but they differ in explaining its source. The first and at least solidly probable opinion is that the obligation of striving for perfection is not distinct from the obligation of observing the two distinctive means of perfection of the religious state, that is, the vows and the laws of the par-ticular institute, which are contained principally in the Rule and constitutions. This obligation is consequently completely identified with the obligation of observing the vows and the laws of the particular institute. Therefore, sin cannot be committed against a special and distinct ob-ligation of striving for perfection. The first argument for this opinion is that the Code of Canon Law nowhere as-serts a distinct obligation of striving for perfection. The code at least appears to confirm this opinion and may even be explicitly affirming it, since canon 593 states that all religious are obliged to observe their vows constantly and completely, to order their lives according to their rules and constitutions, and thus tend to the per[ection oI their state. The canon evidently at least appears to identify the obligation of observing the vows, rules, and constitutions with the striving for perfection. The same principle is con-tained in canon 488, 1°: "A religious institute signifies a society., in which the members, according to the laws proper to the society, take public vows., and so strive after evangelical perfection." This opinion maintains also that one who is obliged to the means of perfection is suffi-ciently obliged to strive for perfection, and an additional obligation is not to be asserted without necessity. It is likewise a general principle that one fulfills the duties of Joseph F. Gallen, $.J. is Professor of (:anon Law at Woodstock College, Woodstock, Maryland. VOLUME 19, 1960 323 ÷ ÷ Joseph F. Gallen, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 324 his state of life by satisfying the obligations proper to that state. The final argument is drawn from a comparison with~ the obligation of attaining eternal salvation. All mankind' is obliged to attain eternal salvation, but this is not an oh' ligation distinct from that of obeying the laws to which/ one is subject. The man who habitually commits or in-~ tends to commit serious sins of theft does not also sini against a special obligation of attaining eternal salvation.~ Geerts, Revue D'~lsc~tique et De Mystique, 2 (1921),i 213--47; Auxentius a Rotterdam, Commentarium Pro Re-¢ ligiosis, 31 (1952), 250-75; 33 (1954), 77-85; 192-211;I 302-11; Creusen, Religious Men and Women in Church l Law, n. 253; Bastien, Directoire Canonique, n. 521; bart, Trait~ de Droit.Canonique, n. 876, 3°; and others. The second probable opinion affirms a special obliga-~ tion from the virtue of religion to strive for perfection, that is, an obligation distinct from that of observing the l vows and the laws of the particular institute. The first l argument for this opinion is that the religious by profes-sion becomes a member of a public state whose purpose~ is to strive for perfection. The religious is therefore t obliged to strive for the purpose of his state of life. It can~ be immediately replied that the religious does this by the obligation of observing the vows and the laws of the par-ticular institute, whose observance necessarily leads to per-fection. No other obligation is necessary nor proved. The second argument is founded on a tacit promise of the re-ligious in his profession to strive for the purpose of his state. But again the religious fulfills such a promise by the obligation of observing the vows and the laws of the par-ticular institute. The last argument is that one who ex-plicitly promises to observe a definite means [the vows] to an end, implicitly also promises to strive for the end. This may be granted, but it does not prove a special obligation to strive for the end. It even appears to affirm the con-trary doctrine, that is, the end or purpose is sufficiently attained by the obligation of observing the means to that end. We may therefore conclude that the obligation of ob-serving the vows and the laws of the particular institute is clear in itself and in the code; that such observance necessarily leads to perfection; and that a special obliga-tion of striving for perfection is not necessary, is not proved, and consequently does not have to be admitted. The opinion of a digtinct obligation is held by Vermeersch, De Religiosis, II, (68)-(69); I, nn. 224-27; Epitome luris Canonici, I, n. 748; Theologia Moralis, III, n. 114; Wernz- Vidal, De Religiosis, n. 338; Pujol, De Religiosis Orientali-bus, nn. 342-45; Muzzarelli, De Congregationibus Iuris Dioecesani, n. 327; and others, H. Meaning and Content of Rule an_d Constitutions 2. We call the constitutions our holy Rule. Are consti-tutions and the Rule the same thing? The Rule gives only general, primary, fundamental, and concise spiritual and ascetical norms; the constitutions are more detailed, more legal and disciplinary. The Rule is relatively small and incomplete; the constitutions are larger and contain all the particular norms necessary for the religious life. The various Rules originated before the fifteenth century; new constitutions continually arise. The Rule is usually the work of the founder himself; the con-stitutions have very frequently originated in chapters. The Rule is considered as perpetual, untouchable, immutable, and may be changed only by the Roman Pontiff; this sta-bility is greater than that of the constitutions, even when the latter were approved by the Holy See. The Rule is in fact common to many distinct religious institutes; the con-stitutions are proper to each institute. To exemplify this fact, even though incompletely, in lay institutes the Rule of St. Augustine is found in nuns of the Sacred Order of Preachers, of Our Lady of Charity of Refuge, of the Blessed Sacrament of Our Lady, of the Visitation, and of the Order of St. Ursula, as also in Dominican congregations of sisters and in the Good Shepherd of Angers Sisters. The Rule of St. Benedict is used by Benedictine nuns and sisters; and the Rule of St. Francis, which is rather a triple Rule, is found in institutes of Franciscan nuns, sisters, and broth-ers. The Rule of St. Basil is confined almost exclusively to oriental religious. The Rules of St. Basil, St. Augustine, St. Benedict, and St. Francis are called the four great Rules. Other Rules also exist, for example, that of the Carmelite Order, which is observed also by Carmelite nuns and sisters. Because the Rule was general, incomplete, and so ex-clusively spiritual, in institutes that arose before the six-teenth century it had to be completed by other norms that clarified and determined the general principles of the Rule, adapted the Rule to the specific purpose of an insti-tute, and completed it by defining the purpose, means, government, offices, and the rights and obligations of the members. These complementary norms were usually called constitutions. Therefore, in institutes that have a Rule, the Rule is the fundamental law, the constitutions are the complementary law. Institutes that arose from the beginning of the sixteenth century ordinarily did not adopt one of the ancient Rules but assembled all their basic laws in one collection, which was generally called constitutions. Therefore, in these institutes and in the more modern sense, constitutions include both the funda-mental and complementary law of the institute. However, ÷ ÷ ÷ TI~ Constitutions VOLUME 19, 1960 325 4" ]oseph F. Gallen, $.~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 326 at present in institutes of brothers, nuns, and sisters that have a Rule, the constitutions ordinarily are of exactly the same nature in subject matter as in institutes that fol-low no Rule. The sense explained above is that of Rule in the singu-lar. In the plural, rules are not part of the basic law of an institute, as are the Rule and constitutions, but secondary, particular, and detailed norms of conduct, for example, common rules, rules of modesty, of the provincial, of the local superior, of priests, of confessors, of scholastics, of lay brothers, and so forth. Such rules are in use in many of the institutes founded from the beginning of the sixteenth century. They are not found too frequently in lay insti-tutes, whose particular law generally consists of a Rule, if the institute follows one, constitutions, directory, custom book, ordinances of the general chapter, and regulations of higher superiors. In the Code of Canon Law, the terms rules, rules and constitutions, and constitutions in relation to religious sig-nify the entire particular law of an institute, whether this has its origin in a Rule or constitutions, and no matter what may be the parts or the names by which various parts of this particular law are designated in a given institute. The Normae of 1921 forbade religious congregations to call their constitutions a Rule in the text of the constitu-tions. They are to be termed constitutions (n. 22 h.). This norm of canonical usage does not forbid such expressions as "our holy Rule" in other usage nor in conversation Even moral and canonical authors are still accustomed to explain the obligation and Other matters appertaining to constitutions under the general heading of the obligation of the Rule. Maroto, Regulae et Particulares Constitu-tiones Singularum Religionum, nn. 1-97; Larraona, Com-mentarium Pro Religiosis, 4 (1923), 134-39; Ravasi, De Regulis et Constitutionibus Religiosorum, 8-14. 3. I have noticed that religious universally speak of their constitutions, or of their holy Rule, as iJ all the arti-cles of the constitutions had the same force. Is this true? Constitutions are in fact composed of several different species of laws. 1. Laws of God. These, for example, the prohibition of stealing or of lying, whether natural or revealed, oblige immediately under sin, mortal or venial, according to the particular law. There are very few such laws in constitu-tions. 2. Laws that determine the matter of the vows. These are also few in number, since they are ordinarily confined to the articles that give the definition of each vow. Such laws evidently oblige in the same way as the vow, because they define the matter of the particular vow. A particular article may also contain a precept in virtue of the vow of obedience, but such articles are not found in the constitu-tions of lay institutes. 3. Laws of the Church, especially those appertaining to religious. A very great number of these are found in all constitutions. They oblige immediately under sin, mortal or venial, according to the law. However, practically none of these laws immediately affect the daily lives of religious. 4. Particular laws of the institute. These are divided into exhortations or counsels, legal, merely disciplinary, and spiritual articles. (a) Exhortations or counsels. It is not repugnant that some articles of the constitutions be mere ex-hortations or counsels, such as those on the practice of virtue to an exalted degree, for example, charity, hu-mility, obedience, mortification, and so forth. Of this nature are articles that demand a perfect love of God and complete detachment from selblove in all actions, the acceptance and desire only of what our Lord ac-cepted and desired, complete conformity of judgment in all obedience, and the more perfect abnegation and mortification of oneself in every act. If understood in the particular institute as counsels, they produce no obligation; if understood as preceptive, they are vio-lated only by a habitual neglect to cultivate such vir-tues. (b) Legal articles. Some of these are on government and the organization of the institute, for example, the following matters established by the law of the con-stitutions: the members Of the general and provincial chapters; the substitutes for such members; the system of electing delegates; the possession of active and pas-sive voice; the number required for a valid s~ssion of a chapter and council; the number of votes re-quired for a valid election; the right of making pro-posals to the general chapter; the qualities required for offices, for example, for superiors, councilors, sec-retaries, and treasurers; the term of office and imme-diate reelection or reappointment of supe?iors and officials; the incompatibility of offices; matters that require the consent or advice of councils; matters that demand a secret vote of a council; the number of councilors; appointments to be made in a full coun-cil; substitutes for councilors; the prescribed resi-dence Of officials, for example, of general and provin-cial councilors; the manner of replacing a general official; the frequency of canonical visitations by higher superiors; determination of higher superior competent for admission to the postulancy, novice-ship, and professions, reception of professions, for the erection and transfer of a novitiate, and for the erec- 4- The Constitutions VOLUME 19. 1960 ÷ ÷ Joseph F. Gallen, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 328 tion and suppression of houses; and reports and ac-counts of administration of various superiors and officials. Some articles of this class prescribed by the law of the constitutions are concerned with formation and religious profession, for example: entrance impedi-ments; entrance testimonials; a postulancy longer than six months; a noviceship longer than a year; temporary profession longer than three years; man-ner of beginning the .noviceship; formula and rite of profession; place of religious profession, except the first; limitations on 'acquisition and ownership of personal property; limitations on disposition of use and usufruct of p~rsonal property; and the giving of a copy of the constitutions to each novice. (c) Merely disciplinary articles. In general, such articles refer to the order and regularity of common life, the religious exercises, the work, and domestic and community duties of the religious, for example: reporting of presumed permissions; reception of visi-tors; going out of the house; going out alone; permis-sion for and inspection of correspondence; reception of visitors; visiting of externs; silence; reading at ta-ble; suffrages for the dead; interviews prescribed with superiors and masters; the spiritual duties, for exam-ple, daily Mass; recitation and choral recitation of the Little Office or the Short Breviary; prescribed visits to the Blegsed Sacrament; meditation and its prepara-tion; rosary; examen; spiritual reading; weekly con-fession; public devotional renewal of vows; retreats; monthly recollection; and the chapter of faults. (d) Spiritual articles. The constitutions, contain many spiritual articles, which enjoin the practice of various virtues, especially of those more distinctive of the religious life. IlL Obligation of the Constitutions 4, What is the obligation o~ constitutions which state merely that they do not o] themselves bind directly, or immediately, under pain o] sin and o] ~hose that add the phrase, "but under the penalty imposed ]or their viola-tion?" Authors usually treat this matter under the heading of the obligation of the rule; but they understand rule here to include not only the Rule properly so called, for ex-ample, the Rule of St. Augustine, St. Benedict, and St. Francis, but also the constitutions; and they quite Com-monly include also the legitimate customs, ordinances of the general and provincial chapters, if the latter possesses such authority, and the regulations of higher superiors. We are following the same complete sense in answering this question. The question of the obligation of the particular law of an institute is confined to. the articles described in n. 4(b), (c), and (d) of the preceding question, since the obligation of the other articles contained in the constitutions was stated in this s~ame question. Constitutions have the moral obligation that the legislator imposed. This can be imme-diately under sin. In some of the older orders, there are prescriptions of the Rule or constitutions that oblige im-mediately under mortal or venial sin. A prescription o~ the constitutions of any clerical exempt institute to which a canonical penalty is attached necessarily obliges immedi-ately under mortal sin, because such a punishment pre-supposes an objective and. subjective mortal sin (cc. 2218, §2; 2242, §1). In several older orders, congregations, and lay institutes in general, the obligation of the constitu-tions is phrased as in the present question and more com-monly in the first manner.~ All authors admit that the constitutions effect a real obligation. No Rule or constitutions consist entirely of counsels and exhortations. The essential effect of law is to produce an obligation.The common opinion has been and is that such constitutions are merely penal laws. The enactment of a law requires the power of jurisdiction. This authority is possessed by the general chapters of clerical exempt religious (c. 501 §1); and the constitutions o~ other institutes become laws by theapprobation or confirmation of the Holy See or local ordinaries, in the case o~ diocesan congregations. Some authors, ancient a_nd modern, have denied that the Rule and constitutions are laws; but this does not imply that they deny also an obligation to ob-serve the Rule and constitutions. That which is commanded or forbidden by the articles of such constitutions is not enjoined immediately under sin, for example, the violation of silence is not in itself a sin. There is no dispute on this point, because these con-stitutions expressly exclude such an obligation. The legis-lator of these laws or statutes is not indifferent to the ob-servance of his laws. He wills the observance of the law. An obligation immediately under sin is not necessary to secure the observance o~ the constitutions ~rom religious, and a legislator should not impose, an obligation greater than is necessary for observance and for the common good. Religious are cer~tainly subjects more prone to observance than to violation of law. Another way o~ stating the same argument is that sins are not to be multiplied without necessity. An 9bligation immediately under sin would also cause unnecessary anxieties of conscience. Since religious profession is a free and,spontaneous c?nsecration of one-self to Christ, it is becoming also that the living of this ÷ ÷ The Constitutions VOLUME 19, 1960 + 4. 4. Joseph F. Gollen, $.~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 330 consecration should not be lacking in these same notes of freedom, spontaneity, and generosity. A religious who vio-lates his constitutions under the rationalization that they do not oblige under sin overturns the very reasons for which his constitutions exclude such an obligation, as is evident from the reasons listed above. He has a disposi-tion exactly contrary to that presumed by his constitutions. I[ religious were commonly of this disposition, the only reasonable norm of a legislator would be to make the con-stitutions oblige immediately under sin. All authors admit that the violation of such constitu-tions is in itself a positive imperfection. This is defined as the omission of a good that is not commanded under sin but in the concrete circumstances is known certainly to be a greater good for the person concerned, either from the clear interior inspiration of the Holy Spirit, the certain judgment of reason, or the declaration of legitimate au-thority given through oral directives or such a medium as the constitutions of religious. A dispute exists among theologians as to whether a positive imperfection is a sin in itself, but the more common opinion denies that it is a sin. The effect of such an imperfection is the lessening of worthiness for more intense and more efficacious graces from God. The dispute as to whether a positive imperfection is a sin in itself is of little practical import, since all authors declare, particularly of a violation of constitutions, that such an act is rarely lacking in at least some venial malice, either from the effects or the motive of such a rejection of a greater good. Sinfulness from the effects is verified when the violation causes scandal, a relaxation of religious dis-cipline, or other harm. The sinful motive can be anger, impatience, pride, vanity, sloth, sensuality, and so forth. A religious penitent may therefore accuse himself of vio-lations of the constitutions in confession both for better guidance and because these violations rarely lack at least some venial sinfulness. All theologians and canonists also agree that a subject is obliged under sin to accept and perform a punishment, or penance, imposed by a superior for a violation of the constitutions. Some hold that this obligation arises wholly or at least partially from the constitutions themselves; others maintain that the obligation has its source purely in the precept of the superior imposing the punishment. There is little practical difference, if any, in these two - theories. In the latter doctrine, the punishment will not oblige immediately under sin. unless it is expressly so im-posed by a precept of a superior. However, in practice this is true also in the first opinion. It would be contrary to the spirit of such constitutions if all punishments, even when very slight, were considered as imposed immediately under sin. Therefore, also in the first opinion, the punishment will not oblige immediately under sin unless it is so im-posed, explicitly or implicitly, by the precept of a superior. "Therefore, let all members Of the states of striving for evangelical perfection remember, and frequently recall before God, that it is not enough for the fulfillment of the obligations of their profession to avoid grave sins or, with the help of God, even venial sins; nor is it enough to carry out only materially the commands of their superiors, or to observe the vows or bonds binding in conscience, or even to observe their own constitutions according to which, as the Church herself commands in the s, acred canons, 'each and every religious, superiors as well as subjects, ought . to order his life and thus strive after the perfection of his state.' They should accomplish all these things with a whole-hearted intention and a burning love, not only out of necessity, 'but also for conscience's sake.' In order to be capable of ascending the summits of sanctity, and of being living founts of Christian charity for all, they must be im-pelled by the most ardent love for God and their neighbor and adorned with every virtue." Plus XII, Apostolic Con-stitution, Sedes Sapientiae, n. 24. 5. Don't the constitutions o] lay congregations ap-proved b~ the Hol~ See state that subjects are obliged Irora the virtue o] obedience to observe the constitutions and prescriptions o~ superiors, that is, over and above those contained in a precept in virtue o] the vow? Doesn't "to oblige" mean an obligation immediately under sin? It is the practice of the Holy See to include such an arti-cle in the constitutions. The article quoted in the question is taken verbatim from the Normae of 1901, n. 134; Statuta a Sororibus Externis Monasteriorum Monialium Cuiusque Ordinis Servanda, n. 60; and the Normae pro Constitu-tionibus Congregationum luris Dioecesani a S. Congrega-tione de Propaganda Fide Dependentium, n. 69. However, it is not the intention of the Holy See in this article to affirm any obligation over and above what these other prescriptions of superiors and the constitutions have in themselves. All of these documents, successively in nn. 320, 126, and 193, also state explicitly that the constitutions do not oblige immediately under sin. 6. Do the constitutions oblige in virtue of the vow of obedience~ ÷ It is possible to find older orders of religious in which ÷ prescriptions of the Rule or constitutions binding immedi-ately under sin oblige in virtue of the vow. This is evi-dently possible, because obedience is vowed according to the constitutions and such is the sense of the vow of obedi-ence in these orders. It is equally evident that institutes The Constitutions VOLUME 19, 1960 331 in which the constitutions do not in general bind immedi-ately under sin may place some precepts in virtue of the vow in their constitutions. This is actually done, and such specific precepts obviously oblige in virtue of the vow of obedience. Outside of such precepts, constitutions that do not bind immediately under sin do not and cannot oblige in virtue of the vow of obedience. They do not, because the sense of the vow in such institutes is that the constitutions can be made the matter of a precept of the vow by a competent superior but are not in themselves a precept in virtue of the vow. They cannot of themselves oblige in virtue of the vow, because the vow obliges immediately under sin and the prescriptions of these constitutions do not so oblige. 7. Precisely what sin is committed by a sinful violation of constitutions that do not oblige immediately under sin? The sinfulness in such a violation is from the subjective motive or the circumstances or both. Therefore, the precise sin is that of the motive or the circumstances. For example; if such constitutions are violated from pride, the sin is pride; if the circumstances of the violation are such as to cause scandal, the sin is against charity. It is evident that both malices can be found in the one act. If the constitu-tions obliged immediately under sin, the primary malice would be from the object. For example, the violation of such a law of fast would be against the virtue of temper-ance. This sinfulness is not verified in the constitutidns in question, because they do not oblige immediately under sin. 4" $oseph F. Gallen, $.1. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 8. What do our constitutions mean when they state that a sin is committed by violating the constitutions from contempt? It is evident thata sin is committed whenever the con-stitutions are violated from a sinful motive. Formal con-tempt is the despising of a superior, a law, or a counsel as such. It is therefore the contemning or despising of au-thority. This is a mortal sin, because to despise authority is to despise God, from Whom all authority proceeds. Formal contempt is rarely found in the faithful and less fre-quently in religious. The contempt stated in the constitu-ttons is formal contempt. Despite its rare occurrence, con-stitutions almost universally specify contempt as a sinful motive. It seems to me that it would be more realistic and practical to state that a religious sins whenever he violates the constitutions through a sinful motive. This is particu-larly true of constitutions which word the pertinent article as if contempt were the only sinful motive. Cf. Normae of 1901, n. 320; Statuta a Sororibus Externis Monasteriorum Monialium Cuiusque Ordinis Servanda, n. 126; Normae pro Constitutionibus Congregationum Iuris Dioecesani a S. C. de Propaganda Fide Dependentium, n. 193. Material contempt is the despisal of the person or a su-perior or of the matter of a law or counsel, "for example, if a religious despises a legislator or superior as ignorant, imprudent, rigid, malicious, uncultured,, obstinate, or a law as unsuitable, antiquated, ridiculous and because of such a motive violates the constitutions. This is ordinarily a venial sin. The sin will be mortal if such a motive leads to a serious violation of the vows, the serious harm of the institute, grave scandal, or to the proximate occasion of grave sin. 9. According to your explanation ot the obligation of constitutions, a superior may by his precept impose im-mediately under sin a punishment or penance for a vio-lation. The only precepts immediately under sin of which our constitutions speak are those in virtue of the vow of obedience. Is is true that the constitutions of lay institutes ordi-narily mention explicitly only precepts in virtue of the vow of obedience, which are usually also called formal precepts, A superior may impose a penance for such a vio-lation by a precept in virtue of the vow, since a penance for a violation, as something necessary or very useful for the observance of the constitutions, is indirectly Or implicitly contained in the constitutions. However, the constant practice of the Holy See in approving the constitutions of lay institutes forbids a superior to give a command in vir-tue of the vow except in grave matter. Other institutes should take this practice as a directive norm. Therefore, in practice a precept imposing a penance for a violation in virtue of the vow may be given only when the matter is grave. Even when such matter is verified, it is not the practice of religious institutes to impose the penance al-ways in virtue of the vow. All religious superiors, clerical or lay, possess authority in virtue of their office (cc. 501, §1; 502). This authority includes the power to impose an obligation immediately under sin, mortal or venial; and superiors are not obliged to impose such an obligation in virtue of the vow of obedi-ence, The understanding of the constitutions is that a su-perior may impose a penance immediately under sin for a violation. The constitutions do not demand that such a penance be imposed in virtue of the vow. It is therefore evident that precepts immediately under sin can and do exist in the religious life that are not imposed in virtue of the vow of obedience. A superior is obliged to make it clear, explicitly or implicitly, that he is imposing a strict precept, that is, one imposing an obligation immediately ÷ ÷ ÷ The Constitutions VOLUME 19o 1960 333 ÷ ÷ ÷ ]oseph F. Gallen, $.1. REVIEW FOR' RELIGIOUS 334 under sin. In light mgtter, he may impose an obligation only under venial sin; in grave matter, he may impose the obligation under mortal or venial sin. Religious superiors are not to be unmindful of the ad-monitions of the'Council of Trent expressed in canon 2214, §2: "Let bishops and other ordinaries bear in mind that they are shepherds and not oppressors and that they ought so to preside over those subject to them as not to lord it over them, but to love them as children and breth-ren and to strive by exhortation and admonition to deter them from what is unlawful, that they may not be obliged, should they transgress, to coerce them by due punishments. In regard to those, however, who should happen to sin through frailty, that command of the Apostle is to be ob-served, that they reprove, entreat, rebuke them in all kind-ness and patience, since benevolence toward those to be corrected often effects more than severity, exhortation more than threat, and charity more than force. But if on account of the gravity of the offense there is need of the rod, then is rigor to be tempered with gentleness, judg-ment with mercy, and severity with clemency, that disci-pline, so salutary and necessary for the people, may be preserved without harshness and they who are chastised may be corrected, or, if they are unwilling to repent, that others may by the wholesome example of their punish-ment be deterred from vices." Schroeder, Council ol Trent, 81. 10. To what observance does the obligation of the con-stitutions extend? The obligation of the constitutions, as is true also of the vow of obedience, does not certainly extend beyond the external performance of what is commanded by the con-stitutions. However, we are to beware here also of the danger of saving the law and losing our souls. A religious who restricts himself to the field of strict obligation has, in a certain sense, put himself outside the religious state, which is essentially a life of supererogation, counsel, and generosity. A merely external and legalistic observance is contrary to the purpose of the religious life. The religious therefore should strive constantly to purify and elevate the interior motives of his observance. In the same way, he is to endeavor to attain an ever more perfect external ful-fillment of the law, He cannot be content with the legal-istic external observance of the mere demands of the law. The religious life should be the state of the spiritually magnanimous, not of spiritual misers. The vows are the primary, the constitutions the secondary, of the distinctive means of striving for sanctity in the religious life. As in the vows, so in the constitutions, the essential source of sanctification is in the interior acts of the mind and the will. Mere externalism is foreign to the. religious life, so also is a supposed interior life without external observ-ance. Anyone who has the proper interior spirit cannot be deficient in external observance. "Submission to the observances of the rule must not degenerate into a stifling formalism. The religious cannot be content in an external observance devoid of care for the interior spirit. If the in-terior dispositions are lacking, the rigid practice o[ ob-servances and usages does not conduce to union with God." Reverend I. Van Houtryve, O~S.B., Acta et Docu-menta Congressus Generalis de Statibus PerIectionis, II, 458; "There is also a danger, especially in superiors and superioresses, of legalism, which is a source of no small harm to the formation of subjects. By legalism we mean the acquired propensity merely or principally to the ma-terial and literal observance of positive laws and the pro-portionate omission of true morality, which consists in sincere love of God and the neighbor." Reverend R. Car-pentier, S.J., ibid., II, 548. "There is danger Of a certain formalism in proposing the religious life to subjects when external regularity is so intensively and vehemently urged that explicit formation to supernatural virtues is almost omitted." Reverend R. Carpentier, S.J., ibid.; "It seems particularly that in the study of moral theology and canon law a sufficient distinction is not made between the view-point of simple morality, sin and no sin, and that of Christian perfection. The norm of life of the religious is not merely the sinless, but the more perfect." Reverend Benjamin of the Most Holy Trinity, O.C.D., ibid,, II, 195; "The interior life is essentially the union or habitual oc-cupation of the soul with God, so that it thinks, speaks, and acts constantly in 'the spirit of God, that is, it is guided and impelled in its every movement by the spirit and love of God." Reverend A. Gennaro, S.D.B., ibid., II, 62; "All realize that automatism and formalism are fatal to any re-ligious life and that legalism, or the mere satisfying of the wording of the law, can quiet the conscience but is the source of sterility and pharisaism, the negation of evangeli-cal sanctity." Reverend L. Veuthey, O.F.M. Cony., ibid., II, 229. His Holiness, Plus XII, reaffirmed the warning of these authors: "It is clear, in the first place, that a sincere devo-tion to the religious life excludes all legalism, that is, the temptation to be bound by the letter of the law, without fully accepting its spirit. Such an attitude would be un-worthy of those who bear the tide of spouse of Christ and who wish to serve Him with a disinterested love." .4llocu-tion to Cloistered Contemplatives, REviEw l~oR RELIGIOUS, 18 (1959), 71. 4- The Constitutions VOLUME 19, 1960 Joseph F. Gallen, $.~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 336 11. Aren't there any cases in which a violation of the constitutions is not a sin? A religious does not sin when he has a reasonable mo-tive and no culpable effects~arise from not observing the constitutions. Authors .commonly give as an example of reasonable motive the break!ng of silence in order to con-sole a fellow religious in sadness. One author adds that such acts, though good and not sinful, will frequently less perfect than the observance of the constitutions. religious also does not sin when he is excused or dispensed from the observance of an article of the constitutions. The individual transgressions of articles of frequent applica-tion will often not be sinful because of the lack of ad-vertence, but the habitual will of persisting in or of correcting such violations will be sinful. Cf. Genicot-Sals-mans, Institutiones Theologiae Moralis, II, n. 796; Rega-tillo- Zalba, Tractatus de Statibus Particularibus, n. 212. 12. Does a religious obtain the merit of the virtue of obedience and of the vow of obedience by observing ,the constitutions? A religious who observes his constitutions because they are commanded obtains the merit of the special virtue obedience. If he observes them because of another good motive, he obtains the merit of the virtue under which this motive falls. Therefore, a religious obtains the merit of the vow of obedience, that is, of the virtue of religion, when the motive of his observance of the constitutions the vow. The presumption is that the motive of the sub-jection of a religious to any type of will of his superiors is his vow of obedience. Therefore, in all subjection, un-less he positively excludes this motive, he acquires the-merit of the vow of obedience. The Holy See has approved constitutions that contain an article of the following type: "The sister can always have the new bond or virtue of re-ligion as the motive or end of any act of obedience. In fact such a will must be presumed to be implicitly contained the act of religious profession. Accordingly, the special e~cacy of the vow of obedience, or merit of the virtue o~ religion, extends not only to actions obligatory on the sis-ter by a formal precept in virtue of the vow but also to the ordinary commands and to every action in conformity with the constitutions that the religious perform with motive o[ obedience." Constitutions of the Pious Society of the Daughters of St. Paul, n. 131, 4; Cf. Choupin, Nature et Obligations de l'~tat Religieux, 481. 13. What is my obligation as a superior to correct vio. lations of the constitutions? All superiors have a grave obligation in conscience to maintain observance of the constitutions. A superior may consequently sin mortally by the neglect of correction, for example, of frequent violations, even though not serious in themselves, that will cause a serious relaxation of re-ligious discipline, or of violations that gravely compromise the good name of the institute. The obligation admits lightness of matter, for example, the failure to take appro-priate action against isolated violations that create no danger of a serious relaxation of the religious life. The obligation of correction is often stated in the constitutions, for example, that superiors are bound to admonish and correct subjects who violate the constitutions, especially when the violations are frequent or serious. It is evident that the superior should be prudent. He will often appear not to see violations. Counsel, advice, direction, persuasion, correction, and reprimand are to be employed more frequently than the imposition of a pen-ance; and patience will sometimes accomplish more than an immediate correction, These counsels of prudence have always been given. Superiors have rarely failed to observe them, and one may be permitted the suspicion .that they have been observed too well. Harshness is not desirable in a superior; neither is softness, sloth, nor cowardice. The prime requisite of a superior is not that he is a man who will never bother anyone. Such a man is a bother only to the observant and t9 the sanctity of the religious life. Nice people are not always competent people. Niceness is in some cases a product of weakness. All realize that a su-perior must be prudent; but the norms of prudence vary according to the circumstances, for example, patience is considered an attribute of prudence, but what religious does not know of abuses whose existence is due to failure to correct the original violations? "Although your rules, by the wise decision of your founder, do not bind their subjects under sin, nevertheless superiors are bound to foster their observance; and they are not free from guilt if they permit a general neglect of regular discipline." Plus XII, Allocution to the Thirtieth General Congregation of the Society o[ Jesus, September 10, 1957. IV. Excuse, Permission, Dispensation 14. My superioress told me that ! was excused from hearing Mass because of sickness. I told this to a priest, and he replied that it was impossible for a superior who is not a cleric to have the power of dispensing from a law of the Church. Which of the two is right? Both. An excuse is not a dispensation (cf. Question 17). An excuse from the observance of a law means that the obligation simply ceases to exist for a subject of the law. No one may place an action that is intrinsically evil, for example, blasphemy, idolatry, denial of the faith, hatred ÷ ÷ ÷ Th~ Com~imtions VOLUME 1% 1960 337 ÷ ÷ ÷ 1o~'ph F. G~, SJ. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS of God, and so for~hiThe obligation of other laws.gen-, erally ceases when an accidental but special difficulty, dis-i proportionate to the observance of the law, is connectedl with its observance, for example, it is impossible for a l person in a weak and dying condition to attend SundayI Mass; a teacher is excused from the law of fast if its ob-] servance causes quite a lessening of his efficiency.In an l excuse, the obligation of the law simply ceases to exist of[ itself; there is no need of a relaxing of the obligation, (dispensation) or of a declaration by an ecclesiastical au-~ thority or a superior. Since a judgment has to be made[ between the difficulty and the matter and importance of] the law, it would often b~ prudent to ~onsult a book or a competent person. This is the sense of c~nstitutions which state that a superioress may declare a subject excused from the observance of the constitutions and even of an ec-clesiastical law, for example, from Sunday Mass and ec-clesiastical fast. Cf. R~vmw fOR R~LIG~OUS, I (1942), 42-46. 15. What is the difference between a permission with regard to our constitutions and a dispensation from them? Some laws do not forbid an act absolutely but only when it is done without the permission of a competent superior. For example, canon 806 forbids bination without the per-mission of the local ordinary; canon 1108, §3, prohibits the solemn nuptial blessing during Advent and Lent without the same permission; the reading of forbidden books is forbidden by canon 1398, §1, without proper permission; and clerics and professed religious are forbidden, by canon 139, §3, to undertake the administration of property be-longing to lay persons without the permission of their own ordinary. The constitutions usually forbid the reception of visitors, visiting of externs, consultation of a doctor, going out of the house, sending out letters, and absence from common exercises without the permission of the superior. The permission makes the act licit, and the law is ob-served. Permission does not remove the obligation and free from the observance of the law, as is done in a dis-pensation. A permission.is granted for lesser reasons than a dispensation. It may also be presumed, unless formal and express permission is demanded by a particular law. A dispensation may not be presumed, because the obligation of a law ceases by a dispensation only through the actual exercise of the dispensing power. A dispensation from an ecclesiastical law can be granted only by one possessing the power of jurisdiction; a permission may be given by one who possesses only dominative power. A presumed dispensationis admitted in matters of lesser legal moment than those ordinarily contained in laws, as is true of many spiritual duties that the constitutions command absolutely, for example, visits to the Blessed Sacrament, meditation and its preparation, rosary, exa-men, and spiritual reading. The proportionate reason for a presumed dispensation in such cases will usually con-stitute an excuse from the'oblig~ik'ion (cf. Question '14). A dispensation may also be presumed from an obliga-tion imposed by dominative power, for example, by the ordinances of the general chapters of lay institutes and the ordinances and regulations of religious superiors. The re-lation in such cases is not that of a subject to a law but of his will to that of the superior. In a presumed dispensa-tion, subjection to the habitual will of the superior is pre-served, since a dispensation may not be presumed unless it is at least solidly probable that the superior would grant it, if asked. It is presupposed that there exists an impossi-bility or difficulty, according to the importance of the matter, of approaching the superior for his express dis-pensation. Cr. Rodrigo, Tractatus de Legibus, n. 448; Ledwolorz, Antonianum, 13 (1938), 35; R~VlEW FOR R~- r~c,ous, 1 (1942), 196--205. 16. 11 a dispensation can be given only in virtue o~ the power of jurisdiction, how can a lay religious superior of brothers, nuns, or sisters ever dispense? Jurisdiction is the authority to rule a perfect society; dominative power that of ruling an imperfect society. In virtue of canon 118, only clerics are capable of possessing the power of orders and of ecclestiastical jurisdiction. Therefore, no brother, nun, or sister superior possesses ecclesiastical jurisdiction. 'The obligation of an ecclesiastical law arises from the power of jurisdiction. Consequently, the power of juris-diction is necessary in one granting a dispensation, because this is the liberation from an obligation of ecclesiastical law. The power of jurisdiction is not necessary to dispense from the obligation imposed by dominative power, for example, from the ordinances of chapters in lay institutes and from the ordinances and regulations of religious su-periors. Since the obligation in such cases arises £rom dominative power, it can be made to cease by the same power. Both the common doctrine in the Church and the con-stitutions themselves give lay superiors the power of dis-pensing the Rule and constitutions. There is no doubt therefore that they can dispense and that this act has the same effect as if it were granted by one possessing jurisdic-tion. It may be gr~nted for reasons of no greater import and it equally frees from the obligation of the Rule or con-stitutions. The problem is the explanation of the nature of this act o£ lay superiors. There is no difficulty in clerical ÷ 4. ÷ Tlw Constitutiom VOLUME 1% 1960 ÷ ÷ ÷ Joseph F. Gallen, $.1. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 340 institutes. In clerical exempt institutes, the superiors pos-sess jurisdiction according to the code and the particular constitutions (c. 501, §1); in clerical non-exempt institutes, the superiors can be given jurisdiction. For those who hold that the Rule and constitutions are not ecclesiastical laws but laws of the particular institute (Creusen, Revue des Communaut~s Religieuses, 2[1926], 173) or not laws at all (Ravisi, De Regulis et Constitu-tionibus Religiosorum, 109), the solution is easy. Domina-tive power suffices for a dispensation in either opinion, because jurisdiction is necessary only for a dispensation from an ecclesiastical law. The far more common opinion is that the Rule and con-stitutions are ecclesiastical laws. In clerical exempt insti-tutes, the chapters possess jurisdiction according to the norms of the code and of the constitutions (c. 501, §1). These chapters may therefore enact laws. In other insti-tutes, the Rule and constitutions become laws by the ap-probation or confirmation of the Holy See in the case of pontifical institutes, by that of the local ordinary in the case of diocesan institutes. In the former case, the Rule and constitutions are in fact treated as pontifical laws; in the latter, as diocesan laws (cf. Ravisi, ibid., 44-51). The nature of a dispensation of a lay superior is a real diffi-culty for this more common opinion. Various unsatisfactory theories have been proposed to solve this difficulty, for example, that the dispensation of a lay superior is a mere declaration that the subject is ex-cused; that his act is a relaxation or exemption, not a dispensation; that the laws from which he dispenses are implicitly conditional and therefore his act is a permis-sion, not a dispensation; or he is giving a private interpre-tation that the law does not extend to a particular case; or such a superior merely declares that a just reason exists but the dispensation is given by the Holy See in a pontifical institute, by the local ordinary in a diocesan institute (Van Hove, De Privilegiis, De Dispensationibus, n. 426; Mi-chiels, Normae Generales Iuris Canonici, II, 725-26; Fe-rreres- Mondria, Compendium Theologiae Moralis, II, n. 168). All of these theories are contrary to the clear wording of constitutions approved by the Holy See. These constantly grant lay superiors the power of dispensing and use the term "dispense," not to relax or exempt. Furthermore, what would be the distinction between a relaxation or exemption from an obligation in a particular case and a dispensation? These same constitutions also distinguish clearly, at least implicitly, between an excuse, an interpre-tation, and a dispensation; between absolute and condi-tional laws; and between a dispensation granted by a superior and one given by external authority. Therefore, it is certain that lay superiors have the power of dispensing from the Rule and constitutions, but we have no satisfactory explanation of the nature of this act in the supposition that the Rule and constitutions are ec-clesiastical laws. The source of the difficulty is that a dis-pensation from an ecclesiastical law demands the power of jurisdiction and these superiors possess only dominative power. 17. What is a dispensation? A dispensation is the liberation from the obligation of a law in a special case. It can be granted only by a compe-tent authority and only for a proportionate reason. The act of the competent authority flees from the obligation. The case is special because the law remains; a dispensa-tion is not the abrogation of a law. Since a dispensation is the authoritative liberation from the obligation of a law, it may be given only by the legislator, his successor or su-perior, or one to whom any of the preceding has granted such authority (c. 80). The reason or reasons should be pro-portionate to the gravity of the law in question. They evi-dently need not be as serious as those required for an ex-cuse, but they should at least be such as to make the observance of the law more than ordinarily difficult or onerous or such that they render the observance of the law obstructive of a greater good. A dispensation may he licitly asked or given in a doubt about the sufficiency of a reason (c. 84, §2) and, with at least safe probability, also in a doubt about the existence of a sufficient reason (cf. Mi-chiels, Norrnae Generales Iuris Canonici, II, 754). 18. When we request a dispensation from the Holy See, the Apostolic Delegate, or a local ordinary, are. we merely to request the dispensation or must we also give reasons? It is evident from the definition and explanation of a dispensation, given in the preceding answer, that a dis-pensation is granted not because it is requested but be-cause of the reasons for which it is requested. Any petition for any dispensation should also contain truthfully, ac-curately, clearly, and as briefly as possible all the reasons that actually exist for asking and granting the dispensa-tion. Canon 583 forbids a religious of simple vows of a con-gregation to give away his property during his lifetime. Only the Holy See can dispense from this law of the code. A petition for a dispensation is not to state merely that the religious wishes to give away his property. Explicitly this is merely another way of stating that the religious does not wish to observe the law. He may petition the dis-pensation and it may be granted only for sufficient tea- 4- 4- 4- The Constitutions Joseph ~. Gell¢~, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS sons. Therefore, all relevant facts and his precise petition, should be stated, that is, the number of years he has beenl professed, the value of all the property he possesses, i whether he wishes' to give away all or part of it, and thel value of such a par.t. The reasons must then be given, for~ example, he wishes to give this determined sum or all his i property to his father and mother because they are in need, or to his institute" to help pay its large debts, or to assist in the erection of a new chapel, and so forth. If th~ , institute requests a dispensation from the canonical age of thirty-five years prescribed for the novice master (c. 559, §1), the relevant fact of the age of the religious for whom the dispensation is intended should be given. The reasons are then to be stated, for example, that he is the only competent or the most competent religious for this office. The failure to give the relevant facts, to state the petition accurately, and to include the reasons causes un-necessary work and delay in the chancery or on the part of one who is forwarding the petition. 19. Is a dispensation given without a sulT~cient reason merely illicit or is it also invalid? At least one sufficient reason, that is, at least probably sufficient or a probably existing sufficient reason (cf. Ques-tion 17), must for licelty be verified at the time the dis-pensation is granted, e~en when it is given by the legis-lator, his successor, or superior (c. 84). Otherwise, the one dispensing would unreasonably free a subject from an obligation whose observance would tend to the common good. A law or statute is enacted for the common good. A dispensation from an ecclesiastical law given by an inferior (not by the legislator, his successor, or superior) without such a sufficient reason is both illicit and invalid, because an inferior is not granted the power of dispensing except when this sufficient reason exists (c. 84, §I). Re-ligious superiors are inferiors in this matter, not legis-lators. ¯ The principles given above apply to ecclesiastical laws. According to the far more common opinion, the Rule and constitutions are ecclesiastical laws (cf. Question 16); and the same principle of invalidity would therefore apply to their dispensation. However, it is a solidly probable opin-ion that the Rule and constitutions are not ecclesiastical laws. A dispensation from them without a sufficient reason will always be illicit, from the argument given above; but it does not seem certain that we must apply the principle of invalidity, established for ecclesiastical laws, to enact-ments that are not certainly ecclesiastical laws. Therefore, it is safely probable that a dispensation from the Rule or constitutions without a sufficient reason is valid. Ravisi, II De Regulis et Constitutionibus Religiosorum, 116; Creu-sen, Revue des Communautds Religieuses, 2 (1926), 177. 20. What power of dispensing from the Rule and con-stitutions is possessed by lay religious superiors of broth-ers, nuns, and sisters? It is evident that no religious superior may dispense his subjects from the substance of the vows, for example, free him of the obligation of the vow of poverty or obedience. This would at least temporarily and morally put the sub-ject outside the religious state, for which the vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience are essential (cc. 487-488, 1 °). Nor may a superior dispense from a vow proper to the institute, unless such a faculty is expressly granted in the constitutions. Some of these vows are of such import as to exclude a dispensation; others are not. The general principle is that superiors possess only the power of dispensing that is expressly granted them by the constitutions. The common doctrine of authors and the practice of the Holy See in approving constitutions ex-clude the power of dispensing in articles that concern the government and organization of the institute and the sub-stance of the vows. These are in fact the matters listed in Question 3 under legal articles, that is, on government, organization, formation, and religious profession. How-ever, the constitutions may grant authorit~y to dispense from some of these, as is generally done for merely pro-hibiting impediments to the noviceship prescribed by the particular law of the institute. Some of these are also not of such moment as to be excluded from the power of dis-pensing possessed by superiors, for example, the reports of various superiors and officials, entrance testimonials of particular law, the manner of beginning the noviceship prescribed by particular law, and the giving of a copy of the constitutions to each novice. Proper and efficient government demands some power of dispensing in superiors. Therefore, the common doc-trine of authors and the practice of the Holy See in ap-proving constitutions grant to all superiors the right of dis-pensing in merely disciplinary articles, temporarily, and at least in favor of individuals. This power is accordingly possessed by all religious superiors, even when it is not expressly stated in the constitutions. The constitutions may limit such a power. The merely disciplinary articles were stated in Question 3. The dispensation is to be granted for a limited time, but it may be renewed on its expiration. This power extends at least to all individuals of the institute who are subjects of the superior, that is, all attached to or present in his province or house. The con-stitutions or, more likely, the usage of a lay institute may ÷ ÷ ÷ ÷ ÷ ÷ ]oseph F. Gallen, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 344 limit a superior's power of dispensing with regard to one, of his subjects who is temporarily outside his own province / or house and concerning one, otherwise not a subject, who l is temporarily residing in the p~ovince or house of the su-~ perior. Cf. Normae of 1901, nn. 266, 316; Statuta a Soro- I ribus Externis Monasteriorum Monialium Cuiusque Or-dinis Servanda, n. 127; Normae pro Constitutionibus Congregationum luris Dioecesani a S. Congregatione de Propaganda Fide Dependentiurn, nn. 162, 182. 21. When the common doctrine in the Church and the practice of the Holy See in approving constitutions state that religious superiors may dispense from the merely disciplinary articles of the Rule and constitutions, does this faculty extend also to the merely disciplinary ordi-nances oy the general chapter? Yes. The ordinances of a chapter are understood as in-cluded in the Rule and constitutions in this matter Question 4). 22. Our constitutions state that the superior may dis-pense "'in particular cases." Is this power restricted to dispensing individual subjects or may entire houses, provinces, and the institute itself be dispensed in virtue of a taculty so worded? It is conceivable that these constitutions explicitly ex-clude any dispensation except that of individuals by stat-ing that the superior may dispense individual religious subject to him in particular cases. If so, only individuals may be dispensed, except in the case given in Question 23. The meaning of "in particular (or special) cases" is then merely that the dispensation may be given to individuals for as long as the sufficient reason of. the dispensation ex-ists. The constitutions do not explicitly restrict the dispens-ing power to individuals when they state that the su-perior may dispense the religious subject to them in par-ticular or special cases or simply that the superiors may dispense in particular or special cases. In virtue of such formulas, a superior may dispense both individuals and, with safe probability, also houses, provinces, or the in-stitute for a sufficiently general reason and for as long as this reason exists. The particular or special character of a dispensation is verified not only when it is given to an in-dividual but also when granted for a special, accidental, and transitory or temporary necessity to a house, province, or the institute. Rodrigo, Tractatus de Legibus, nn. 467; 503; Cicognani-Staffa, Commentarium ad Librum Primum Codicis Iuris Canonici, II, 570; 599; Coronata, lnstitu-tiones Iuris Canonici, I, 432; Abbo-Hannan, The Sacred Canons, I, 332-33. The reason is sufficiently general, even though not veri-fied in everyone, when it would he difficult or inopportune to restrict the dispensation to those in whom the reason is actually verified. Rodrigo, ibid., n. 487. 23. May a superior never dispense an entire commu-nity when the constitutions state expressly that his power of dispensing is restricted to individuals? A superior whose power of dispensing is limited to indi-viduals may by the one act dispense all individuals of a community if he knows that the reason for the dispensa-tion is verified in all o[ these individuals. He is then dis-pensing the individuals as such, not the community as such. Vermeersch-Creusen, Epitome Iuris Canonici, I, n. 204; II, n. 554. Van Hove, De Privilegiis, De Dispensa-tionibus, n. 328. 24. Don't lay religious superiors of brothers, nuns, and sisters ever have the power of dispensing entire houses, provinces, and the entire institute? The more common practice of constitutions approved by the Holy See grants the superior general the faculty of dispensing individual religious, provinces, regions, and houses; that o[ the provincials and other intermediate su-periors, for example, o~ regions, extends to individuals and houses; but the faculty of local superiors is restricted to individuals. This more common practice may be followed when it is not certainly contrary to the constitutions, since it manifests what is commonly understood to be a su-perior's power o[ dispensing. Some constitutions of lay institutes demand that the su-perior general have the advice or consent o~ his council for a dispensation to a province or house. Some institutes permit the superior general to dispense the entire institute with the advice or consent of his council or for a definite occasion. A Jew institutes impose the same restrictions on a ,provincial for the dispensation of a house or of the prov-ince. Some constitutions grant a local superior the ~aculty of dispensing his entire community in an urgent case, or for a single occasion and a grave reason, or with the advice or consent of his council. 25. May a religious superior, whether general, provin- + cial, regional, or local, delegate to another, for example, + to his assistant, the yaculty of dispensing ~rom the Rule + and constitutions. A superior general, provincial, or local,, as also a master of novices, possesses the power of dispensing from the Rule and constitutions in virtue of the law of the consti-tutions. It is therefore ordinary power; and ordinary The Constitutions VOLUME 1% 1960 ~45 ÷ ÷ ÷ ~oseph F. Gallen, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 346 power may be delegated in whole or in part to another~ except in those matters in which law expressly exclude.~ delegation (c. 199, §I). It is not the practice of constitu:' tions, especially of lay institutes, to make any such exclu sion with regard to the faculty of dispensing. Therefore,i a superior general or provincial, the local superior of al canonically erected house, and the master of novices may certainly delegate the faculty of dispensing in whole or in~ part to another. The same principle is true of a regional superior or any similar intermediate superior when his authority ofl governing is ordinary, that is, granted by the constitutionsl themselves. However, the authority of a regional superior~ may be merely delegated by either the superior generall or provincial. In this case, the regional superior will pos-i sess a general delegated faculty of dispensing his subjects. General delegation may be subdelegated only for indi-vidual cases, that is, for one or many determined cases (c. 199, §3). Therefore, such a regional superior will be able to subdelegate his faculty of dispensing only for one or several determined cases. This is true also of the one at the head of a canonically filial house, because his author-ity is delegated either by a higher superior or by the local superior of the canonically erected house to which the filial house is attached. An acting superior or vicar succeeds to the full dispens-ing power of the superior; and the legitimate substitute, such as the assistant, of a superior who is absent or im-peded from fulfilling his duties has the dispensing power that is necessary for ordinary government. He is to use this faculty according to the expressed or presumed will of the superior; and its use may also be regulated by the law, or in lay institutes, more frequently by custom or usage. 26. The constitutions of our pontifical congregation ol brothers grant no faculty of dispensing to the novice master, but the novice masters have always exercised such a power with regard to the novices. How can this be ex-plained? The constitutions of lay institutes apparently never mention the power of the master of novices to dispense. Since the master may be said to be, in a wide sense, the superior of the novices and of the novitiate part of the house (c. 56i, §1), he has the same power of dispensing his subjects as a local superior possesses for his commu-nity, exclusive of the matters that appertain to the general discipline of the house. In virtue of the same canon, these matters are under the authority of the local superior. However, the local superior maydelegate the faculty to dispense also in these matters to the master of novices. Cf. Lar~aona, Commentarium Pro Religiosis, 24 (1943), 32. 27. May a religious superior dispense himself? Even if such a power is not expressly stated in the con-stitutions, any religious superior may dispense himself in matters in which he is competent to dispense others. The principle of canon 201, §~, is that voluntary jurisdiction, and from analogy of law the same is to be said of domina-tive power, may be exercised in one's own favor. The canon also states that this power may be excluded by law. The constitutions may therefore deprive a superior of the faculty of dispensing himself in some matters. Such an exclusion is not found in the constitutions of lay insti-tutes. It would not be prudent to deprive the superior en-tirely of the power of dispensing himself, 28. Our constitutions state that a local superior "'must consult her council before granting a dispensation to any-one subject to her." What do you think of this law? It is evidently too rigid and consequently an imprudent law. Dispensations should not be .granted for insufficient reasons. This of its nature tends to weaken religious disci-pline. On the other hand, there are many occasions when a dispensation is not only justified but a greater good will :be attained or a greater evil avoided by its concession. According to the literal.sense of the law quoted in the question, a local superior must consult her council before granting the slightest dispensation from a religious disci-pline, for example, to allow a subject to go to bed earlier or to rise later than the community. The same consulta-tion would be necessary for a dispensation from any pre-scription of the constitutions, for example, from choral recitation of the Little Office, rosary, examen, or spiritual reading. The law is an evidently imprudent restriction of the authority of a local superior and should be changed. Such an imprudent rigidity with regard to religious ob-servances has been noted and castigated by authors on renovation and adaptation. "Religious discipline is also frequen_t.ly enforced with an unreasonable rigidity. Re-ligious know that it is possible to be excused or dispensed from the laws of the Church, for example, from Sunday Mass or from fasting; but observances are often proposed as if they never admitted an excuse or dispensation." RE-VIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, 14 (1955), 301. 29. May a local ordinary dispense from all articles of the constitutions that are proper to a diocesan congrega-tion? ~ Yes. The local ordinary is the legislator or ~he successor of the legislator of the laws proper to a diocesan congre-÷ ÷ ÷ The Constitutions VOLUME 19, 1960 ~ose~h F. Gallen, $.L REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 348 gation. He therefore possesses the intrinsic right of dis-pensing from all such l~iws, whether they are merely pre-ceptive or invalidating (cc. 80; 492, §2). The Holy See may exclude some articles of the constitutions, because of their greater importance, from this dispensing power of the ordinary but thus far has not certainly done so. In a reply of February 12, 1935, the Code Commission stated that the local ordinary could dispense from the second year of noviceship in diocesan congregations when this was not required for the validity of profession. This reply does not certainly deny that the local ordinary may give the same dispensation when the second year is required for validity. The reply can be interpreted as merely an answer to the question proposed, that is, .when the second year is required only forliceity, without saying anything about a question that was not proposed, that is, when the second year is demanded for validity. The affirmative an-swer to this latter question is had in the clear wording of canon 80, stated above. Cf. Regatillo, Interpretatio et Iurisprudentia Codicis Iuris Canonici, 210; Larraona, Commentarium Pro Religiosis, 23 (1942), 15, and note 969. The laws proper to a pontifical congregation are treated in fact as pontifical laws (cf. Question 16). Therefore, for a dispensation from these same laws, except for those that fall under the dispensing power of religious superiors (cf. Question 20), a pontifical congregation must recur to the Holy See, unless the faculty of dispensing from the par-ticular article has been granted to the Apostolic Delegate or the local ordinary by the Code of Canon Law, his ha-bitual delegated faculties, or a particular indult (cf. Question 31). 30. May a local ordinary dispense from all the laws of the constitutions of diocesan lay congregations? No. It is evident that no authority within a lay insti-tute, whether pontifical or diocesan, may dispense from the laws or decrees of the Holy See. This faculty would de-mand a power of jurisdiction, and canon 118 states that only clerics are capable of acquiring ecclesiastical juris-diction. As was stated in Question 3, many of the articles of constitutions are laws of the universal Church, that is, laws or decrees enacted by the Holy See. The intrinsic right to dispense from a law appertains to the legislator, his successor, or superior; and these three alone may give the faculty of dispensing to another (c. 80). Therefore, all lay institutes, even if diocesan, must recur to the Holy See for dispensations and permissions with regard to such laws and decrees, unless the faculty to grant the particular dispensation or permission has been ~iven to the Anos- tolic Delegate or the local ordinary by the Code of Canon Law, his habitual delegated faculties, or a particular in-dult. The following are the cases of more frequent occur-rence for which a diocesan congregation also will have to recur to the Holy See: 1. Spending of the dowry (c. 549). 2. Impediments to the noviceship (c. 542). 3. For canonical novices to have a vacation outside the novitiate house (c. 555, §1, 3°). 4. To make the first temporary profession outside the novitiate house (c, 574, §1). 5. Whole or partial renunciation of personal patri-mony (c. 583, 1°). 6. Change of will (c. 583, 2°). 7. For a religious to reside outside any house of his institute for more than six months, except for study (c. 606, §2). 8. Alienation of property and contracting of debts (c. 534), except for the amount for which the Apos-tolic Delegate is competent. 9. Reappointment of a local superior for an immedi-ate third term in the same house (c. 505). 10. Age required for the master of novices (c. 559, §1). 31. What delegated faculties of the Apostolic Delegate and o~ the local ordinary concerning religious are of practical moment? The following habitual delegated faculties of the Apos-tolic Delegate and of the local ordinary concerning re-ligious are of practical utility: 1. Of the Apostolic Delegate a) To dispense from the dowry in orders and all con-gregations (c. 547, §4). b) To abbreviate or prolong the postulancy pre-scribed by canon law (c. 539, §1). c) To allow nuns in case of sickness or for other just and grave reasons to live outside the religious house for a time to be fixed at his prudent discre-tion (c. 601, §1). d) To permit the contracting of debts and the alien-ation of property provided the sum involved does not exceed $300,000 ( . 534). 2. Of the local ordinary a) To dispense for entrance into religion from il-legitimate birth and advanced age that is not over forty. b) To dispense from the dowry in orders and all con-gregations (c. 547, §4). c) To approve an ordinary confessor of religious women for a fourth and fifth three-year term, The Constitutions vol.IJ~i~ 3.% tg~,~, 849 + ÷ ÷ ]oseph F. Gallen, S.$. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 350 d) e) with the c6nsent of the majority of the religious (cc: 524, §2; 526). To permit nuns to leave papal cloister for surgi-cal treatment.(c. 601, §1). In mission territories, to permit religious women to do the first washing of palls, corporals; and purificators and to allow religious men and women to practice medicine and surgery (cc. 1306, §2; 139, §2; 592). 32. May a local ordinary dispense exempt religious from the common laws of the Church? In virtue of canon 615, all religious orders are exempt from the jurisdiction of the local ordinaries, provided in the case of religious women that they are subject in fact to an order of men. Congregations, or religious institutes o~ simple vows, are not exempt unless they have obtained this privilege by a special indult from the Holy See (c. 618, §1). Exempt orders are subject to the jurisdiction of the local ordinary only in the matters in which the code declares them to be subject; congregations exempt by privilege have an exemption according'to the terms of the indult. Because exemption removes religious from ~he jurisdiction of the local ordinary, the question naturally arises whether or not the latter may use his jurisdictional power of dispensing in favor of exempt religious. Canon 620 states: "By an indult legitimately granted by the local ordinary dispensing {rom the obligation of the common law, that obligation ceases likewise for all religious living in the diocese, without prejudice to the vows and particular constitutions of their own institute." This canon is clearly explained by Abbo-Hannan, The Sacred Canons, I, 640: "The privilege conceded here is that by which even exempt religious may avail themselves of dispensations granted by the.local ordinary, e. g., from the laws of fast and abstinence, though they are not per-mitted to do this, i. e, invoke the dispensation from the law of fast and abstinence, in a case in which they are bound to the observance involved by an additional obli-gation arising from a special vow or from their constitu-tions. But in the latter case, a violation of the obligation would offend, not against the law of the Church, the obli-gation of which has been removed by the local ordinary's dispensation, but only against the vow or constitutions." This canon confirms the common opinion that exempt religious may recur to the local ordinary, pastor, and other priests, whether the faculties possessed by any of these is from law or delegation, for dispensations from the com-mon laws of the Church. The reasons for this doctrine are that exemption is a privilege and therefore is not to be interpreted to the disadvantage of exempt religious; be- cause otherwise exempt religious would be in a less favor-able position 'in such matters than other religious and the faithful; and, finally, exemption does not demand that exempt religious be excluded.from the favorable jurisdic-tion of the local ordinary. Cf. Regatillo-Zalba, Theologiae Moralis Summa, I, n. 576; Michiels, Normae Generales furls Canonici, II, 735-36; Van Hove, De Privilegiis, De Dispensationibus, n. 434; Rodrigo, Tractatus de Legibus, n. 481; Schaefer, De Religiosis, n. 1288. 33. May a confessor or pastor dispense religiouS' frdm the observance of merely disciplinary articles of the Rule or constitutions? No. Neither the confessoi: nor the pastor possesses any faculty in virtue of his office to dispense from any article of the Rule or constitutions, nor are local ordinaries or religious superiors accustomed to delegate any such fac-ulty to confessors or pastors. For example, a pastor pos-sesses the ordinary faculty and confessors frequently the delegated faculty of dispensing from the fast and absti-nence prescribed by the Church (c. 1245, §1); but neither has the faculty of dispensing from fast or abstinence im-posed by the Rule or constitutions of a religious institute. Both, when a sufficient reason exists, may declare a re-ligious excused from the observance of an article of the Rule or constitutions (cf. Question I4). 34. Before last Lent, 1 talked over the matter of fasting with my local brother superior. He told me he thought I should ask the confessor for a dispensation. Before going to confession, this matter came up accidentally in a con. versation with another priest. We talked over the whole matter of fasting and my own case thoroughly, and he said that he could dispense me. He gave me the dispensa-tion during this conversation. I did not know that a dis° pensation could be given to an individual outside of con-fession, The only faculty of a confessor that is confined by its nature to the sacrament of penance, or what the Church also calls the internal sacramental forum, is that of ab-solving from sin. This faculty therefore may be exercised only in the internal sacramental forum. Confessors possess or may possess other jurisdictional faculties, for example, of dispensing from fast and absti-nence and from the observance of Sundays and holy days of obligation (c. 1245, §1); of commuting the pious works established for gaining indulgences (c. 935); of dispensing and commuting private non-reserved vows and promis-sory oaths (cc. 1313, 1°; 1314; 1320); of dispensing from irregularities (c. 990); of dispensing from matrimonial im-rpediments (cc. 1043--44-45); and of absolving, dispensing, + ÷ The Constitutions VOLUME 19, 1960 351 and suspending canonical punishments. Such faculties may be exercised by a confessor outside of confession, in what the Church calls the internal non-sacramental forum, unless the law or authority that granted the faculty restricted it to the sacrament of penance, that is, to the internal sacramental forum. A confessor may dispense anyone in the internal non-sacramental forum if he could here and now hear the confession of this person. The con-cession to confessors of the faculty to dispense from fast and abstinence is frequently not restricted to the sacra-mental forum. This was true in the'case proposed, and the confessor thus granted the dispensation in the internal non-sacramental forum. Cf. Van Hove, De Privilegiis, De Dispensationibus, n. 419; Michiels, Normae Generales Juris Canonici, II, 728; Rodrigo, Tractatus de Legibus, n. 57; Regatillo-Zalba, Theologiae Moralis Summa, I, n. 574, 7°. 4- 4- 4- Joseph F. Gallen, S.l. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 35. May I, a confessor, use the jurisdictional faculties I possess in favor of myself, for example, by dispensing myself ~rom fast or abstinence? Judicial jurisdiction may not be used in one's own favor. The only judicial jurisdiction possessed by a con-lessor is that of absolving from sin (c. 870), which there-fore he may not use in his own favor (c. 201, §2). The other jurisdictional faculties that a confessor possesses or may possess fall under the heading of voluntary or non-judi-cial jurisdiction. These faculties may be used by a confes-sor in his own favor unless such a use is excluded by the nature of the matter, which is true of the remission of a canonical punishment or a dispensation from an irregu-larity; or the concession of the faculty restricts its exercise to the sacramental forum, which demands the distinction of persons of confessor and penitent (cf. cc. 1044; 2253, 1°; 2254; 2290); or, finally, the concession of the faculty expressly excluded its use in one's own favor (c. 201, §3). Local ordinaries, in delegating the faculty to dispense from fast and abstinence, quite frequently restrict it to the sacramental forum. They are not wont to exclude the exercise in one's own favor when they have not restricted the faculty to the sacramental forum. Therefore, in the former case, the faculty may not be exercised in one's own favor; in the latter, it may. Cf. Rodrigo, Tractatus de Legibus, n. 482; Michiels, Normae Geneiales ]uris Ca-nonici, II, 736-37; Coronata, Institutiones Iuris Canonici, I, 330-31. V. Change and Authentic Interpretation 36. A general revision of the constitutions of our con-gregation is being planned and discussed. A priest told me that a change in the constitutions had to be approved by the unanimous vote of all the members of the congre-gation. Is this correct? No. The reason for the statement is evidently canon 101, §1, 2°, which reads: "That which affects all singly must be approved by all." No one may' maintain that any change in the constitutions falls under this canon and demands the unanimous approval of all the members of the institute. It has been the evident law, practice, and teaching for centuries that changes in the constitutions appertain to the general Chapters of religious institutes, which are evidently not tl~e entire institute. The general chapters have either full auth6rity to make these changes, or partial, that is, with the confirmation of the Holy See, or at least the authority to request such changes from the Holy See or the local ordinaries. The practice of the Holy See does not consider a general revision of the constitu-tions as something that in itself requires the approval of all the members of an institute. This is clear from the fact that the Holy See has repeatedly approved such revisions with only the ordinary majority vote of the general chap-ter. Nor does a change in the constitutions demand a unani-mous vote of the general chapter. In by far the greater number of lay institutes, the approval of such a change requires only an absolute majority vote of the chapter. In about one-fourth of these institutes, such a change de-mands a two-thirds vote. The latter norm is found with greater frequency, but by no means always, in constitu-tions of more recent approval. If the constitutions contain no special norm for the approval of a change of the con-stitutions, an absolute majority vote of the general chap-ter is sufficient, because this is the general norm in con-stitutions for deciding matters in the chapter of affairs and a change of the constitutions as such does not fall under the norm of canon 101, §1, 2°. The Sacred Congregation of Religious at times ap-proves at least temporarily and experimentally a change in the constitutions recommended only by the superior general with the consent of his council, for example, the extension of the time of temporary profession from three to five years (cf. REvIEw VOR P~LXG~OUS, 18 [1959], 156-57). If approved only temporarily and experimentally, the matter must be discussed at the next general chapter. If the necessary majority vote is attained, it is again sub-mitted to the Sacred Congregation for definitive approval. The matters that demand the unanimous approval of all the mer~b.ers of the institute are commonly defined as those that d.irectly, primarily, and principally affect in-dividuals ~s such, that is, the privation of a personal right + The Constitutions VOLUME 19, 1960 at. 4, ~oseph F. Gallen, S.~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 354 or the imposition of a new personal obligation, of such a nature in either case that its exaction without the con-sent of the individuals would be an injustice. It is not easy to give the abstract definition of such matters, and all admit that it is even more difficult to determine in the concrete just what these matters are. Authors commonly list the following as failing under the necessity of the unanimous vote: a reformation of an institute, the impo-sition of a new observance, a change in the form or nature of an institute, union with another institute, a substantial change in an institute, and the change of the special pur-pose of an institute. The difficulty of determining what these matters are can be ~een from the opinion of Michiels (Principia Generalia de Personis in Ecclesia, 489), who argues that all the matters just listed except the last two (and his opinion applies equally to these) appertain in themselves directly and primarily to the institute and only indirectly and secondarily to the individuals as such, so that a decision for any of them requires only the pre-scribed majority vote, not a unanimous vote. It is evi-dent that the imposition, of any new observance whatever does not in itself demand a unanimous vote. The necessity of a unanimous vote is the exceptional norm in law. Therefore,.in any case in which its necessity is not proved with certainty, the prescribed majority vote of the general chapter suffices (cf. c. 19; Cappello, Summa luris Canonici, I, n. 197, 4°; Michiels, ibid.; Jone, Com-mentarium in Coclicem Iuris Canonici, I, 114). However, all authors recommend that any really probable case of this kind be referred to the Holy See, which in the pleni-tude of its power can for the common good impose indi-vidual obligations and deprive subjects of individual rights. The Holy See is accustomed in such cases to pro-vide suitable measures for the liberty of individuals, ~for example, in the resumption of solemn vows by a monas-tery of nuns, any nun in simple perpetual vows who does not wish to make the solemn profession may remain in simple vows but she is obliged by all the prescriptions of papal cloister; and in such matters as the union of insti-tutes or the change of. an order of nuns into a congrega-tion of sisters, the Holy See has added the clause that any religious who refuses to consent to the change may re-quest an indult of secularization or a ti:ansfer to another institute according to the norms of canon law. The practical course of action in any matter that even probably requires a unanimous vote of all the members is to present the question to the Holy See, with the vote for and against the measure End a statement also of the reasons for and against it. It should also be stated whether the opposition constitute a clamorous and hardened mi-nority. The Holy See will settle the question; but, even thbugh the measure is highly desirable, it may in pru-dence and for peace recommend a delay. The unanimous vote can clearly create a difficulty. Some measures that at least pr?bably require this 'vote are not only desirable but ~t times even necessary for the very existence of the institute. All who have experience with religious know that a unanimous vote is possible and that it sometimes occurs; they also know that it is very rare, especially in important matters. 37. Our pontifical congregation of sisters has Warded a general revision of our constitutions to the Hoiy See. Is this revision now in effect, that is, before the approval of the Holy See? In virtue of their approval by the Holy See, the consti-tutions of pontifical lay institutes are treated as if they were pontifical laws; those of diocesan congregations, ap-proved by the local ordinary, are treated in the same way as diocesan laws. Therefore, not the institute but the Holy See is the legislator for pontifical institutes and the local,ordinaries for the particular laws of the constitutions of diocesan congregations. Such institutes merely request that their constitutions or a change in them be approved by the Holy See or the ,local ordinaries. No authority within a lay institute, may change its constitutions, and local ordinaries may not change the constitutions, of pon-tifical institutes (c. 618, §2, 1°). The Holy See alone has the authority to change the constitutions of a pontifical institute, The same change in a diocesan congregation may not be made without the ,unanimous consent of all the ordinaries in whose dioceses 'the congregation has houses (c. 495, §2). The dissent of even one of these or-dinaries prevent.s the change from becoming effectiv$~ The congregation may recur to the Holy See in such a case. The ordinaries may' not change any of the things ap-proved by the Holy See in the erection of the diocesan c6ngregation, that is, the special purpose, title, particular works, and form and color of the habit. A change of any of these requires the approval of the Holy See. These mat. oters did not have tO be proposed to the Holy See for the erection of a diocesan congregation before July 16, 1906. Therefore, in congregations erected before this date, the local ordinaries may change such matters also (cf. Ravisi, De Regulis et Constitutionibus Religiosorum, 126, note 3). The answer to the question proposed should now be evident. Any change in the constitutions of lay institutes is effective only from the date on which its approval is granted by the Holy See or the local ordinaries. Before this date, the institute may not put the proposed change into effect. ÷ ÷ ÷ The Consiitution's VOLUME 19, 1960 ÷ ÷ ÷ Joseph F. Gallen, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 356 38. The constitutions of our pontifical congregation of sisters state: "The Holy See alone may change and au-thentically interpret the constitutions . In case of real doubt about some particular point of the constitutions, the general chapter, as also the mother general with the advice of her council, may give a practical interpretation of the doubt; and the sisters are obliged to follow this in-terpretation." What is.the meaning of these two articles? An interpretation is an explanation of the true sense contained in a law. A law needs no interpretation when it is so clear that it excludes even subjective obscurities and doubts. An interpretation is frequently necessary, be-cause it is difficult for a human legislator to express his will with perfect clarity in a brief general statement. Ex-perience also proves that the obscurity of a law often in-creases proportionately with its length. The application of a brief general norm to various particular cases is also a frequent source of obscurities and doubts. An authentic interpretation is an authoritative or obligatory explana-tion of the sense of a law. It may therefore be given only by the legislator, his successor or superior, or in virtue of power delegated by any of these (c. ,17, §1). Since the constitutions of pontifical lay institutes are treated in fact as pontifical and those of diocesan congre-gations as diocesan laws, it follows that the authentic in-terpretation Of the former is reserved to the Holy See and of the latter to the local ordinary, if the diocesan congre-gation is confined to one diocese, and otherwise to the unanimous consent of all the ordinaries in whose dioceses the congregation has houses (cc. 492, §2; 495, §2). It is clear that the Holy See also, as the superior of the local ordinaries, may authentically interpret the constitutions of diocesan congregations. The constitutions of lay insti-tutes usually affirm explicitly that an authentic interpre-tation is reserved to the legislator (cf. Normae of 1901, nn. 251; 265; Normae pro Constitutionibus Congregationum Iuris Dioecesani a S. Congregatione de Propaganda Fide Dependentium, n. 162). A private, non-authentic, or doctrinal interpretation is one given according to the principles of correct interpre-tation by those who lack the authority to enact an authen-tic interpretation. It is based on the legitimate principles of interpretation of canon law, of constitutions in general, and of the particular constitutions. A doctrinal interpreta-tion is a purely private opinion and possesses only the weight and value of the arguments on which it is founded. This is the nature of the opinion given by authors on canon law and constitutions. These can and often do differ in their interpretations. This diversity of opinion often disturbs lay religious superiors. They should follow the norm given by Creusen: "Superiors, however, may follow in their government the doctrinal interpretation given by those authors whose opinions carry weight. In this case the inferior who may have a different opinion must sub-mit himself to the superior, for it is the superior who has the right to choose among several opinions the one which seems to him to offer the best guarantees of truth" (Re-ligious Men and Women in Church Law, n. 273). The exclusion of an authentic interpretation does not prohibit superiors from giving a doctrinal interpretation of the constitutions. In a doubt about the sense of any matter of particular law of a lay :institute, the general chapter or the superior general, as in the second article quoted in the quegtion, may also determine what observance is to be followed. This is in fact an ordinance of the chapter or a regulation of the superior (cf. Van Hove, De Legibus, n. 243; Mi-chiels, Normae Generales Juris Canonici, I, 504, note 1; Rodrigo, Tractatus de Legibus, n. 380). In constitutions it is sometimes called a practical solution of the doubt. It is evident that each superior may authentically in-terpret his own regulations. A higher superior may do the same with regard to the regulations of a lower superior. A general chapter is the authentic interpreter of its own or-dinances and of those of previous chapters. A doctrinal interpretation by others is not excluded, and the superior general may give a practical solution of a doubt concern-ing the sense of these ordinances, as described above for the constitutions. The constitutions could give the su-perior general the faculty of authentically interpreting the ordinances of the general chapter. Such a concession is not contained in the constitutions of lay institutes, but this does not disprove its desirability. It is evident that only the Holy See may authentically interpret the laws of the code and its own decrees and instructions, whether these are contained in the constitutions or not. Cf. Ma-roto, Commentarium Pro Religiosis, 1 (1920), 41-45; Ravisi, De Regulis et Constitutionibus Religiosorum, 96- I00. 39. Our constitutions say nothing whatever about a change in the constitutions. Some have stated explicitly and I think many others hold that our constitutions are immutable. Certainly no change has been made in them for many years. Do our constitutions consequently ex-clude any change? It is contrary to the nature of human law to exclude any change or abrogation. The common good, according to the varying circumstances of persons, places, and times can counsel or demand an abrogation, change, or the substi-tution of another law. Even the universal laws of the ÷ ÷ ÷ The Constitutions VOLUME 19, 1960 .Joseph F. Gallen, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 358 Roman Pontiffs may be and have been changed, and we can certainly predicate no greater stability or perpetuity of religious constitutions. It is furthermore evident that the constant practice of the Holy See considers constitu-tions changeable and grants the authority to request a change to the general chapters of lay imtitutes. Finally, as stated in Question $6: "If the constitutions contain no special norm for the approval of a change of the constitu-tions, an absolute majority vote of the general chapter is sufficient, because this is the general norm in constitutions for deciding matters in the chapter of affairs and a change of the constitutions as such does not fall under the norm of canon 101, §1, 2°. . Superiors are not to think that they can preserve the identity of their institute intact if they never dare to change particular regulations. If they te-naciously adhere to these as if they were immutable laws, they will most certainly destroy the essential unity of their institute. A tree would certainly die if it did not change its blossoms or leaves . The fact that more ancient inSti-tutes are already senile is at least one of the reasons why we see new institutes constantly arising." Reverend R. Lombardi, S.J., Acta et Documenta Congressus Generalis de Statibus Per[ectionis, I, 117. "A religious order or con-gregation that always rejects any change in its regulations for the sole reason that things were always done this way and accordingly refuses to face the new exigencies is con-demned to self-fossilization and sooner or later to disap-pear. The precise reason is that its particular manner of life will no longer be compatible with actual conditions. Other institutes more adapted to the actual circumstances of society will take its place. The most optimistic outlook for institutes that do not strive to adapt their methods of teaching and their life is that they will necessarily appear deficient in comparison to the age in which they live. This will inevitably produce in their members a state and a sense of disturbing and harmful inferiority, which will also curtail the efficacy of their apostolic efforts." Leoni, Aggiornamento o Processo di Adeguamento, 47-48. The balanced judgment that should guide an institute in this matter has been given by Pius XII: "It is only right that convents and orders bf cloistered nuns esteem, protect, and remain faithful to the distinctive spirit of their order. It would be unjust not to take account of this. But they should defend it without narrow-mindedness or rigidity, to say nothing of a certain obstinacy which opposes every legitimate development and resists every kind of change even though the common good requires it." Allocution to Cloistered Contemplatives, REWEW ~'OR RELIGIOUS, 18 (1959), 136. 40. According to our constitutions, "a change in the constitutions may not be proposed to the Holy See until three successive general chapters have sanctioned the change." Is this restriction prudent? Evidently no. The necessity of the approval of three suc-cessive chapters would ordinarily demand an interval of eighteen years before a useful or even necessary change in the constitutions could be proposed to the Holy See; Such an interval is clearly an obstacle tO the common good of the institute and to efficient government. The changes in the constitutions that are frequently being made now, for example, to a postulancy of nine or ten months or a year and to temporary profession for five years, evidently can-not wait eighteen years for their inception. A useful or nec-essary change in the constitutions that is proposed now could even be antiquated in eighteen years. This restric-tive law is directly contrary to the principles of the Holy See on renovation and adaptation. The next general chap-ter should vote forits abrogation and send the petition im-mediately to the Holy See. "If superiors according to their rank refuse to see the changed circumstances of the time, there is danger that they may turn that which was living [their institute] into a carefully protected corpse, even though they believe that they have completely preserved their institute. They have killed it by a form of spiritual parricide. The greatest effort of superiors should be to act, as far as possible, in "the same way as the founder himself, if he were alive, would act. It is true that he taught his sons a rule composed by him under the direction of the spirit of God for their government; but in defining many things, even those of greater importance, in the interpreta-tion of the rule according to the circumstances, and in the selection of mihistries, he would undoubtedly avail him-self of a holy liberty. He would be guided by the .burning zeal that consumed him on earth, that made him a man of his own age, and led him to devote himself to the more pressing needs and to select the more suitable ministries within the limits of his vocation." Reverend R. Lombardi, S.J., Acta et Documenta Congressus Generalis de Statibus Perfectionis, I, 119. "In the same spirit of profound intelli-gence of the rule, some communities no longer judge every proposal to change the constitutions as necessarily a sacri-lege." Reverend A. PM, O.P., ibid., II, 146. 41. According to an article of our :diocesan constitu. tiom, the constitutions may be neither authentically in-terpreted nor changed without the unanimous consent of the ordinaries ol the dioceses in which the congrega-tion has houses. Are these two the only matters in a dioc-esan congregation that demand the unanimous consent of all the ordinaries? 4" 4" + The Constitutions VOLUME "t91 '1960 359 ÷ ÷ ÷ $oseph F. Gal~en, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 360 Canon 495, §2, explicitly requires the unanimous con-sent of all the ordinaries for any change in the constitu-tions. Since the local ordinaries are the legislators for di-ocesan congregations and the ordinary of the motherhouse enjoys no pri~aaacy of jurisdiction, the authentic interpre-tation of the constitutions also certainly demands this same unanimous consent (c. 17, §1). The Code of Canon Law says nothing concerning the erection, union, modification of boundaries, or suppres-sion of provinces in diocesan congregations (c. 494, §1). In the introduction to the quinquennial report, the Holy See stated that the division of a diocesan congregation into provinces could scarcely be permitted and that such an institute, if special reasons existed for a division into prov-inces, should petition pontifical approval. Before the time of this report, a very small number of diocesan congrega-tions had been divided into provinces; and the report does not absolutely exclude the same division o~ other diocesan congregations. Canonical authors begin their treatment of this question by stating that the constitutions, if ex-traordinarily they contain anything on the matter, are to be observed. This is evidently true, but the mere observ-ance of the constitutions will most rarely be sufficient. Even when they mention the matter, the constitutions will practically never affirm anything but the religious superior (general chapter, superior general with the consent of his council, or both) competent for the preliminary judgment on the erection and related acts concerning provinces. The observance of the constitutions will be sufficient only when they state that such acts appertain to all the local ordi-naries affected or to the local ordinary of the motherhouse. In the latter case, the other ordinaries have delegated or consented to the delegation of their jurisdiction to the ordinary of the motherhouse. No authority within the in-stitute will ever be sufficient for the acts in question. A division into provinces is the erection of new moral per-sons; and the code does not give religious institutes the authority to erect religious moral persons. This is clear from the canons on the erection o~ religious houses (cc. 495, §1,497). It is the common and at least probable opin-ion of authors that the acts concerning provinces listed at the beginning of this paragraph demand for validity the consent of the one local ordinary, if such acts affect houses within only one diocese, or the unanimous consent of all the ordinaries concerned when the houses affected by these acts are in many dioceses. The best proof of this opinion is that the silence of the code on provinces in diocesan con-gregations should be supplied (c. 20), because of the argu-ment on moral persons given above, and the similar law to be applied is canon 495, §9. This may also be the argu- mentation of several authors who give no explicit reason for their doctrine. At least two authors apparently argue that any matter which affects houses.in several dioceses re-quires, in virtue of canon 495, §2, the unanimous consent of all the ordinaries o[ such dioceses. One or two authors demand the unanimous consent because the erection of provinces implies a change in the constitutions. This is true, but the two matters are distinct. Some authors demand also the consent of the ordinary of the motherhouse for all the acts listed above concerning provinces. They argue that his consent is afortiori neces-sary because canon 495, §1, requires it for the erection of the first house in another diocese. This doctrine also is probable. The erection of provinces does not necessarily imply the extension of the congregation into other dio-ceses, but something of the same reason is verified, that is, the judgment as to whether the congregation is capable of such a division and whether or not the division is expe-dient (cf. Larraona, Comrnentarium Pro Religiosis, 5 [1924], 262--63; Muzzarelli, De Congregationibus Iuris Di-oecesani, p. 92, note 15; nn. 101; 130). The. changes in the constitutions consequent upon the division into provinces will evidently demand the consent of all the ordinaries in whose dioceses the congregation has houses, in virtue of canon 495, §2. The other similar matters in a diocesan congregation that has houses in many dioceses are: the acceptance of the resignation and the deposition of the superior general; transfer of the permanent residence of the superior gen-eral; dispensation of a law that affects the entire congrega-tion, province, or houses in several dioceses, for example, of a law of the congregation that forbids postulation in the general or provincial chapter or of an impediment of the constitutions for the appointment of a provincial superior or provincial official; canonical visitation of the general and provincial houses, superiors, and officials as such and o[ the general and provincial government and administra-tion; consent for any investment or change of investment of general or provincial funds in congregations of women; the right of inquiring into the entire financial state of a generalate or provincialate of congregations of men or women; permission for the convocation of a general chap-ter for reasons other than general elections; and the con-firmation of the deposition o[ a general councilor. Some authors maintain that these and similar matters which affect an entire diocesan congregation, province, or houses in many dioceses appertain cumulatively to the jurisdiction of the ordinaries of all the dioceses concerned and demand their unanimous consent. Any one ordinary is competent in these matters only when he is exceptionally ÷ ÷ The Constitutions VOLUME 191 1960 36! 4, ÷ ÷ Joseph F. Gallen, $.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 362 granted such authority by the code. The following are the arguments for this opinion. Canon 492, §2, according to these authors, states that a multidiocesan congregation remains subject, not to any one ordinary, but to all the ordinaries and thus to their cumulative jurisdiction. Canon 495, §2, requires the unanimous consent of all the ordinaries for a change in the constitutions. The reason for this prescription is that such a change affects general government. Therefore, the same norm is to be applied to all similar matters. The lack of a general principle in the code on these matters should be supplied (c. 20), and the similar law to be applied is canon 495, §2. The juris-diction of any one ordinary is necessarily confined to his own diocese and does not extend to the congregation, provinces, or houses in other dioceses. Any one ordinary acting on matters that affect houses or religious in another diocese would be infringing on the jurisdiction of the or-dinary of this diocese. The unilateral action of an ordi-nary in such a matter would endanger the unity of govern-ment of the congregation. The code and the practice of the Holy See are opposed to a primacy of jurisdiction in any one ordinary, especially in the ordinary of the mother-house. These arguments are evidently sufficient to con-stitute at least a probable' doctrine. The opinion of these authors should be followed in practice, since it is at least preferable in itself and has been accepted by the Sacred Congregation of Religious, as is clear from the introduc-tion to the quinquennial report for diocesan congrega-tions (cf. Muzzarelli, ibid., nn. 96-102). It can be maintained that this doctrine is not as evident from the sense of our present law as it appears to some of its followers. The code nowhere asserts the general prin-ciple of cumulative jurisdiction. Cumulative jurisdiction is stated only once and then on the specific matter of a change of the constitutions (c. 495, §2). The local ordinary of the place of the chapter presides in his own name, not by delegation from the other ordinaries, at the election of the mother general (c. 506, §4). This ordinary has the same right of confirming or rescinding her election (c. 506, §4) and of accepting or refusing a postulation for this office when the impediment is. of the particular law of the con-gregation (c, 181, §1). The local ordinary of the higher superior has the vigilance over the dowries, which are part of the general or provincial administration (cc. 549-550). In alienations and the contracting of debts and obligations below the sum that demands the permission of the Holy See, the literal and more obvious sense of canon 534, §1, is that such acts by a congregation or province, as opposed to a house, of diocesan sisters require the permission of the ordinary of the generalate or provincialate. The text of canon 512, §1, 2°, does not certainly exclude the right of the local ordinary to make a canonical visitation of a mul-tidiocesan generalate or provincialate as such, nor canon 533, §1, 1 °, the necessity of his consent for an investment or change of investment of general or provincial funds in a congregation of women, nor canon 535, §3, 1°, the right of inquiring into the administration of general and pro-vincial property. Only the local ordinary of the mother-house approves constitutions to be presented to the Holy See for pontifical approbation (Normae of 1921, n. 8, d.), although testimonial letters are required from the other ordinaries. The typical constitutions published for dioc-esan missionary congregations by the Sacred Congrega-tion of the Propagation of the Faith in 1940 contain no prescriptions based on cumulative jurisdiction. Finally, it can also be maintained that matters such as the convoca-tion of a general chapter and the deposition of a general councilor appertain of their nature to internal govern-ment. They therefore demand the permission or confirma-tion of a local ordinary and fall under cumulative juris-diction only when the intervention of the local ordinary is prescribed.by the particular constitutions. The same is true of the establishment and transfer of a novitiate, which is not too frequently explicitly mentioned by authors as appertaining to cumulative jurisdiction (cf. Larraona, ibid., 10 [1929], 376, note 25). The difficulties in the exercise of cumulative jurisdic-tion are evident immediately, for example, it is most la-borious, cumbersome, and inefficient to be compelled to secure the unanimous consent of nine, ten, or fifteen or more ordinaries for any change in the Constitutions. The obvious remedy is to petition pontifical approval, which is practically always long overdue in these multidiocesan congregations (cf. Larraona, ibid,, 5 [1924], 145, note 95; Muzzarelli, ibid., 94, and notes 27-28). Until this approba-tion is secured, the efficient remedy is the delegation jurisdiction, preferably in the constitutions, to the local ordinary of the motherhouse for matters that fall under cumulative jurisdiction. Extraordinarily serious m~itters may be excepted from this delegation. An ordinary who receives into his diocese a congregation whose constitu-tions give the competence in such matters to the ordinary of the motherhouse implicitly consents to this delegation. In a case of urgent necessity, delegation may be presumed as far as is really imperative to take care of the necessity. Tacit or implicit delegation is also not excluded to the ex-tent that the actions of the other ordinaries certainly mani-fest a delegation (cf. Larraona, ibid., 14 [1933], 418-19, note 784; Muzzarelli, ibid., n. 102). 4. 4. 4. The onstitutiom VOLUME 1% 1960 36~ VI. Knowledge, Practice, and Public Reading of De-crees of the Holy See. Public Reading and ihe Giving ol a Copy of the Constitutions to Each Novice ÷ ÷ ÷ ]oseph F. Gallen, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 364 42. Am I, a local superior, obliged to put into execu-tion immediately any new document of the Holy See that affects religious? All superiors in the proper sense of this term, whether general, provincial, or local, are commanded by canon 509, §l, to promote among their subjects the knowledge and practice of the decrees of the Holy See that concern religious. A question of the quinquennial report to the Holy See reads: "How do superiors see to it that the de-crees of the Holy See which concern religious be known and observed by their own subjects?" Decrees of the Holy See include the canons of the code and the interpretations, instructions, and decrees promulgated by the Holy See after the code. The decrees that concern religious are not merely the documents specifically or exclusively on the religious life but all documents of the Holy See that apply either solely or also to religious. The matter of these docu-ments may therefore be on things common to all the faith-ful, for example, the sacraments, liturgy, and indulgences, or on the apostolate of the religious as priests, educators, catechists, nurses, social workers, and missionaries. Canonical Legislation Concerning Religious, published by the Vatican Press, is an authorized but unofficial trans-lation of the canons on religious, with the exception of those that affect only clerical religious. It is an evident fact of experience that lay religious especially are not con-versant with the mere prescriptions of canon law. One consequence is that they fail to distinguish between the articles of their constitutions that are canons and those that are laws proper to the particular institute. The read-ing in the refectory once a year of Canonical Legisla-tion Concerning Religious would help considerably to eliminate this common and harmful ignorance. The Canon Law Digest, Bouscaren-O'Connor, four volumes and annual supplements, published by Bruce, Milwaukee, is a collection of the documents promulgated by the Holy See after the Code of Canon Law. It therefore contains the subsequent interpretations, instructions, and decrees of the Holy See that affect religious. Current documents are to be learned from a periodical such as the REvIEw fOR RELIGIOUS, in which they are also explained. A regular section of the REwEw is devoted to a survey of Roman documents. A local lay superior should inform his com-munity of such a document as soon as he is in possession of the accurate official text in the vernacular. The ordi- nary way is by posting the text or having it read to the community, usually in the refectory, Practically all authors state the evident principle that a local superior is obliged to put a document of the Holy See into effect, without waitifig to be informed of it by either higher superiors or a diocesan chancery. However, in practice a local lay superior will rarely be in possession o[ an accurate translation and much less of the certain sense of a document before he is informed of it by higher superiors. A document should not be put into execution before its text and sense are known with accuracy and cer-tainty. Higher superiors must strive to secure an accurate translation and a certain explanation as soon as possible. The higher superior should then inform all the religious subject to him of the document by a circular letter. From custom or previous consultation, it will be known whether the superior general or provincial is to issue this letter. It should be an understood duty of a general or provincial secretary that he is to inform the respective superior and council of any new document of the Holy See and of any new diocesan or civil enactments that affect the institute or its members. Authors also point out that a document which requires the coordinated activity of several supe-riors cannot be put into execution until such activity is possible. All superiors must enforce any legislation of the Holy See. Higher superiors should investigate its ob-servance at the time of the canonical visitation, and an account of the same observance should be included in the reports of local to higher superiors, 43. Our constitutions contain no prescription on the public reading of the constitutions. Are we obliged by canon law to have them read publicly? Local superiors are obliged by canon 509, §2, 1 °, to have the constitutions of their institute read publicly in the community at least once a year on the days a~nd in the place determined by the constitutions, custom, usage, or the directives of higher superiors. The usual place is the refectory. There are many constitutions that say nothing about this matter. These institutes must observe at least the frequency of reading imposed by the code. The more usual frequency in constitutions is twice or at least twice a year, but in many the norm is once or at least once a year. The first part of the constitutions of lay institutes, exclusive of such chapters as the care of the sick and de-parture and dismissal, contain the duties common to all. In a few institutes, this part is read more frequently, two or four times a year or every month. A few institutes pos-sess an ascetical or spiritual summary of their constitutions and read this instead of the full constitutions. This prac-tice may be followed, because such a summary pertains + The Constitutions VOLUME 19, 1960~ ÷ ÷ Joseph F. Gallen, $.~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 366 more immediately to the religious perfection of all and thus fulfills the purpose of the law. It would be preferable to have the full constitutions read at least once a year. All religious should be familiar also with the canonical or legal articles of their constitutions. An article is often found that commands or exhorts the religious to read the constitutions frequently in private, to meditate on them, and to make their observance a subject of the particular examen. Greater attention is obviously to he given to the spiritual articles and to the chapters containing the com-mon obligations. These are evidently laudable and profit-able practices for all religious, even when not commanded nor counselled by the particular constitutions. 44. The constitutions of our pontifural congregation oy sisters have been conlormed to the Code of Canon Law. Three documents antedating the code are in the back of the constitutions. Some older sisters have com-plained that these documents are no longer read publicly once a year. This practice was discontinued some years ago. Are we still obliged to have these documents read publicly once a year? No, and these documents should not be in your consti-tutions. Canon 509, §2, 1°, commands local superiors to have read publicly in their communities, with the fre-quency and on the days determined by the Holy See, any of its documents, that the Holy See will order to be read publicly. The canon is in the future tense, that is, decrees that the Holy See has ordered to be read after the promul-gation of the Code of Canon Law. Thus far there has been no order to read any document publicly in lay institutes. Only one such document, the instruction of the Sacred Congregation of Religious, December 1, !931, on the cleri-cal and religious training of members who are called to the priesthood and on the test to be made before the re-ception of orders, has been ordered to be read publicly at the beginning of each year but only to religious clerics. Documents antedating the code are no longer to be in-cluded in the constitutions nor read publicly. Several lay institutes are apparently unaware of this fact and continue to do both. The decrees antecedent to the code that the questioner has in mind are on manifestation of conscience, confessors, and frequent and daily Communion, that .is, Quemadmodum, of the Sacred Congregation of Bishops and Regulars, December 17, 1890; Cum de sacramentali. bus, of the Sacred Congregation of Religious, February 3, 1913; and Sacra Tridentina Synodus, of the Sacred Con-gregation of the Council, December 20, 1905, which was in-cluded in some constitutions. The same principle is to be followed with regard to all other documents antedating the code. 45. We are a diocesan lay congregation. There is noth-ing in our constitutions about giving a colby of the con-stitutions to each novice. I heard that we were obliged to do so. Is this correct? The universal practice of the Sacred Congregations of Religious and of the Propagation of the Faith in approv-ing constitutions commands that a complete copy of the constitutions be given to each novice from the beginning of the noviceship. This prescription is not a canon and is strictly obligatory only when included in the particular constitutions. Even when not found in the constitutions, it is at least the preferable practice, since it clearly mani-fests the mind of the Holy See and in itself is most useful, if not necessary, for the study of the constitutions. The ex-pressed purpose of the practice is that the novice may be able to read and meditate on the constitutions and more readily follow the instructions of the master. Each novice and professed may be given only an ascetical summary, but a copy of the complete constitutions should be in the library or in some other readily accessible place for con-sultation. It is the better practice to give a complete copy of the constitutions to all professed and novices. 4. 4. The Constitutions VOLUME 19, 1960 LEO P. ROCK, S.J. Is Christian Spirituality Self-Centered?' Leo P. Rock, S.J. is cur-rently

Issue 69.3 of the Review for Religious, 2010. ; ANew Chal!en~e Models of Spi~rituali, ty Liv, ing Religious Li£e ' Foliow~ing Christ QUARTERLY 69.3 2010 Review for Religious fosters dialogue with God, dialogue with ourselves, and dialogue with one another about the holiness we try to live according to charisms of Catholic religious life. As Pope' Paul Vl said, our way of being church is today the way of dialogue. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published quarterly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Telephone: 314-633-4610 ¯ Fax: 314-633-4611 E-Maih reviewrfr@gmail.com ¯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 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. ©2010 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 distribution, 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. ~ gournalof Ca~ho~c ~piri~ua~y rel Editor Associate Editor Scripture Scope Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Eugene Hensell OSB Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Judy Sharp Paul Coutinho SJ Martin Erspamer OSB' Margaret Guider OSF Kathleen Hughes RSCJ Louis and Angela Menard Bishop Terry Steib SVD QUARTERLY 69.3 2010 contents prisms 228 Prisms 230 238 a new challenge ~ Koinonia and the Church in the Digital Age Daniel P. Horan OFM reflects on the role technology currently plays in both supporting and challenging Christians in their fellowship (koinonia) as church. Personal Reflection / Group Discussion Beyond Frontiers, Deep and High, Hear and Far Hedwig Lewis SJ probes the inclusive meaning and reach of frontiers for spiritual enhancement and effective ministry. The term frontiers, contained in Decree Three of the 35th General Congregation of the Society of Jesus has gained popularity among many religious. 226] 255 268 models of spirituality ~ Elizabeth Seton's Spirituality of the Cross Judith Metz SC explores a central element of St. Elizabeth Seton's spirituality: her realization of the importance of losing her life for the sake of living in closer union with Christ. A Rare Humility and a Future-Facing Myth Avis Clendenen finds in an aging sister's simple tale a vision of the humility that our dangerously narcissistic culture seriously needs. Review for Religious 281 297 living religious life Religious Life as an Acceptable Sacrifice Robert Nogosek CSC proposes that in order for religious life to be authentic discipleship it demands of us an ongoing reevaluation of what is required to be a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God. Coping with the Genuinely Difficult Religious Jeffrey Mickler SSP brings together some observations and practical suggestions on how to deal with problematic religious. 3O9 316 following Christ The Liturgical Year: History or Mystery? John M. Samaha SM examines the movement of the liturgical year in order that we might enter more fully into this time of grace. Personal Reflection / Group Discussion Discipleship and Clinging to God Damian C. Ilodigwe writes on how letting go opens us to true discipleship, and we are invited to detach ourselves from wayward affections in order to attach ourselves to God. departments 324 Scripture Scope: Reading and Understanding the Prophets 328 Book Review 227 69.3 2010 prisms 228 In the middle months of a secular calendar year, we find ourselves in what is identified as "ordinary time" in the church's liturgical year. As we likely have been told many times, the liturgical "ordinary time" refers to a way of counting (the Latin word ordo meaning "an ordering") the Sundays from one to thirty-four. These are the Sundays that are outside of the special seasons of Advent and Christmas, Lent and Easter. Yet for us Christians, there is a kind of lovely paradox in living within what we call the "liturgical season of ordinary time." While in many ways it may seem that all time is ordi-nary (since time is always countable), in other ways we can view all time as rather extraordi-nary. The ordinariness of time is caught up in our usual round of family or community life, of work and recreation, of the accustomed interaction of friends, neighbors, and fellow-workers. Some people try to break out of the day-to-day routine by deliberately scheduling in a special time for a dinner out, a day-trip to an unfamiliar town, or a different recreational activity such as biking or bowling. Review for Religious A number of people find each day an adventure and cannot imagine that there are some who would call life ordinary. These people find a newness in the chang-ing weather of this day, in the surprising interactions with their own children or friends, and even in the mes-sages of the mail, the internet, and the iphone. They have retained a certain childlikeness that retains a won-der,. about life in all its forms. For them life is not so much ordinal, that is, "countable," as it is caught up in "moments" that have no countable passage. For exam-ple, moments of insight and moments of being inflamed by love--spiritually identified as consolations--are truly beyond the countable. We Christians are blessed and graced to recognize these kinds of "moments" in prayer during which we feel caught up outside of time in our relationship with God. Surely it does not happen all the time; in fact, the "ordinary" is our "slugging away" at our prayer time. We can also know these moments when we are engaged in our various times of joy, happiness, and love. The wonder of it all is that these moments for us--those who are caught in finding life ordinary and those who are gifted to live in wonder--are actually moments that happen in the ordinary course of our daily living. Perhaps that is why it is important for us to enter fully into the paradox of our church's liturgical season of ordinary rime. There i~ the reality of the ordinary and there is also the reality of the moment. The church's liturgical year reminds us that God is always present to us both in the ordinary and in the moment. We need only to pray each day of our liturgical year to be gr.aced with the gratitude that finds God in all times and places. David L. Fleming sJ 69.3 2010 a new DANIEL P. HORAN challenge 2301 Koinonia and the Church in the Digital Age If Jesus had been born in 1980 and began his public ministry in 2010, would he have "friended" the twelve apostles on Facebook instead of visiting the Sea of Galilee? While this question might at first seem comical, it reflects concern about how the church as the Christian community relates to the world in which it exists today. The world is very different from the world of Jesus' ministry. The way many people experience interpersonal communication, develop and maintain relation-ships, and share information is strikingly dif-ferent from the ways of previous generations. In an era marked by advances in technology, communication, and virtual space, we must be attentive to how much our church community is being influenced or shaped by its new envi-ronment. To understand some of these matters Daniel P. Horan .OFM has written on Franciscan the-ology, philosophy, and spirituality. He writes from Holy Name College; 1650 Saint Camillus Drive; Silver Spring, Maryland 20903. Review for Religious in what we may call the "digital age," we must look first at what unites us in faith and then at how our changing world affects that unity. What Is Koinonia? Early in the Acts of the Apostles, we are told that members of the nascent Christian community "devoted thems'elves to the apostles' teaching and fellowship (koinonia), to the breaking of bread and the prayers" (Ac 2:42). In Greek, koinonia was one of the marks of Christian identity, but what does it mean? It literally means "communal-ness" (community, communion, "in common") and thus fellowship. In the Christian con-text, however, this is more than club mem . bership or casual social connections. The New Testament scholar Luke Timothy Johnson sug-gests that this under-standing of koinonia includes our unity in Christ, which explains how the Christian com-munity was able to maintain unity amid the ~hallenges it faced in the first centuries. In a 1999 lecture at St. Louis University, Johnson offered four aspects of this Christian fellow-ship: fellowship among persons, in writing, in material resources, and in convictions.1 Even in diverse cultures, regions, and languages, Christianity was unified through these four aspects of koinonia. The fellowship among persons is seen in the way net-works of New Testament figures, including the apostles The fellowship in writing is most clearly seen in the way .that. early Christian texts,. were shared among the early believers~ [231 69.3 2010 Horan ¯ Koinonia and the Cburcb in the Digital Age and their successors, helped to unify the various com-munities of believers. Johnson believes that these per-sonal connections helped to maintain coherence in the early Christian movement. The fellowship in writing is most clearly seen in the way that early Christian texts, which would later be canonized as Scripture, were shared among the early believers in different locations. The exchange of these compositions, sometimes letters and sometimes longer narratives, concretized the common experience of the life and ministry of Jesus Christ. The communal reflec-tion on these compositions proved to be an important means of developing koinonia. The fellowship in material resources united the first Christians in a seemingly calculable way that was under-stood more deeply as symbolizing a spiritual connec-tion with other believers. We see in both the Acts of the Apostles and in the Letters of Paul references to offerings for the benefit of the local community ("no one claimed private ownership of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in common," Ac 4:32), and the greater Christian community spread throughout the land ("conc+rning the collection for the saints., on the first day of every week, each of you is to put aside and save whatever extra you earn," 1 Co 16:1-2). Sharing financial resources represented spiritual koinonia. The last form of fellowship is that in convictions. Johnson notes that in the New Testament we see con-flicts arising over interpretations of some mat(ers, but that some convictions are never contested. Three of these are monotheism (identifying the one God as the God of the Torah), knowledge that Jesus was human and died, and belief that Jesus was now living with God and would share in God's triumph in the future. Review for Religious All four forms of koinonia that Johnson highlights contribute to the unity amid diversity in the early.church. We see that they have continued to unite the church. The Possibility of Digita! Koinonia With the understanding that this fourfold koinonia continues even today, we can now look at how it relates to us in our technologically advanced and technologically permeated world. It seems there is nothing that does not have a digital or virtual counterpart: Much of today's communication takes place on the Internet in such sites as Facebook and MySpace. Interacting in a completely digital environment where simple laws of nature, com-mon social mores, and geographical limits are no longer applicable is becoming more common through programs like SecondLife. These new forms of communication and social interaction allow the users to create, modify, and experiment with their identities in unprecedented ways. These new "identities" can participate in what are often called "online communities." Is it possible then to express koinonia in a digital format, to have "church" or a community of believers come together in an authentic way online? It would seem at first glance to be a possibility. The clearest congruency between koinonia and the digital age is likely found within the context 6f the fel-lowship among persons. The Second Vatican Council's Dogmatic Constitution on the Church, Lumen gen-tium, says: "All of the faithful, scattered though they be throughout the. world, are in communion with each other in the Holy Spirit" (LG §13).2 Earlier in Lumen gentium we are told that the church "transcends all limits of time and confines of race [and is] destined to extend to all regions of the earth" (LG §9). Transcending the 69.3 2010 Horan ¯ Koinonia and the Church in the Digital Age boundaries of temporality and human differences sug-gests that connecting and communicating with others through digital media and the Internet is indeed a con-temporary manifestation of fellowship among persons. Additionally, the "blog" (short for "weblog") and other digital media make written compositions and reflections on normative religious texts more read-ily available. Even in graduate theological schools, the ubiquity of technologies such as BlackBoard or WebCT has reshaped the way students of Scripture and theology read about, reflect on, and share their faith. It would seem that Christians are no longer limited to parish Bible study, adult catechesis, or other forms of faith-sharing face to face. Instead, thecommunica(ion of biblical and theological reflection now transcends the previous spatial and temporal boundaries. You can read about, reflect on, and share your faith at any time and from nearly any place. The fellowship in material resources in contempo-rary Christian communities occurs largely by way of the Internet. Technology enables the faithful to share their material resources directly or indirecdy with other communities at the click of a computer mouse. When natural disaster, crime, or war affects the people of God on any continent or at any time, the Internet has allowed Christians to assist others instantaneously. This has been the case in recent years with aid to victims of the Indian Ocean tsunami of 2004 and victims of hur-ricane Katrina in New Orleans in 2005. The sharing of material resources in these instances also represents the spiritual unity of the people of God, spread around the world though they are. The final dimension of koinonia that Johnson has highlighted for us, fellowship in convictions, can also be for Reli#ous seen in the new technologies of the digital age. From the beginning of the Internet, digital "communities" formed to share ideas and information. Early on, this occurred in what were called "chat rooms" and "message boards," where one could connect with others and contribute to a continuing conversation about a particular subject. Today the successors to those early formats might be Facebook "groups" and personal blogs. Centered on commonly held beliefs and convictions, these digital "spaces" allow people to connect with others without regard to temporal or geographic boundaries. Given the apparent compatibility of Luke Johnson's fourfold definition of koinonia with the technological advances of our digital age, it seems we could advocate a form of "digital koinonia." There remains, however, a piece of the puzzle that is not accounted for in this digital koinonia. The church is not united in this form of fellowship alone, but is also a Eucharistic community. From Facebook to Eucharist However great the possibilities for increasing koi-nonia among the Christian faithful, we must recall the passage from Acts cited above wherein the community was also devoted to the breaking of the bread. Cardinal Walter Kasper, in his book That They May All Be One,3 reminds us that the church is not simply an organization or club in which we have become some sort of mem-ber, and that we are brought into participation in the mystery of Christ as a part of Christ's Body through the sacrament of baptism. The participation--the set of relationships we enter through baptism and maintain through koinonia--comes to what Kasper calls "the summit," namely, participation in the Eucharist, a theme from Sacrosanctum concilium, 69.3 2010 Horan ¯ Koinonia and the Church in the Digital Age the council's Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy. In this light we can understand Christian koinonia as being both a communal or material unity and a sacramental unity. Kasper is in line with Johnson's fourfold koinonia, but reminds us that this koinonia is inherently sacramental, rooted in our shared baptism and Eucharist. Understanding koinonia as being fundamentally sac-ramental while also communal, we see two sets of rela-tionship in the church's koinonia, The first one Kasper calls the horizontal dimension of koinonia. It is what we have seen in Johnson's fourfold framework: fellow- - ship among persons, . , ~ in writing, in material resources, and in con-viction. The second set Kasper describes as the vertical dimension: the explicitly sacramental fellowship of believers, who in baptism are united to Christ and thus brought into the life of the Trinity. This dimension, the vertical or sac-ramental, cannot be replicated on Facebook, MySpace, SecondLife, or any other technological medium. People cannot have their SecondLife avatar baptized online and cannot participate in the celebration of the Eucharist online either. In light of the ideas of'Luke Timothy Johnson and Cardinal Walter Kasper and in line with the vision of the Second Vatican Council, the church in this digital age of ours is clearly aided in living its koinonia, but not, of course, in the matter of baptism and the Eucharist, with their water, bread, and wine. The horizontal dimension We can understand Christian koinonia as being both a communal or material unity and a sacramental unity,° 236 Review for Religious of koinonia could very likely benefit from more engage-ment with online technologies that transcend some of the usual limits of place and time. At the same time, there is a need to move beyond this digital koinonia to fully include the sacramental and vertical dimension in the celebration of baptism and Eucharist. Had Jesus "friended" the Apostles on Facebook, he would have veryqikely sent an "e-vite" to each one for an in-person gathering shortly thereafter. Notes ~ Luke Timothy Johnson, "Koinonia: Diversity and Unity in Early Christianity," Theology Digest 46 (1999): 303-313. 2 All references to conciliar documents are to Vatican Council II, ed. Austin Flannery OP (New York: Costello Publishing, 1992). 3 Walter Kasper, That They May All Be One: The Call To Unity Today (New York: Continuum, 2004). Questions for Personal Reflection and Group Study 1. In what ways do you experience koinonia in today's church? 2. How do you see technology impacting the way we live out our call to Christian discipleship? Are there other positive or negative dimensions associated with this reality? 3. What are the ways we might better use technology to support authentic communion within the Christian community today? 23.7 69.3 2010 HEDWIG LEWIS Beyond Frontiers, Deep and High, Near and Far 23,8 ~reOvarle daStt intuotd oens.l yI nc o2m0m06u,n tihcaet es lmanega n"icnogo blu"t walasso said to be the most popular word of the year. It had acquired a new set of meanings and suggested a specific mindset. The word, however, did not affect Jesuits: they were warming up for a general congregation (GC35) to be held in early 2008. When it was finally in session, the delegates wanted to set the world on fire. A special decree (D2) defined the Jesuit as a "man on fire" at the frontiers of humanity. Decree Three (D3) is tided "Challenges to Our Mission Today: Sent to the Frontiers." "Frontiers" became the theme of several docu-ments and the new buzzword of the Jesuits. It is no longer just a romantic term, but has evoked enthusiasm and captured Jesuit imaginations. It has become popular also among other religious worldwide.~ Hedwig Lewis SJ writes again from St. Xavier's College; P.B. 4168; Ahmedabad 380 009; India. His website is http://joygift.tripod.com. Review for Religious Understanding Frontiers The word frontier has varied meanings: the edge of empires, a place for adventure and heroism, technologi-cal testing for new industries, conquest or rich cultural exchange. In Europe it refers simply to the boundaries between nations. The colonies the Europeans established in the rest of the world became, first of all, European societies and cultures on farther frontiers. In the United States the frontier, in history and popular culture, has meant the setting for adventure and prosperity, valor and villainy. The national character is seen as having been forged in the trials and triumphs of life on the frontier. The pioneer experience supposedly pf0duced the best traits of the American people--their tenacity, individualism, love of democracy, patriotism, inventive-ness, and much more. Many historians today question such views, but few would deny that "frontier," broadly understood, has had an influence not only in North America but in the rest of the world as well. The expansion of European peo-ples brought a variety of complicated changes to human society and to the physical world itself. The frontier was an unsetding force--socially, culturally, politically, and ecologically) No longer just a geographic term implying some restrictions, "frontier" is also used in referring intel-lectual aiad scientific advances and ideological visions. Today "ideas, information, merchandise, technology, and capital circulate freely; persons also circulate, though with many more restrictions. Frontiers have become porous, and in many cases they have disappeared. The world has become multireligious and multicultural. There is no longer a notion of Christendom with delim-ited frontiers beyond which lies mission territory.''3 69.3 2010 Lewis * Beyond Frontiers, Deep and High, Near and Far A New Concept of Frontier Decree Three of GC35 redefines frontier accord-ing to. the interpretation Pope Benedict xvI gave it in his allocution to GC35. It implies "geographical and spiritual ,places where others do not reach or find it dif-ficult to reach . The obstacles challenging those who announce the gospel are no longer seas and vast dis-tances; rather they are the boundar-ies of a superficial vision of God and of man, which place obstacles in the way of faith and human knowledge, faith and science, faith and the commitment to justice.''4 The new frontiers exist everywhere, and we are sent to the frontiers with the very concrete mission of open-ing up passes and of "building bridges" between those who live on pne side of the frontier and those who live on the other. What is more, we are asked to be our-selves "bridges in a fragmented world" (D3 17). The frontiers have to be recognized in their variety and diversity. "The frontier is everywhere--in cyber-space, in the inner space of retreats and counseling, in the depths of depression from infirmity, in the homes that have been broken by separation or misunderstand-ing, in the midst of the secularized globalized post, modern world, in old places that call for new ways of speaking God's word. It is anywhere and everywhere that the joy and peace of the Good News is still not felt. And we are asked to go there, and 'our mode of proceeding is to trace the footprints of God. know-ing that the Spirit of Christ is at work in all places Frontiers have to be recognized in their varietyand diversity: 240 Review for Religious and situations.' . . . We turn also to the 'frontier' of the earth, increasingly degraded and plundered. Here, with passion for environmental justice, we shall meet once again the Spirit of God seeking to liberate a suf-fering creation, which demands of us space to live and breathe" (D2 10&24).s On the spiritual front, particularly for Ignatian spiriZ tuality, "~e frontiers are in giving Spiritual Exercises to every kind of person. There are frontiers in constructing an I'gnatian spirituality that can energize political action and, a renewed evangelization of faithful Christians. And there are ~frontiers in places: Moscow, for instance, and the virtual place called the web. There are older fr.on-tiers too: each human hea~;t that has to decide to follow and serve Christ the ¯K' in"g6. Jesm" t s"pirituality, because it is holistic and inclusive, "sustains the Jesuit at individual and collective, personal and strg.ctural levels for collabo-ration and networking at all levels--provincial and uni-versal in an attitude of solidarity . Jesuits are invited to build a new future in Christ for a 'globalization in solidarity, a globalization without marginalization.'''7 Those who "really try to listen" to, the Spirit end up in strange, surprising places!''s Jesuit Frontiersmen ~ Since the-foundation of the Society of Jesus, Jesuits have considered themselves frontiersmen and pioneers in .the proclamation of the faith. Pope. Benedict alluded to this in his allocution: "In its history; the Society of Jesus has lived extraordinary experiences of proclama-tion and encounter between the gospel and world cul-tures- it suffices to think of Matteo Ricci in China, Roberto De Nobili in India, or the 'Reductions' in Latin America. And you are very rightly, proud of them. I feel 69.3 2010 Lewis ¯ Beyond Frontiers, Deep and High, Near and Far 242 it is my duty today to urge you to set out once again in the tracks of your predecessors with the same cour-age and intelligence, but also with an equally profound motivation of faith and enthusiasm to serve the Lord and his church." He was echoing the words of his predecessor Pope Paul vI, who spoke of ~'crossroads" and "the front line" when he addressed GC32 in 1975: "Wherev.er in the church, even in the most difficult and exposed fields, in the Erossroads of ideologies, in the social trenches, there has been or is confrontation between the burning exigencies of humanity and the perennial message of the gospel, there have been and are the Jesuits," The Jesuit historian John O'Malley, writing about "the first Jesuits," said that their ."ministries and how they went about them were quintessential to the Jesuits' self-definition" of being frontiersmen. In their minis-tries, Jesuits excluded no person or place in the world. They operated at the edges of life: they preached, taught catechism., proposed _n_ew liturgical practices, and sought to .help orphans, prostitutes, prisoners, and people in hospitals. They were simultaneously writing plays, teaching in universities~ and acting as theologians at the Council of Trent. Within seven years of their papal approval, they founded and operated schools.9 Today our mission is to, go with both spiritual vigor and intellectual rigor to the "new frontiers" where we learn again that our "Jesuit identity [and mission] are relational; they grow in and through our diversities of culture, nationalities, and languages, enriching and chal-lenging us" (D2 19).1° In keeping with their vocation, therefore, Jesuits are sent beyond all frontiers "to serve faith, promote jus-tice, and dialogue with cultures and religions. The basis Review for Religious for reconciliation is Luke 4:18-19, which announces the good news to the poor, the release of captives, the recovery of sight by the blind, and freedom for the oppressed. In proclaiming God's message of love and compassion, Jesus crosses over physical and socio-religious frontiers. In the same manner, Jesuits are invited to preach the kingdom to those living outside their physical and spiritual frontiers: tax col-lectors; prostitutes; sin-ners; refugees; displaced; trafficked; women; chil- ,To cr, gss frontlers demands a strongfaith, courage, ,open ness others, and a willingness to take risks. dren; minorities; outcasts; indigenous peoples; victims of communal, caste, and ethnic violence; and persons of all kinds who are marginalized and excluded.''~l The frontiers are difficult and often uncomfort-able places. They provide none of the security of one's home turf and often require excursions, into unfamiliar or even uncharted territory. To cross frontiers demands a strong faith, courage, openness to others, and a will-ingness to take risks. It requires the ability to adapt the message of Christ and his church to cultural, linguistic, and religious realities that work with altogether differ-ent categories and reference points, as modeled by some of the great Jesuit missionaries of the past.~2 '.'Going to the frontiers," Father Adolfo Nicolfis pointed out, "means study, research, entering into the life of the people, soli-darity, empathy, inculturation, and respect for others. Going to the whole world turns out to be more difficult than we had thought. We feel like children. Perhaps we have discovered the kingdom of God.''~3 69.3 2010 Lewis ¯ Beyond Frontiers, Deep and High, Near and Far Father Peter-Hans Kolvenbach, when asked to define "catholic" by Georgetown University trustees visiting Rome in May 2007, replied, "I have always understood 'catholic' to mean bringing the experience of those at the frontiers of the church's mission back to renew the center.''14 For the effectiveness of our mission, we need to carefully "discern" the frontiers. This demands "three important qualities: creativity, daring, and great humil-ity!" according to Father Nicolfis. "Every Jesuit work, be it in justice, spirituality, educati6n, or whatever, should ask the question, 'How are we at the frontiers?'''is That is what this article addresses. The full mean-ing and scope of "frontiers" will take much research and extensive reflection. This is, then, an introductory study from three perspectives: (1) interior frontiers, which involve (2) spiritual frontiers and (3) outreach frontiers. 244 Interior Frontiers Saints have implied that the spiritual life is the adven-ture of crossing interior psychological frontiers to reach the ever expanding horizons of the soulscape. Spiritual life always involves letting go so .that, unburdened by self-seeking, one can go forward in communion with the divine. This adventure entails a striving to compre-hend "the 'breadth, and length, and depth, and height" of Christ's love (Ep 3:18). In this regard, and with regard to the papal definition, frontiers envisage inscape and landscape--the personal and the social, the vertical, horizontal, and panoramic reaches within one's power with the help of divine grace. Frontiers can envision our environs, our neighborhood--its breadth and length-- and those living on the edge or at the fringes of our neighborhood or our society. Frontiers can include depth Revieva for Religious and height, interior knowledge that grows and expands to vision and ideals, to community and commitment. As religious men and women, committed to this journey of the soul, we are called to be "bridge-builders" on all fronts. To be effective in this mission of bridging, we have to grow unceasingly in our familiarity with the "territories" at both ends, the spiritual and the worldly. "The church is in urgent need of people of solid and deep faith, of a serious culture and a genuine human and social sensitivity, of religious who devote their lives to stand on those frontiers in order to witness and help to understand that there is in fact a profound harmony between faith and reason, between evangelical spirit, thirst for justice, and action for peace.''16 This spiritual adventure has'its own thrill and attraction. With our inner vision set on new~ and farther horizons that our Lord graciously opens up for zealous seekers, the path is "straight and narrow" (Mr 7:13-14), but along it there are obstacles and frontiers. For those disposed toward Ignatian spirituality, any discussion on "frontiers, will inevitably involve the magis, the openness to being and doing more. "We must discern our mission according to the criteria of the magis and the more universal good" (D2 22). The magis challenges one toward seeking greater depth rather than wider avenues, non multa sed multum (not many but much). The spirit of the magis transforms us into fron-tier persons, desiring to find themselves called to what is greater and better. St. Ignatius, "the pilgrim," explored the dark inte-riors of the cave of his heart before he undertook the journey to Jerusalem to "save souls." His Autobiography describes how the journey inward meant resisting dev-ilish pirates and surviving death-threatening squalls in [ 69.3 2010 Lewis ¯ Beyond Frontiers, Deep and High, Near and Far order to cross the frontiers to peaceful havens. An exam-ple from more recent times is that of Blessed Teresa of Calcutta, who indicates in her "private writings" that for the last fifty years of her life she had struggled pain-fully to feel God's presence. Through her "dark night of the soul," neverthe- The Ignatian magis brooks no comfoi't zones; it expands ou~ horizons and opens up ever-new frontiers within the heart and the world around it. less, she shone forth as an extraordinary woman of faith, who continued crossing frontiers of a more ordinary kind. The Ignatian magis brooks no comfort zones; it expands our horizons and opens up ever-new frontiers within the heart and the world around it. Only Love can satisfy our inner craving for fulfillment: Love of God, love of self, love for others. Only unconditional love breaks barriers and enables us to cross over life's various frontiers. We will reach the last frontier only when "the soul feels sat-isfied." But this will happen only with our dying breath, for, .as Augustine tells us, our hearts are resdess till they rest in God. 246 Geography of Prayer/Spiritual Frontiers To assist us in our "restless striving" to cross spir-itual frontiers, St. Ignatius has given us his Spiritual Exercises. "One tries to find one's way to the place where one desires to pray now and, when I find my way to that place, I try to stay there 'until I have been satis-fied' before moving on to a new place." This method Review for Religious applies to where I place my body (in the literal sense) and where I give my attention. This discipline of seek-ing the place of my heart's desire and trying to stay there until I have been satisfied makes a powerful disci-pline for living ordinary life as well as for finding guid-ance in prayer. A Jesuit has written: "When I pray, I pay attention to where I am (geographically, professionally, tempo-rally). I try to follow the lead of my inner disturbances (Ignatius's word for consolations or desolations), which can help me find my way to where I desire to meet, and be met by, God. If I pay attention to where I place myself in the world and where my life circumstances place me, my place in the world becomes grace for me. I can form a habit of asking whether I am called to remain in that place or whether I am called to find my way to a new place. 'Place' here can mean a given neighborhood, a particular job, a professional organization, an informal network of friends, and so forth.''~7 Familiarity with this "inner geography" helps us translate our prayer into our ministry as contemplatives in action. Hence we need to deepen our interior lives so as to better integrate our vision and mission as fron-tiersmen. Without a demanding and vigorous interior life, we allow ourselves to let go of the "contempla-. tive" side of our lives, forgetting that "in what we do in the world there must always be transparency to God" (GC35 D2 10). Without seeking and finding the paths of interiority which the Spirit of God oPens up if we are docile, we rian the risk that our apostolic generosity will wither, the meaning of our strongest commitments will become confused. Without seeking God with our inner eyes, we do not recognize how God is working in our efforts. We are likely to stop making them.~8 247 69.3 2010 Lewis ¯ Beyond Frontiers, Deep and High, Near and Far 248 Outreach Frontiers Frontiers "beyond geographical definitions await us, 'nations' that today include those who are poor and dis-placed, those who are profoundly lonely, those who ignore God's existence, and those who use God as an instrument for political purposes. Thereare new 'nations,' and we have been sent to them (D2 22). At the frontier, then, we encounter the tragedies of poverty, hunger, thirst, pain, and death--a world in need. But this discovery need not discourage us, for we also discover that God is already there at work, and God will accompany us. Be.cause God is already there, Jesuits and their collaborators will receive new energy and new life, even when mingled with anguish where 'the Divinity'is hidden.'" 19 "Ignatius and his first companions understood the importance of reaching out to people on the frontiers and at the center of society, of reconciling those who were estranged in any way. From the center in Rome, Ignatius sent Jesuits to the frontiers, to th~ new world, 'to announce the Lord to peoples and cultures that did not know him as yet.' He sent Xavier to the Indies. Thousands of Jesuits followed, preaching the gospel to many cultures, sharing knowledge with and learning from others. He also wanted Jesuits to cross other types of frontiers between rich and poor, between educated and unlearned. He wrote a letter to the Jesuits at the Council of Trent on how to behave, and insisted that they should minister to the sick. Jesuits opened colleges in Rome and in the great cities, of Europe, and they taught children in villages across the world" (D3 15). The metaphor of bridge-building is used often' in D3, "signaling a desire to link thoroughgoing incul, turation to a commitment to dialogue. The.strategy proposed is clear: Go to the frontiers, immerse your- Review for Religious selves in the cultures you encounter, and share in the conversation. These orientations are to drive Jesuit and Ignatian activity in the postmodern era.''2° "This tradition of Jesuits building bridges across frontiers becomes crucial in the context of today's world. We become able to bridge the divisions of a fragmented world only if we remember and live from three Ignatian principles: the love of God our Lord, the union of minds and hearts reflected in the personal bond of Francis Xavier and Ignatius across the seas, and the obedience that sends each one of us in mission to any part of this world" (D3 17). The "universal mission" of the Society of Jesus flows from Ignatius's vision at La Storta. He would "deploy Jesuits in a wide variety of apostolic ministries around the world. Jesuits were to go where the need was great-est, other religious were not already there, the good to be achieved was wide and deep, and their service would better society0while giving glory to God (see Constitutions SJ §622).''2~ Christ-centered Many tasks may call on us urgently, but we know that it is not only urgent tasks that define the Society's missions: "it is Christ's mission, of which we desire to be the servants, that is our urgency.''z2 Pope Benedict, in his recent encyclical Caritas in veritate (§20) empha-sized this IZhristic orientation behind all human endeav-ors toward social change for a better world: It is Christ's charity that drives us on: "caritas Christi urget nos" (2 Co 5:14). The urgency is inscribed not only in things, it is not derived solely from the rapid succession of events ahd problems, but also from the very matter that is at stake: the establishment of authen- [249 69.3 2010 Lewis * Beyond Frontiers, Deep and High, Near and Far Our o treach programs must begin from the heart, tic fraternity. The importance of this goal is such as to demand our openness to understand it in depth and to mobilize ourselves at the level of the "heart," so as to ensure that current economic and social processes evolve towards fully human outcomes. Our outreach programs, then, must begin, from the heart._ This demands that we be person-centered rather than project-oriented. Our service must touch hearts. In this outreach we will encounter personal and social frontiers, as" Christ did, but we must cross them all to get to people's hearts; for the kingdom, coming from within God's heart, is within. "The crossing of frontiers is a larger human experi-ence and is not only a matter of religious frontiers. An open church willing to relate to the world, the larger society, and many types of identities will increasingly face the question of how to go about the reality of frontiers. It is the modern version of the question of love of neighbor . Traditional Christian rec-onciliation has to express itself today in the way we face complicated frontiers and boundaries and how we cross over and reach out. :. By negotiating the frontiers and communing across them, Christians will continuously discover new dimensions of their own faith identity. ¯ Much of the Christian future lies on the periphery, in the frontier-zones. Encounter with new identities need not signify a threat to a church that understands itself as universal because it is a communion in difference.''23 "Jesus, in his outreach, embraced difference and new horizons. His ministry transcended boundaries. Review for Religious He invited his disciples to be aware of God's action in places and people they were inclined to avoid: Zacchaeus, a Syro-Phoenician woman, Roman centurions, a repen-tant thief. As water bringing life to all who thirst, he showed himself interested in every parched area of the world; and in every parched area of the world he can thus be welcomed, for all who are thirsty can understand what living water means. This image of living water can give life to all Jesuits as servants of Christ in his mission because, having tasted this water themselves, they will be eager to offer it to anyone who thirsts and to reach out to people beyond frontiers--where water may not yet have welled up--to bring a new culture of dialogue to a rich, diverse, and multifaceted world" (D2 12). The Gospels offer a vivid insight into Christ's modus operandi in his healing ministry. "Look at any healing story: the way Jesus heals the paralyzed man brought in by his friends through the roof; the leper; the woman with the issue of blood. Jesus first responds to a concrete, immediate need: the healing of a sickness. But then he goes on to respond to a deeper need: the burden of guilt or the sense of hopelessness or rejec-tion and isolation. Finally he goes deeper still and offers what they long for most, often without knowing it: the gift of the kingdom of God, of friendship with a God of unconditional love, in a way that transforms them at the core of their persons.''24 "In proclaiming God's message of love and com-passion, Jesus crossed over physical and socioreligious frontiers. His message of reconciliation was preached both to the people of Israel and to those living outside its physical and spiritual frontiers: tax collectors, prostitutes, sinners, and persons of all kinds who are marginalized and excluded. His ministry of reconciliation with God 69.3 2010 Lewis ¯ Beyond Frontiers, Deep and High, Near and Far and with one another knew no boundaries. He spoke to the powerful, challenging them to a change of heart. He showed special love for the sinner, the poor widow, and the lost sheep. The kingdom of God which he constantly preached became a vision for a world where all relation-ships are reconciled in God. Jesus confronted the powers that oppose this kingdom, and that opposition led him to death on the cross, a death which he freely accepted in keeping with his mission. On the cross we see all his words and actions revealed as expressions of the final reconciliation effected by the Crucified and Risen Lord, through whom comes the new creation in which all rela-tionships will be set right in God" (D3 14). Words from the Heart We often fall short of being imitators of Christ in our frontier ministries. Our very words betray our attitudes: we "plan," "coordinate," "organize," mostly at the head level. "These are organizational verbs, very important, necessary for moving ahead," Father Adolfo Nicolfis noted. He added that in contrast, when Jesus commis-sioned his disciples to ministry, his words revealed the heart of it. He used "verbs of life, verbs of giving life": preach the gospel to the poor, heal the sick, cleanse the lepers, expel demons, raise the dead. This clearly indicates that "the mission of God in Jesus, the business he is about, is making life flow more abundantly for humanity wherever it is lacking or blocked. And the real secret of mission is not to get rid' of the organizational verbs or the gospel verbs, but to somehow make the organizational actions that we have to perform expres-sions of the life-giving actions of the gospel.''2s Words are symbolic. When we set out with the mindset of Christ to discern "how we are at the fron- Review for Re.ligious tiers," is our definitiofi of "frontiers" congru.ent with that of the Church and the Socie,ty? Does the spirit of the magis urge us to seek and find God's presence everywhere--across the frontiers, deep and high, near and far? Notes 1 Adolfo Nicolas sJ, "Challenges and Issues in Jesuit Education," keynote address on the 150th anniversary of Jesuit education in the Philippines, Ateneo de Manila University, 13 July 2009. 2 Elliott West, Frontier, Grolier Online. 3 Marcos Recolons SJ, "What's New in the Decree on Mission?" Promotio Iustitiae 98-99 (2008/1): 18. 4 Pope Benedict XVI, allocution to the delegates of GC35, 21 February 2008. s Josd C.J. Magadia SJ, homily for the celebration of the 50th Anniversary of the Philippine Province, 27 July 2008. 6 Joseph Tetlow SJ, "At the Frontiers," Review of Ignatian Spirituality 95 (2000): 17. 7 Joseph Marianus Kuiur SJ, "Sent to the Frontiers--Decree on Mission," Jivan (August 2008): 4-6. s Nicol~is, "Challenges and Issues." 9 John O'Malley sJ, The First Jesuits (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1993), pp. 3 and 18. 10 Paul L. Locatelli SJ, "To Be Sent: Mission, Frontiers, and Contemplative Action," Review of Ignatian Spirituality 119 (2008/3): 27. 1~ Kuiur, "Sent to the Frontiers." 12 Len Altilia SJ, "The Inspiration for Frontiers," Frontiers 1, no. 1, online. 13 John Borelli SJ, "Frontiers of Dialogue for Discovery and Renewal," National Jesuit News (November 2008). 14 Borelli, "Frontiers of Dialogue." ~s Adolfo Nicolas SJ, "Jesuit Mission Today," address to Jesuits and friends at Gonzaga College, Ireland, 12 September 2009. 16 Pope Benedict XVI, allocution. 17 John Staudenmaier sJ "The Inner Geography of Prayer in the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius," UDMcasts on the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius, The University of Detroit Mercy, Detroit, 7 March 2007. 69.3 2010 Lewis ¯ Beyond Frontiers, Deep and High, Near and Far 18 Franqois-Xavier Dumortier SJ, "The Same Path as Ignatius," Review of Ignatian Spirituality 119 (2008). , ,9 Locatelli, "To ~Be Sent," p. 33. 20 Adria~ Lyons SJ, "From Centre to Frontiers," Province Express, Australia, 28 May 2008. 21 Locatelli, "To Be Sent," p. 27. 22 Dumortier, "The Same Path." 23 Felix Wilfred, "Introduction: The Art of Negotiating the Frontiers," Concilium, 1999/2. 24 Nicokis, "Challenges and Issues." 2s Nicolfis, "Challenges and Issues." Equinox 254 I was once certain of so many things Certain of light and dark life and death f!'lled and empty hatred and love I was once certain of so many things But grief broke me open and they tumbled out as one jumbled mess Certainty tumbled out among them. Kathleen Atkinson OSB Review for Religious JUDITH METZ Elizabeth Seton's Spirituality of the Cross In the back flyleaf of her prayer book, Elizabeth Bayley Seton wrote a modification of the Anima Christi: Soul of Jesus sanctify me Blood of Jesus wash me Passion of Jesus comfort me Wounds of Jesus hide me Heart of Jesus receive me Spirit of Jesus enliven me Goodness of Jesus pardon me Beauty of Jesus draw me Humility of Jesus humble me Peace of Jesus pacify me Love of Jesus inflame me Kingdom of Jesus come to me Grace of Jesus replenish me Mercy of Jesus pity me Sanctity of Jesus sanctify me Purity of Jesus purify me Cross of Jesus support me Judith Metz SC is the archivist and historian for the Sisters of Charity of Cincinnati. Her address is 5900 Delhi Road; Mount St. Joseph, Ohio 45051. models of spirituality. 69.3 2010 Metz ¯ Elizabeth Seton's Spirituality of the Cross Nails of Jesus hold me in life, in death - in time and Eternity - in the hour of Death defend me, call me to come to thee, receive me with thy Saints in glory everlasting.I Elizabeth loved this prayer, writing several paraphrases of it as she contemplated at various times the outpour-ing of Jesus' love in his suffering and death. From when she was young, her spirituality found a focus in his love, shown in his giving of himself, in his willingness to suf-fer for us--and in her wish to return this love. Her father gave her a cross which she often wore, remarking that she loved it "as the mark of my Captain and Master whom I was to follow so valiantly" (3a:514). There are many references in her letters and journals to this cross, such as: "looked at my crucifix"; "Calvary is the rendezvous"; "we must be crucified." As she was nursing her dying husband, she wrote: "Not only willing to take up my cross but kissed it too" (l:257).During a tumultuous time after her return to New York, Elizabeth observed: "When people say 'so much trouble has turned her br~in' - well, I kiss my crucifix, which I have loved for so many years, and say 'they are only mistaken'" (1:401). People sometimes comment that they find little affinity with St. Elizabeth Seton because her spirituality seems negative. For them she dwells so much on suf-fering and the cross--on joy at embracing hardship in imitation of Jesus--that her spirituality does not attract them. ~ Yet the imitation of Christ must be the center of every Christian life. Holy people through the ages have shown us by their lives that the more people recognize God's outpouring love, demonstrated by Christ's sacri-fice on the cross, the more they need to imitate that self-giving love: "If anyone wants to be a follower of mine, Review for Religious let him renounce himself and take up his cross and fol-. low me. For anyone who wants to save his life will lose it; but :anyone who loses his life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it" (Mk 8:34-35). Although Ignatius Loyola did not write the Anima Christi, which we have already reflected on, he placed it at the beginning of his Spiritual Exercises and often referred to it. And he did write the Suscipe that most of us are familiar with: ."Take, Lord, ~ receive all my liberty, my mem-ory, my understanding, my entire will; all that I have and possess." In her lnterior Castle, Teresa of Avila observed: "His Majesty could not grant us a greater favor than to give us a life that would be an imitation of the life his beloved Son lived. Thus I hold for certain that these favors are meant to fortify our weakness., that we may be able to imitate him in his great sufferings." Like these great saints, Elizabeth Seton was also com-mitted to living in imitation of Jesus. She wrote in her Journal: "The cup which our Father has given Us, shall we not drink it? Blessed Savior, by the bitterness of thy pains We may estimate the force of thy love . . . and therefore, if thou so ordainest it, welcome disappointment and pov-erty; welcome sickness and pain -welcome even shame, and contempt, and calumny. If this be a rough and thorny path, it is one which thou hast gone before us. Where we see thy footsteps we cannot repine" (3b:21). Elizabeth was able to enter into Jesus' life, to expe-rience his outpouring love in the events of the passion narratives, in a way that made them very real and rele-vant to her life. She recognized that Christ's story was her Elizabeth Seton was O mitted t0 living in ,imitation of ]esus: 69.3 2010 258 Metz ¯ Elizabeth Seton °s Spirituality of the Cross story. Her part was to enter into her own life and joyfully embrace the cross as a way of being in union with her beloved. She experienced overwhelming gratitude at what Christ had done for her, and she knew that her response must be to "drink the cup" and be "baptized with the baptism" of which Jesus spoke. This spirituality of hers permeated her prayer and supported her through many difficult times. One of these was the month she spent in the lazaretto with her desper-ately ill husband and young daughter upon their arrival at Livorno, Italy, in November 1803. She described the experience to her dearly loved sister-in-law Rebecca Seton: "You could not rest in your bed if you saw [me] as [I am] sitting in one corner of an immense Prison bolted in and barred with as much ceremony as any monster of mischief might be - a single window double grated with iron thro' which, if I should want anything, I am to call a sentinel, with a fierce cocked hat, and long rifle gun." "On the ship-mattresses spread on the cool floor my Willy and Anna are sound asleep, and I ~trust that God, who has given him strength through a day of such exertion will carry us on - He is our all indeed -. God is with us - and if sufferings abound in us,his consolations also greatly abound, and far exceed all utterance." "What shall we say - this is the hour of trial, the Lord support and strengthen us in it. Retrospections being anguish - press forward toward the mark and prize" (1:251,253,254). As the Setons passed their weeks, of quarantine, Elizabeth strove to keep her equilibrium by prayer and her "hidden Treasures,;--her Bible, commentaries, ser-mons, and The Imitation of Christ ~that she had carried with her from New York. She poured out her heart in her Journal, where she lamented time and again how she "read, prayed, we.pt, and prayed again" (1:256,257,265). Review for Religious But as she contemplated her situation she was also able to note: "Not only willing to take up my cross but kissed it too . I find my present opportunity a Treasure - and my confinement of Body a liberty of Soul which I may never again enjoy whilst they are united . If I could forget my God one moment at this time I should go mad -but he hushes all - Be still and know that I am God your Father" (1:257,258). With the passing days William Seton's health con-tinued to worsen so that by 5 December a doctor was called. Though he feared that Elizabeth's beloved hus-band "might be gone in a few hours," he continued to hold on. On 14 December, Elizabeth wrote: "The damp-ness about us would be thought dangerous for a pdrson in health, and my W's sufferings - Oh well I know that God is above. Capitano,. if I thought our condition the providence of man, instead of the 'weeping Magdalene' as you so graciously call me, you would find me a lioness willing to burn your Lazaretto about your ears . But O my Heavenly Father I know that these contradictory events are permitted and guided by thy Wisdom, which only is light" (1:270,271). Released from their confinement on 19 December, the lit-de family traveled to lodgings in Pisa. On Chrisunas Day Elizabeth put a little wine in a glass and said differ-ent portions of psalms and prayers which she had marked in her books, hoping for a happy moment. "We took the cup of Thanksgiving setting aside the sorrow of time, in the views of the joy of Eternity," she noted (1:273). Elizabeth then began the deathbed vigil that ended two days later. She recorded, "On Tuesday morning 27th December - [William's] soul was released - and mine from a struggle next to death." She continued, "In all this it is not necessary to dwell on the mercy and consoling 69.3 2010 Metz ¯ Elizabeth Seton's Spirituality of tbe Cross 260 presence of my dear Redeemer, for no mortal strength could support what I experienced" (1:274,275). The tears, prayers, and anguish Elizabeth suffered during her long watch with her sick and dying husbandincreased her trust in God and led her to a deeper identification with her suffering Savior. Her experiences became a part of her spirituality. Her continued trust in Divine Providence during her remaining time in Italy led her along paths that she could not have imagined. Impressed with the Catholic faith and practices of her Italian hosts, the Episcopalian Elizabeth entered into a long and anguished discernment over whether to remain in the church of her birth or to join the Catholic Church. For nearly a year she considered the argu-ments on each side, trying to listen to the voice of God. Longing for support and advice, she wrote to her Italian friend Antonio Filicchi: "Judge of my disappointment when only a few lines [from you] rewarded my anxious anticipations - however, at. the foot of my cross I found consolation, and kissing it over and over I repeated and repeat, there only I am never disappointed" (1:326). Elizabeth's uncertainty seemed to grow through the months, and she wrote of being "half dead with the inward struggle" (1:372). Yet, she confided to Antonio, "when some hours of consolation come, I think 'hard as the trial is, yet it is sweet' - I never knew till now what prayer is - never thought of fasting - though now it is more a habit than eating, never knew how to give up all, and send my spirit to mount Calvary, nor how to con-sole and delight it in the society of angels - 'Patience,' says my soul, 'He will not let you and your little ones perish, and if yet your life is given in the conflict, at the last he will nail all to his cross and receive you to his mercy'" (1:339). Review for Religious Elizabeth's decision to join the Catholic Church gained her inner peace and certitude, but led, as she later recorded, to "most painful remembrances now - yet grateful for the order of our Grace, so evident through all" (3a:519). The three years that she remained in New York after her conversion were difficult and gave her ample opportunity to share in the sufferings of Christ. Anti-Catholic sentiment made it hard for her to support her children and deprived her of much that her friends and family had provided. Her choice also occasioned some other troubles. Her two youngest Seton sisters-in-law, Harriet and Cecilia, and their cousin Eliza Farquhar were drawn to Elizabeth's Catholic fervor. When family members expressed disapproval, Cecilia's enthusiasm only grew stronger. Having been raised by Elizabeth from age seven, this young woman felt close bonds that were' strengthened by their shared desire for a devout living of their Christian faith. As she was. departing for Italy, Elizabeth had cau-tioned he.r young prot~g& "If you find that there are any obstacles in.your way, and doubtless you will find many as every Christian does in the fulfillment of his duty, still Persevere with yet more earnestness, and rejoice to bear your share in the Cross which is Our Passport and Seal to the Kingdom of our Redeemer" (1:224). Now, as Cecilia adamantly pursued the course of following Elizabeth into the Catholic Church, the younger woman met with severe opposition and even threats from her family. Elizabeth supported her as best she could, writing on Christmas Eve 1805: "My dear dear child I beg, beseech, implore you, to offer up all your pains, your Sorrows, and vexations to God that he will unite them with the Sorrows, the pangs and anguish which Our adored Redeemer bore for us on the Cross 261 69.3 2010 Metz ¯ Elizabeth Seton's Spirituality of tbe Cross "Dwelling under :the Shadow of His Cross we will cheerfully gather the thorns which will be t~urned hereafter into a joyful crown" 262] - place yourself in spirit at the foot of that cross, and entreat that a drop of that precious blood there shed may fall on you to enlighten strengthen and support your Soul in this life and ensure its eternal Salvation in the next" (1:398). When Cecilia joined the Catholic Church, a violent storm broke in the extended Seton family. For a time she was confined to her room, threats were made to send her to the West Indies, and even to burn Elizabeth's house down over her head. Eventually the new convert tied her clothes up in a bundle and went to liv~ with Elizabeth for a time.2 During Cecilia's period of trial Elizabeth kept a daily spiritual jour-nal. In it she shared her own prayer expe-riences, along with offering counsel, and encouragement. In one entry she noted: "Pain and Resignation instead of the Treasure [Eucharist] this day -but He is then most near - while Weeping under his Cross we are there content to stay" (1:470). In another, Elizabeth encouraged her young relative: "May we never leave the sheltering wing, but dwelling under the Shadow of His Cross we will cheer-fully gather the thorns which will be turned hereafter into a joyful crown" (1:473). When Elizabeth Seton made the decision to move her family to Baltimore in spring 1808, her only hesi-tation was leaving her young relative and confidante behind in New York. Cecilia wanted to accompany Review for Religious Elizabeth but also felt an obligation to care for her brother James's children. Elizabeth missed Cecilia terribly and buoyed her-self with the thought that "there is no distance for souls united as ours" (2:6). During the year the two were sepa-rated, Cecilia continued to face difficulties and obsta-cles to her hopes of joining her beloved "Sister," as she referred to Elizabeth, while Elizabeth was peaceful and delighted with her new situation. In this light Elizabeth wrote to her "most precious child": "It is poor Sister who must beg you to pray for her --I am at rest my darling while you are mounting the heights of Sion - often too I sleep in the Garden, while you are sharing the bitter cup, but it is not to be so for long, his mercies are end-less and I shall not be left without my portion" (2:21). The two were joyfully reunited in June 1809 when Cecilia arrived in Maryland with plans to join the newly forming community of the Sisters of Charity. She enthu- ¯ siastically plunged into this new life, but her delicate health continued to decline. By early 1810 Elizabeth wrote to her friend Eliza Sadler: "My heart faints when I think of this separation. No one can conceive of.what she is to me - but - but-fiat" (2:111).,,Cecilia died of tuberculosis within several months, having well learned the spiritual lessons offered by suffering., ,As Cecilia Seton passed from Elizabeth's life, another Cecilia became an intimate companion. Cecilia O'Conway, a young woman from Philadelphia, was planning to travel to Europe to become a nun. Instead, On the recommendation of her. priest-director, she became the first woman to join Elizabeth at her school in Baltimore~ These two women shared many of the same spiritual goals and became friends almost .at once. Cecilia was enthusiastic about becoming a Sister of 69.3 2010 Metz * Elizabeth Seton's Spirituality of the Cross Charity, and through the trials of the early years offered loving support to Elizabeth, who referred to her friend as "the angel of the Community. a true. and solid comfort" (2:141). Cecilia was indeed a true comfort as Elizabeth struggled through the difficulties of establish-ing a religious community and bore the sorrov¢ of'the deaths of two of her daughters. In August 1817 the two women were separated when Cecilia was amongthe first sisters sent to take charge 6f the .Catholic orphafi asylum in New York City. She was not happy to be separated from Elizabeth or to be thrust into the bustle of city life. But her spiritual mother chal-lenged her: "My own Cecilia - going on her heavenly errand and to crucify Self- . . . if you suffer, so much the better for our high journey above - the only fear I have is that you will let the old string pull too hard for solitude and silence, but look to the Kingdom of souls -, . this is not a country, my dear one, for Solitude and Silence, but of warfare and crucifixion- You are not to stay in his silent agonies of the garden at night, but go from post to pillar to the very fastening on the cross and mind, my lady, how you dare glahce a thought at pull-ing out a nail which he put in with my hand, while his own so dear will hammer it up to the very head I expect - I beg him with a mother's agony to do it softly and tenderly - would wish so to hold your dear head while he does it, but he answers, 'no one held his'., but yet he will hold it himself supporting with one hand, and fastening with the other" (2i498-499). During Cecilia's years in New York, she and Elizabeth maintained a lively correspondence .chal-lenging each other to an ever deeper union with their Redeemer. In their letters they exhorted each other to accept the sufferings, both physical and emotional, that R~view for Religious they were experiencing, and to receive them in the spirit of participating in the Lord's passion. "May you enjoy true peace in Him who has nailed us," Elizabeth wrote; "I would not pull the smallest nail out for a thousand worlds" (2:682). In her newsy letters Elizabeth kept Cecilia apprised of her declining health, telling her in July 1818, "I have no symptoms now of hastening Death as when I wrote you [earlier] - slow, slow and sure" (2:569). A few months later Elizabeth reminded her spiritual daughter of "how little is all that passes with this life . therefore we must be so careful to meet our grace," She then contin-ued: "Isaac come forth - the wood and fire are here, let not the Victim be wanting" (2:595). And the following month Elizabeth urged the younger woman to "take the abundant sweet heavenly grace from day to day, only seeking and seeing him in all our little duties . . . and taking from. the hands of all around us every daily cross and trial as if he gave it himself" (2:600). After two years in New York, Cecilia returned to the motherhouse in Emmitsburg, where she could again share her days with her beloved friend. With Elizabeth's health continuing to decline, Cecilia became one of her nurses. Staying close by her bed, she made sure Elizabeth had a crucifix available to assist her prayer, and she was present among the mourners when Elizabeth's last hour arrived. Am6ng EliEabeth's writings meditation on "the communion lof the cross." 69.3 2010 Metz * Elizabeth Seton's Spirituality of the Cross 266 Among Elizabeth's writings is a meditation on "the communion of the cross." In it she speaks of "the hap-piness of receiving our Lord and Savior in the holy Eucharist," yet points out that "we also receive him by the communion of his cross." "So," she continues, "when he invites us to come and receive him in afflic-tions' and sufferings, we should receive his chalice with the same ardor, and drink his Blood by faith . The great advantage of the communion of the cross is that we receive it when our Lord himself pleases and at the time he sees best." "Unhappily," she reflects, "we are. apt to think the very least suffering is too much, because we are lovers with our lips rather than our heart, while the true lover of Christ can never have enough of his cross." "All he asks of us is our good Will," but we. also "should bring the burning fire of love and gratitude" (3a:419-422). Elizabeth's burning love of God and desire to imi-tate Jesus was something that grew within her as she matured through her life. It gave her a deep insight into the necessity of losing herself in order to gain union with God: She understood, as had many holy women and men before her, that she was invited to emulate Jesus' self-giving love - that "the true lover of Christ can never have enough of his cross," and as they, carry the cross they "should bring the burning fire of love and gratitude." ~ The spirituality of the cross has been part of the Christian message from the time Jesus taught on this earth. Great saints, theologians, and spiritual guides through the centuries have stressed this same message. Today's Christian leaders continue to stress, as essential of our spirituality, our participation in Jesus' self-giving love, The German theologian Jiirgen Moltmann sees a kind of alchemy of Review for Religious love, where all the negativity and suffering of the world is touched by God and transformed into the victory of life.3 Johannes Metz, in his classic Poverty of Spirit, writes: "The legacy of God's total commiunent to humankind, the proof of God's fidelity to our poverty, is the cross [and] no one is exempted from the poverty of the cross.''4 Jessica Powers, in her poem "The Sign of the Cross," offers this same wisdom:5 The lovers of Christ lift out their hands to the great gift of suffering. For how could they seek to be warmed and clothed and delicately fed, when He the worthy went forth, wounded and hated, and grudged of even a place to lay His head? This is the badge of the friends of the Man of Sorrows: the mark of the cross, faint replica of His. Choose it, my heart. It is a beautiful sign. Notes ~ Regina Bechtle SC and Judith Metz SC, Elizabeth Barley Seton: Collected Writings, 4 vols. (New York: New City Press, 2000, 2002, 2006), vol. 3, part 2, pp. 74-75, hereafter cited in parentheses, thus: (3b:74-75). 2 Annabelle Melville, Elizabeth Barley Seton (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1951), p. 119. 3 Jiirgen Moltmann, The Crucified God, as described in Elizabeth Johnson, Consider Jesus: Waves of Renewal in Christology (New York: Crossroad, 1990), p. 121. 4 Johannes B. Metz, Poverty of Spirit (New York, Paulist Press, 1968), pp. 19-20. ~ Regina Siegfried ASC and Robert E Morneau, Selected Poetry of Jessica Powers (Kansas City: Sheed and Ward, 1989), p. 150. 267 69.3 2010 AVIS CLENDENEN A Rare Humility and a Future-Facing Myth 2,68 Lheard a story a few years ago that got into the arrow of my bones and became a "dangerous memory." This term was coined by Johann Baptist Metz, who described it as an earlier experience breaking into our present lives and revealing new and provocative insights for the future. Such a breakthrough casts light on the deceptive nature of something we considered an evident good. It is a dangerous and incalculable visitant from the past. This memory has future content,~ The memory I wish to share is a story told by Sister of Mercy Betty Barrett on the occasion of her sixtieth jubilee as a vowed religious. Sister Betty Barrett entered the congregation in 1945. She devoted most of her ministerial life to education, becoming the president of Saint Xavier College in Chicago in the turbulent 1960s. In 1966 she supported an innovative idea to invite major Avis Clendenen most recently wrote for us in 2008. She is pro-fessor of religious studies and the Sister Irene Dugan RC Scholar in Spirituality at Saint Xavier University; 3700 West 103rd Street; Chicago, Illinois 60655. Review for Religious theological architects of the Second Vatican Council to the college for the inaugural symposium of the newly formed Pope John xxIII Institute. The tag line of the John xx]II Institute quoted John xxJII's call "to dedicate ourselves to that work which our era demands of us. ¯ remembering we are not on earth to guard a museum, but to cultivate a flourishing garden of life." . Imagine this small U.S. women's Catholic college thinking itself capable of hosting at one symposium Yves Congar, Jean Dani61ou, Charles Davis, Henri de Lubac, Johann Baptist Metz, John Courtney Murray, Edward Schillebeeckx, Karl Rahner, and others as well. The European theologians would for the first time bring the insights of the council documents to North America. For some, this would be their ~first trip to the United States. They all came. This gathering is exactly what President Sister Betty Barrett accomplished in early 1966, only four months after the council's close.2 The formation of the John xxlII Institute and the plan for the symposium became controversial. Archbishop John Cody of Chicago expressed reserva-tions about the symposium. He wrote to Sister Betty saying that such a gathering of theologians did not coin-cide with his norm for theological activities. He then issued a public decree that all ecclesiastical entities in the archdiocese must first obtain certification of cre-dentials from him before inviting to Chicago any priest from outside the archdiocese. All the council theologians invited were priest-theologians. The situation became an international story that saw the canonical authority of the local bishop as opposing academic freedom in institutions of higher education. The American press described the symposium, which drew more than three thousand participants to the little-known campus, as "an 269 69.3 2010 Clendenen ¯ A Rare Humility and a Future-Facing Myth 270 event of unprecedented proportions," "an intellectual feast," and "a complex and strange event in the history of Catholic colleges at that time in North America." Interesting as it is, this event is not the key story of this essay. It is background for discussing the matter of dangerous memory. Sister Betty saw.the Second Vatican Council as Pope John xxIII did. She saw that aggiornamento was intimately tied,to justice and peace. While president, she became the first woman religious to be named to the Illinois Human Relations Commission. After her presidency she continued to advance the vision and mis-sion of ecclesial renewal and the claims of the social gospel through a variety of positions such as her min-istry with the Eighth Day Center for Justice and the Catholic Interracial Council. In her seventies she went to Central America to work with the poor, Though she tried desperately, she never learned Spanish well enough to speak or truly understand it. In her eighties she was asked at her sixtieth jubilee in April 2003 to share memories with those gathered to celebrate with her~ I shall paraphrase Sister Betty but speak for her in the first person. You know that when I went to Central America I could not speak the language of the people. You know I hold degrees of all kinds and functioned at a tremendous level of responsibility for many years while in the ministry of higher education. Yet, even after years and years of living among these beautiful people and interacting with them every day, I never managed to speak with them in their native tongue. So I was forced, so to speak, to plumb new depths of human communica-tion. While there, I came to realize that "being Review for Religious there"--presence--is what is most important in our ministry. Presence conveys a meaning that tran-scends even the need for words. This I learned very late in my ministerial life. Honoring this jubilee year of mine and know-ing that my ability to travel would only continue to diminish, the community offered me airfare to travel a last time to Honduras to see my friends. So a few weeks ago I took that trip. I went to the home of a family with whom I had been present during moments of joy and pain in their lives over a span of years. I walked into their humble living room and noticed something. There on the wall surround-ing the crucifix, were four pictures, each rever-ently hung near the cross. There was, of course, a picture 6f Our Lady of Guadalupe; a picture of Mother Catherine McAuley, the founder of the Sisters of Mercy; a picture of Archbishop Oscar Romero; and . a picture of me! What can I say to you about that moment in my life? Seeing the cross and our Lady, seeing that this family was so deeply touched by the min-istries of the Sisters of Mercy that they placed a portrait of a !9th century Irish woman near their own beloved Oscar Romero--and then to see my picture in that company! It was a moment of abject'humility, wonder, awe, an'd gratitude I will never forget. I could never really talk with them the way I am talking with you now, yet I was present to them over the long haul of many years. I share this story with you as an act of gratitude and humility for the gift of these sixty years of ser- 69.3 2010 Clendenen ¯ A Rare Humility and a Future-Faring Myth 272] vice, and as a testimony of wonder to 'a God who can do more in us than we can "ask or imagine" (Ep 3:20). I was mesmerized by her tale. In hearing it, my own consciousness was altered forever about ministry and mystery, about growing old yet remaining ever new, and about the lost art of humility. I recognized her story from'the past as a memory bearing future content. This elegantly simple parable resounded in me, taking on the force of a great myth; it became part of the life I desire. I say this not with any intention to mimic her experience, but in the inspiring hope of living the nearly lost art of humility. Sister Betty told a little tale about one family, and they--all unaware--became a dangerous memory precisely because she knew her telling it could break into the present moment and bring us new and danger-ous insights. Such lives disrupt self-interest and ambition by being a vivid picture of largeness of mind and heart, which our noisy egos often do not notice. The mythic story of this elderly nun speaks :to the truth of the poet Mary Oliver's words: What I loved in the beginning, I think, was mosdy myself. Never mind that I had to,. since somebody had to. o That was many years ago. Since then I have gone out from my confinement~s, though with difficulty. And I have l~ecome the child of the clouds, and of hope. I have become the friend of the enemy, whoever that is. I have become older and, cherishing what I have learned, I have become younger. And what do. I risk to tell you this, which is all I know? Love yourself. Then forget it. Then, love the world.3 Review for Religious Living in an Age of Entitlement That last line is not an easy task in today's world. More than a decade ago I read, "The narcissistic per-sonality has become the most prominent~ personality type in the Western world.''4 At that time the statement caught me up short. Now I find it the lens through which I view the world I inhabit. In their new book The Narcissism Epidemic: Living in the Age of Entitlement (2009), the psychologists Jean Twenge and W. Keith Campbell have documented and analyzed the troubling cultural trends of the past three decades. They suggest that North American culture itself is in the grip of a narcissism epidemic. According to Theodore Millon, professor of psychiatry at Harvard University, profes-sor of psychology at Miami University, and leading authority on personality disorders, "the label narcissism connotes more than .mere egocentricity. Narcissism sig-nifies, more specifically, that these individuals overvalue their personal worth, direct their affections toward themselves rather than others, and expect that others will recognize their unique and special value.''5 While I hesitate to labor the point, I think the fol-lowing list of traits and behavioral tendencies of the narcissistic personality can give us pause, in which to examine human consciousness. Those leaning toward narcissism tend ¯ To grandiosity, haughtiness, snobbishness, arrogance; ¯ To feelings of entitlement; praise for performance; ¯ To exploitation of and insensitivity toward others; ¯ To crave attention, which they see as deserved without need for reciprocity; ¯ To flout conventional rules and expectations of shared social living; 69.3 2010 Clendenen ¯ A Rare I-Iumili~y and a Future-Facing ~4yth ¯ To assume and often find that others feel hon-ored by their relationship, or to quickly train others to admire and obey them, with the result that the admirers insulate, them from self-aware hess of their limitations; ¯ To idealize those who satisfy their needs while treating contemptuously those who do not; the shifting of overvaluation to denigration occurs frequently in the same relationship; ¯ To preoccupation with personal adequacy, . power, prestige, and status; ¯ To heightened sensitivity to any form of criticism; ¯ To intolerance of perceived affronts to self-esteem that question their assumed inherent specialness; ¯ To take liberties with facts by embellishing them to maintain illusion of self-worth; ¯ To exaggerate abilities and accomplishments; to inflate and justify what they feel is due them, while depreciating those who refuse to accept or enhance their self-image; ¯ To use rationalization as a regulatorymechanism to cope with the inevitable personal failures or social humiliations by devising plausible reasons for self-justification and doing so with litde con-cern for others; and ¯ To lack interpersonal empathy.6 This detailed list of a narcissistic character is now embedded in the general population (and culture) where once such a description of human personality would have qualified as clinical narcissistic disorder. Ttie ethos of selfishness, individualism, utilitarianism, and instru-mentalism is taken for granted, not seen as problematic, and thus often remains unexamined. In turn, the values of community, altruism, and the life of the virtues are Review for Religious being undermined. A few years ago I heard the coor-dinator of the Jesuit Volunteers report that there was a lot of interest among young people who wanted to serve on their own terms. He referred to this as narclsslsnc idealism." According to Twenge and Campbell, no single event initiated the epidemic; instead, the values deep in the American psyche shifted Slowly toward individu- ~ alism, self-admiration, materialism, incivility, and entitlement. "Like a disease," they write, "narcissism is caused by certain factors, spreads through particular chan-nels, appears as various ~ ~ ~' symptoms, and might be ° - halted by preventive measures and cures. Narcissism is a psych0-cultural affliction rather than a physical disease, but the model works remarkably well.''7 Six years before The Narcissism Epidemic, Dr. ,Robert Moore, professor of psychoanalysis, culture, and spiritu-ality at Chicago Theological Seminary, in his book Facing the Dragon: Confronting Personal and Spiritual Grandiosity, announced the new contemporary crisis as "the epidemic of unregulated human grandiosity." Grandiosity refers to holding fantasies or embracing desires that are greater than your real life can support. According to Moore, either grandiosity makes you manic in running around to meet unrealistic demands or makes you depressed because your desires are essentially unachievable. Moore rallies our intellects and emotions to break through the existential denial of our "naive male" and "naive female" ,Cultural narcissism is d estructively shaping a :collusive and self-promoting ' way of livi g: 69.3 2010 Clendenen ¯ A Rare Humility and a Future-Facing Myth 276] approach to the human situation by courageously con-fronting the aggressive cultural selling of pathological narcissism as a normative vision for human life.s The Narcissism Epidemic is replete with examples that reveal how cultural narcissism is destructively shaping a collusive and self-promoting way of living. In a chapter tided "Superspreaders!" they tell a tale from the televi-sion series "My Super Sweet 16": "Atlanta teen Allison tells a party planner she wants to block off part of Peachtree Street so there can be a parade for 'my grand entrance.' Peachtree is a major thoroughfare, the plan-ner reminds her. She responds, 'My sweet 16 is more important than wherever they have to be.' But there's a hospital across the street, the planner cautions--what if an ambulance can't get to the hospital? 'They can wait one second. Or they can go around,' she says cavalierly. Amid all of this, Allison's mother just listens. When the planner finally turns to her in exasperation, she says, 'If Allison wants it, make it happen.' So much for that dying person in the ambulance." The narcissistic "enti-dement" expressed here by the mother points to the odd perpetual adolescence of many American adults. Twenge and Campbell say that adolescence, the most narcissis-tic time of life, is being extended beyond all previous limits.9 Clearly such happenings are not isolated aberra-tions; they are cultural markers of the superspreading of a distorted collective psyche, that needs attention, fast. In Waking Up in Time: Finding Inner Peace in Times of Accelerating Change, the physicist and futurist Peter Russell said, "Our power to change the world may have made prodigious leaps but our internal development, the development of our attitudes and values, has pro-gressed more slowly. We seem to be as prone to greed, aggression, shortsightedness, and self-centeredness as Review for Religious we were 2,500 years ago . If we are to survive the critical times we are now passing through, it is essen-tial we undergo a profound shift in values and awaken to our inner truths and our full spiritual potential.''1° Effecting such a shift and awakening has been the mis-sion of Benetvision: A Resource and Research Center for Contemporary Spirituality founded by Benedictine Sister Joan Chittister. Interestingly, Twenge, Campbell, Moore, Russell, and Chittister11 all suggest a return to the lost art of the virtuous life as a way to stem and bring healing to the epidemic of entidement and grandiosity that marks and mars our current North American culture. Risking Humility The final chapter of The Narciss#m Epidemic, "Treating the Epidemic of Narcissism," sees the recovery of authentic humility as the way to lessen the narcissism in our lives and in our culture. Humility is the counter-balance to narcissism, the creative opposite to its viru-lence. Modesty, lack of pretense, absence of arrogance, and refinement of character--so evident in Sister Betty's jubilee tale--are vitally necessary in today's personal and communal reflection. Her unaffected wonder at finding her own picture in the company of Oscar Romero's, and Catherine McAuley's, and Our Lady of Guadalupe's, at the foot of the cross has to make you and me wonder: Do we truly believe that God can do more in us than we ever imagined--or could ever imagine? Her awe at seeing what she and her ministry meant to this poor, loving family puts us in awe, even a feeling of danger. What does this mean for the many in our country whose lives are far too self-focused and comfortable? Has a cer-tain impoverishment accompanied i:he world's material progress? Have we--ourselves, our communities, our 69.3 2010 Clendenen * A Rare Humility and a Future-Facing Myth 278 Humility is the ancient ever-new ~irtue that ke~s us rooted in our earthiness and able to savor our human limits as gifts. culture--settled into a certain mediocrity, an exagger-ated feeling of entidement? Is our ministry simple and un-self-conscious enough to be a wondrous conduit for God's goodness and inspire a needy people's transcendent gratitude? Is the path to greater human success and hap-piness much more toward inwardness than upwardness? Humility is the ancient ever-new virtue that keeps us rooted in our earthiness and able to savor our human limits as gifts. Sister Betty felt her lack of facility with Spanish as a weakness, and therein was her humble open-ness to receive new graces and new skills, even in her seventies. She brought those graces to some of God's people in their times of joy and grief. Twelve-step recovery has something to say about this. It advises people to strive for spiritual prog-ress, not perfection, and to admit their powerless-ness, accept their limits, and thereby find true freedom. Such yielding in honesty to a Power greater than ourselves enables people to risk humility. In that humility they find themselves able to understand the Beatitudes (Mt 5:1-12) and to risk living in meekness, gentleness, empathy, self-donating love, and freely chosen accountability. The word humility comes from the Latin word humi-lis, meaning "low," which, in turn, comes from the Latin humus, which means "earth" or "dirt" or "soil." The 12th-century Benedictine abbess and mystic Hildegard of Bingen understood the dangers of not paying atten- Review for Religious tion to nature and all natural things. She devoted one of her many writings to virtues and vices. She was con-vinced that virtues are more than moral habits: they are therapeutic forces within human nature that can produce wonderful transformations. In her legendary Scivias (a Latin abbreviation for. "knowing the Lord's ways"), she said, "Virtue is like a warm garment in a cold world; it is the source of charm in a harsh world" (~1.1.4). Hildegard also wrote the following in one of her many letters of advice to religious leaders: Walk through the valley of humility and know peace. Lose your titanic, hard-to-satisfy ego. A greedy self-esteem is just a steep mountain you'll find dangerous to climb. It's also tricky (if not impossible) to come down from such heights, and anyhow the summit is too small for community. Focus on Love's splendid garden instead. Gather the flowers of humility and simplicity of soul. Study God's patience. Keep your eyes open.12 Sister Betty Barrett's humble, warm, and charming story carries a wallop, as myths do. It is much more than an elderly sister's pleasant memory. It is a dangerous memory. It can affect the future. Notes ~ Johann Baptist Metz, "The Future in the Memory of Suffering," Concilium 76 (1972), p. 15. 2 [See The Word in History: The St. Xavier Forum, ed. T. Patrick Burke (New York: Sheed and Ward; 1966). Ed.] 3 Mary Oliver, "To Begin With, the Sweet Grass," Evidence (Boston: Beacon Press, 2009), pp. 38-39. 4 L. Sperry and H.L. Ansbacker, "The Concept of Narcissism and Narcissistic Personality Disorder," Psychopathology and Psychotherapy (Washington, D.C.: Accelerated Development, 1996), p. 349. 5 Theodore Millon and George S. Everly Jr., Personality and Its Disorders: A Biosocial Learning Approach (New York: John Wiley and Sons, 1985), p. 70. [279 69.3 2010 Clendenen ¯ A Rare Humility and a Future-Facing Myth 6 Theodore Millon, Personality-Guided Therapy (New York: John Wiley and Sons, 1999), pp. 433-463. 7 Jean M. Twenge and W. Keith Campbell, Living in the Age of Entitlement: The Narcissism Epidemic (New York: Free Press, 2009), p. 2. s Robert L. Moore, Facing the Dragon: Confronting Personal and Spiritual Grandiosi~y (Wilmette: Chiron Publications, 2003), pp. 61, 68, 69, 145-146. 9 Twenge and Campbell, Living, pp. 100.101,234. The TV stoW and other insights in this article also appear in "Book Notes," Horizon: Journal of the National Religious Vocation Conference 35, no. 1 (Fall 2009): 34-35. 10 Peter Russell, Waking Up in Time: Finding Inner Peace in Times of Accelerating Change (Novato, California: Origin Press, 1992), pp. 38, 154. 11 See Joan D. Chittister, "Pride and Humility," in Heart of Flesh: A Feminist Spirituality for Women and Men (Grand Rapids: ~William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1998), pp. 89-106. ~2 Carmen Acevedo Butcher, Hildegard of Bingen: A Spiritual Reader (Brewster, Massachusetts: Paraclete Press, 2007), p. 159. You who calmed. You who calmed the winds and sea, Jesus, calm and center me. Draw me in and hold my gaze Soothe and silence me these days. Deep is calling unto deep. I give you all my cares to keep. You who calmed the winds and sea. Jesus, calm and center me. Mary Jan6 Higgins RSM Review for Religious ROBERT J. NOGOSEK Religious Life as an Acceptable Sacrifice When I was nineteen years old and a university student, I made a weekend retreat in the Gethsemani Trappist monastery in Kentucky. I was ~rying to decide whether or not I should enter religious life. At one of the retreat con-ferences, an elderly monk printed in block let-ters on the blackboard the word success, putting two vertical lines through each S to make it a dollar sign. He said the world sees success as making money, but real success in life is not about dollars. We needed to turn one vertical line sideways and make a cross. ~ This said a lot about the Trappist life I was observing. The white-robed monks seemed to live a foolish life not at all conducive to hap-piness° keeping silence, arising in the middle Robert J. Nogosek CSC has been a ~heology profes-sor and a parish pastor among other responsibilities. His address is P.O. Box 929; Notre Dame, Indiana 46556. liv!np religious life 69.3 2010 Nogosek ¯ Religious Life as an Acceptable Sacrifice 282 of the night to chant psalms together in a cold chapel, and eating crusty bread in a diet often deprived of meat. But I saw in the monks a remarkable humor I had never seen before. It seemed that for them life was a big joke. I decided I wanted the joy they had, and their way of seeing the meaning of life in this world. Back at college I returned to my sophomore classes. One of the courses was on the four Gospels, printed in parallel columns to show similarities and differences in the story of Jesus. As I s~t in class somewhat bored one spring afternoon, it suddenly occurred to me that the Gospels were practical--that living the Gospels made good sense. I saw this in the story of the rich young man in Matthew 19. He already had more than enough money and possessions while keeping all the command-ments, but was still discontented. He asked what more he could do to have a better life. Jesus graciously invited him to join the community, of disciples, but first he must sell all he had and give the money to the poor. This is how the Trappist monk had explained success. It helped me to see that by joining a religious community I could live the gospel in a literal way, like those who had fol-lowed Jesus in Galilee. The greatest day in my life came some months later on my clothing day. Upon receiving the religious habit with many others that day, I saw myself as having left. the world to join with the others in a life centered on friendship with Jesus Christ. It would consist in living a religious rule. That did not seem to be a great sacrifice, but rather the way to be myself, apart from a world that ran after money and other false values. This freedom to be myself did not initially translate into becoming a gift for others, as St. Paul describes it in Galatians 5:13--"you were called for freedom, brothers. Review for Religious But do not use this freedom as an opportunity for the flesh; rather, serve one another through love." Instead, I concentrated on having a direct relationship with Jesus. It was only much later that I realized that God created me to live as a member of the human family, and that this meant sharing my heart with others. Gradually this was extended to seeing myself as a brother to any other human being I might meet. Seeking Perfection I began to see that progress in union with God involved seeking what was called "the perfection of charity." Vatican Council II would state that the pur-pose of religious life is to make the perfection ; of charity a "very clear symbol" (Flannery) or ~ a "blazing emblem" (Abbott) of the kingdom of God (PC §I). Our love for Jesus is to flow out in love of neighbor, which, as Pope Paul VI . . ~, wrote, is to be extended to the whole human race (Ecclesiam suam, §58). As the ancient hymn Ubi Caritas had stated, charity (caritas) united with heartfelt love (amor) makes God present in the world. Vatican II also stated that religious profession of the evangelical councils is to free us from obstacles that might draw us away not only from the fervor of char-ity, but also from "the perfection of divine worship" (LG §4). This perfection of divine worship would be our response to the Orate Fratres at Mass in praying I began to see that progress in union with GOd involved ~seeking what was called ~ '~the perfection of charity. " [283 69.3 2010 Nogosek ¯ Religious Life as an Acceptable Sacrifice 284 that our sacrifice "be acceptable to God, the Father Almighty." But this perfection of divine worship also requires the perfection of charity, as St. Paul suggests by saying that the loving gift the Philippians sent him is the "fragrant aroma'.' of "an acceptable sacrifice, pleas-ing to God" (Ph 4:18). Vatican II calls the Eucharist "a sacrament of love" and "a bond of charity" (SC §47), not unlike St. Thomas saying that Holy Communion incites into action our dispositions to be charitable (ST III.79.1 ad 2)~ He cites 2 Corinthians 5:14--"the love of Christ impels us." This could be why the new liturgy has shortened the time after Holy Communion. We are not to bury our face in our hands in private adoration of Jesus in our heart, but rather to ready ourselves for reaching out to others. It calls me "to put off the old man" (Col 3:9) of self-centeredness, and put into action the command-ment of loving others as Jesus has loved me. Jesus wants to be loved in his people, as a religious sister once heard in her heart when, upon kissing the crucifix before retir-ing, she heard the words "Kiss my people." Personal Fulfillment Even though I had often heard women religious speak of their quest for "fulfillment," it took years for me to revise my original desire for success in life into a language of personal fulfillment. I had not expected to be "fulfilled" as a person by the sacrifice represented in religious profession of poverty, chastity, and obedience, any more than I had seen the austerity of the Trappist life as a way to personal fulfillment in this world. Making life seem like a joke could hardly be called "ful-fillment." My thinking was changed, however, in part by a parable in C.S. Lewis's Mere Christianity (Bk 4, 9). Review fir Religious According to an adaptation of the story, you invite a friend to live with you in your house. After some time, you notice blueprints have been spread out on the din-ing- room table. Inspecting them, you realize your guest has elaborate plans to transform your little house into a great palace--"throwing out a new wing here, put-ring on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards." As C.S. Lewis comments, it is as though your guest wants to make it a home worthy of himself. To think of Jesus as actually living with me in my heart was not something I had learned in catechism. We had been told that the Holy Spirit was the divine guest in our heart, bug the real presence of Jesus was only in the host in the tabernacle, except when Jesus cam to us in Holy Communion and stayed for seven minutes.~ But during novitiate I had read some books of Raoul Plus SJ, especially one entitled In Christ Jesus, showing from the writings of St. Paul that by baptismal grace we have, abiding in our heart,, the real presence of Jesus. It is the same Jesus as resides in the tabernacle--body and blood, soul and divinity. In Holy Communion he does not come for a visit; he comes to stay. Others around me disagreed, but I was sure Plus was right about this teaching of St. Paul. Later I would also find it in St. Teresa of Avila's Interior Castle. If the real presence of Jesus dwells in us, then we also meet him in others, and what others share in truth and love could well be a gift to us directly from Jesus in their heart. This makes our mutual sharing of life crucial to our relationship with Jesus. It took me beyond the Little Flower's Way of Spiritual Childhood, which long before I had been drawn to by the Trappist monks. There is something more than putting as much love as possible into each action; I am also called to make a 69.3 2010 Nogosek * Religious Life as an Acceptable Sacrifice gift of myself to others so as to communicate the love of Jesus, who dwells within my heart. This amounts to being a grace to others. It is the language of spiritual gifts or charisms. Charisms During formation I. was repeatedly urged to rec-ognize my special talents and gifts, since religious life involves a commitment to strive for personal and spiri-tual growth. I was told that "grace builds on i~ature." So what is my nature as an individual? What talents and personality had I brought with me into religious life? These efforts at self-scrutiny often left me feel-ing quite discouraged. I lacked so much of what others around me had in talents and personality. Only much later would I see this differently, in part because of the parable in Mere Christianity--that inviting Jesus into my heart could result in my being radically changed as a person. In calling me to discipleship, Jesus may well be planning to have me express myself in wonderful ways, just as he had promised his disciples that they would do greater works than he had done (Jn 14:12). We know that by receiving his Body we become his Body, so that, like him (LG §5), our words, actions, and personal presence can reveal the kingdom of God on earth. This could represent the "abundant fruit from the grace of baptism" which Vatican II says we will be enabled to have by religious profession (LG §44). If I am to be a grace to others by charisms, I have to come out ofmy shell. This is like a cartoon I once saw. In the first frame, there is a big egg bouncing up and down. In the next frame a duckling has poked out his head through the shell, and looks around in fright. In the final frame he has dived headfirst back into the egg. It is much Review for Religious the same with charisms. We have to drop our defenses and risk being a person in new ways before others. Walking on the Water Underlying Vatican II's Pastoral Constitution of the Church in the Modern World is the story of walking on water in Matthew 14. Jesus is walking on the waters of today's world, and -- - invites us, like St. Peter, to get out of our boat to ioin him. This is to fol-low our discerning "the signs of the times" (GS §.4), which are the ques-tions and yearnings of people today.2 - It means trying something new. In leaving our comfort zone, we will need to keep our eyes on Jesus. St. Peter started sinking only when he looked around and felt the wind blowing hard against him. This suggests that charisms do not form part of our personal identity. Although we have been given the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit at confirmation, these are not graces to give grace to others, but rather a disposi-tion to be sensitive to the breath of the Spirit, which, as Jesus said, may come and go like the summer breeze (Jn 3:8). Our personal defects remain; it is as "earthen vessels" (2 Co 4:7) that we carry Christ's grace to others. Maybe, in our self-gift to others, the power of Jesus will be conveyed, even through our defects and vulnerability. St~ Paul says in 2 Corinthians 12:10--"when I am weak, then I am strong." Jesus is walking on the ¯ wafers bf today's world, and invites us, like St. Peter, . "to~et out Of our.boat to join him. 69.3 2010 Nogosek ¯ Religious Life as an Acceptable Sacrifice The opportunity for that came up early in my reli-gious life. Just as I completed studies in biblical theol-ogy, I received a letter assigning me to teach dogmatic theology. Upon arriving in the classroom a few months later, I steadied my nerves by recalling G.K. Chesterton: "If something is worth doing, it is worth doing badly." But the course turned out quite well. The students enjoyed my attempts to use the Bible to understand dogma in place of the traditional Neo-Scholasticism they had been hearing. Again, many years later, I was invited to join a team in southern California doing evangelization among Mexican immigrants. I told God that if he wanted me to do this, he would have to teach me Spanish. Initially some of the people rejected me because they sensed I did not understand what they were saying. That was quite true, but, when with them, I would repeat a word or phrase they had said just to keep them talking. Since I loved the people, I was quite happy to be able to communicate even a little bit and to keep on listening. After they came to see I really liked being with them, they began showing that they liked being with "Padre Roberto." At the same time I was making a big hit with their children, maybe because I saw each child as just as much a person as I was. With their kids so fond of me, as time went on their parents became more satisfied with me as I was. 2881 Inner Resistance to Grace Like the companions of St. Peter on the lake that stormy night, we are likely to have a lot of reluctance "to get out of the boat" to join Jesus walking on the water. This is typical of the resistance described by St. Paul's discussion of Christian freedom in Galatians 5. He calls it "the desire of the flesh." When I first arrived at Review for Religious Coachella, California, as the new pastor of an Hispanic parish, I was determined to follow the example of St. John Vianney, who had started out as cur4 of Ars by knocking on doors to visit the people in their homes.3 To make this happen, I put it on my schedule for cer-tain evenings each week. As I got into my car at 7 p.m., usually I would not feel like going, but I went anyway, and once I was interacting with the people I enjoyed it--and they did too. In Sunday homilies I would tell the people that, if they wanted to experience the Holy Spirit (and I knew they did), they should do something for someone. I said the presence of the Holy Spirit is felt mainly in our actions. Others say the same: that when they visit the sick, or even someone in jail, they "get more out of it" than they give. We may feel like new persons in our spontaneity of interact-ing with others out of our love for Jesus. People even relate that they have said things that surprised them, things they had never thought of before. This recalls the promise of Jesus about the gift of the Holy Spirit-- that we should not prepare what to say beforehand, for in our witness itself the Spirit would give us the words to say (Mt 10:20). 'The presence of the Holy: Spirit is felt mainly .fin our actionS. Charisms and Renewal In its call to renewal, Vatican II invites us to aspire to have charisms typical of the early church. Both Pope John xxIII and Pope Paul VI called for a "New Pentecost," to restore to the church today the youth- 69.:~ 2010 Nogosek * Religious Life as an Acceptable Sacrifice fulness and enthusiasm it had when it first came from the hands of Jesus. When we look at early Christianity in comparison with the church today, we wonder what caused the rapid growth in the number of believers. Rodney Stark in The Rise of Christianity estimates that during the first three centuries the number of Christians increased by forty percent every ten years, beginning in A.D. 40 with about 1,000, and' attaining more than 33,000,000 believers by the year 350 (p. 7). As a soci- ,ologist of religion, he suggests that .the best explana-tion for this phenomenal growth was the way Christians responded to the epidemics in. the empire, which would ravage the entire population at least once every century, with mortality rates of up to thir.ty percent (pp. 73ff). Even the emperor Marcus Aurelius was among the vic-tims in the year 180. At such times the pagans would flee in panic from their homes and cities, abandoning without food and water their loved ones who had fallen ill, and even refusing to bury the dead. The Christians, however, by reason of their love of Christ, would care for their sick and with devotion bury their dead. This care was extended not only to fellow Christians but also to the many pagans married to Christians, and to some of their pagan friends as well. Stark concludes: "This meant that in the aftermath of each epidemic, Christians made up a larger percentage of the population, even without new converts. Moreover, their noticeable better survival rate would have seemed a "miracle" to Christians and pagans alike, and this ought to have influenced conversions." Typically at the beginning of religious communities there was a phenomenal growth in the number of new members, who were attracted to the founder's charism in response to a critical need, even at great sacrifice. In Review for Religious founding my own Holy Cross community, Blessed Basil Moreau was responding not only to the secularization of France after the French Revolution, but also to pleas for help from European missionaries serving in Africa, North America, and Asia. After forming a community of men and women committed to the hearts of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, he put many of them at risk by sending them abroad with few material resources, saying that as Holy Cross religious "the Cross is our only hope." He meant that, when as a community we suffer great trials while engaged in service of others, it is a sign from divine providence that our efforts will produce fruit beyond human possibilities. With such words derived from St. Paul, Moreau was transforming the French school of spirituality, with its devotion to the mystery of the incar-nation, into a trust in the paschal mystery. This fostered a bold reliance on divine providence in undertaking dif-ficult apostolates in new environments, to which we were being invited as a new apostolic religious community committed to serving the church. A New Image of the Church According to Vatican II, the church today needs a critical reform of its image, that it be much more a sign of the good news of the kingdom of God. By his 1964 encyclical, Ecclesiam suam, Pope Paul vI challenged the council fathers on the eve of the third session "to com-pare the ideal image of the church, just as Christ sees it, wills it, and loves it. with the actual image the church projects today" (§ 11). This entails, he says, "correction of the defects that conscience denounces and rejects, as if, standing before a mirror, we were to examine interiorly the image of Christ that he has left us." These "necessary reforms," he says, will be "delicate and difficult" (§12). 69.3 2010 Nogosek ¯ Religious Life as an Acceptable Sacrifice 292 One delicate task of the council was that of altering the image of the church that Pope Pius XIl had presented in 1943 in his renowned encyclical Mystici Corporis. Pius identified the church as the Body. of Christ by being "a perfect society" in its juridical structure. Some of the council fathers would describe this image of the church as the "barque of Peter," with the clergy and religious as the crew and the laity their precious cargo to be transported safely across the treacherous waters of the world to the safe harbor of heaven. The council saw, however, that this is not the way the church should be. Gaudium et spes would call us out of the boat, and especially the laity, who were to see themselves as the primary evangelizers of modern society (LG §31). They were called to this and equipped for it in their baptism and confirmation (LG §33). The obligation came from Christ's commandment to love our neighbor, and the equipment would be the spiritual gifts called charisms. Their ordained pastors were to help them discern their charisms, form them as lay apostles, and give them "room for action" (LG §37). As a preferred image of the church, the council chose the biblical term "people of God." It was remi-niscent not only of the Hebrew people freed from the slavery of Egypt and guided by God through the desert, but also of the story of the multiplication of the loaves and fish in Mark 6, where Jesus has the multitude sit down on the grass in groups of hundreds and fifties. Rather than mainly showing itself as a well-defended and highly organized juridical body, the church is to make itself seen in the world as a movement of faith-filled people. The world today needs to experience the presence of God, and that can best happen where mem-bers of the church form small Christian communities Re'view for Religious through "familial love" of one another and collaboration for the faith of the gospel (GS §22). This encourages an "ecclesiology from below" char-acteristic of the way St. Paul in Ephesians 4 describes members of the church being formed into the Body of Christ. By sharing our truth in the spirit of love, we are to "grow in every way into him who is the head, Christ." The sharing is by dialogue, which had been promoted by Pope Paul vI in Ecdesiam suam and would be declared by Vatican II to be the special charac-teristic of the mis-sion of the church today (GS §82): "In virtue of its mis-sion to enlighten the whole world with the message of the gospel and to "r ~ gather together into one spirit all women and men of every nation, race, and culture, the church shows itself as a sign of that amity which renders possible sincere dialogue and strengthens it." By this we are challenged as religious to evaluate how we form ongoing community life, and what sign value it provides for others. Are we living "that amity which renders sincere dialogue and strengthens it"? At Coachella we did receive something of a posi-tive answer regarding the sign value of our community life. Three years after we arrived, the diocese conducted a thorough evaluation of the parish put into our care. One group of parishioners reported that before we came to the parish they were highly critical of one, another as parishioners. But, having noticed that the Holy Cross , 'We are challenged as religious to evaluate how we form ongoing .,community life, and what sign value it prov!des for others. 69.3 2010 Nogosek ¯ Religious Life as an Acceptable Sacrifice 294 priests and brothers never voiced a word of criticism towards one another, they decided they also should act that way toward one another. This had not happened sim-ply from our faithfulness to prayer and our apostolic zeal as a religious community. We had made the sacrifice of having weekly house chapters, where we shared with one another what was on our minds and in our hearts. Atoleast in this respect, we hhd succeeded in being "a sign which can and ought to attract all the members of the church to an effective and prompt fulfillment of the duties of their religious vocation" (LG §44). Certainly the religious vocation of all the parishioners was to live out the New Commandment byloving one another aiad making it vis-ible. We also knew that the parishioners were .to see us as a sign that "heavenly blessings'? were already present in this wtrld, foretelling "the resurrected state and the glory of the heavenly kingdom" (LG §4). For that to take place, we would have to show the people that we loved them just as they were, and in very concrete ways. The Rich Man and Lazarus According to the council, religious are "to give an increasingly clearer revelation of Christ," which includes his choosing to live as a poor man, as also was chosen by his virgin mother (LG §46). Here Vatican II was not saying anything new. What was new, and espe-cially challenging, was that as members of the church we are to evaluate the image we give to the world in light of the parable of the rich man and Lazarus (Lk 16): "Everyone must consider his neighbor without excep-tion as another self, taking into account first of all his life and the means necessary to living it with dignity, so as not to imitate the rich man who had no concern for the poor man Lazarus" (GS §27). Review for Religious Here again we are challenged to evaluate our sign value as a religious community. According to Gaudium et spes (§88), if we are living in a nation where "a majority of citizens who are counted as Christians have an abundance of this world's goods," we are in grave danger of causing scandal to the many nations where the majority are not Christian, and where the citizens "are deprived of the necessities of life and are tormented with hunger, disease, and every kind of misery." The council says that this is "as if Christ himself were appealing to the charity of his followers through the mouths of these poor people." How will Jesus see our life as a religious congrega-tion when he comes on the Last Day? How certain are we to be among those at his right hand when he comes in glory to judge the members of all nations by the cri-terion of how they served the needy? An Acceptable Sacrifice .Since Vatican II saw the mission of Jesus being con-tinued by the church, Pope John Paul II liked to repeat that the way of the church is to be the way of Jesus Christ. Jesus said we must lose our life for his sake in order to find it (Mt 10:39). He told those who wanted to follow him: "Foxes have dens and birds of the sky have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to rest his head" (Lk 9:58). St. Paul wrote that by our bearing affliction "the love of God will be poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us" (Rm 5:5). Like St. Paul, we do not want Jesus to have died in vain, nor that his presence touch only those who believe in the Eucharist. As friends of Jesus, we want to help him make the world better, that the pleasing aroma cre-ated by his presence in us may indeed be, as St. Paul says, not as "an odor that leads to death" where people 69.3 2010 Nogosek ¯ Religious Life as an Acceptable Sacrifice reject gospel values--but rather "an odor of life that leads to life" (2,Co 2:16), where people are attracted to a gift of freedom to be themselves through sharing the wisdom, help, and love of the Holy Spirit. But today, as consecrated women and men "eval-uating the contemporary world wisely in the light of faith" (PC §2), we must ask whether the way we live our religious profession is truly becoming "an accept-able sacrifice." Jesus said that before he returned "the love of many would grow cold" (Mr 24:12), and he asked whether he would find faith upon the earth when he came again (Lk 18:8). Notes ~ It takes about seven minutes for the host to dissolve in the stomach and the consecrated host to be no longer present. 2 Although some church leaders interpret these signs as today's troubles and thus may see the world as especially hostile to the gospel, I would argue that according to Vatican II our times are today's evangeli-cal opportunity prepared by God's Spirit breathing over the world. 3 Francis Trochu, The Curi of Ars (Rockford, Illinois: TAN Books and Publishers, 1977), pp. 116f. 296[ Gamble If l but touch his clothes. Mark 5:28 Did the soldier who won and wore the seamless robe allow it to touch him? Irene Zimmerman OSF Review for Religiou~ 'JEFFREY MICKLER Coping with the Genuinely Difficult Religious Itw"googled" the term "difficult people" and instantly o hundred million sites were found. Business managers, owners, and employees are all seeking answers on how to cope with people who are genuinely difficult to get along with. The hilarious 1980 movie Nine to Five told of the revenge three female employ-ees took against their male chauvinist boss. In real life, however, revenge is never a solution, and dealing with difficult people is never really funny. Hence, there are books like Sandra A. Crowe's Since Strangling Isn't an Option. Difficult people drain others' enthusiasm and suck the life out of organizations, as the title Working with You Is Killing Me by Katherine Crowley and Kathi Elster suggests.' Dealing with difficult people in the workplace is one thing. Living with them in a religious commu- Jeffrey Mickler SSP has worked in formation and various other min-istries and was provincial of the Paulists' United States Province. His address is Box 595; 9531 Akron Canfield Road (Rt 224); Canfield, Ohio 44406. 69.3 2010 Mickler ¯ Coping with the Genuinely Difficult Religious 298 nity raises the bar. Although all of us can be difficult at times, some religious are chronically difficult and even hostile. Augustine Poulain SJ in his 19th-century spiritual classic The lnterior Graces describes one type of difficult religious: Another trial., is living with an irritable person who finds fault with everything, never speaks a pleasant word . These difficult characters often have the reputation of being very amiable abroad because they are full of attention for those whom they need, or those who would not allow themselves to be bullied. These nervous natures may be likened to torpe-does on account of the charges that they let fly at those who .approach them. It is impossible to arrange any matter with them clearly and quietly. Above all, let no one try to excuse himself when they accuse him of anything or [try to] prove to them that they are mistaken . The volcano will then be in full eruption. Such minds will never be in the wrong; they alone are endowed with sound judgment. This behavior shows., a grave lack of charity. In community, characters of this. nature make life very difficult for others, and are sometimes the cause of abandonment of vocations.2 Father Stephen Rossetti, of St. Luke Institute in Silver Spring, Maryland, in his recorded conference Spirituality of Christian Leadership, describes such people as suffering "chronically impaired social functioning." These individuals have "inflexible, maladaptive ways of dealing with other people." Wherever they are sta-tioned, they divide and disrupt communities. Their nat-ural charm ensures that they will have some supporters, but their anger at the world for not revolving around their needs makes them almost impossible to live with. When confronted by authority with a long list of com-plaints, these people blame others and are unable to Review for Religious grasp that they themselves have caused any problems. Father Rossetti points out that they have narcissistic personalities. When confronted, they erupt into a rage that sends shock waves through a community.3 Some of them end up living in their own apartments because provincials can find no communities willing to tolerate daeir divisive behavior. Rossetti says the chances of changing them for the better are extremely slim. Traditional therapies have proven fruitless. He advises giving such persons honest feedback, together with strict and clear guidelines for their behavior. Leaders must be compas-sionate towards them, but firm. ¯ theses.temperaments. The leadership has a responsibility to do all in its power to prevent them from terrorizing the community and running roughshod over people.4 Rossetti's position that modern therapy can do lit-tle to change such characters corresponds to Poulain's 19th-century assessment: "I have seen very religious persons try to cure themselves of this irritability. They have been unable to succeed . I think a miracle is required to overcome these temperaments.''5 Se~in Sammon of the Marist Brothers has done extensive research on dealing with difficult people. Drawing upon the works of Robert M. Bramson, Charles J. Keating, and Robert L. Veninga and James P. Spradley, he has developed a pragmatic and effective ~ have seen very religious persons try t6 cure themselvesof this irritabiiity. I think a miracle 'is rdqyire~:to overcome 69.3 2010 Mickler * Coping with the Genuinely Difficult Religious 300 approach that is presented on tapes from St Pauls/Alba House, Coping with the Genuinely Difficult Person. Like Poulain and Rossetti, Sammon acknowledges that efforts to change truly difficult people are basically fruitless. He suggests, however, ways we ourselves can change in order to better cope with them.6 He lists seven types of difficult people.7 He calls all of the first three types hostile-aggressive: they are "Sherman tanks," "snipers," and "exploders." The Sherman tanks are convinced of their ideas and dominate meetings by discounting out of hand the suggestions of others. They present their own ideas as the only rational, workable thing for the community or committee to adopt. They refer to other approaches as "stupid," a "waste of time," or "ridicu-lous." Sammon suggests meeting the Sherman tanks with calm strength. When the Sherman tanks begin to roll over a meet-ing, the chair should let them go on for a while but then abruptly intervene: "Stop right there; we have heard your objections; now we need valuable input from others." Sherman tanks will most likely add a few new objections until the chair or the presenter interrupts: "We will be covering those objections and discussing them as the meeting goes on!" Participants, present-ers, and leaders need to stand up for themselves against the Sherman tanks, clearly explaining their positions, not backing down, but avoiding a fight. Hostile-aggres-sive individuals almost always "win" in a fight, but the Sherman tanks usually respect such strength. They often do have valid insights that the community can benefit from; it is their ways of behaving that make it hard for the community to consider their input fairly. "Snipers" will make remarks that are just barely audible to the person being targeted. The remarks are Review for Religious biting and sarcastic, and the victim is supposed to laugh them off. These are different fr

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

Issue 48.4 of the Review for Religious, July/August 1989. ; R~,vw:w voR R~:I,~cIous (ISSN 0034-639X) is published hi-monthly at St. Louis University by the Mis-souri Province Eduealional Inslilule of the Society of Jesus; Editorial Office; 3601 Lindell Blvd., Rm. 428; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Second-class postage paid al 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: Ri~v~i~w t:oR R~:,ucous; P.O. Box 6070; Dululh, MN 55806. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to R~:v~:w voR R~:,.~(aot;s; P.O. Box 6070; Dululh, 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 JulylAugust 1989 Volume 48 Number 4 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to Rv:v~:w voa R~:u{:lot~s; 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 94709-1193. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from R~:v,v:w vo~ R~:uctous; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues 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 fl~r the visually impaired. Write to the Xavier Society fl~r the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. PRISMS . Religious life in no way merits the descriptive word dull. Currently conferences, workshops, and books deal with the theme of "refounding religious life." Another approach looks more towards a "creating of re-ligious life," often with the addition of "for the 21st century." Along with the recent publication of Pope John Paul II's letter to the United States bishops responding to the findings of the 1983 papal commission study of religious life in this country, we find ourselves confronted with various challenges which indicate that religious life remains a valuable concern not only for those who are dedicated to this special form of Chris-tian living, but also for those who support it and are the collaborators and recipients of its service. Religious life takes on its many different forms as a response by those people to God's call to point the way in bridging anew the gap be-tween the lived values of Gospel and culture. Any particular grouping of religious challenge the rest of the Church peoples (including other re-ligious) to a continuing conversion call in one or other aspect of their Christian living. Religious frequently make uncomfortable the govern-ing and teaching authority as well as their own benefactors and friends by their witness and service in those very areas where the Church may b~ slipping into more secular values and ways of acting than gospel val-ues and gospel acting. It is not surprising that religious have been in the forefront of the liberation theology and base-community movement in Latin America. The charism or grac~ which identifies the special call to a particular religious grouping often attracts some kind of participation by both di-ocesan priests and laity. The Third Orders of some of the older religious institutes and the sodalities of some of the more modern apostolic oiders are examples of a long-standing tradition of affiliation. Today there are many more questions about various ways of belonging within the relig-ious grouping--often referred to as "memberships" in the religious fam-ily. Sister Maryanne Stevens, R.S.M., raises some of these issues in her article, "The Shifting Order of Religious Life in Our Church." We are still in the early stages of this new focusing of collaboration in life and in ministry, and there are difficulties and obscurities still to be resolved. We will continue to find it necessary to clarify the identity and responsi-bilities for members dedicated in a specially graced form of life from 481 41~2 / Review for Religious, July-August 1989 other parties with different vocations and yet somehow drawn by grace to a similar model of discipleship. As part of the special spiritual legacy which monastic life, particu-larly in its more contemplative form, has been to the Church, this spe-cial form of religious life may have its own contribution to offer in terms of ecumenical efforts. Fr. Basil Pennington, O.C.S.O., opens up some possible ways of considering this question in his article, "Monasticism: A Place of Deeper Unity~" The AIDS crisis predictably draws forth a religious life response since it presents a special need calling for a gospel ministry. Robert Sirico, C.S.P., calls us to reflect upon our own reactions of fear and stigma concerning those with AIDS .within our own religio.us groupings as well as those AIDS patients whom we intend to serve. The issue of confidentiality is a particularly sensitive point both in our religious com-munity life and in our ministry. His article, "An Improbable Fiction?: Religious Life Confronts the AIDS Crisis," was originally printed in the October 1988 In-formation, the bulletin of the Religious Formation Con-ference. Re!igious life, with all its graced attempts to respon~l to gaps between the Gospel and culture, today finds itself, along with the wider Church and with the contemporary world, caught in the gap itself. As a result, the questions and issues will necessarily have only tentative and at-tempted responses while the Church and our world remain in this in-between time. Reflecting this kind of ongoing response, in FORUM we publish two recent letters from Father Stephen Tutas, S.Mo, president of the Conference of Major Superiors of Men, to its members. All of us continue to need prisms through which we might more quickly catch the movements and fleeting images of God's grace alive in our everyday religious life world. Each time we come to see a new aspect or see in new ways, we face the personal challenge of reinte-grating the truth of our lives, our relationships, and our work. May some of our writers in the articles in this issue be those prisms for us. David L. Fleming, S.J. Reproducing the Pattern of His Death John McKinnon, S.T.D. Father John McKinnon is a priest of the Diocese of Ballarat in Victoria, Australia where he is currently the Vicar for Religious. He works extensively with the various Ministry to Priests Programs and has played a pioneering role in the development of lay spirituality in Australia. His address is the Center for Human Development; 24 Custance St.; Farrer, A.C.T. 2607; Australia. ]n speaking about spirituality, I think that we Often tend to focus immedi-ately on the various ways by which we may seek to foster it--prayer, reflective ministry, and so forth--rather than on what it is we are seek-ing. Spirituality to me speaks of the way we look at life and respond to it. It is the assessment and response that we draw from the level of our own spirit, from that inner point of our self, that is closest to God. It is made up of the values, beliefs, convictions, insights, and so forth, ab-sorbed and developed over the years, which enable us to give meaning and pattern to the myriad experiences of life, and on which we base our deliberate choices. Basic Attitudes for Christian Spirituality For us as Christians these values, beliefs, convictions, and so forth are powerfully affected by our faith in tl~e person of Jesus and our'con-tact with him. This faith in Jesus and contact with him need to be per-sonalized and deepened through time spent intimately with him in prayer. The truth of any person is leai'nt most deeply only by opening to that per-son in love. Friendship is built on time spent together; it is expressed and nourished in devoted action. And it seems to me that both are equally indispensable. In his Epistle to the Philippians, in a very intimate and personally revealing passage, Paul writes about himself: 483 tlS~l / Review for Religious, July-August 1989 All I want is to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and to share his sufferings by reproducing the pattern of his death. In this way I can hope to take my place in the resurrection of the dead (Ph 3:10- ~). In writing this he was merely outlining his own response to the invi-tation of Jesus, recorded in Mark's gospel: "If anyone wants to be a fol-lower of mine, let him renounce himself and take up his cross and fol-low me" (Mk 8:34). Paul wanted to follow Jesus into the triumph of his resurrection, but he clearly realized that following Jesus meant firstly shar-ing his sufferings by reproducing the pattern of his death. The motivation for Paul's choice to follow Jesus was based on his knowledge of Jesus. Knowledge. in the Hebrew mind was not an aca-demic "knowledge about," but an enfleshed knowledge made possible only by love. I would think that only in this "love-knowledge" rela-tionship could any of us find the inspiration to face life as Jesus faced death, and to run the risk of "losing our life in order to find it," sus-tained only by trust in Jesus and the subtle intuition that in that way we might in fact find our life and live it to the full. Paul's comment in Philippians 3:10-11 seems to sum up for me the essential features of any disciple's looking at life and responding to it. It sums up the authentic Christian spirituality. Indeed, the pattern of Je-sus' death reveals the deepest dimensions of Jesus' own spirituality. I presume that Paul was not a masochist, and that Jesus was not in-viting his disciples to suicide. Jesus loved life. There is a sense in which we can say that in his moments of dying Jesus was never more truly alive and, indeed, living life to the full, at a depth and with an intensity that he had never had to muster before. The conclusion drawn by the centu-rion in Mark's gospel, who had known Jesus only in his dying moments, is also very revealing. Mark writes: The centurion, who was standing in front of him, had seen how he had died, and he said, 'In truth this man was a son of God'(Mk 15:39). In wanting to reproduce the pattern of Jesus' death, Paul was paradoxi-cally expressing his own desire to live life to the full. The Source of Salvation The Epistle to the Hebrews (5:9) says that Jesus "became for all who obey him the source of eternal salvation." We open ourselves to salvation as we in turn obey Jesus, as we attune our hearts to his, and through his to the Father's. It becomes ours, therefore, as we plumb the Reproducing the Pattern of His Death truth, as we accept the dignity and worth of every other human person, and as we commit ourselves to that dignity totally. That is why St. Paul dan write in his Epistle to the Philippians that he wants "to reproduce the pattern of Jesus' death." He sees that sim-ply as the way to become fully alive, and eventually "to take his place (with Jesus) in the resurrection from the dead." To obey Jesus and to find salvation mean to reproduce the pattern of his death, or, as the gos-pels put it, to take up our cross and to'follow him. What does this involve, then, for us? It means that we commit ourselves, too, to the vision and the priori-ties of Jesus; that, like Jesus, we let life touch us; that we respond to these temptations in the same way that Jesus responded to his. Our spiri-tuality is to be modeled on the spirituality of Jesus, on his values, be-liefs, and resources. Sharing His Sufferings No one can,be protected from the vicissitudes .of life. We do, how-ever, have some control over the nature of the inner suffering consequent upon these vicissitudes. In the face of the evil of the world we can choose our response. W.e can choose the inner suffering of absurdity and despair, of the sterile meaninglessness of a world without God, of the superficial and unsatisfying logic of the short-term, of the poisoning and paralyzing choice of bitterness and the refusal to forgive. We can face life with no hope and look on everyone as beyond redemption and on the world as condemned to an unchanging sameness. The other alternative is to taste the suffering involved in living the consequences of our own integrity with its seeming powerlessness; the feelings of irrelevance and nonserise involved in trusting a God who, we believe, makes sense of the meaningless sometimes only in the long-term; the dying-to-self ,involved in forgiving and the price of the perse-verance involved in pouring oneself out for others, trusting against hope that they may one day change and be converted. When St. Paul prayed to share the sufferings of Jesus, he was pray-ing that his sufferings would be those involved in the second alternative. Those were the sufferings of the dying Jesus. Those sufferings were the way to life. Context of Commitment It is the context of our life that gives flesh to the living out of our spirituality. I would like briefly to allude to a few consequences of this 4~16 / Review for Religious, July-August 1989 spirituality of Christ as it touches the lives of all involved in active min-istry, priests, religious and laity. To some extent we can shield ourselves from the difficulties of life by choosing not to love. That, however, would be to betray our call to discipleship. The source of Jesus' experience of failure was his commit-ment to love. Luke makes this point quite clearly in his final prelude to the public life of Jesus, the meeting at Nazareth of Jesus and his fellow townspeople. There Jesus declared his manifesto in the words of Isaiah: The spirit of the Lord has been giv~en to me, for he has anointed me. He has sent me to bring the good news to the poor, to proclaim liberty to captives, and to the blind new sight, to set the downtrodden free, to proclaim the Lord's year of favor (Lk 4:18); and it was there that he was violently rejected by the former companions of his childhood. The starting point of our imitation of Christ is a~commitment to depth in ourselves and to share with others the wonderful good news of God's love for all, and consequently to allow our own liberation to grow, to share in the liberation of others, and to work together for justice and free-dom for them. The Call 1. Being Authentic The choice to be authentic means firstly that, like Jesus, we accept and respect both the wonderful dignity of our human nature and at the same time its limitations. It means that we accept the' fact that to be human is to grow. To re-fuse to grqw is to be untrue to the thirst for life and fullness imprinted on our nature by our creating Father. But growth is painful. It is some-times easier to refuse to grow and to change, to opt instead for the fa-miliar and the unchallenging, even to obstruct and to attack change both in ourselves and in the institutions that we make up. Integrity means that we make peace with gradualness and that we re-spect the laws of sequential growth in ourselves and in others. It means that we accept the need for performance and ambition in the establish-ing of our own sense of identity, and it equally means that we be pre-pared to relinquish in time our reliance on performance in order to sur- Reproducing the Pattern of His Death / 487 render to the risk of intimacy, of forgiveness, and of grace. Eventually it means that we move to the even broader task of universal love and of generativity. Each of these transitions can be painful, and the tempta-tions to stay as we are, to secure our own comfort and peace, are strong. We do so, however, at the price of our integrity and the call of our cre-ating and redeeming God who sent. Jesus that we might live life to the full. Being authentically human means that we need to make peace even with our weakness. We have some strengths, but we do not have them all. What we admire in others is often beyond our own reach, and vice versa. We cannot do everything. None of us is "superman." We live, for example, in a day that has only twenty-four hours and not twenty-eight. We are not called to do whatever is good, but to discern what God is asking of us, to do no more than that, and to surrender the rest. Jesus had to choose between consolidating where he was, or going "to the neighboring country towns, so that I can preach there, too" (Mk 1:38)-- he could not do both. With time the very process of aging brings us in touch With new weakness and limitation. Eventually we have to make peace even with our sin. At the price of our sense of self-reliance we have to surrender to the need for forgive-ness and of mercy. In doing so we find our true dignity, and learn to re-spect ourselves because we are loved by God. A further consequence of the choice for discipleship is that we com-mit ourselves to follow our own duly informed and educated conscience. Jesus allowed himself to be led by the Spirit. It is so easy to avoid fac-ing truth and its .consequences and to persuade ourselves that what we are really doing from fear of the opinion of others or from a concern for our own comfort is being done for the sake of pastoral flexibility or main-taining peace or some other equally inadequate.excuse. And yet, at the same time, we also have to recognize that often we are not sure what our conscience is asking of us, and we have to live in uncertainty. Basically the commitment we make to ministry is a commitment to love. We know that love is the only kind of power that can ultimately give life and bring freedom. The commitment to love immediately rules out the possibility of using other kinds of power, all other kinds of power, even ostensibly for the good of people. It applies across'the board, within the Church as well as in the broader world outside. It pre-cludes manipulation, coercion, persuasion. It is notoriously ineffective. It raises whole issues of the interrelationship of institution and individ-ual person, because institutions made up of imperfectly converted and 41~1~ / Review for Religious, July-August 1989 motivated people necessarily require some kind ofsanctions. It requires clear perceptions of priorities; and the constant readiness to change and to repent, because our ongoing experience and reflection reveal that we do not consistently discernpriorities clearly and choose appropriately. The commitment to love also involves a commitment to non-violence (which is not the same as non-resistance to evil). It is the un-willingness to counter violence with violence; it is the choice to over-whelm evil with love, rather, than to double it by retaliating. Non-violent resistance sometimes calls for total self-sacrifice; more often it means apparent ineffectiveness. There are plenty of champions of jus-tice who are prepared to seek it~with violence. That was not Jesus' way. His non-violence made him unpopular, no. doubt, to the Zealots, the "ur-ban guerillas" of his day; it makes his followers equally unpopular in our day. It is~also ineffective. It ensured the inevitability of Jesus' arrest when he was apprehended in Gethsemane, but also elicited his strict cen-sure there of the violent response of one of his followers (Mt 26:52-54). It makes sense only in a world where God is the basis of meaning. It means that we may have to leave free, to go their own way, even to walk into disaster, those whom we love or for whom we have respon-sibility. That was the experience of Jesus. He had to let his ow.n special friends, hi's own diSciples, walk unheedingly into unfaith. He could not, and would not ev.en if he could, live their lives for them. He could not, would not, make their decisions for them. He had to let them_, grow up. Handing them over into the loving hands of his Father did not help all that much. He had learnt the requirements of love precisely from that same Father. As far as the Gospels are concerned, Judas did not come back. On the other hand, the Peter whom he had to leave to walk into utter perplexity and loss of faith did grow up and was a wiser and greater man. We follow the same paths as Jesus. The choice to love makes us notoriously vulnerable. Where our way of life is one that involves our working closely with others, an option for love may mean at times all the pain and frustration of working for consensus. The democratic vote can sometimes simply mean the coercive imposition on the minority of the will of the major-ity. At times it may be appropriate. Often it is not. An honest commit-ment to consensus will mean for many the readiness to devote the time and effort needed to develop the necessary skills of listening, assertion, and negotiation. We need to face the temptation to ineffectiveness, at times even to irrelevance, the jibes of naivete and so forth, and, like Jesus, explore the Reproducing the Pattern of His Death depth of our own authenticity, listen to his heart and to the heart of our creating Father. We need to listen to our own hearts, and somehow trust that integrity, truth, and love make sense, the only sense, and that our God is a God of the long-term, and not of efficient and immediate re-sults. 2. Forgiving We are familiar with the temptations to bitterness and to unforgi-veness. Not only is our world polarized; in some ways, too, our Church is also. Forgiveness is a decision. It is a decision that has consequences. When we decide to forgive, we surrender our right to use the memory of the wrongs again, either for our own self-pity or to store up and accu-mulate them in order to attack again whoever has hurt us. In a situation of ongoing disagreement or.difference, forgiveness in-volves a commitment to seek whatever common ground there is and to work for reconciliation and even at times for consensus. It involves the need to move beyond the words or the positions we may have adopted to listen to our own hearts and to the hearts of those with whom we dis-agree. It is a consequence of choosing the spirituality of Jesus. It leads to life and to peace, but it has its price. ~Forgiveness can seem like the surrender of our own dignity and self-respect, or of our loyalty to our friends and respect for them. 3. Committed . Perhaps our greatest temptation is to lose hope in people. We get hurt through life. We lose o~ur enthusiasm, even our courage. We try some things and our efforts are rejected. We know the temptation to cut our losses: we do our job; we do what is expected of us. But we lose our com-mitment, and we do little or no more than seems necessary. It is difficult to keep pouring out our lives, to keep working enthusi-astically or to try to introduce innovations only to be met with little or no response. It is easier to settle down, to look after ourselves, to make life comfortable to lose hope. But to lose hope is tochoose against life. Jesus faced blankness, in-difference, rejection, mockery, and blasphemy. In the face of that he chose to pour out his life "for the many." He knew the temptation, but he also listened to his own depths and to the heart of his Father. He died still hoping against hope in people. And for many his hope and his com-mitment bore fruit. There is in the depths of every human person an open-ing towards truth and a connaturality with love. Jesus believed that. He saw it in himself. He wanted to set it free in everyone. He would never 490/Review for Religious, July-August 1989 give up hope in people's changing and being converted; he would go to death for the sake of that hope. A truly Christ-based spirituality calls for a commitment in 'hope to people. The Outcome Our active ministry and lifestyle, therefore, whether we be priests, religious or laity, present us with infinitely nuanced temptations tO,work other than in love--to compi:omise and to find our way around our con-sciences, to choose :power in one or other of its many forms, to lose pa-tience with the apparent ineffectiveness of non-violence and love, to avoid the risk of intimacy and to settle instead for subst.itutes. We lose confidence in our God who gives meaning, sometimes too late and only beyond the grave, to our striving, for integrity and authenticity, and we prefer more tangible results and accountable successes, even at the price of what we know we are really called to be. We know we can give lip- ~service to forgiveness but not have the energy.to follow up its conse-quences. We feel the enticing attraction to settle down, to make life com-fortable, to. be "realistic." It is by facing these temptations, recognizing them and naming them, and then by choosing instead to be authentic, to trust, to forgive, and to hope that we work out our salvation and come to savor that life in abun-dance that Jesus wishes to share with us. As we respond to life as Jesus did, we know his peace and his joy, and we get in touch with the "blessedness" he spoke about in the be-atitudes. There is ai~ irrepressible quality to these experiences. We do not have to force 6urseives to find them. They come of themselves. They do not depend on circumstances beyond our control, and require no "fly-ing- carpet" ride through life. Like Jesus who could thank his Father even on the night he was betrayed, like Paul who could write: ". as the sufferings of Christ overflow to us, so, through Christ, does our conso-lation overflow" (2 Co 1:5), we, too, find the unexpected presence and power of peace and joy within us. Even in the very moments of our "re-producing the pattern of his death," we "know Christ and the power of his resurrection" (Ph 3: 10). It might seem to be paradox, but our ex-perience knows it to be truth. The victory that Jesus has won over evil, and in Which we share, is not a victory in which everything has been done already for us. The vic-tory won for us by Jesus means that we now have within us the resources to face whatever comes and to. triumph in love. It is a victory in which we actively participate, and through-which, precisely by our own par- Reproducing the Pattern of His Death / 491 ticipation, we ourselves become more fully alive and more authentically human. No one can do that for us, not even Jesus. But he does do it with us as we allow his Spirit scope to breathe within us. Mission to the World A~ccording tO John's gospel, on the night of his resurrection Jesus ap-peared,~ to his disciples and commissioned them to do what he had done: As the Father sent me, so I am sending you (Jn 20:21). Jesus had been sent to engage with evil and to overwhelm it with truth ~r~ love. He showed the way to us. The Epistle to the Hebrews writes: As it was his purpose to bring a great many of his sons into glory, it was appropriate that God . . . should make perfect, through suffering, the leader who would take them to their salvation (Heb 2: 10). The same Epistle consequently recommends: Let us not lose sight of Jesus, who leads us in our faith and brings it t6 perf6ction (Heb 12:2i. We follow the path that Jesus has trodden. He has commissioned us to show the same way, to others. That is our mission: we show the way, and we show it by living it ourselves. We cannot live the lives of others for them, any more than Jesus could live ours. But we can show them and, by our love, we can empower them, as Jesus has done with us. Though we might all feel embarrassed to say so, really our mission to others must be summed up in the words of St. Paul, "My brothers, be united in following my rule of life" (Ph 3:i7), or, more succinctly, "Take me for your model, as I take Christ" (1 Co I1:1). Like Peter we would all like to follow in the footsteps of a popularly acclaimed and universally accepted Christ. But there is no such Christ. Like the two sons of Zebedee, we would like to share in a victory where struggle is not necessary. But there is no such victory. Jesus has won the victory, but it was won on the wood of the cross. We share in his vic-tory, but we do it as we drink his cup and are baptized with his baptism (see Mk 10:35-40). As with the mission of Jesus, so, too, then, with our own: the suc-cess of our ministry will be counted not by the numbers of those who may listen to us or cooperated in our projects but in the ones who are encouraged by our example and empowered by our love to engage with the evil in their own breasts and meet it in love. It will be found in those 492 / Review for Religious, July-August 1989 who allow the failures of their lives and of their relationships and the .fail-ure of their projects to touch them, and who feel the consequences of those failures, but choose, whether wearily or resolutely, to continue to reach out lovingly in trust, in forgiveness, and in hope. Jesus' message really is one of love, of peace, ofjgy, and of happi-ness- but not as the world understands and gives them. His message is one of victory, but of victory through the Cross, even for his followers. They have to engage with life and they have to let life touch them. It will hurt, not because God wants it that way, but because of the sin of the world and the mutual destructiveness in which it takes shape. This sin of the world can be overwhelmed. Jesus has made it possible. But where it touches people, there people have to engage with it. Conclusion A truly Christian spirituality is one that responds to life as Jesus did. That is the only Christian spirituality. "All I want is to know Christ, and the power of his resurrection, and to share his suffering by repro-ducing the pattern of his death. In this way I can hope to take my place in the resurrection of the dead." As we treasure our experience and pon-der it in our hearts, as Mary did, I believe that our pondering can fruit-fully be done only by relating it to the pattern of his death. Other values and~insights will modify many forms of this basic Chris-tian spirituality; various lifestyles will determine the concrete shapes that it takes; and wisdom and experience will dictatehow best to ponder and to get in touch with those spiritual depths of Jesus. But all must be based firmly on him or they will fall short of salvation. And he wants so much that we share hig experience of life and taste that life "to the full!" Work and Leisure: Our Judeo- Christian Foundations Melannie. Svoboda, S.N.D. Sister Melannie Svoboda, S.N.D., is currently dividing her time between teaching and writing. She recently completed six years as novice director. Her address is Notre Dame Academy; Route one, Box 197; Middleburg, Virginia 22117. Recently I was asked to give a workshop on leisure and spirituality. As part of my research, I looked in the Reader's Guide to Catholic Periodi-cals to see what already had been written on the topic within the past few years. When I looked up the word leisure I was surprised to find very few articles listed under it, but I noticed, there were many articles under Lent. I looked up the word play and found even fewer articles under play, but there were many under Plato, and planned parenthood. Next I tried the word celebration. I found several articles under celebration but many more under celibacy, cemeteries, and censorship. Finally, I looked up the word fun. I found no :articles under fun, but plenty under fund raising, fundamentalism,, and funerals. This experience made me realize how little has been written on the topic of leisure and other related topics which, I feel, are fundamental to our Christian faith. This article will discuss the Judeo-Christian un-derstanding of leisure. It will begin with an exploration of the biblical understanding of the nature of work. Then it will look at the tradition of the Sabbath, the great 'leisure day,' and show how a balancing of work and leisure is essential to a healthy Christian spirituality. Let us turn first to the book of Genesis. What does Genesis tell us about work? It tells us many things. First, it says something extremely significant: God works. This concept of, a working God was something of an oddity among the peoples of that time period. Many other civiliza- 493 494 / Review for Religious, July-August 1989 tions envisioned their gods as beings who did not work. Their gods lei-surely romped around on mountain tops or lay around sleeping all day. But the Hebrews, based on their unique experience of God, saw their God differently. At the beginning of Genesis they posted a large orange sign with big black letters on it: Go~)AT WORK. But Genesis tells us something even more revelatory than the fact that God works. It tells us why God works. He works not because he has to work; he works because he wants to work. His work, creation, is not for his sake; his work is for others' sake, for humankind's sake, for our sake. In Genesis, God chooses to work because he chooses to share some-thing of himself with someone else. So already in the opening pages of Scripture, work is seen as being intimately associated with the act of self-giving-- a self-giving for the benefit of others. A third thing we notice in the creation narrative is how God works. He seems to enjoy it! God is not portrayed as someone who hates his job or finds it mere drudgery. We do not see God complaining, for exam-ple, at the beginning of the fourth day, "Darn it! Today l've got to make those stupid birds! I'll never get them to fly--I just know it!" On the con-trary, God takes delight in the work process, pronouncing creation, the product of his labors, as "good" at the end of each day. In Genesis, we also notice that leisure or rest is an integral part of the work process. God rests not merely on the last day; he rests, he takes "time off," between each day of creation. The ending of each day brings closure to that particular day's activity. The seventh day, the Sab-bath, is just a longer rest period--an entire day of complete rest. But throughout his work, God has been taking other rests--"mini-Sab-baths"-- all along, Rest or leisure is part and parcel of the work proc-ess. Leisure, like work, must be good if God himself does it. In the creation account, Adam, like God, works. "The Lord then took the man and settled him in the garden of Eden, to cultivate and care for it" (Gn 2:15). Work is not a punishment for Adam's sin. It is one of the ways Adam is made in the image of God, A working God means a working Adam. Adam's work is a sharing in the creative activity of God. Adam's work, like God's work, consists primarily in cultivation and care. But something happens to work after the Fal!: Adam sweats and Eve had labor pains. Genesis 'seems to be saying that after their act of dis-obedience, Adam and Eve suffered some serious consequences. All work--whether bringing forth new I.ife through farming or giving birth-- would now necessarily involve fatigue, frustration, and pain. Work and Leisure / 495 In summary, then, Genesis presents some fundamental attitudes to-ward work. Work is .good--even God works. Work is an act of self-giving directed toward the good of others. It consists primarily in culti-vation and care, in the bringing forth of new life. Work should basically be a joyful activity even though it often entails fatigue and pain. Rest or leisure is good, too. It is somehow integral to the work process. Altfiough Genesis beautifully describes work and leisure, it is in Exo-dus and Deuteronomy that we learn more precisely where leisure comes from and, more importantly, what leisure is for. For the Israelites, the concept of leisure is identified with the tradi-tion of the Sabbath. This tradition is expressed explicitly in the fourth commandment: "Remember to keep holy the Sabbath Day" (Ex 20:8). The key phrase in that commandment is "keep hol~,." What exactly does "keep holy" mean? The remainder of that commandment explains what it means: "Six days you may labor and do all your work,, but the seventh day is the Sabbath of the Lord, your God" (Ex 20:9-10). The implication is that to "keep holy" means "not t.o work." But wl~y were the Israelites directed not to work on the Sabbath? The reason is found in Deuteronomy's version of the fourth command-ment. This version adds the following: Remember that you were a servant in the land of Egypt and that the Lord your God brought you out from there with a mighty hand and out-stretched arm; because of this, the Lord God has commanded you to keep the Sabbath (Dt 5:15). The reason for not working is found in the words "because of this." What does the "this" refer to? It refers to the exodus--the great work of Yahweh. In other words, the Israelites were directed not to work on the Sabbath in order to take time to remember their deliverance from bond-age in Egypt by a powerful yet loving God. In his book, Confessions of a Workaholic, Wayne Oates says that the chief motive for keeping the Sabbath was gratitude to God. It is not fear of God, nor the need to hew the line of ritualistic practice. Rather it is the motive of gratitude for deliverance from slavery, grati-tude for the gift ~f freedom. ~ But the Israelites were to do more than to set aside a day on which to thank God for their freedom--as important as that is. They were to express their gratitude to God by the way they used their precious gift of freedom during all the days of the week. Just as God had used his free-dom to free the Israelites from slavery, so, too, were they to use their 496 / Review for Religious, July-August 1989 freedom to free others from slavery--the slavery of ignorance, poverty, hunger, ill health, fear, old age or whatever form that slavery took. In his book, Flowers in the Desert, Demetrius Dumm, O.S.B., has written a beautiful section on the Ten Commandments. His treatment of the fourth commandment is especially relevant here. He sees the fourth commandment as a "transitional commandment"--one that comes af-ter the three commandments that are concerned with the Israelites' rela-tionship with God and one that comes before those six which govern the Israelites' relationship~with each other. The first three commandments called the Israelites to affirm the mystery of God, writes Dumm. They called the Israelites to trust in God's basic goodness, to see him not only .as powerful but as loving. The last six commandments direct the Israel-ites to affirm that same divine mystery present in every human being by the fact that he or she is created by God. Durum writes: Every creature deserves, therefore, to be respected because of its share of divine mystery. One of the most powerful tendencies of man is to eliminate mystery in his life because it cannot be controlled and thus seems threatening to him. The most natural way for man to control the mystery in :creation is through his labor. The Sabbath commandment or-ders the Israelite to interrupt his labor every seventh day as a reminder that that labor is intended by God to release the mystery in life and not crush it.2 What does all of this have to do with me personally and with my Christian faith? Maybe we can answer that question by taking a few "lei-sure moments" to reflect on these questions. What is my. attitude toward my work? Do I see it as a way of self-giving for the benefit of others, or do I view it as a drudgery or, worse yet, asia punishment? Is my work a way of earning God's love, or is it an expression of gratitude for God who loves me already? Is my work a way of serving others, or has it become my sole means of earning the esteem and respect of others? How is my work helping to free others from slavery--no matter what form that slavery might be? In my work, do I respect the divine mystery in creation and people, or is my work an attempt to control or manipulate creation and people? Have I become a slave to my work, or am I free to let go of it at times? Can I, for example, freely walk away from my work when lei-sure calls me to praye~, to relaxation, or to sleep? Have I learned the art of bringing each day.to a close, entrusting the fruits of my labor to the Lord? Do I set aside regular.time for leisure--for "mini-Sabbaths" and for longer ones? Do I use this "wasted time" to remember God's deliv- Work and Leisure / 497 erance.of me from sin, to reflect on his goodness to me, and to thank and praise him for his power and love? Can I just be with God or must I always be doing for him? Do I find the Lord both in my work and in my leisure? Do I take time to be with others, to enjoy their company, to play with them, to appreci-ate the divine mystery present in them? Or is the only time I am with others when I am working with them or for them? In conclusion, then, we have seen how a healthy balancing of work and leisure is essential for our Christian faith. In his article, "The Spiri-tual Value of Leisure," Leonard Doohan explains how work and leisure manifest our faith in God. Unlike those who profess some religions, we claim to believe that God is near to us, in us, in others, in the wonders of the world. Only in lei-sure dowe prove this belief by giving time to developing attitudes nec-essary to meet him. We also believe we can experience God personally and in community, but does our faith show this to others in the life we live? Are we "working" tourists who look at everything and see noth-ing, or do we pause, appreciate, wonder, and praise God who, we be-lieve, reveals himself in creation? It is not by work that we earn salva-tion, but in leisure that we appreciate that it is gift. Leisure is the cor-rective that puts work in perspective and shows forth our faith.3 NOTES ~ Wayne E. Oates, .Confessions of a Workaholic: The Facts about Work Addiction (Nashville: Abingdon, 1971), p. 35. 2 Demetrius Dumm, O.S.B., Flowers in the Desert: A Spirituality of the Bible (New York: Paulist, 1987), pp. 14-15. 3 Leonard Do6han, "The Spiritual Value of Leisure," Spirituality Today, 31 (June 1979), p. 164, Positive Wellness: Horizon for Religious Experience Jerome A. Cusumano, S.J. Father Jerry Cusumano, S.J., is a member of the Japanese Province of the Society of Jesus. He is currently engaged in studies at Arizona State University. His address is B:'ophy College Prep; 4701 N. Central: Phoenix, Arizona 85012. In this article I show how the integrated approach to health as exemplified in the holistic health movement can serve as a vehicle for opening a per-son's consciousness to the religious dimension of life. Since the goal of holistic health is "positive wellness," it is meant for those in good health who wish to achieve even better health, those who, in other words, are no longer focused on the negative problems of health such as giving up smoking, controlling drinking, losing weight, and so on. Holistic health encompasses at least the following four dimeffsions: nu-trition, exercise, awareness, and lifestyle. Since numerous self-help books as well as much scholarly research have more than adequately ex-plicated what is essential to each particular dimension, I do not intend to repeat here what has been better said elsewhere. However, I will briefly summarize what seems to be generally accepted in each area in order to establish a basis for the reflections which follow. 1 will treat the four basic factors in ascending order of importance. Nutrition Quantitatively, one should systematically "under-eat" in such a way as to maintain his body weight at the level it was when physical growth was completed, usually about the age of twenty. Qualitatively, one's diet should be based primarily on whole grains, raw vegetables, and fresh fruit. The diet should be, in yogic terms, sattvic, that is, nei- 498 Positive Wellness / 499 ther making the body sluggish nor stimulating it, but rather leaving it en-ergized and calm at the same time. Since one needs energy for exercise and calmness for awareness, a sattvic diet disposes the body properly for the next two dimensions of holistic health. Exercise Good food will not be adequately assimilated if the blood and oxy-gen circulation of the body are poor; conversely, a body kept in good condition will be healthy even on a poorer diet. Thus exercise is more important than nutrition for positive wellness. One needs to do some form of stretching exercises every day in order to maintain flexibility and alignment in the musculo-skeletal frame. What is gained during exercise times should be maintained at other times by sitting and standing in pos-tures which keep the shoulders and pelvis in line and the back straight. One also needs some form of daily aerobic exercise done for at least twenty minutes a session in order to revitalize and refresh the cardiovas-cular and respiratory systems by increasing the oxygen supply in the blood. The amount of time one devotes to exercise serves as a good gauge of one's desire for positive wellness. Nevertheless, even exercise is of less importance for positive wellness than the next dimension, aware-heSS. Awareness A period of at least twenty minutes a day should be devoted to some method of systematic awareness in the form of relaxation or meditation. The possibilities range over the spectrum from Feldenkrais's body aware-ness exercises or Jacobson's progressive relaxation method done in the prone, position, through the measured movements of Tai Chi done stand, ing and walking, to the one-pointed focusing of zazen or yoga done in the more demanding postures such as the full lotus. ~ Turning one's con-scious powers in on oneself while in slow m6vement and/or remaining still for a good length of time not only revitalizes the conscious mind and relaxes the body, but also provides a place where unconscious material, such as negative emotions, can .surface and be disposed of through aware-ness. While aerobic exercise refreshes one through an expenditure of en-ergy, in awareness one gathers his energy, concentrates it, and so re-charges himself. Furthermore, while it is possible to both eat well and exercise enough, and yet still lead a harried life, this is not possible for one who wishes to practice awareness regularly. The daily period set aside for purposefully quieting both body and mind through awareness presupposes a lifestyle conducive to such an activity. Thus awareness is 500 I Review for Religious, July-August 1989 both the support of and the fruit of an ordered lifestyle which is the fourth and most important dimension for positive wellness. Lifestyle In proportion as a stressful lifestyle has deleterious effects on the physical and psychical organism, so also a relaxed lifestyle is the single most important factor in promoting positive wellness. Such a lifestyle in-cludes a job ohe feels satisfied with and sees as worthwhile, as well as a personal life that has sufficient rest, satisfying human relationships, and some absorbing interests. Requisite to such a lifestyle, however, is a I . clear conception of the purpose of one's life, which serves as an implicit criterion by which one can judge which activities are to be undertaken and which relationsh.ips fostered. With a relaxed lifestyle and a clear pur-pose in life a man may reach a state of positive wellness even though he does not scrupulously follow all the directives with regard to nutri-tion, exercise, and awareness. Actually, a clear grasp of the purpose of one's life gives a meaning to striving for positive wellness. "Maintain-ing good physical and mental health is like preserving two fine instru-ments which can be used to carry out the purpose of life . Thus it is clear that the basis of holistic health lies in one's understanding the purpose of his life and learning how to achieve that purpose."2 Religious Experience The state of positive wellness, achieved and maintained by the inte-grated approach of the holistic health movement as summarized above, can dispose one to be more receptive to the transcendental and religious dimension of life. One becomes accustomed to an habitual state of vigor, energy, and wellness which hecan no longer do without. To use Glas-ser's term, one has developed a positive addiction to health itself. This addiction to positive wellness has its source in the good feelings gener-ated through the "spiritualization" of one's body by the increased vi-tality attained through conscious effort and the "physicalization" of one's mind by the greater calmness achieved through attention to bodily processes. At peak moments this dual action issues into a harmony which Glasser call the PA (positive addiction) state. "In the PA state the mind flows with the body. The two cease completely to be antagonistic to each other and blend into one. The state of positive addiction to health is experienced as a drive from within oneself, but not an instinctual drive such as that for sex, nor as a drive stemming from the force of one's will. One feels that he has tapped into another force which is now pulling him to higher levels of Positive Wellness health. Yoga terminology calls this force the Self as opposed to the self. However, it might just as well be conceived in terms of health itself. The healthier one becomes, the more he makes contact with the body's own innate drive to good health and experiences the power of that drive. He gradually opens his consciousness to the life force within him and allows it to work of itself. The healthier one becomes, the more he can tap into this life force. Paradoxically, this means that one becomes a "spiritual" person not by ignoring the body in the pursuit of higher interest, but rather by infusing the body with spirit, that is, by directing one's consciousness to the health of the body in such a way as to energize it as fully as possible. As a result one becomes a more suitable vehicle to channel the energy of life within himself and to others. "As you continue to develop your channels of energy, you will notice differences in your entire being, and these will likewise be observed by those around you, who also benefit from the increase in energy flow."4 Energizing the body through sustained, systematic daily care of one's health puts one into contact with a Life greater than one's own. It is this Life, more than individual will power, which makes possible the main-tenance of a sane lifestyle and consistent attention to nutrition, exercise, and awareness demanded for positive wellness. For some this may be the first step to recognition of transcendent being. For others it may be a preparation through a new experience of satisfaction from taking respon-sibility for one's life. As Bloomfield says, "There is joy in taking full responsibility for your health and happiness.''5 Children at play, fully alive and vibrant, exemplify the joy he speaks of. Theirs is a joy spring-ing from the flexibility and agility of their bodies as well as from the care-free state of mind in which they live. Paradoxically, Ardell notes, it is only as one grows older that he can fully enjoy youth.6 Conclusion If pursued within the holistic health framework the current quest of many for youthfulness and positive wellness can become the occasion for opening oneself to transcendent and religious experience. For positive wellness makes one aware of the source of Life itself. NOTES ~ M. Feldenkrais, Awareness Through Movement, (New York: Harper and Row, 1972), E. Jacobson, You Must Relax, (London: Unwin Paperbacks, 1980). 2 S. Rama, A Practical Guide to Holistic Health, (Honesdale, Pennsylvania: The 50~. / Review for Religious, July-August 1989 Himalayan Publishers, 1980), p. 13. 3 W. Glasser, Positive Addiction, (New York: Harper and Row, 1976), p. 56. '~ R. Shames, The Gift of Health, (New York: Bantam Books, 1982), p. 140. 5 H. Bloomfield, The Holistic Way to Health and Happiness, (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1978), p. 274. 6 D. Ardell, High Level Wellness, (New York: Bantam Books, 1981), p. 67. Full Circle Morning did come! Rise with the full-day Sun! Work begun. Thy Will be done! Day half-spent, Rest in the noonday Sun! Renewed, refre~shed--run! Day-work, toil done. Daystar, noon, setting Sun. Rest! Be still! Tomorrows come . . . maybe? Glory be! Walter Bunofsky, S.V.D. 1446 E. Warne Avenue St. Louis, Missouri 63107 Striving for Spiritual Maturity: Ideals as Obstacles Wilkie Au, S.J. Father Wilkie Au, S.J., has been working in psychological counseling and spiritual direction. He served for six years as novice director for the Jesuit California Prov-ince. He may be addressed at Loyola Marymount College; Jesuit Community; P.O. Box 45041; Los Angeles, California 90045-0041. The metaphor of a journey captures well what most adults come sooner or later to realize about spiritual and psychological growth: it is a never-ending series of changes and struggles. In a word, it is a hard road to travel. It is tied to the ways we respond to the crises of human life. These crises are both predictable and unpredictable. The predictable ones have been outlined in the literature of deve!opmental psychology, which de-picts the pattern of adult growth, not as an undisturbed straight line, but as a zigzag process often full of setbacks and frustrations. The unpre-dictable crises are easily recognized: sudden illnesses, career disappoint-ments, interpersonal misunderstandings, the loneliness of ruptured rela-tionships, the separation of death or divorce. When faced with the strug-gles that are the inescapable conditions of growth, people frequently ask themselves: "Why go on? Why keep trying, if there is no chance of suc-cess? What difference does it make any way?" The frustrations of seem-ingly endless change--new jobs, new residences, new relationships-- force many to question whether it is worth all the effort. These are nei-ther theoretical nor abstract questions. They emerge from the concrete experience of striving to grow in holiness and wholeness. These quan-daries frame the struggle to love as Jesus commanded. An effective spirituality today must strengthen the individual's com-mitment to the ongoing process of sanctification and maturation. It must 503 ~i04/Review for Religious, July-August 1989 do this by reminding us that God is always close by with divine love and power to help us in our struggles. As followers of the risen Christ, we are called to believe that "the power.by which life is sustained and in-vited toward wholeness is no human creation and abides and remains steadfast even in a world where death does have dominion over every individual." ~ As in other human journeys, we reach the destination of our spiri-tual pilgrimage only gradually. However, there is a paradoxical nature to the spiritual sojourn. While alive, we will never fully reach our goal of union with God and others. Yet, being on the spiritual path is already a way of attaining that end. God is to be enjoyed not only at the end of the search, .but all along the way. The Christmas story of the magi illus-trates this truth. God was present to them not only when they joyfully arrived at the cave in Bethlehem, but also in the original stirrings that sent them off in search of the promised Messiah. God's presence was also experienced in a guiding star that directed them through dark nights and in a dream that warned them of Herod's threat. They experienced God's support, too, in the encouragement they gave each other through-out an uncharted search that took them miles from home. God is more present to us than we think. Our search for union with God is life-long, often a strenuous trek punctuated by dark passages. If we are to persevere, we must take cour-age in God's abiding presence all along the way. Even as we are travel-ing towards God as destiny, Emmanuel is already with us in manifold ways. The disciples of Jesus were once given a dramatic lesson about how Christ is ever-present. One day they were crossing the Lake of Gali-lee when a fierce storm enveloped their little boat. Frightened by vio-lent winds, the apostles were stricken with panic. Suddenly, Jesus ap-peared to them walking on the water. He told them, "It is I. Do not be afraid" (Jn 6:21). Jesus then calmed the storm, and the boat quickly came to shore. The significance of Jesus' words is clear when we look at the original text. The Greek has Jesus saying "ego eimi" which liter-ally means "I am." In the Septuagint, the Greek translation of the Old Testament, the phrase "ego eimi" is used as a surrogate for the divine name (Ex 3:14). It is Yahweh's response to Moses' question, "Who shall I say sent me?" In placing these words in Jesus' mouth, John ex-p~' esses the early Church's belief in the divinity of Christ. The good news affirmed in this Johannine passage is identical to that contained in Mat-thew's story of the magi: God is always with us in our journeys through life. This truth must permeate our consciousness, especially when our Striving for Spiritual Maturity / 505 fragile boat is rocked by waves of worry and troublesome torrents. In our fear and confusion, we need to recognize the presence of the risen Jesus drawing near to us to still the storm. Calm will descend on us when we hear Jesus say, "Do not be afraid. It is I." Letting Go of Flawless Images ~The journey metaphor most accurately reflects reality when it is seen as a zigzag pattern i'ather than as an uninterrupted straight line. Human growth is not a process that moves relentlessly ahead in a single direc-tion. It, rather, is a mixture of progressions and regressions. At times, we experience forward movements; on other occasions, slips indicate re-gress; and sometimes, no matter how much effort we expend, we find ourselves at a standstill, seemingly stuck at a developmental plateau. Is this wrong? To the contrary. Accepting the jerky aspect of growth and relinquishing the illusion of a forever smooth-flowing journey is not only necessary but will bring serenity to our striving for maturity. Failures should not produce despair; temporary plateaus need not trigger paraly-sis. The expectation of a flawless journey is counterproductive because it misrepresents the process of developmenta~l growth. It also distorts the truth of what it means to be a human being. A view of the human person which does not acknowledge that sinfulness casts a shadow on every person is unrealistic. Such a notion can also have harmful effects. Our sinful condition renders us radically weak. In an iron'ic way, not to admit to our weakened capacity leads us to a sense of perversity and guilt rather than worthiness and self-acceptance. The refusal "to recognize the persistent ambiguity and the final impotence of our lives tantalizes us with an optimistic promise of self-evolved be-coming," concli~des theologian LeRoy Aden. It also "stands in danger of giving us a sense of failure and despair to the extent that we do not achieve it. ,.,2 Thus, failure to acknowledge the shadow aspect of human personality, diminishes, not enhances, self-esteem. Aden elaborates on the harmful effects of a naively optimistic view of human development in the context of a critique of Carl Rogers, the father of client-centered therapy and a major influence in the field of pas-toral counseling. Aden objects to a basic hypothesis of client-centered therapy: the belief that persons have within themselves the ongoing ca-pacity to reorganize their lives in the direction of maturity and fulfill-ment if the proper psychological climate is present. Concretely,. this hy-pothesis presupposes that if the counselor communicates empathy, warmth, acceptance, and genuineness, a client wil~ naturally begin to manifest behavior that enhances the true self. According to Aden, "Ro- 506 / Review for Religious, July-August 1989 gers' faith in the individual's ability to choose the good is absolute. He entertains no qualifications. He allows no doubts.In fact, therapists who begin to question the hypothesis and who shift to another mode of inter-action only confuse the client and defeat their own purpose."3 Roger~ clung tenaciously to his belief in the individual's absolute ca-pacity for constructive and enhancing behavior. Aden recounts an inci-dent in Rogers' life in which he nearly destroyed his own psychic health by maintaining at all cost this article of faith. Rogers once dealt with a very disturbed woman who continually demanded more of him--more time, more warmth, more realness. Although he began to doubt his own adequacy and to lose the boundaries between himself and the client, Ro-gers was very reluctant to let go. Finally, when he realized that he was on the edge of a personal breakdown,he swiftly referred the client to a psychiatric colleague and left town for an extended period. He eventu-ally sought therapy to overcome feelings of complete inadequacy as a therapist and deep worthlessness as a person. According to Aden, this "event shows that Rogers would doubt him-self as a therapist and as a person before he would question his basic faith in the individual.''4 Rogers had provided his disturbed client ~,ith un-derstanding and acceptance over an extended period of time. Neverthe-less, she got progressively more dependent and sicker, bordering on psy-chosis. Her behavior explicitly challenged the very foundation of his the-ory. Thus, it was easier for him to doubt his own worth as a clinician than to reexamine the linchpin of his therapeutic creed. Belief in the in-dividual's indomitable capacity for ongoing growth and actualization had to be maintained at all cost. Forgiveness: The End Point of Life Carl Rogers has made many contributions to pastoral counseling, but his trust in the absolute ability of individuals to grow continually toward fulfillment is a harmful assumption for Christians. It contradicts Christi-anity's deepest insight into the human person as radically good, yet bur-dened by sinfulness. This sinful condition impedes our struggle for growth in holiness and maturity~ It often leads to imperfect fulfillment. Unlike the contemporary tendency to absolutize fulfillment as the basic truth and the final goal of human existence, Christian faith reiterates the good news proclaimed by Christ: forgiveness is the endpoint of human life. Thus faulty fulfillment and incomplete development need not worry those who trust in the forgiving love of God. In thelend, we will fully enjoy the unconditional acceptance of God, not because we are flawless, Striving for Spiritual Maturity / 507 but in spite of our imperfections. Our merciful God's gift of forgiveness means that we "cannot and need not measure up to any conditions of worth."5 When forgiveness, and not fulfillment, is seen as the endpoint of our lives, we can live with greater acceptance of our weaknesses and with greater hope in God's power to complete what grace has started. No longer will the ambiguity of our fulfillment judge us, nor the impo-tence of our efforts condemn us. With St. Paul, we are "quite certain that the One who began this good work" in us "will see that it is fin-ished when the Day of Christ Jesus comes" (Ph 1:6). As Aden states beau-tifully., the promise of ultimate forgiveness "allows us to be incomplete and yet complete, estranged and yet related, distorted and yet fulfilled." When our journey reaches its termination, we will be wrapped in God's merciful arms, like the prodigal son. Because "you are forgiven" will be the final words we will hear, we are freed from the compulsive need to actualize perfectly our human potential and are released from the guilt that accompanies falling short of that goal. "Success and failure are accidental," writes one spiritual writer. "The'joy of the Christian is never based on . . . success but on the knowledge that (one's) Redeemer lives."6 Thus, the author encour-ages us to learn to li~,e peacefully to the end of our life with a certain imperfecti6n: The Lord will never ask how successful we were in overcoming a par-ticular vice, sin, or imperfection. He will ask us, "Did you humbly and patiently accept this mystery of iniquity in your life? How did you deal with it? Did you learn from it to be patient and humble? Did it teach you to trust not your own ability but my love? Did it enable you to under-stand better the mystery of iniquity in the lives of others?' ,7 Our lack of perfection will never separate us from God because the Lord's forgiveness is always perfect and total. What to Do Until the Messiah Comes Until that day of Christ Jesus, when we will receive "the perfec-tion that comes through faith in Christ and is from God," we are called to strive for the goal without ceasing (Ph 3: 9-10). We are to imitate St. Paul in his deep yearning "to have Christ and be given a place in him" (Ph 3:9). We have not yet won, but are still running, trying to capture the prize for which Jesus captured us. We too must forget the past and strain ahead for what is still to come. We must, in Paul's words, race "for the finish, for the prize to which God calls us upward to receive in Christ Jesus" (Ph 3: 14). Review for Religious, July-August 1989 Paul's expression of the Christian goal is beautifully poetic. We must look to a contemporary spirituality, however, to translate it into real-life terms. As a guide to Christian living, a spirituality' must spell out the prac-tical dimensions of that vision. It should keep the Gospel ideals eve~r be-fore the Christian sojourner. These ideals are meant to help Christians finish the spiritu~.l race and to receive a place in Christ. They can be use-ful in our spiritual odyssey. Like the stars, they may never be reached; but they are useful to steer our lives by. Ideals can hinder us, however, and discourage us from trying when the fear of performing poorly para-lyzes us. The French saying, "The best is the enemy of the good," il-lustrates this attitude of fearfulness. Ideals impede our spiritual progress when we use them as an excuse for mediocrity, thinking to ourselves: "Christian holiness is something for saintly people, not ordinary folks like us. ". Furthermore, ideals are injurious when they lure us into think-ing that we can earn God's approval by doing everything perfectJy. Paul refers to this as seeking a perfection that comes from the Law rather than from faithin Jesus (Ph 3:9). When striving for holine~ ss deceives us int6 thinking that we can stand in pharisaical judgment over others, we have been seduced by pride. Finally, ideals are harmful when they lead to cyni-cism and disillusionment. That no one fully lives up to espoused values should not undermine the importance of having high aspirations. The fail-ure of sincere efforts should not disillusion us, but the apathy of not try-ing should appall us. Dreaming is not the same as doing. Ideals should inspire us to act, not merely to dream. Thoughts of what could be tomorrow should lead us to do what we can today. When lofty aspirations lead to romantic pre-occupation rather than realistic pursuits, they retard our spiritual devel-opment. In a letter to a friend, C. S. Lewis makes this point nicely: We read of spiritual efforts, and our imagination makes us believe that, because we enjoy the idea of doing them, we have done them. I am ap-palled to see how much of the change which I thought I had undergone lately was on!y imaginary. The real workseems still to be done. It is so fatally easy to confuse an aesthetic appreciation of the spiritual life with the life itself--to dream that you have waked, washed, and dressed and then to find yourself still in bed.8 No matter how grand our ideals, they can only be achieved through small but steady steps. As the Chinese sage Lao Tze stated centuries ago, "The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step." We must bear this wise saying in mind as we let the star of idealism lead us, as with the magi, incompanionship to the Messiah. Striving for Spiritual Maturity / 509 Activity and Passivity in Spiritual Striving Striving for spiritual maturity is paradoxical. It requires us to be si-multaneously active and passive. We are called to exert our efforts and use our God-given talents to develop ourselves. And, at the same time, we must remember that our efforts alone can never bring us to holiness and wholeness; only God's grace can effect our transformation into Christ. While we ultimately cannot save ourselves, we must neverthe-less cooperate with divine grace. We must dispose ourselves to be re-ceptive to the sanctifying action of God's touch. In our spiritual journey we have to negotiate a delicate passage between the Scylla of presump-tion and the Charybdis of despair. Presumption, according.to St. Tho-mas Aquinas, is "an unwarranted dependence upofi God."9 It is the at-titude that God will do it all and that our efforts are not important. Fos-tering irresponsible inaction, it keeps us from doing our part. Despair, on the other hand, is losing hope in God's saving power. It stems from an exclusive reliance on our efforts, without any trust in God's power to make up for Qur human limitations. It results from thinking that eve-rything depends on us alone. Only ongoing discernment can help us main-tain the right balance in our spirituality between personal effort and trust-ing reliance on God. Both dynamics are encouraged by Scripture. Many New. Testament passages attest to the need to rely on God's power in order to bear spiritual fruit in our lives. A beautiful expression of this is the Johannine image of God as the vinedresser. Jesus is the vine and we are the branches. The Father prunes us so that we might bear fruit (Jn 15: I-2). Spiritual growth is passive in the sense that purification and progress are the direct results of God's action upon us. The evangelist Mark reinforces the centrality of God's action in his parable about the seed growing by itself. This is what the kingdom of God is like. A man throws seed on the land. Night and day, while he sleeps, when he is awake, the seed is sprouting and growing; how, he does not know. Of its own accord the land pro-duces first the shoot, then the ear, then the full grain in the ear. And when the crop is ready, he loses no time; he starts to reap because the harvest has come (Mk 4:26-29). Notice that the farmer's work is described with a minimum of words. The emphasis falls on the mysterious process of growth. Just as the earth produces fruit spontaneously, so God's reign comes by divine power alone. Once the seed is planted, the result is as sure, as dependable, and as silent as the forces of nature. Stage by stage--first the green shoot, then the spike of corn, and then the full grain in the ear--the seed of S10 /Review for Religious, July-August 1989 God's reign grows to harvest in a way that the farmer does not under-stand. This parable reminds us that nature (God's creation) contains a power which humans do not make or~direct. Similarly, God's grace will bring about conversion and growth in us in ways we may not understand. In human lives, the Spirit of Jesus is the divine power that brings God's kingdom from seed to harvest. When we remember that God's 'work-ing in us,.can do more than we can ask or imagine' (Ep 3:20), we will be protected from the pride and anxiety that stem from the myth of total self-sufficiency. But Scripture also stresses the importance of human effort. Luke's gospel strongly urges followers of Christ to translate words into action. "Why do you call me Lord, Lord," asks Jesus, "and not do what I say?" (Lk 6:46). Everyone who comes to me and listens to my words and acts on them ¯ . . is like the man who when he built his house dug, and dug deep, and laid the foundations on rock; when the river was in flood it bore down on that house but could not shake it, it was so well built. But the one who listens and does nothing is like the man who built his house on soil, with no foundations: as soon as the river bore down on it, it col-lapsed; and what a ruin that house became! (Lk 6:47-49). Jesus not only challenges us to practice his teachings, but also warns that our very hearing of his word must be done with care. In the parable of the sower and the seed, he describes the fragility ofthe seed of God's word. If it is not received by the right soil, it will not take root and grow. Grains that fall on the edge of the path represent people who have heard the word of God, but have it stolen from their hearts by the forces of evil. Seeds that fall on rock are like people who receive the word in a superfi-cial way, and give up in time of trial. Those that fall in the midst of thorns are Christians who let worries, riches, and pleasures of life choke their growth, preventing it from reaching maturity. Grains that fall in the rich soil signify those of generous hearts who have let the word take deep roots in themselves and have yielded a harvest through their persever-anc. e (Lk 8:11-15). Emphasizing the importance of human effort in dis-posing the soil of the inner self for receiving the word, Jesus concludes with a warning: "So take care how you hear" (Lk 8: 18). While Mark's parable of the seed growing by itself stresses the power of God actively bringing about growth, Luke's parable emphasizes the necessity of en-ergetic human cooperation. Another Lukan parable about a fruitless fig tree highlights the im-portance of personal effort. When its owner realized that his tree had Striving for Spiritual Maturity been barren for three years, he ordered his gardener to remove it. In-stead, the caretaker pleaded, "Sir, leave it one more year and give me time to dig round it and manure it: it may bear fruit next year; if not, then you can cut it down" (Lk 13:8-9). We too are called to actively tend the seed of God's word so that it can take deep roots in our souls and can bear fruit for the world. A classical biblical text used to illustrate the need for docility to God's formative action in our lives is Jeremiah's visit to the potter. Watch-ing the artisan working at his wheel, the prophet noticed that he contin-ued to shape and reshape the clay until he created what he was envision-ing. Then the word of Yahweh came to Jeremiah as follows: "House of Israel, can I not do to you what this potter does?. Yes, like clay in the potter's hand, so you are in mine, House of Israel" (Jr 18:1-6). While the image of the human person as clay being shaped by the divine Potter testifies beautifully to God's active involvement in our spiritual development, it should not be used to justify excessive passivity or in-fantile irresponsibility. While trying to be malleable to the fashioning in-fluence of God, Christians are called to take adult responsibility for their growth. This means taking active means to deepen one's love for God and neighbor. Activity and passivity must coexist in dynamic tension, if we are to remain.spir!tually healthy. In describing her Jeremiah-like visit to a pot-ter at work in Provincetown, situated at the tip of Cape Cod, a recent writer shed light on the active-passive dimension of spiritual formation. The observer discovered that the artist,, a woman-of more than seventy years, was a wise person as well as a potter. After conveying her belief in the direct relationship between the pliability of the clay and its strength, the artisan added, almost as an aside, "If you can't bend a lit-tle and give some, life will eventually break you. It's just the way it is, you know." ~0 The visitor noticed that the potter worked with both hands: one placed inside, applying pressure on the clay; the other on the out-side of the gradually forming pot,. Too much pressure from the outside would cause the pot to collapse, while too much pressure from the in-side would make the pot bulge outward. The old potter spoke wisely about life: Life, like the pot I am turning, is shaped by two sets of opposing forces ¯ . . Sadness and death and misfortune and the love of friends and all the things that happened to m~ that I didn't even choose. All of that in-fluenced my life. But there are things I believe in about myself, my faith in God, and the love of some friends that worked on the insides of me. ~ 512 / Review for Religious,. July-August 1989 Like Jeremiah, this modern day potter sheds light on the Lord's ways of dealing with us. The Lord who calls us to be holy is also the One who forms us into the image of Jesus, the living icon, of God. This divine Art-ist works on us with two hands: one shaping us from the inside and an-other molding us from the outside. Like the clay pot, we need to be mal- . leable. And, paradoxically, our pliability will give us strength to per-severe ac~tively in the process. Knowing how to bend a little will keep us from breaking. Experience as Manure in the Spiritual Field In the spiritual project of transformation into Christ, effort is what counts, not unremitting success. Acclaiming the value of practice in spiri-tual growth, the Eastern guru Chogyam Trungpa speaks of the "manure of experience and the field of bohdi." ~-~ Bohdi represents the search for enlightenment. If we are skilled and p~tient enough to sift through our experiences and study them thoroughly, we can use them to aid our en-lightenment. Our experiences, 'our mistakes, and even our failures func-tion like fertilizer. According to Trungpa, to deny or cover up our errors is a waste of experience. When we do not scrutinize our failures for the lessons they contain, we miss an opportunity. What appears to be use-less trash contains potential .nutrients for life. But, to convert our defi-ciencies into positive value, we need to pile them on a compost heap, not sweep them behind a bush. Hiding failure is to store it like rubbish. "And if you store it like that," the guru remarks, "you would not have enough manure to raise a crop from the wonderful field of bodhi.''~3 In a parallel way, experience can be said to be manure in the field of Christian development. Like manure, past experiences must be plowed into the ground to enrich the inner soil of the self, making it more re-ceptive to. the see.d of God's word. Then, we will reap an abundant har-vest base~l on our perseverance. Mistakes need not ruin our spiritual jour-ney, if we learn from them. Even saints like Augustine of Hippo and Ig-natius of Loyola learned how not to make mistakes by making many. The Lord who desires our holiness can bring good out of everything, can work in any and all of our experiences to transform us. In our fragmen-tation, we rejoice in the power of God to bring wholeness. If we bring our weakness before the Lord, humbly asking for the help of enabling grace, we can then trust that the Lord will produce an abundant harvest. Spiritual Growth Through Trial and Error The ideals of Christian spirituality cannot be achieved without im-mersing ourselves in the messiness of nitty-gritty experience. Learning Striving for Spiritual Maturity how to love God and others in an integrated way comes only through daily practice. The way of trial and error, not book learning alone, will teach us how to fashion a dynamic and balanced life in which there is room for solitude and community, ministry and leisure, autonomy and intimacy, personal transformation and social reform, prayer and play. Striking the right balance is a highly personal matter. No one can attain it for us; we must discover it ourselves through personal experience. As theologian John Dunne states, "Only one who has tried the extremes can find this personal mean., on the other hand, trying the extremes will not necessarily lead to finding the mean. Only the [person] who perceives the shortcomings of.the extremes will find it. 14 Blessings for the Journey Achieving wholeness and holiness requires traversing the difficult ter-rain of real life with all its challenges and crises. Even at the end of a lifetime of effort, we will still need to be completed by the finishin~g touch of the divine Artist. God will .then bring to completion in us the eternal design of persons destined to love wholeheartedly. While await-ing that unifying touch of divine grace, we pilgrims are called to follow the way of Jesus. And the Lord who walks with us assures that we will always be blessed. The blessings sent our way may not always be enjoy-able, but they will always nudge us forward in our efforts to love as God i'ntended. °~ A rabbi was once asked, "What is a blessing?" He prefaced his an-swer with a riddle involving the creation account in chapter one of Gene-sis. The riddle went this way: After finishing his work on each of the first five days, the Bible states, "God saw that it was good." But God is not reported to have commented on the goodness of what was created on the sixth day when the human person was fashioned. "What conclu-sion can you draw from tha~?" asked the rabbi. Someone volunteered, "We can conclude that the human person ~s not good." "Possibly," the rabbi nodded, "but that's not a likely explanation." He then went on to explain that the Hebrew word translated as "good" in Genesis is the word "tov," which is better translated as "complete." That is why, the rabbi contended, God did not declare the human person to be "toy." Human beings are created incomplete. It is our life's vocation to collabo-rate with our Creator in fulfilling the Christ-potential in each of us. As the medieval mystic Meister Eckhart suggested, Christ longs to be born and developed into fullness in each of us.~5 A blessing is anything that enters into the center of our lives and expands our capacity to be filled with Christ's love. Therefore, a blessing may not always be painless, but Review for Religious, July-August 1989 it will always bring spiritual growth. Being blessed does not mean being perfect, but being completed. To be blessed is not to get out of life what we think we want. Rather, itis the assurance that God's purifying grace is active in us, so that our "hidden self (may) grow strong" and "Christ may live in (our) hearts through faith." In this way, we will with all the saints be "filled with the utter fullness of God" (Ep 3:16-19). NOTES I Sam Keen, "Manifesto for a Dionysian Theology," in New Theology No. 7, eds. Martin E. M~irty and Dean G. Peerman (New York: Macmillan, 1970), p. 97. 2 LeRoy Aden, "On Carl Rogers" Becoming,"Theology Today XXXVI:4 (Jan. 1980), p. 558. 3 lbid, p. 557. 4 Ibid. 5 lbid, p. 558. 6 Adrian van Kaam, Religion and Personality (Denville, New Jersey: Dimension Books, 1980), p. 15. 7 lbid, p. 15. 8 C.S. Lewis, The3, Stand Together: The Letters of C.S. Lewis to Arthur Greeves (1914-1963), ed. Walter Hooper (New York: The Macmillan Co., Inc. 1979), p. 361. 9 Saint Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, Latin Text and English Translation, Introductions, Notes, Appendices, and GIossaries,~Vol. 33 (Blackfriars, with New York: McGraw-Hill and London: Eyre & Spottiswoode, 1966), II-II, Q 21, a I, ad 1. ~0 Paula Ripple, Growing Strong at Broken Places (Notre Dame, Indiana: Ave Ma-ria Press, 1986), p. 68. ~ Ibid, p. 69. ~z Chogyam Trungpa, Meditation in Action (Boston: Shambhala, 1985), p. 26. ~3 Ibid. ~4 John Dunne, The Way of All the Earth (New York: MacMillan Company, 1972), pp. 37-38. ~5 Meister Eckhart once said: "What good is it to me if Mary gave birth to the son of God fourteen hund'r~ed years ago and I do not also give birth to the son of God in my time and in my culture?" As quoted in Matthew Fox, Original Blessing: A Primer in Creation Spirituality (Santa Fe, New Mexico: Bear & Company, 1983), p. 221. The Shifting Order of Religious Life in our Church Maryanne Stevens, R.S.M. Sister Maryanne Stevens, R.S.M., is currently Assistant Professor of Theology at Creighton University. She had served as formation director for the Sisters of Mercy, Province of Omaha from 1977-1982. Her address is Department of Theology; Creighton University; California at 24th Street; Omaha, Nebraska 68178. The difficulty of thinking thorough questions about religious life today should not be underestimated. Such reflection is often complicated by the fact that those straining to see and articulate what the shifts in relig-ious orders mean for their future in our Church are often themselves mem-bers Of religious congregations. Thus, the efforts to make sense of vowed living can be blindedoby both self-interests and past~ ways of understand-ing. Th6 blindness feels to me like the fuzzy sight of Mark's blind man who could see people "but they look like trees, walking" (Mk 8:24). It was only after the man "looked intently" that he was able to see ev-erything clearly. This ~article is more an attempt to describe the "tree walking" than to asser(any.de~finitive conclusions. Two circumstances in particular have sparked my own reflections on the changing order of religious life. First, we continue to have members "leaving." They do not leave in the dark of night as they did in the 1950s; rather many stand before us in assembly or community saying that their integrity prevents them from +ontinuing to live the vowed life, but they wish always to remain ""sister" or "brother" to us. Many are not immediately interested in a different lifestructure, for example, marriage, personal wealth, and so forth; rather, they are no longer able to connect celibacy, poverty, and obedience to any understanding of their life. Secondly, those within religious communities primarily vested with 515 516 / Review for Religious~ July-August 1989 the role of discerning vocations and incorporating new members are no longer called the "formation-vocation" team. They are now referred to as the "membership team." Some of these new membership teams are made up of non-vowed associates of the community~ as well as vowed members. The job description of these teams is unclear even though it includes the discernment of vocation and the incorporation of new mem-bers because vocation and membership have taken on new meanings. Vo-cation is not necessary to the "vowed" life and membership does not necessitate professing the vows. The new terminology and the alteration in the constitution of the teams are profound symbols of a "changing order." These two realities--members continuing to remain attached to con-gregations even though they "leave" and the development of "mem-bership teams"--can allow for i~ew insight into how, with decreasing numbers,,religious orders will continue the legacy of their foun~lresses or founders, women and men whose gifts have been confirmed as a vivi-fying influence in the Church and the world.2 These gifts or charisms are the animating characteristics for the style of life, witness, and apostolic action within the congregations. Membership within a congregation has meant at its most basic level that a person'believes he or she is called to re-offer the charis~m of the founder to the contemporary world. This offering is buttressed by the belief that the gifts of the founder or foun-dress are not time-bound and will continueto contribute to a further ap-proximation of the reign of God in history. Thus the Sisters of Merc~y (the "order" to which I belong) present the foundation for their exis-tence as the desire to continue the story of a nineteenth-century Irish woman, Catherine McAuley, in theChurch and in the world. This par-ticular goal is expressed by tfieir fourtti vow of gervice and through the wording of their present Constituiions which point to the ideals of their congregation as well as the way they presently understand their congre-gation and words the way they presently understand th6ir mission as a community within the Church. By the vow of service we commit ourselves to exercise the spiritual and corporal works of mercy revealed to us through~ t~,h.e life of Jesus. En-riched by his love, healed by his mercy and0taught by his word we serve the poor, sick, and ignorant. To celebrate our corporate word in a discordant society requires the courage of a deep'faith and interior joy. We believe that God is faithful and that our struggle to follow Christ will extend God's reign of love over human hearts. We rejoice in the continued invitation to seek jus- The Shifting Order of Religious Life tice, to be compassionate, and to reflect mercy to the world.3 The thesis of this article is simply that the clues for how to continue the legacy of a particular founder or foundress will be found by looking intently at how the tradition of the founder or foundress continues to be lived, seeking to confirm all those ~'ho focus their discipleship of Christ through the prism of his or her life and legacy. In order to amplify this thesis, I will discuss eight understandings that result from an attempt to "look intently," and then present several ideas intended to help the "re-ordering" of religious communities. But, first, one caveat is necessary. No matter how blind men and women religious feel as they grope toward an understanding of their .lives, they must trust that they faithfully embody the tradition of the par-ticular foundress.or founder. When I was in formation work in the 1970s, I was fond of telling the newer .members that the Sisters of Mercy were made up of the names in the current directory and the names on the tomb-stones in our cemeteries. This was the most concrete way of describing what they were getting into~companionship with persons who were char-acterized by a variety of shapes, sizes, quirks, personalities, sickness, gifts, skills, weaknesses, ideas, and so forth--but with one thing in com-mon: they all believed they were called to focus their discipleship through the story of Catherine McAuley. It seemed essential that each member act toward the other with the belief that each sister was a part of this tradition and that all were searching for what was necessitated by the call to appropriately renew the story (or tradition) in the light of the sources of Christian life, the original inspiration behind the community and the changed condition of the times.'* At that time I was pointing the novices toward the vowed members of the group, the Sisters. Now the names in our directory include asso-ciate, that is non-vowed, members who have made a contract with us in which we promise our support for their attempts to live the tradition of Catherine McAuley and they promise specific ways in which they will contribute to the offering of Catherine's gifts to the Body of Christ. There-fore, wl~ether we be Sister JaneSmith, R.S.M. or Jane Smith, Associ-ate of the Sisters of Mercy, we must believe in and support one another as we seek to embody the tradition of our foundress. Each of us brings only a part of the story, thus each person who focuses his or her disci-pleship through the same tradition helps focus the present and the future "order" of one's specific congregation. Part I The following are my understandings of religious life today: I ) Men and women in religious orders are disciples of Jesus. We be- 511~ / Review for Religious, July-August 1989 long to a pilgrim people searching for the reign of God. We are blinded by sin and limitation as we seek to discover the ways of our God as re-vealed through Jesus. We learn how to follow Jesus in our times and in our circumstances. The primary mode of ou'r learning is experiential. It is complex and it calls us to struggle with our daily realities to see anew w,hat patterns in 6ur lives need conversion. The greatest threat to our dis-cipleship is to think that we have learned enough or to reduce the reign of God to the glimpses of glory which we see in our own time. Liberation theology is probably the clearest indication to today's Church that it is still on pilgrimage. Begun with Moses' vision of a God who had heard the crying out of the Israelite slaves, reiterated in Han-nah's canticle that praises God as one who will raise up the lowly, and reborn in the 1970s through the efforts of those struggling to see God and understand God's ways from the experience of twentieth-century op-pression, this theology reminds us as a Church that we are still learning not only how, but where to find Jesus.5 2) Members of religious orders are those who are disciples of a par-ticular charismatic leader recognized by our Church. Recognizing that our stories do not belong to the time and culture of the founder or foun-dress, the charisms of these characters and their companions are a way of expressing discipleship in Christ. To be members ofa religious con-gregation~ is to take one way of interpreting discipleship of Jesus, namely the life of a founder or foundress, as a way to focus discipleship. Again, congregational members are disciples of this way of focusing, that is, there is no profession, ministry, office, or role, no direct service or in-stitutionalized ,ministry, that exempts members frorri continually learn-ing what it means to pattern their lives or focus their discipleship of Je-sus through the prism of this great man or woman. All of our lives are mystery, not in the sense that they defy explana-tion, but in Gabriel Marcel's sense that the more we are involved in them, the more inseparable we become from their depth.6 Our Church has confirmed the legacy of some men and women as mysterious, that is, there is within these persons a depth of discipleship that calls and be-comes involving for others. Nano Nagle, Francis of Assisi, Ignatius of Loyola, Elizabeth Seton, Angela Merici, and Catherine McAuley are some of these people. Their gift to the Church is mysterious to us, and that is why they can properly have disciples. The more their lives, their stories are considered, the more insight we gain into what it might mean to be a disciple of Christ in our time. Thus, many religious congregations acknowledged with Vatican II The Shifting Order of Religious Life that reflection on what it meant to follow Christ and to plead the radical nature of the Gospel through the focus on their particular founder or foun-dress meant that they must be learners of new ways. The call for renewal necessitated a refounding and a reordering of these congregations that con-tinues into the present.7 This challenge reminds many in a very profound way that they are indeed learners. 3) We are co-dikciples. There can be no doubt about this. Baptism incorporates us into a community of disciples. As members of religious communities, we are co-disciples, learners with the other clergy and la-ity. Appropriating Gospel values and finding patterns of life that typify holiness are calls received by all within the Christian community, whether they be married, single, or vowed. The sixth-century understand-ing of Pseudo-Dionysius who envisioned the grace of God as descend-ing through three hierarchical angelic choirs into two earthly hierarchies of clergy and laity respectively was normative until Lumen Gentium's statement that "in the Church, everyone . . . is called to holi-ness . ,,8 No longer do lay folk stand below those ~who profess the evangelical counsels nor do the latter stand below those who are ordained to the priesthood in the Church. Paul VI reiterated the Vatican Council's hierarchy-shattering words when he said that the whole Church received the mission of Jesus--"the community of believers, the community of hope lived and communicated, the community of love. ,,9 The consideration of volunteers, partners, and associates who claim the life and charism of a founder or foundress of a religious order in our Church as their way of focusing discipleship reminds us that we are co-disciples. These new relationships can intimidate as well as inspire and so we must continually remind ourselves of John Paul ll's challenge to the whole Church to embrace mercy. In Dives in Misericordia, he de-fined Christian mercy as "the most perfect incarnation of "equality" between people., love and mercy bring it about that people meet one another in that value which is the human person., thus mercy becomes an indispensable element for shaping mutual relationships between peo-ple, in a spirit of deepest respect for what is human . ,,~0 4) As members of apostolic congregations, ministry is our reason for existence. A common life and the vows have constituted the order of re-ligious life, but the purpose of this order for apostolic communities has always been service. Many founders and foundresses wrote words simi-lar to those of Catherine McAuley, the foundress of the Sisters of Mercy, when describing the qualifications for an aspirant to apostolic groups. Catherine stre'ssed "an ardent desire to be united to God and to serve 520 / Review for Religious, July-August 1989 the poor" and a "particular interest" in helping the sick and dying. ~ The rereading of the history of apostolic orders, which was occasioned by the cali of Vatican II to renew, led many congregational members to realize that "order" or common patterns in the style and structure of the lives of men and women who focused their discipleship through the charism of a particular founder, is negotiable, but the reason for the or-der is not. This should help women and men religious to open themselves and their ownership of the legacy of their founder or foundress to those who do not "order" their lives in the same way. If the purpose of the order is service,or ministry, then should those who do not profess the evangelical counsels be excluded? This can be a very challenging ques-tion, because throughout history the only way to claim concretely many of these charisms or legacies was to order one's life through the evan-gelical counsels of poverty, celibacy, and obedience. But, as Dorothy noted in the Wizard of Oz, "Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore." Men and wom'en who do not profess these vows are desiring both to minister after the fashion of these great men and women and to receive the sup-port of congregations dedicated to these legacies without maintaining a common living style or divesting themselves of marriage possibilities or ownership of property. 5) It is not order, but mission that describes our lives. John O'Mal-ley, S.J. claims that the history of apostolic religious orders might more properly belong to the history of ministry than to the history of institu-tionalized asceti~cism. ~2 Groups that banded together for the sake of serv-ice presented a whole new trajectory within our Church, as they were a break from the ascetical tradition. However, the Church in its concern to regulate these groups modeled their "order" on the flight of Anthony into the desert in 275 A.D. Many of the great women foundresses, in par-ticular, found their desire to gather others for the sake of service to a par-ticular need frustrated by an order of enclosure, profession of vows, and obedience to an ecclesiastical superior. ~3 For example, the Sisters of Mercy often reflect on the history of Cath-erine McAuley whose companionship with other women grew around their mutual attention to the poor in early nineteenth-century Dublin. In-dependently wealthy, she commissioned the building of a "House of Mercy'r in which women could gather to devote themselves to the relief of suffering and the instruction of the ignorant. She resisted and ex-pressed discomfort about the "order" of the lives of those in congrega-tions of nuns, to the point of abhorring the thought of spending time in the Presentation novitiate to learn the ways of an established canonical The Shifting Order of Religious Life / 591 institute into the Church. However she submitted to the "ordering" be-cause without it her mission would have failed. ~4 The time in which she lived demanded that women engaged in companionship for the salve of service be organized as vowed religious women. Among many active congregations of religious in the United States, especially congregati.ons of women, the question of whether or not to re5 main canonical has arisen. This question is motivated primarily by the difficulty involved in gaining the Congregation for Religious and Secu-lar Institute's (CRIS) approbation for Constitutions and the reordering of "religious" life so that it more properly aids in fulfilling the particular mission of the group. ~5 The question, however, is not whether religious congregations will choose to remain canonical, that is, of some standard within our Church; the question is how their "order" will be specified within the Church,-that is, how will they organize themselves as women arid men embodying the charisms of great founders or foundresses within the Church. Ignoring for a moment the enormous difficulties of dealing with a bureaucratic power structure that often seems less than open to anything irregular, let us look at the question before us. Can we, as disciples of the great founders and foundresses in our Church, make a distinction be-tween vocation to a particular lifestyle or life structure (that is, marriage vows/the choice of single life/vows of poverty, celibacy, obedience) and the vocation to a particular charism and mission within the Church (a deep identity with the spirit and gifts of a particular person who focuses our discipleship of Jesus)? I think that the movements of associate membership, volunteers, part-nership (all of which imply non-vowed varying degrees of membership in religious "orders"), mighi be a tremendously important break within the history of what have come to be called "active orders" in our Church, but these movements will further our ability as a Church to do ministry as baptized disciples of Jesus. 6) One of the most pressing questions for: religious congregations is what life structure or "order of life"facilitates discipleship of Jesus focused through the mission of their founder or foundress. The current documentation abou( the life structure of those called to follow a foun-der or foundress organizes it around the three vows of poverty, celibacy, and obedience. Both the Vatican II document on religious life and the 1983 Essentials of Religious Life promulgated by the Vatican Congrega-tion for Religious and for Secular Institutes present the evangelical coun-sels as not only "essential," but also as the basis for the organization 522/Review for Religious, July-August 1989 of life for those in religious congregations. However, both Sandra Sch-neiders and John Lozano, show effectively in their recent and widely read treatments of religious life that the vows cannot be taken as impor-tant in themselves. 16 The vows, if taken at all, need to be placed in the context'of a statement of desire to,pursue the mission of the community, how we promise to accept the responsibilities of this mission in our lives, and how others dedicated to this mission accept us within their group. Furthermore there is more and more recognition (fueled by the relatively new science of psychology) t.hat intimate, committed relationships to per-sons, ownership, and autonomy do not make one less holy. Along with this, New Testament scholars have shown that these counsels do not flow from the gospels as such, but were constructs of our Church at a later time. And, even without Vatican ll's assertion of.the universal call to holiness, experience tells most of those who are presently members of religious congregations that they are no more holy than thos6 who choose to marry and have children, own property, and center their autonomy dif-ferently. Indeed, if men and women are going to structure their lives by pro-fessing the evangelical coufisels, (thus sacrificing the gifts of sex, own-ership, and autonomy), then these must only be given up for the sake of mission. Johannes Metz is perhaps the most clear and the most chal-lenging on this point. In his Followers o.fChrist: Perspectives on Relig-ious Life, he argues that the vows are both mystical and political. Thus, poverty demands not only a protest against the tyranny of having, pos-sessing, and pure self-assertion; it also impels those practicing it into a practical and situational solidarity with those poor whose poverty is their condition of life and the situation exacted of them by society, rather than a matter of virtue. Celibacy, as a state of being radically seized by a long-ing for the reign of God, impels one toward those unmarried people whose not having anyone is not a virtue but their social destiny, and to-wards those who are shut up in lack of expectation and in resignation. And finally, obedience is the radical and uncalculated surrender to God and it impels one to situate oneself .among those for whom obedience is nota matter of virtue but the sign of oppression and placement in tute-lage.~ 7 It is only in this way that these counsels can ever be real signs of eschatological witness. Metz has called vowed communities "shock therapy instituted by the Holy Spirit for the Church as a whole.''~8 Us-ing Metz's ideas, if I read him right, many more of us might call our-selves "associate members" of religious congregations than already do out of integrity. There may be many who want to focus their discipleship The Shifting Order of Religious Life / 593 of Jesus through the legacy of a great founder or foundress, but their ac-commodations to the culture would indicate not that they are lesser dis-c! ples, but rather that the functions they perform and the gifts they bring to the reign of God are not th6se that necessitate or call them to the vowed life. That is, "association" may be more appropriate for those who draw support from the tradition or story of a great founder or foundress and find the mission of that congregation an animating principle for their dis-cipleship. Whereas formal vowed commitment to one another, relinquish-ing of goods and full authoring over one's choice of service might be re-served for those whose discipleship leads them to more radical under-takings. The question here concerns the life-structure (or "order") that has traditionally been associated with claiming followership of a specific mission in our Church. Are there ways to embody the tradition of minis-try defined, by a great founder or foundress in our Church as one group in which some are vowed to poverty, celibacy, and obedience and oth-ers are not? Those who are vowed in the traditional way choose a life-structure which more clearly binds them to the ~reedom to move around and respond to unmet needs among the poor, alone, and oppressed. 19 Those who do not profess the vows but do center their discipleship on the founding charism might be called to a,life-structure which points to-ward a certain stability within a local Church community. One could as-sert that there must be ways to accommodate this diversity because even using the traditional ordering of religious life, which included the vows of poverty, celibacy, and obedience as part of the package, I would sub-mit that there are some within religious congregations who have the free-dom to live the vows as Metz proscribes and others whose lives point toward and demand a different modi~ of discipleship. That is, the vows may not be absolutely constitutive of focusing one's discipleship through the charism of a great founder or foundress.2° 7) There is a need for enabling ministers who are not constrained by local church boundaries. According to O'Malley, one of the most re-markable characteristics of the development of active orders is that it in effect created a "church order (or several church orders) within the great church order and itdid this for the reality to which ~:hurch order primar-ily looks--ministry."z~ That is, pontifically erected religious orders en-joy a warrant and exemption from the bishop of Rome to act publicly on behalf of the Christian community wherever the needs to which their charism responds arise. This has, throughout history, caused some ju-ridical as well as cultural complications. However, despite difficulties, 524 / Review for Religious, July-August 1989 needs have been' attended to that would never have been served if it was necessary to rely only on the personnel within local boundaries. As the order of religious life shifts, this is a very important compo-nent of our history that should not be lost. This "pontifical warrant" for the sake of ministry has allowed for tremendous creativity in meet-ing the needs of the people of God. Glimpses of the reign of God are seen in the histqry Of religious orders who have brought literacy, heal-ing, and economic stability to the uneducated, sick, ahd poor around the world. 8) Finally, men and women in religious orders need to realize the gifts they can sh~are with the Church. The emergence of the laity is very new to our Church, and the long history that religious orders have of do-in~ ministry leaves many' within them unskilled at enabling and serving with others. But vowed men and women need to recognize that one of the gifts they may have is 6ffering those who have taken to heart the mes-sagegf the gospel and the spirit of Vatican II both some encouragement and some means for realizing their call. Many who~desire a more intense following of Christ may find that the sp, iritual, intellectual, and apostolic life in their parishes does not encourage these needs and aspirations. Thus, they only feel frustration in their call to maturity and co-responsibility in the Church. Religious orders ha~,e a wealth of experi-ence in thinking through methods for spiritual development and encour-aging other adults in gro~vth. Many find in religious life rich resources of the heritage of the Church not avail~.ble in local parishes. They find a focus and discipline for spiritual growth, a unifiedvision of the pur-pose of discipleship, .and a structured identity with a family in a living tradition of the Church. The challenge is to share these gifts, without thinking people have to become "mini-religious'"l~o acquire them. An extension of our charisms beyond those in the vowed ranks might mean that many more can become effective ministers in the parish and the Church at large. Part II We should not be surprised that a "new ordering" is difficult for us to think about and may even create controversy, dissention, and fear when we attempt to talk about it with one another. Anything new always brings a death to something within the present. Many of us love our way of ordering our .lives. We have lived the vows and known ourselves and our companions to grow through the experiences they have presented to us. We want to share our-lives, extend them, and see the "ordering" that has facilitated our growth be embraced by others. Yet this "order" The Shifting Order of Religious Life / 525 may have to die so that discipleship focused on the great charismatic lead-ers in our Church might continue. We are challenged to refound our con-gregations. This challenge implies the freedom to consider reordering our lives for the sake of mission. From the above understanding flow the following ideas that may help religious congregations to reorder their membership and to reorder the perception of religious life in the Church. I) We, as those who vowed ourselves to the legacy of great founders and foundresses within the order specified by the Church, must continue to think about what that means. Imitating her tongue-in-cheek, I quote the twentieth-century Jewish philosopher, Hannah Arendt, "what I pro-pose, therefore, is very simple: it is nothing more than to think what we are doing." The thinking, although allegedly simple, is.indeed quite com-plex and we of.ten try to escape it, precisely because we did it once be-fore during the 60s and the 70s. Even though new life was born in our midst, many of us remember the struggle and some among us have not quite recovered. Thifiking usually means that we risk conversation of sub-stance. And conversation of substance usually implies the same kind of controversy as that depicted in the Gospel account of Jesus asking Peter a question of substance. "Who do people say .that I am?" is the query of the man who had just multiplied loaves and then cured a blind one. Peter knew who Jesus was. "You are the Christ." But Peter did not like the implications of the insight. "Get behind me, Satan" is the rebuke heard when Peter tried to squirm out of the new order specified not only for Jesus but also for his own discipleship. Insights gleaned from thinking and from conversation of substance can be threatening. But we must remember that even more threatening is the possibility that some valuable offerings to the further approxima-tion of the reign of God will be lost if we are unwilling to gain and ex-press the insights of our experiences. If our experience is that the vows do not make meaning in our lives, but the charism of our founder does, then perhaps we must search for other ways to order our lives so as to offer more fully the charism of our. community to the Church. And, if our experience is that others who are not vowed can claim the legacy of our founders, (and more importantly if their experience confirms this), then they must be allowed to do so in an equal fashion. 2) We must effect reconciliation and a spirit of interdependence within our Church, especially with persons and groups claiming the same charism. As stated earlier, a tradition specifying that God's grace flowed toward the non-vowed and non-ordained last was reinforced in 596 / Review foUr Religious, July-August 1989 popular piety until the Second Vatican Council. This distanced many re-ligious from other laity and created a perception ihat vows or ordination meant that one was more graced and clos+r to God'. Men and women in religious; congregations must actively pursue reconciliation with other la-ity because, intentionally or non-intentionally, some disunity has been effected within .our Church. We can take a cue from Paul, ambassador of reconciliation, who was .furious with his community at Galatia when they entertained the idea ofclassifying and categorizing the early Chris-tians. In Christ, there is neithe~ Jew nor Greek, slave nor free person, male nor female, women religious nor lay women, Dominican from Mercy, associate member from more traditionally ordered mem-bers . Often former members of religious orders continue to claim the charism of the order as a way of focusing their discipleship. We must reach out to these people and ask them if,. even though they found the "order" of our lives restrictive, they still find themselves drawn to the charism asa focus. We need to confirm the existence and continuance of the charism in these people, and perhaps just as importantly, let them confirm the continuance of the charism in us. A more concrete way of symbolizing our reconciliation and interdependence on one another is a very simple, yet awkward thing. We need to re-form our vocabulary so that "sisters" and "brothers" does not refer to a closed group of vowed women or men. Just as many have committed themselves to the use of gender inclusive language, we need to change the language specific to our communities, so that "sisters and brothers" becomes a way to refer to all, vowed and non-vowed, who find themselves bound to the same charism. 3) Within our working places, we must announce what inspires us. We must claim our founder or foundress as inspirations, as stories that aid our belief in and discipleship of the Christ. Many people look for a way to focus and sustain their belief, and there appear to be few heroes of a depth able to sustain followers in our contemporary life. Since many of us have been inspired by and nurtured in the founding spirit of a great man or woman disciple of Christ, we must share the gift. We must let others know what moves us, inspires us, and keeps us going as disciples in a world where the odds against the fullness of God's reign dawning seem to be mounting. Perhaps we need ways to be again inspired and again encouraged in our own focus before we will feel enthusiastic enough to inspire others. In many cases, our associates are formally rethinking and reaffirming The Shifting Order of Religious Life / 527 their commitments each year. They renew their covenant with the leg-acy of the community, and they reconsider and recommit themselves to their association with others who share the same focus. Might we not learn from them something about animating our own commitments by using this model? Let us not merely resurrect the passivity of receiving an appointment card with our job and the provincial's name on it, even though there was important symbolism there. Let us every year rework and represent our covenant with the legacy of our founder or foundress. Let us reconsider and recommit ourselves to the implications of disci-pleship and association with others who share the same mission. These understandings and recommendation are initial forays into a very difficult, yet timely, topic. They are intended to spark further thought and discussion. Although I doubt there is danger of them being considered a "last word," let me close with a few lines from T.S. Eliot's Four Quartets. They reflect, 1 think, what it means to see trees walking, to be fuzzy in our sight, and what it means to face this period of time as religious men and women in our Church. These are only hints and guesses Hints, followed by guesses, and the rest Is prayer, observance, discipline, thought, and action. The hint half guessed, the gift half understood is Incarnation. Here the impossible union of spheres of existence is actual, Here the past and future Are conquered, and reconciled . -~-~ NOTES ~ An associate member is defined for the purposes of this article as one who wants to share in the life and apostolate of a religious institute and to become a member to a certain extent. "They are members associated and not incorporated by profes-sion. For a discussion of the variety of such groups and their notation in the new code of Canon Law, see Elio Gambari, Religious Life According to Vatican II and the New Code of Canon Law, (Boston: Daughters of St. Paul, 1986), pp. 625-635. Also, David F. O'Connor, "Lay Associate Programs: Some Canonical and Practi-cal Considerations," REview For~ REt.~;~ous 44, 2(March-April, 1985), pp. 256-267. 2 How to continue the legacy of the founder or foundress or how to continue the mis-sion of the congregation is understood to be the underlying concern of those who e.xpress dismay of the declining numbers in religious congregations. 3 Sisters of Mercy of the Union, Constitutions (Silver Spring, Maryland, 1986), nos. 29-30. Most active congregations use wording similar to this to describe their mis-sion. 521~ / Review for Religious, July-August 1989 4 This describes the call to religious men and women from the Second Vatican Coun-cil, See Perfectae Caritatis, the "Decree on the Appropriate Renewal of the Relig-ious Life," no. 2 in Walter Abbott (ed.), The Documents~ of Vatican !I (The Amer-ica Press, 1966)." " 5 For a concise description of liberation theology by two of its most challenging pro-ponents, see Leonardo and Clodovis Boff, Introducing Liberation Theology (Ma-ryknoll: Orbis Press, 1987). 6 See his Being and Having, (New York: Harper Torchbook edition, 1965), p. I 17, 145. 7 For some initial strategies presented to and used widely in the early 1980s by men and wom,en religious struggling with the call to '~refound," see Lawrence Cada et al, Shaping the Coming Age of Religious Life, (New York: Seabury Press, 1979). s "The Dogmatic Constitution on the Church," in Abbott, no. 39. 9 Evangelii Nuntiandi, "On Evangelization in the Modern World (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Catholic Conference, 1976). no. 15. ~0 "Rich in Mercy," (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Catholic Conference,. 1981), no. 14. ~ 1836 letter to a parish priest in Nass, Ireland, Quoted in Kathleen O'Brien's Jour-neys: A Preamalgamation History of the Sisters of Mercy, Omaha, Province (Omaha, Nebraska: Sisters of Mercy,1987), 6. ~20'Malley conceives of "active orders" as a '~critically important phenomenon in the history of ministry claiming "apostolic" inspiration," rather than as the insti-tutional embodiment of an ascetical tradition traced back to Pachomius. See -Priest-hood, Ministry, and Religious Life: Some Historical and Historiographical Consid-erations," in Theological Studies, 49 (1988), p. 227. ~3 The sweeping 1298 decree of Boniface VIII (repeated by Pius V in 1566) com-manded that "all nuns, collectively and individually, present and to come, of what-soever order of religion, in whatever part of the world they may be, shall henceforth remain in their monasteries in perpetual enclosure." Insight into the unfortunate ef-fect of this decree throughout the centuries following on women's attempts to or-gaoize associations for ministry can be gleaned from reading histories of women foun-dresses, such as Angela Merici, Nano Nagle, Mary Ward, and Louise de Marillac. ~'~ For more information about Catherine McAuley, see Sr. M. lgnatia Neumann, R.S.M., ed., Letters of Catherine McAuley (Baltimore: Helicon Press Inc., 1969) and M. Joanna Regan, R.S.M., Tender Courage: A Reflection on the Life and Spirit of Catherine M~Auley, First Sister of Mert3, (Chicago: Franciscan Herald Press, 1988). ~5 Note the history of the Glenmary Sisters of Cincinnati or the Los Angeles I.H.M.'s in addition to the more recent stories of Agnes Mary Monsour, Arlene Violet, and Elizabeth Morancy, all Sisters of Mercy unable to continue their ministries as vowed women ifi religious congregations. Consider also the present renewal attempts of the Association of Contemplative Sisters. For brief surveys of these cases, see "Inside- Outsiders" chapter three of Mary Jo Weaver's New Catholic Women: A Contempo-rary Challenge to Traditional Religious Authority (New York: Harper and Row, 1988) . ~6 See Sandra M. Schneiders, New Wineskins: Re-imaging Religious Lift, Today (New York: Paulist, 1986) and John M. Lozano, Discipleship: Towards An Understand-ing of Religious Life (Chicago: Claret Center tk)r Spiritual Resources, 1980). Also see O'Malley, "Priesthood," p. 249 tbr the same point from a different perspec- The Shifting Order of Religious Life / 599 tive. ~7 J.B. Metz, Followers of Christ: Perspectives on the Religious Life (New York: Paulist Press, 1978), chapter 3. ~8 lbid, p. 12. 19 Being "bound to freedom" appears at first sight to be an oxymoron, however the phrase is an attempt to reflect the demands made by the vows. ~0 Of interest in this regard is that even though various documentation from our church and the recent writings on religious life avert to the vows as important, if not essential, the Fifth Interamerican Conference on Religious Life, inclusive of leader-ship from men and women religious of North and South America, did not name the vows as essential. In a preparatory paper, the Leadership Conference of Women Re-ligious named mission, community, freedom, ministry, participative government, pub-lic witness, apostolic spirituality, spirituality of the founder, and ecclesial character as characteristics of religious life. None of the descriptions of the above included the vows. See The Role of Apostolic Religious Life in the Context of the Contempo-rary Chu'rch and World: Fifth Interamerican Conference on Religious Life (Ottawa: Canadian Religious Conference, 1986). 2~ O'Malley, p. 236. 22 T.S. Eliot, The Four Quartets (London: Faber and Faber, 1960), lines 212-219. Monasticism: A Place of Deeper Unity M. Basil Pennington, O.C.S.O. Father Basil Pennington, O.C.S.O., well-known for his many publications on prayer and the contemplative life, may be addressed at Assumption Abbey; Route 5; Ava, Missouri 65608. In 1976 for six months I had the privilege of living among the Orthodox monks on Mount Athos, the semi-autonomous monastic republic in north-ern Greece. There the Gospels are the law of the land and day-to-day liv-ing is governed by the writings of the great spiritual fathers of the past, most notably those of Saint Basil, Archbishop of Caesarea, named the Great. I noted the remarkable affinity between the life lived on the Moun-tain and that lived by the monks of Saint Joseph's Abbey in the United States, from whence I came. The one great difference that struck me was the way lay visitors were incorporated into the life and worship of the monks. It was evident that there was no gulf between the life and wor-ship of the monks and that of the ordinary devout member of the Ortho-dox church. Orthodox monasticism is at the heart of the Church and all the rest of Church life is deeply influenced by it. In Western Christianity, monasticism is further removed from the life of the ordinary church member. Yet the historical influence of the monas-tics can not be denied, even among those Christian Churches which have largely disowned monasticism. Catholics generally revere monasticism, especially the more contemplative variety, and hold it in reverence as something vital to the life of the Church. The Second Vatican Council affirmed this strongly. Quite generally Catholics frequent monastic guest houses and retreats and find there something that speaks deeply to them. Protestant Christians from such contacts are beginning to reclaim this part of the common Christian heritage. The Anglican or Episcopal church 530 Monasticism and Unity/531 has been in the forefront in this. But the most notable Protestant monas-tery is one within the reform tradition--the monastery of Taize which is found in a part of France filled with monastic resonances: Citeaux, Cluny, Molesme. Most re~:ently the General Conference of the United Methodist Church has authorized the exploration of the possibility of es-tablishing an ecumenical monastic community in the United States. ,Monasticism is, then, a widespread phenomenon within the Chris-tian community and is becoming ever more present. It would be difficult to exaggerate the role of monasticism within some of the other world religions. Tibet, before the recent Communist take over, could have been called, like Mount Athos, a monastic coun-try, more a theocracy than a republic. In many Buddhist countries it has been the expected thing that every male would spend sometime within a,.monastery as part of his preparation for life. Although secularization is having an increasing effect within the Buddhist world, the monastic influenc

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

Issue 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 42.3 of the Review for Religious, May/June 1983. ; Notes on LitUt~!y REVIEW FOR REIAGtOUS ( 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. REVU-:W FOR REI.IGIOt~S is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO, © 1983 by REVIEW FOR RE~.~G~O~JS. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S,A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription U.S.A.: $9.00 a year: $17.00 for two years. Other countries: add $2.00 per year (postage). For subscription orders or change of address, write: REVIEW I.'OR REI,W,~OtrS: P.O. Box 6070:, Duluth, MN 55806. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Daniel T. Costello, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Book Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor May/June, 1983 Volume 42 Number 3 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELtGtOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; Jesuit Community; St. Joseph's University; City Avenue at 54th St.; Philadelphia, PA 19131. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REVIEW t'O~t RELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. "Out of print" issues and attic, s not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. Kierkegaard on Purity of Heart Paul J. Joncas Rev. Joncas, whose M.Div. is from the Northwestern Lutheran Theological Seminary, is pres-ently pursuing doctoral studies at Fordham University. He describes this paper as an exposition of Kierkegaard's Purity of Heart Is to Will One Thing in which each discourse carries a consistent theme of Complexit'y and Simplicity as opposing modes of life. Tracing each of these modes through the book provides a picture of the style of life that Kierkegaard regards as exemplary. Rev. Joncas may be addressed at 102 Washington St.; Morristown, NJ 07960. When a woman makes an altar cloth, so far as she is able, she makes everyflower as lovely as the graceful flowers of the field, as far as she is able, every star as sparkling as the glistening stars of the night. She withholds nothing, but uses the most precious things she possesses. She sells off every other claim upon her life that she may purchase the most uninterrupted and favorable time of the day and night for her one and only, for her beloved work. But when the cloth is finished and put to its sacred use, then she is deeply distressed if someone shouM make the mistake of looking at her art, instead of at the meaning of the cloth; or make the mistake of looking at a defect, instead of at the meaning of thk cloth. For she could not work the sacred meaning into the cloth itself, nor could she sew it on the cloth as though it were one more ornament. This meaning really lies in the beholder and in the beholder's understanding, if he, in the endless distance of the separation above himself and above his own self, has completely forgotten the needle-woman and what was hers to do. It was allowable, it was proper, it was duty, it was a precious, duty, it was the highest happiness of all for the needlewoman to do e~brything in order to accomplish what was hers to do; but it was a trespass against God, an insulting misunderstanding of the poor needlewoman, when someone looked wrongly and saw what 321 322 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1983 was only there, not to attract attention to itself, but rather so that its omission would not distract by drawing attention to itself.1 The needlewoman of this story serves as an example of what Kierkegaard sets out to develop in his book Purity of Heart Is to Will One Thing. In her concern for the work that is set before her the needlewoman approaches it with a reverence, straightforwardness, unity of thought and purpose, and simplicity that speaks not of her, but of the duty which she was fulfilling. The viewer who looked on her work as something more than she had intended is the example of what it is to be guilty, as we all are, of double-mindedness and thus unable to see the beauty of what lies before them. It is my purpose in this paper to examine the guilt of the viewer in terms of a life of Complexity. This life is filled with double-mindedness, duplicity, evasion, attention to "the crowd," and a denial of the self. All of this is set up by pride which presents the person with many difficult pitfalls. There is also another side to what Kierkegaard has to say in his book which will be discussed in this paper. That is the story of the needlewoman, or the person who wills one thing. This is evidenced by a life of Simplicity. This life unfolds as one which is a unity, through which the "individual" is capable to "will one thing" and have a knowledge of self that enables the person to take risks. The result of this life is a sense of humility which is transparent, pointing to the "Good." I will discuss these two opposing modes of life under the titles 1 have assigned to them: Complexity and Simplicity. After describing how they each have an influence upon us, 1 will conclude with some more general observa-tions about the two categories and their relationship to one another. Complexity Throughout his book, Kierkegaard remains true to the Lutheran notion that humanity by nature is sinful. This sinfulness is lived out within the tem-poral order of the creation, and has a natural resistance to the "Eternal." In resisting the Eternal we are confronted with a multiplicity of life choices that may give the appearance of leading us to the "Good," but they are only delusions and actually hide the true, the Eternal from the seeker. We are led down the blind path of complexity that cuts us off from that for which we were created and we attempt to postpone what we know to be inevitable in our journey toward God. Alas. the temporal order and the press of busyness believe that eternity is so far away. And yet not even the foremost professional theatrical producer has ever had all in such readiness for the stage and for the change of scenes as eternity has all in readiness for time: all--even to the least detail, even to the most significant word that is spoken; has all in readiness in each instant--although eternity delays? Busyness, the continual search for meaning in the temporal order, the continual search for permanence in what is only transitory, the constant run- Kierkegaard on Purity of Heart ning in search of what is already before the seeker. It looms over the entirety of life and "clouds the heart, keeping it ever unknowing and bound to the tem-poral. We look on the procession of life and see the changes that occur in relation to the temporal. The fear that feeds the life of Complexity reminds us over and over that we are approaching the end. We turn in upon ourselves and try to find the key to not changing. We live with the false hope of delaying that which, in view of the Eternal, never happens. "For in relation to the Eternal, a man ages neither in the sense of time nor in the sense of an accumulation of past events."3 In.relation to the Eternal we are set free from the burdens of temporal existence and begin to see the Good and in turn the Good becomes visible through us. This temporal life is characterized by double-mindedness which draws us into an endless maze of dead ends that prevent us from apprehending the Good, the Eternal. Kierkegaard calls this double-mindedness by many names: pride, passion, denial of sell fear, cleverness, self-deceit, despair, impatience, the "crowd," evasion, and false humility. They are names of conditions we all know intimately. Kierkegaard shows us his magisterial knowledge of the human condition by naming those things which we all share in common, those things which tie us all together in our state of sin, and lead us down the path away from God. In order to understand the gu.ilt of the above mentioned viewer, and ourselves, we need to take a close look at the life of Complexity and the conditions that define our human situation. Pride 1 begin with pride because it appears in Kierkegaard's system that pride sets us up to fall into the other traps of double-mindedness. Once we have established what we consider to be our worth in the world we can begin to evaluate all our other actions in light of this worth. In this fashion the lazy man always has a disproportionate power of imagination. He thinks immediately how he will establish himself, and how fine it will be for him when now this and now that is done: he is less given to thinking that he should do this and that. And in reflection this logks very inviting, but when he must step out upon the road (for reflection is up above the road) then all is changed.4 Once the road is entered upon and the true demands of the journey are seen, as prideful people we begin to reassess our position and conclude that the course we are undertaking is act.ually beneath us. Pride plays to our predilec-tion to overvalue ourselves. It whispers to us ever so quietly, "Oh, you poor soul, just see what the world is asking of you. You have more important things to be involved with. Why go about wasting your time on what is trivial?" In listening to this voice we become further enamored with ourselves and we fall prey to grandiose dreams of what we can give to the worl~d, as if we had anything of our own to give. He wills that the Good shall triumph through him. that he shall be the instrument, he 3~4 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1983 the chosen one. He does not desire to be rewarded by the world--that he despises: nor by men--that he looks down upon. And yet he does not wish to be an unprofitable servant. The reward which he insists upon is a sense of pride and in that very demand is his violent double-mindednessP We exhibit our sinfulness since we do not just want to be an instrument of the Good in the world, but we want to be the instrument. We insist that God's will should be our will, his way should be our way--and we stretch the dis-tance separating us from God even further than before. That is the only power we have. The power to drive ourselves further away from God and think that we are drawing ever nearer. Kierkegaard does not let up in his insistence that the greatest damage we do is, above all, to ourselves. The grandness of our dreams, to be more than what we actually are, is the banner of our sinfulness that we carry into eternity. Pride widens the gulf between humanity and God by its pervasive nature: It creeps into every facet of our existence and tricks us into thinking how right we are when we are actually wrong. This is the self-deceit which pride leads us toward, and after we have already turned our backs on God, we begin to turn the tables on ourselves. For when hate, and anger, and revenge, and despondency, and melancholy, and despair, and fear of the future, and reliance on the world, and trust in oneself, and pride that infuses itself even into sympathy, and envy that even mingles itsdf with friendship, and that inclination that may have changed but not for the better: when these dwell in a man--when was it without the deceptive excuse of ignorance?. This ignorance is called self-deceit. : And to be ignorant of the fact that there is one thing and only one thing, and that only one thing is necessary, is still to be in self-deception.6 Self-deceit exists as a precipitate of pride. It is the only thing that is left after the ashes rendered by pride are sifted. Self-deceit has a way of turning everything upside down and it tries to give us the excuse we need when our efforts come to nothing. This overturning by self-deceit is much like the words of St. Paul "For the good that 1 wish, I do not do; but 1 practice the very evil that I do not wish" (Rm 7:19).7 This self-deceit has a way of masking our efforts so they may appear noble to ourselves when they actually bring about harm. Not only harm to others, but harm to ourselves. We are open to the suggestions of the world and hear a voice that appeals to our pride and thus we deceive ourselves again. But there is a wisdom which is not from above, but is earthly and fleshly and devilish. It has discovered this common human weakness and indolence; it wants to be helpful. It perceives that all depends upon the will and so it proclaims loudly, "Unless it wills one thing, a man's life is sure to become one of wretched mediocrity, of pitiful misery. He must will one thing regardless of whether it be good or bad. He must will one thing for therein lies a man's greatness.TM It is in the willingness to do even what we know to be bad that we start the process of selling out to whatever whim or fancy the world throws before us and we enter deeper into the self-deception that has already grasped us. The greater our self-deception the more we become oblivious to the "Good" and we enter into the next realm that dominates our earthly life--fear. Kierkegaard on Purity of Heart / 325 Fear And spiritually understood there is a ruinous illness, namely not to fear what a man should fear: the sacredness of modesty, God in the heavens, the command of duty, the voice of conscience, the accountability to eternity.9 Our pride and self-deception have led us to the point of forgetting the things which we know to be desirable and the absence of these elements in our lives is not viewed as a great loss. The eternal element of our life is gone and we no longer understand what true fear is all about. Our concept of fear becomes entangled with what we perceive to be punishment. "For punishment is indeed not what a man should fear. He should fear to do wrong.''~° The concern we have is not for our eternal life but for our temporal life. "Yet double-mindedness seldom dwells on eternity's punishment. The punishment it fears is more often understood in an earthly and temporal sense."~l How often do we find ourselves doing things, not out ofthe goodness of our hearts, but out of fear for the punishment that may be inflicted upon us if we do not do it. This type of fear seems to be inbred from childhood when parents gladly point to the threat of punishment in order to get even a small degree of cooperation from the child. A full life cannot be lived from a defensive posture and God's attempts to break through our self-protection fall on ears that are deaf. Kierkegaard is trying to show that in taking away the will for the "Good" the person lives a second-class life that inhibits the individual in all rela-tionships with and in the world. What a terrible existence it would be to fear every action we take not knowing if we will receive accolades or be stoned. Kierkegaard rightfully puts this condition into the category of illness. But then, in a spiritual sense, there is another illness, a still more destructive one: to fear-what a man should not and ought not to fear. The first illness is defiance and obstinacy and willfulness. The second is cowardice and servility and hypocrisy.~' We are slaves to our fear and jump to its command. We are cowards in our actions, afraid to take any risks that may bring about punishment. We are hypocrites who smile in order to disguise our fear, thinking that we are being judged by the world while at the same time we are judging and condemning it. Kierkegaard wants to make clear the incredible power that sin can have over us in this world, it has a way of creeping into our lives silently, and just as silently tears our lives apart. We soon start to exhibit another means of self-defense which is not to risk anything. Another says, "1 have not the strength to risk all." Again evasion, an evasion by the aid of the word "all." For the Good is quite capable of reckoning and computing its demand in relation to the strength that this man has.~-~ We are unwilling to take risks because we cannot adequately judge the scope of the task. We do not truly know the risk that we are called upon to take since we stand in fear of what may happen to us if we do take the risk. Our lives are paralyzed by fear and that which is in us to lead us to the Good begins to atrophy. The result is to take even more desperate measures that lead us further away from the Good. 326 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1983 Cleverness The above mentioned evasion is not solely a device to escape risk but also starts us on ihe road to thinking we are very clever. By the help of evasion, namely, one does not come into danger, and neither does he lose his honor by running away in danger--on the contrary one does not come into danger--that is one advantage. And one wins great honor as being especially clever-- that is a second advantage.~4 In our cleverness we have the ability to weave a complex of schemes that isolate us from the world. We are able to construct an ivory tower out of our plotting and slowly raise ourselves up in the eyes of the people who see us. Our cleverness allows us to look down upon the world below and gives us the illusion of achievement. The other poor souls we look down upon are seen as a threat, but as a threat that is a long way off. These same schemes also play into one of the primary traps of cleverness. Alas, there is in every man a power, a dangerous and at the same time a great power. This power is cleverness. Cleverness strives continually against the commitment.~5 Since we are not committed we give the appearance of being free but that is all we have, the appearance of freedom. We have no idea of what we may have lost in exchange for this appearance. We are not free as a true Christian enjoys freedom. We live in a cloud that, like a drug, keeps us temporarily sedated until it dissipates. The lack of commitment through cleverness does not affect the temporal life alone. Kierkegaard sees an even greater danger ahead. If he uses cleverness to hinder commitment to the Eternal, he is double-minded. He is and he remains double-minded, even if temporal help did come and he did revel in the Cleverness by which he managed his shrewd escape: yes, one should still believe that it was a calamity that he cleverly managed to evade commitment to the Eternal. Com-mitment to the Eternal is the only true salvation.~6 We have now achieved the dubious distinction of having temporarily escaped from a moment of danger and at the same time cutting ourselves off ¯ from salvation. What is left for us? Do we simply wander aimlessly through time being free from any commitment or does something else arise to take the place of this commitment to the Eternal? Kierkegaard would say that there is something else that fills in the gap created by lack of commitment and that is the passion that lives inside each of us. For if passion continues in a man, it changes his life into nothing but instants and as passion cunningly serves its deluded master, it gradually gains ascendancy until the master serves it like a blind serf.17 We are now slaves to our passions and are led about without regard for the people around us. Our passions consume us like a ravenous wolf that leaves the refuse behind. What could be left for us once we have descended to these depths? It seems that we have lost the last thread of our humanity, but there is still something more towards which Kierkegaard points the reader. Kierkegaard on Purity of Heart Despair Now that we have been blinded by our passions we no longer see what lies before us. We are now ready for the final descent. We have left the world behind and our attention is turned to the only place left for us, that is, totally into ourselves. When the attention has been focused within, it brings with it the danger of not being able or willing to accept what is found therein. It is as if our attention has been focused to the point of a laser and it holds the potential to destroy. In our nonacceptance we find that we are "at variance with our-selves." Kierkegaard uses the.following example of the gravity he sees in this moment of "variance." ¯. at each man's birth there comes into being an eternal vocation for him, expressly for him. To be true to himself in relation to this eternal vocation is the highest thing a man can practice, and. as that most profound poet has said: "Self-love is not so vile a sin as self-neglecting." Then there is but one fault, one offense: disloyalty to his own self or the. denial of his own better self.~8 We have now reached the point where there is nothing else to which we can turn. We have reached the point in our "double-mindedness" when we can go no further. We have reached the point of despair. "Is not despair simply double-mindedness?'n9 In denying ourselves have we not abandoned ourselves, who we are, our purpose for existence? Will you in double-mindedness of mind despair? Have you considered what it is to despair? Alas it is to deny that God is love! Think that over properly, one who despairs abandons himself (yes, so you think); nay, he abandons God!20 There it is! The terminal point for the life of complexity, the abandonment of God! There is nowhere else to turn. We could turn to the "crowd" but that is just a delaying tactic., a dead end. "For many fools do not make a wise man, and the crowd is doubtful recommendation for a cause.TM In Kierkegaard's estimation, to follow this mode of life is to take the path to eternal death, to be forever outside of the love of God. Now that the discussion of the life of Complexity has been finished as Kierkegaar&has outlined it in his book it is possible to look at the opposing mode of life--Simplicity. Simplicity It would be a dangerous mistake to think that the life of Simplicity is a life characterized by naivete. There is no room for an unsophisticated meandering through life. That would only serve as an invitation to the elements of double-mindedness in the world, alerting them that a pigeon is on the loose. A life of Simplicity has many facets to it bht it is "simple" in the fact that all of these facets are present for the cause of the' Good. The Good is the all-consuming goal of the person who lives a life of Simplicity. Our every atten-tion and energy is directed toward the Good and finds its telos in eternity. The move from Complexity to Simplicity is not just a shifting of gears but rather: 3211 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1983 It is indeed like a changing of raiment to lay off manyness, in order rightly to center down upon one thing: to interrupt the busy course of activity, in order to put on the quiet of contemplation and be at one with oneself. And this being at one with oneself is the simple festival garment of the feast that is the condition of admittance. The many-hess, one may see with a dispersed mind, see something of it, see it in passing, see it with half closed eyes, with a divided mind, see it and indeed not see it. In the rush of busyness, one may be anxious over many {hings, begin many things, do many things at once, and only half do them all. But one cannot confess without this at-oneness with oneself.22 Kierkegaard in giving his advice for preparation to confess points out that it is necessary to leave behind the manyness that presses in and confuses us in our moment of examination. It is necessary that we become focused, simple in our thoughts, in order to come to our confession as whole persons. His notion of "a changing of raiment" is not merely to do so for the moment, but rather, in the fashion of metanoia, it is a complete change of direction. Life is trans-formed and our life takes on the same shape as that of the above-mentioned needlewoman with all of its attendant expressions, The life of Simplicity is not as easy to dissect as that of Complexity. The categories that exist in this life overlap a great deal, with each one helping strengthen the other. Since they all combine to form a unity, a oneness of purpose, a simplicity of expression, any attempt to categorize wouid be arbi-trary and would not remain true to the method of presentation used by Kierkegaard. In view of this, the life of Simplicity will be dealt with as a whole. It is a mode of life that stands in opposition to the life of Complexity and as such it does not exist as a positive response to a negative stimulus. It is a distinct mode that stands on its own without need of outside impetus beyond the call of God to the sinner. In Kierkegaard's schema of the life of Simplicity it becomes clear that the style of life we live reflects the internal unity or disunity we are currently experiencing. True Simplicity reflects an attention to life and the things that are necessary to be done and it does not allow us to be overcome by the miasma of Complexity. We are able to stay in the world without needing to be exclusive in our relationships. We find what is good in life and participate in it fully. Do you live in such a way that this consciousness is able to secure the time and quiet and liberty of action to penetrate every relation of your life? This does not demand that you withdraw from life, from an honorable calling, from a happy domestic life. On the contrary, it is precisely that consciousness which will sustain and clarify and illuminate what you are to do in the relations of life. You should not withdraw and sit brooding over your eternal accounting. To do this is to deserve something further to account for. You will more and more readily find time to perform your duty and your task, while concern over your eternal responsibility will hinder you from being "busy" and busily having a hand in everything possible--an activity that can best be called: time-wasting.23 As we have seen, busyness for Kierkegaard is another expression of double-mindedness. This double-mindedness captures our will and makes the will captive to its perceptions of time available and the talents that we have at our command. We have a distorted view of the task at hand and soon think we Kierkegaard on Purity of Heart / 329 do not have the time needed to do the Good. The life of Simplicity will not stand for this sort of distraction because it is God who calls us to this life and it is God who is left behind in pursuit of the manyness of life. But to will one thing, genuinely to will the Good, as an individual to will to hold fast to God, which things each person without exception is capable of doing, this is what unites.24 Unity is important in order for us to continue in willing the Good. Without this unity it is not possible for our life to become a reflection of the Good nor is it possible for us to "unconditionally serve the Good in action." As persons who are united, there is an awareness of the freedom in our lives for service and commitment to the Good. We no longer fear for what may happen to us since we are now united to the Good, and our concerns have been turned from the temporal to the Eternal. "He that wills the Good in truth even hopes for the punishment;"~5 and this serves as an indication that we have beenset free from the fear that has prevented service and commitment to the Good. Once freed from fear we are empowered to act in a manner that is consistent with our new understanding of duty in relation to the Good. If, then a man in truth wills the Good, then he must be willing to do all for it or he must be willing to suffer all for it.~6 Our commitment to the Good is visible through action or suffering. Suffer-ing in this context does not have the same power it holds over the double-minded person. Suffering is understood in a different way because we now live in a new relationship to the world. It is not something thrust upon an unwilling victim. It is accepted in the knowledge that what happens to us in this world is insignificant when viewed in relation to the Good. When the sufferer, on the other hand, willingly takes up his appointed sufferings, he is willing to suffer all for the Good, that is, in order that the Good may be victorious in him.27 Suffering is not a badge worn before others in order to win accolades. It is worn as a simple garment, It is quietly endured and quickly forgotten." When we suffer for the Good we know deep within ourselves that it is the Good which is being accomplished through us and that our God is right here with us in our suffering. ~ Oh, you sufferer, alone and abandoned as you are by the generation to which you belong, know that you are not abandoned by God, your creator. Everywhere you are surrounded by his understanding ~,hich offers itself to you at each moment. In it you unite your will to the Good. And the edifying contemplation is always ready to remind you of that presence; and its very existence is a source of security to the living.28 As sufferers who "will one thing" we live in the world knowing that what we are experiencing will be long forgotten in ~he realm of the Eternal,, and in this knowledge we receive consolation while still in the temporal order. This is the only reward we are willing to accept because the "understanding of God" is sufficient. There is nothing more necessary since, in time, everything will be 33[~ [ Review for Religious, May-June, 1983 finished for us in the temporal order. If we are forgotten by the world, that is no problem. If we are rejected by others, that is no problem. If we lose all that we have in service to the Good, that is no problem. For this world's memory is like the moment: a series of moments. Eternity's memory, that he is certain of. When he leaves the world, he leaves nothing behind him, he takes all with him, he loses nothing, he gains all--for "God is all to him.'~9 The total focus of energy is toward God and God alone. The will is a complete unity with itself and with the Good which resides in the Eternal. We have now reached the point when our unity also reflects a purity of thought and desire. When this point is reached, Kierkegaard begins to talk about the roles of hope, faith, and love in light of "death's decision." And it is here that the evidence of a life that is truly Christian may be seen. Yet sad as it is with the wish, how joyful it is with hope! For there is a hope that is born and dies; a shortlived hope, that tomorrow is forgotten; a childish hope, that old age does not recognize; a hope that one dies away from. But then--in death, in death's decision, a hope is born in death. By this hope the sufferer, under the pain of the wish, is committed to the Good. So it is with the hope in which the sufferer, as though from afar off, reaches out toward the Eternal . With faith it is still more joyful. For there is a faith that disappoints and vanishes; a faith that is lost and is repented of; there is a faith, which, when it droops is like death. But then--in death, in death's decision, a faith is won that does not disappoint, that is not repented of, that does not die: it seizes the Eternal and holds fast to it. By this faith, under the pain of the wish, the sufferer is committed to the Good. So it is with faith in which the sufferer draws the Eternal nearer to himself . But with love it is the most joyous of all. For there is a love, that blazes up and is forgotten; there is a love, that unites and divides--a love until death. But then--in death, in death's decision, there is born a love that does not flame up, that is not equivocal, that is not--until death, but beyond death, a love that endures.~° All of life is understood in terms of the Eternal and the very being of the individual is grounded in eternity. All of the trappings of this world are seen for what they are in their impermanence. A new permanence is given to be understood by us in our new found unity and depth of being. We no longer seek for anything for ourselves in this world and it is that which seeks nothing for itself that is truly transparent and pure. The Good alone is visible in and through us. The entirety of our being is bonded with the Good. For commitment to the Good is a whole-souled decision, and a man cannot, by the craft and the flattery of his tongue, lay hold of God while his heart is far away. No, for since God is spirit and truth, a man can only draw near to him by sincerity, by willing to be holy, as he is holy: by purity of heart. Purity of heart: it is a figure of speech that compares the heart to the sea, and why just to this?. On this account we compare the heart with the sea, because the purity of the sea lies in its constancy of depth and transparency)~ To achieve true depth of mind, true depth of will, true depth in unity, is to be transparent as Kierkegaard regards the true Christian to be. Everything is done for the sake of the Good ~ind it is, at the same time, a complete uniting of the will with the Eternal, and the will has reached its telos with the Eternal. This is the end point of the life of Simplicity, bringing us to wholeness in the Kierkegaard on Purity of Heart / 331 presence of God as opposed to losing "self" in the manyness of the "crowd" as in the life of Complexity. Conclusion Kierkegaard wrote his book as a collection of addresses which could be read at different times, with the reader still finding them of value. The result is that many of the same themes are used over and over. Although each section has a distinct flavor, it is also connected to all of the others. This makes it difficult to identify any clear line of development from the beginning to the end of the book. However, general comments about both styles of life can be made, now that the pattern within each mode has been made clear. For the life of Complexity there is a general shape that could be described as an inward and downward curve. This characterizes a concern to find mean-ing within the person. There appears to be a reliance upon the natural abilities of a person as a means of self-justification. This self-justification is indicative of the notion that everything a person needs for life can be found just by looking inward hard enough to locate it all. Schleiermacher could be used as an example of a theologian who placed a great amount of emphasis on the person being able to find God by looking inward. This mode of life is dependent on the belief that there is an intrinsic value to the person as a separate entity. Once the search is conducted and, as Kierkegaard believes~ the person comes up empty in the inward search, there is a sudden reversal of direction, and the search continues by looking to other people. It is hoped that what could not be found within the person may be found in the "crowd." Once again the empha-sis is on what human beings are capable of doing for themselves, and to Kierkegaard that is unacceptable. The natural shape of the life of Simplicity would be outward and upward. This time there is an emphasis on God, who is outside of humanity, as the basis of movement on the path toward the Good. God provides all that is necessary for the journey and God gives the person value in his sight and at the same time in the eyes of the world. There is no need for justification beyond that which God has given. In the life of Simplicity God is sufficient for the person who "wills one thing." Movement toward the Good is a long, slow process since it is not natural to humanity. On the other hand, movement toward double-mindedness comes easily since it does not fit our sinful nature like a well-worn glove. The tension between the two of them is intense because Complexity has a way of imitating expressions of the Good. Life is not looked upon as a black and white matter. Life has immense areas of grey that the person depends upon God to be led through. There is another contribution that Kierk.egaard makes in his book. There, he preserves the integrity of what it is to be human and, at the same time, acknowledges the absolute sovereignty of God. We do not need to be more than what we are as persons. There is no call to greatness beyond the greatness 339 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1983 that we have as creations of God. The holiness of our existence is a gift of God to us. We are attracted to God because of the love he has shown for us through his Son. Our humanness has been blessed, and yet God has not been com-promised in any way. Many of the theologians of Kierkegaard's day looked for justification within humanity or within creation as represented by the natural world, but this was not something Kierkegaard could accept. He took on the difficult task of pointing to God who stands over and above all creation, and to humanity, which held a special place in the created order. Kierkegaard was clearly Lutheran in all of his basic presuppositions, and remained consistent in this position. I would suggest that an area for further study would be to see how these modes of life carry over into Kierkegaard's other writings and perhaps into his own life. NOTES ~Soren Aabye Kierkegaard, Purity of Heart Is to Will One Thing. trans. Douglas V. Steere (New York: Harper and Brothers Publishers, 1948), pp. 27-28. 21bid. p. 107. 31bid. p. 38. 41bid. p. 116. 5Ibid. p. I00. 7New American Standard Btble. 9Ibid. p. 80. ~2Ibid. p. 8 I. '~Ibid. pp. 126-127. ~81bid. p. 140. 2~Ibid. p. 191. 241bid. p. 206. ~71bid. p. 148. 3°Ibid. p. 150-151. ~Ibid. p. 52. SKierkegaard, Purity of Heart. p. 63. ~°Ibid. p. 79. '~Ibid. p. 88. ~31bid. p. 129. ~4Ibid. p. 127. ~6Ibid. p. 168. ~71bid. p. 51. ~91bid. p. 61. "-°Ibid. p. 151. nlbid, p. 47. "-31bid. p. 197. ~lbid. p. 93. ~6lbid. p. 122. 2Slbid. p. 158. ~91bid. p. 147. 311bid. p. 176. Withstanding Sunbelt Sectarianism David K. O'Rourke, O.P. Father O'Rourke is Associate Director of the Family Life Ministry for the Diocese of Oakland, CA and Adjunct Professor of Pastoral Theology at the Graduate Theological Union of Berkeley. He may be addressed: 2446 Estand Way: Pleasant Hill, CA 94523. In recent months two of America's leading scholars have made statements that bring the current direction of education for religious life seriously into question. Both of them, professors at the University of California at Berkeley, speak out of personal scholarship and accomplishments so respected that their comments merit a hearing. Speaking at the annual meeting of the American Association of Colleges in Boston, Professor Charles Muscatine, a Chaucer scholar and, from our point of view even more important, one of the most respected university educators in the United States, noted that American education has abandoned its proper role of teaching students how to make ethical judgments in favor of a concern with technical skill teaching. Speaking of the bachelor's degree, Professor Muscatine said it has become a "marvelous convenience for a mediocre society, putting passive acceptance.ahead of questioning, and propagating the danger-oias myth that technical skills are more important than ethical reasoning." His address received favorable comment in a New York Times editorial.~ The editorial continued "What am lherefor? is the student's and the teacher's perpetual question. To gain and give life skills and a glimpse of life's larger possibilities seems an appropriate answer to each of them." in a recent article in Commonweal~ Robert Bellah, Ford Professor of Sociology and Sociology Department chairman, described a structural change in American religion. Using categories of Ernst Troeltsch, which are com-monly used by students of religion, he notes that there has been a shift from the "church type" of religion, which ". we may briefly characterize as an 333 3311 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1983 organic conception of the religious institution for which the defining metaphor is the Pauline image of the Body of Christ," to the "sect type" which ". views the Church primarily as a voluntary association of believers." and which sees itself"., primarily as the gathered elect and focuses on the purity of those within . " This shift, he says, parallels other shifts. There is a shift from the civic and religious ideals which provided the underpinnings to the social ameliorization we saw in our past history in the United States to an "ever growing dominance of bureaucratic individualism." There is the shift in American political power from the eastern establishment to the sunbelt capitalists of Texas and California. And there is the shift in importance from the heavy industries of the north and east to the "technologically innovative industries of the south and west." I believe that we can synthesize the statements of these two scholars into a picture of a culture, both religious and civil, that is changing the religious life we see herein the west. It is also producing the candidates for religious life we are receiving here. And because of California's influence through its control of the media it is influencing the entire United States. The dominant influence in religion is a view of church life that is religiously subjective, personally pious, politically uninvolved, technically skilled and culturally unlettered. I believe that this view can be summarized as sunbelt sectarianism. Living, teaching and ministering in Berkeley for the past fifteen years, I have had the opportunity to see the rise of this new phenomenon. In October of 1966 I joined ten other Dominicans in establishing the first Catholic com-munity at Berkeley's pioneering Graduate Theological Union. Since that day hundreds of other men and women have come here for studies. The Berkeley venture has, itself, become a model for religious, theological and pastoral studies and formation. Those studies and formation, I believe, are more and more becoming a mastery of those same technical skills that Professor Musca-tine described, and less and less a development of the art of ethical reasoning which he sees as the goal of all education. Make no mistakeabout it, the level of skills he is referring to is high, in-deed. The University of California has few equals in its ability to train men and women in the scientific, social and professional skills that make our society run. However, as the Times editorial suggests, it is far less well equipped to teach its students how to answer the question "What am I here for?" The ministerial skills we are teaching in our pastoral training centers are also of high caliber. The art of working in the community as an effective leader and on the one-to-one level is taught at least as well as in other professions, like medicine and law. Current understanding of Scripture is well taught. Tech-niques in liturgical design and performance are also taught. The broader questions, however, like the one posed by the editorial writer of the Times are not explored in a way which allows the Church's traditional answerings of the question to be brought into the discussion. 1 do not dehy Withstanding Sunbelt Sectarianism / 335 that they are answered. I suggest that they are answered from within the context of sunbelt sectarianism. They are not explored within the context of church as Body of Christ. The questions are answered in light of the individual's personal religious experience, frequently an experience that led to entering into religious life. They are not explored in the light of the Catholic theological tradition to which the individual is exposed after his or her arrival into theological educa-tion. The latter may be used to establish some theological foundations for ministry. It is not really used, in my experience, to establish the theological foundations for the minister. These remain what they were when the man or woman arrived. Professor Bellah points out that each of the definitions of church that he uses in his article, including the idea of the organic church and sectarianism, has found a welcome within the Christian tradition. That is true. But within the Roman Catholic tradition the view of the Church as the Body of Christ comes closer to the religious and theological tradition that lies at the heart of the Church's life than do any of the other views of church. I am suggesting, it should he obvious, that we religious have followed much the same route as the universities. In our case, however, the deviation from what we should be about is more serious. An argument could possibly be made for universities devoted to transmitting technical skills. Less°argument can be made for Catholic religious orders that are not concerned, first and foremost, with answering the question "What am I here for?" and trying to answer that question, at least in part, by drawing on the Church's theological tradition. I would like to look a bit more into the situation described by Professors Bellah and Muscatine, especially as it can be related to education for ministry and religious life, by examining three sets of opposed values drawn from their statements. The opposed values are skill mastery versus life purpose explora-tion; creativity versus passivity; ethical reasoning versus affective moral intuitionism. 1 will begin discussing skill mastery versus life purpose exploration by illustrating the differences with a story. When I first began my theological studies many years ago I was taught by one of the country's leading moral theologians. Nearing retirement age, he went on instead to become editor for the moral theology section of the Catholic Encyclopaedia. In his years as a teacher he was respected for his ability to bring speculative principles to bear on concrete issues. We were all gathered in the lecture hall for the first class of the year, and he entered the room and climbed the three steps to the large platform from which the professor lectured. Since this was the first day of class we were all waiting for him to outline the course of lectures he was to deliver. Instead he did something quite different. After walking back and forth, and pausing to look out the window obviously thinking about something, he turned and just looked at us. Then he began to talk. "Increasingly in profes- 336 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1983 sional education, and commonly in seminaries, it is the practice to give the student enough training and adequate skills so that he can go about his work with competence and confidence. Here," he added, "we are trying to do some-thing fundamentally different. We are trying to provide you with a framework, conceptual and personal, within which you will be able to make sense of your own lives. Then we hope that you will be able to go out and help others do the same." And then, without further comment, he began his lecture. The difference between mastering a curriculum and making sense of life can also be seen as the difference between fitting into a world of someone else's design and establishing the moral and ethical parameters of your own world. I believe that this difference is also the difference between a skilled technician and a religious leader. 'Within the context of religious education it is the difference between accepting someone else's priorities for life and recognizing the need to establish your own, and ~oing this not as a duty but as a real, personal need. Professor Muscatine's statement, translated into the context of pastoral training and religious education, would say that specialization as a self-defini-tion has replaced religious and ethical probing as a means to self-definition. And skill training for ministry has replaced learning the art of making ethical judgments as the model for education itself. The second set of opposed values, passivity versus creativity, follows from the first. The individual learning technical skills begins his learning recognizing that what he wants is the possession of another, the mastery of a technique. What is of value, the particular skill or technique, is in someone else's hands, and the student works to gain what he does not yet have. The message communicated by the learning medium values the technical master's knowl-edge, not the student's lack of that knowledge. Life-purpose clarification, on the other hand, values the student's ability to probe and explore, and assumes that, here and now, he or she possesses creative abilities. In the process of trying to make sense of life all are equal participants. While some are further along in the attempt, and the teacher, in principle, has achieved some mastery of these human arts, all have the oppor-tunity to be creatively involved. The third set of opposed values is ethical reasoning versus affective moral intuitionism. Learning to reason ethically, as opposed to an affectively directed intuition of right and wrong, let it be said, is a supremely difficult task. Deciding what to do through a rational process of assessing the proper goals and the means to those goals is a far cry from deciding, based on feelings. In effect, it means abandoning a non-effort--intuiting right and wrong, based on how the individual feels about it--for the difficult effort of establishing internally coherent and systematically logical principles of human action. 1 submit that this is an effort of prime intellectual and personal asceticism. I believe that in our education for religious life and pastoral work we are institutionalizing affective intuitionism in the place of ethical reasoning, passiv- Withstanding Sunbelt Sectarianism ity in the place of creativity, and skill mastery in the place of life-purpose exploration. I am not so naive as to suggest that the replaced values were realized goals in the past. What I am saying is that they were stated values. Further, I believe that we are moving from these stated values to the newer ones in response to the influence of the current view of the Church as sect. We are living with a view of church in which it is effectively defined, as Professor Bellah describes it, as a voluntary association of believers. The difference between the two views can both be pictured and symbolized by the differing means of entry into each. In the Church seen as the body of Christ new members are baptized into a community of believers and become members of Christ. They are members in the root meaning of the word, a physical part of an organic body. In the Church seen as sect the new members make a decision for Christ, and are members in virtue of that decision. The membership is not organic as much as voluntary. The new values we are institutionalizing in our training for ministry and religious life fit comfortably within the definition of church as sect. They are at odds with the view of church as an inclusive body, the Body of Christ. The values being replaced fit comfortably within the view of church as Body of Christ. They do not fit within the functioning of a church defined as sect. There are obvious advantages to the view of the Church as sect. It draws clear lines between those who will live by its values and those who do not. So it is equipped to judge those who belong and those who do not. And in an age of clashing values, it helps to know who is with you and who is not. The function-ing of the Church as sect fosters clarity of values. Greys are washed out to the advantage of the stronger blacks and whites. There are also disadvantages. A church which distinguishes between the elect and the sinners will leave the sinners behind. Placing a value on the process of making that distinction will also surface a means to do so. Since the traditional theology of the church maintains that the distinction cannot be made, an extra-theological means will have to be found, like an affective in-tuitionism. And such systems, like a zealot's hunches, can prove unreasonable. The organic view of the Church, the Church seen according to the Pauline model of the Body of Christ, has many disadvantages. It is an inclusive Church, and an inclusive church is morally muddy. Combine this moral muddiness with the emphasis on moral decision making which I advocate, and which I admit is an art very difficult to master and beyond many people, and it can be a disheartening combination. It means that we will live beset by the suspicion that our moral decisions may not be definitive. But it is also quite possible that it is this very suspicion which has led religious leaders in the past to stress the importance of learning how to make ethical decisions. Technical skills can be mastered in a way that ethical decision ' making cannot. And this fact may lead some to see skill mastery as a more worthwhile goal than moral decision making. Our current education for reli-gious life and ministry seems to embody this view. But 1 would suggest that 3311 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1983 religious leadership can be,benefited more by an emphasis on moral decision making, an emphasis that is more at home in the Church seen as Body of Christ than in the Church seen as sect. NOTES I Jan. 22, 1982 2Dec. 3, 1982 The Coming Down ~Going up to Jerusalem . . ." I got used to-- There was such a dearness to it. A digging-in, yes-- A putting-t he-face-to-t he-wind . Going up to Jerusalem had its hardness. But, oh, the coming down . Coming down from Jerusalem The purpose is gone And even the trees forget their bareness and bloom again As if my journey had not been-- As if I did not leave my Love to the wind and the stars Under the snow--on a hillside . "Going up to Jerusalem." had its price, But, oh, the coming down (alone) Is beyond the counting . Sister Ann Maureen, 1.H.M. 11201 Academy Road Philadelphia, PA 19154 Jesuit, Catholic Higher Education: Some Tentative Theses Michael J. Buckley, S.J. Father Buckley gave this as a paper at the annual meeting of Jesuit academic vice-presidents in 1982. This year Father Buckley is Barman Scholar in Residence at the University of Santa Clara, on leave from the Jesuit School of Theology at Berkeley. Introduction In the pages that follow, 1 have tried to suggest certain reflections around the general and troubled topic of the Jesuit, Catholic university. I do so because 1 suspect that a central problem for many administrators of such institutions lies within the vagueness or even chaotic understanding of this governing issue: what it is that they are administering. What do you mean by a "Jesuit university"?. Is it basically the same sort of thing that any Catholic university is--something clear enough in purpose, however imperfect in reali-zation; but at the same time something variant, in that the Jesuit university is staffed in part by a different religious coterie and marked by a particular historical tradition, so that one speaks primarily about "Jesuit presence" when one talks about these institutions? Or are we talking about something that is radically different when we talk about a Jesuit university? Are we talking about a university with a cultural orientation and a peculiar set of emphases that make it profoundly different from other Catholic universities, granted any number of similarities among them all--differences and similarities which the administrator should be at pains to foster? Or is there something in between? When one assumes administration of such an institution, it is not unreas-onable for such questions to be asked. Especially in a university, there is a unique value in knowing what you are doing! 339 ~141~ [ Review for Religious, May-June, 1983 Appropriate as such a set of questions is, however, it presupposes too much. It presupposes that the content of "Catholic university" is itself already determined--a "cluster concept," at least, which all can recognize, agree upon, and discuss within. I think, though, that this presupposition is false. I think that "Catholic university" is as much of an ambiguity as "Jesuit university," and that many of the problems in understanding the latter stem from an incoherence in this more fundamental premise. Since that is my conviction, 1 have structured the theses of this article accordingly. 1 have first set down a series of statements which I think are true about Catholic universities in general, and then I have stated how I think these either have been or could be realized in the Jesuit university. The normal difficulties of such a task of description or definition are increased enormously for American Jesuits by a second fact, one which also touches the presuppositions for a series of questions on the nature of Jesuit higher education: American Jesuits are almost universally unaware of, or indifferent to some central foundational documents in their tradition. A strik-ing example of this was provided by a remark of Father George Ganss~ on the initial options posed byProject One:2 The second feature of Project One (Volume 4) which strikes this writer is the virtually total lack of references to or use of Part IV of Ignatius' Constitutions, the locus where he most succinctly, clearly and authoritatively enshrined his educational theory or rationale. That theory is his own application of the dynamic and apostolic world view towards which God led him . In Part IV of the Constitutions, he applied it to the formation of Christian persons in the secondary schools and universities which he founded and administered.3 In a subsequent discussion with Father Ganss, a prominent Jesuit educator remarked that the Fourth Part of the Constitutions was not only absent from the written reports of Project One, but from almost all of its discussions as well. It would be instructive, perhaps, to discover how many Jesuits have some knowledge of the characteristic elements which Ignatius placed in the Fourth Part of the Constitutions, as distinct from those which subsequent Jesuit educators specified in the Ratio studiorum.4 If Jesuits do not know the unique genius of their own origin in education, they cannot define a present stand for themselves in education by "dialoguing with their tradition." They are left to follow in their adaptations: (a) usages within their own memories and (b) the patterns and directions they find in American secular education. Perhaps the reason for the repeated failures of commissions, conferences and programs for Jesuit higher education is that these have represented individual or collective initiatives at particular periods, but initiatives without continuity with the organic development of the Society. Isolated from this continually evolving tradition, these initiatives lived briefly and died. Whatever be the accuracy of this reading of our present awareness of our Jesuit, Catholic Higher Education / :341 historical meaning, 1 have tried to formulate the theses of this article with one such central foundational document in mind--the most important document, in my opinion: the Fourth Part of the Jesuit Constitutions. 1 do so, not because 1 think that American Jesuits of the twentieth century can or should copy or repeat these individual provisions, but because these spell out in the concrete Ignatius' view of higher education. Perhaps by looking at what might seem, at first blush, quaint or antiquated, the contemporary Society could sketch more perceptively an outline of what it is about today and enrich its self-understanding by drawing from its tradition some of its unrealized possibilities. The difficulty of any de~nitional inquiry is that its language must be prescriptive as well as descriptive, i.e. it must say something about what this thing is to become as well as describe what it de facto is. Consequently, any discussion of the idea of a university will always suffer from the accusation of irreality. But the value of such prescriptive discourse is that it can present something of a vision of what the institution might become and a goal towards which human beings might marshall their efforts. Finally, these theses are insistently entitled tentative. They are my first attempt to do something along these lines, and I am anxious to obtain modifi-cations, corrections, and suggestions of alternatives. The value of the Renais-sance "thesis method" was that positions were laid down which reflected a serious judgment and were stated with a precision and in a common language which made discussion and disagreement possible. The liability of the thesis method was that it tended towards defensiveness, polemics, and inflexibility. Let me attempt to allow for these deficiencies by positing these theses as "exploratory," as being a number of statements that I think are true and which are stated as directly as possible in order to invite the reflections of the reader. Hence, to speak again from the customs of an earlier time: "salvo meliore iudicio . " 1. The Nature of a Catholic University Thesis 1: The problem of the Catholic university is falsely stated if it is framed as if this university and the Church were two distinct, though inter-connected institutions. Counterposition: Father Timothy Healy, S.J., in "Belief and Teaching," Georgetown Magazine (January-February, 1982), p. 3: How does the Church live within a university? How do the two institutions interact on common ground?. The Church also lives here [in a Catholic university] in two distinct ways: first, it leads its own life on our grounds; secondly, the Church joins in, shares and influences the life and the work of the university itself. Comment: Such an understanding does not do justice either to the historical nature of the Catholic university or to its intrinsic uniqueness. Father Healy's "two distinct ways" could describe the presence of the Church within any major secular society, such as the City of New York. Catholic universities, in 342 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1983 contrast, are institutions founded by the Church, supported by the Church, and oriented to a unique service of the Church. Such a university is "Catholic" in a way that no city or state could be. Thesis 2: The Catholic university cannot be defined simply as a university where there is a strong Catholic presence. Counterposition: Father Ladislas M. Orsy, S.J., "A Catholic Presence," Amer-ica, (5 April 1969), p. 397: A human institution is not transformed into a supernatural one; it simply offers an opportunity to persons with religious belief to share the life and the work of a university community--in freedom and sympathy that supports them . The quality and intensity of their presence will make its mark on the university . To have a Catholic university, then, means to have a Catholic presence at the university. Comment: The same cricitism could be offered of this understanding as of the first, with the added remark that it is actually a description of a secular university with an active and influential Newman or Catholic Faculty Club. Both this and the previous descriptions attempt to determine the Catholic university as being a university in which the Church is one important element. Thesis 3: The Catholic university cannot be described as Catholic simply through the activities of campus ministry, the presence of religious and Catholic lay faculty, and a requirement in religious studies. Counterposition: "Goals and Guidelines of the University of Santa Clara," January, .1979: If we are to honor our heritage, we must assure that Santa Clam remains a Catholic and Jesuit university in more than name only. We do this now in many ways: the activities of the Campus Ministry Office: the involvement of Jesuits and campus lay people in all areas of campus life: the presence of spiritual counselors in the dormitories; the com-mitment of men and women in the Christian Life Community to service of God and mankind; the exposure of all undergraduate students to courses in the Department of . Religious Studies; and the role of the Mission Church as both the symbol of Santa Clam's heritage and a dynamic focus of Christian activity. Comment: In this understanding, the purpose in the Church which the Univer-sity of Santa Clara is to serve is not articulated. Most of the presence of the Church is assigned to campus ministry and segregated off from the formally academic integration of the university and its more general intellectual life. The university exists for mental culture, but, aside from religious studies, Catholic reflection and theology are allotted no pervasive place within the development of such a culture. Thesis 4: The Catholic university is one form of the Church, one of the communities which are integral to the universal Church, as much a Catholic community as is the parish, the monastery, the family, a secular institute, a communidad de base, and a diocese. These differ radically among themselves, each having its own members, constitu-tion, government, origins and purpose. Jesuit, Catholic Higher Education / 3113 Comment: "Such an ecclesial origin of the university cannot have been fortui-tous. Rather it seems to express something more profound. But why does the Church need the university?. The reason for this need should be sought in the very mission of the Church. In fact, the faith which the Church announces is a tides quaerens intellectum: a faith that demands to penetrate human intelligence, to be thought out by the intellect of the human person. Not by placing it alongside what intelligence can know by its own natural light, but by permeating from within this same knowledge" (Pope John Paul II, "The Church Needs the University," March 8, 1982, L'Osservatore Romano, Eng-lish edition [3 May, 1982], p. 6). In the same address, the pope refers to these institutions as a necessity for the Church. Thesis 5: The Catholic university is that Catholic community in which the Church "strives to relate all human culture to the gospel of salva-tion" (Gravissimum Educationis, no. 8). This relationship is con-cretely to be realized both in the development of its students and in the advancement of this integral knowledge by its faculty. Another way of making this claim: "Secondly, the university is Catholic in its deliberate determination to render the Church this unique service: to be a forum where in utter academic freedom the variant lines of Catholic tradition and thought can intersect with the most complex challenges, contradictions and reinforcements of contemporary thought, moving towards a unity of world and Word, that all things be assimilated into the Christ. No other institution within human culture can render this critically important contribu-tion to the Christian community (as a whole), and without it the commitments of faith disintegrate into sectarian polemics whose only strength lies in their isolation from contradicting contact" (Michael J. Buckley, S.J., "The Catholic University as Pluralistic Forum," Thought 46:181 [June, 1971], p. 208). Comment: The Catholic university, then, essentially includes within itself the presence and the unique contribution of non-Catholics as well as the academic freedom which makes open discussion possible. Without the presence of vari-ant tradition it would be impossible that the Church could sponsor this rela-tion of the Gospel with "all human culture." Both Catholic and non-Catholic faculty have an appropriate contribution to. make to the advancement of the life of the Catholic university, and what is asked from faculty and students is not a particular credal affiliation, but that they be willing to enter into the conversations about those questions which constitute the formal academic character of the Catholic university (theses I 1 and 12 below). This integration of the Gospel with .culture demands especially the presence and contribution of non-Catholic Christians whose perspectives p~sh the radical questions about what Christianity really is, and what it really means, in the contemporary world. This means that the Catholic university is not the Church nor a microcosm of the Church nor even a community composed only of believers. Such a 3l~l~ / Review for Religious, May-June, 1983 university is, however, rather one modality or form which the Church in-ternally develops in order to reach its full stature, in order to become what it must be. It is an assimilative sub-community of the Church, i.e. one that assimilates into the reflection consequently upon the Gospel the vast pluralism of persons and persuasions representative of"all human culture,"a community whose institutional determination is to render to the Church universal this unique service. The autonomy of the Catholic university from controls that would be properly exercised over a diocese or a parish is essential. This academic freedom from external controls is essential not only for its authen-ticity as a university, but for that comprehensive, free discourse which alone can offer the Church serious, disinterested, and uninhibited inquiry. Thesis 6: Hence, the Catholic university as a unique Catholic community is, like any Christian communit.v, essentially sacramental, i.e. that community which, with historical continuity and tangible percepti-bility, makes present for all human beings now the realit.v of Christ drawing all human culture to himself. Another way of making this claim: It is in and through the Catholic university that the mission of Christ to draw all human culture to himself is given historical continuity and visibility in the twentieth century. Comment: The Catholic university is not a university in which the Church has a strong presence. The Catholic university is itself, and as a whole, a presence of the Church. Thesis 7: The manner in which this understanding of the university is mani-fested in the Jesuit Constitutions is by (1) stipulating that the entire college[university is a residence of the Society, i.e., the entire college/university is a Christian, religious community (Formula of the Institute (5), (8)," Const. 289)," (2) orienting both the schools of humane letters and of natural science to their integration with theology (446-452); (3) insisting upon the Christian service for which these studies are undertaken, often concretized as .future teaching, and generalized as "the glory of God and the good of souls" (Const. 440; 289-290; 351; 446; 622). Comment: This orientation towards service received striking expression by Ignatius on December I, 1551: From among those who are now merely students, some in time will depart to play diverse roles--one to preach and carry on the care of souls, another to government of the land and the administration of justice, and others to other occupations. Finally. since young boys become grown men. their good education in life and doctrine will be beneficial to many others, with the results expanding more widely every day (Monu-menta Historica Societatis lesu. Epp. Ign. IV. p. 9). II. The Administration of a Catholic University Thesis 8: The academic leadership or administration within a Catholic uni- Jesuit, Catholic Higher Education / 345 versity is essentially a religious ministry. By "religious ministry" is meant something quite specific, namely that it is the. responsibility of the administration that the sacramental finality of the Catholic university be realized: the integration of human culture and the Gospel. This ministry is intellectual leadership, but that does not make it less religious. It bears directly upon the intellectual service of God, a pervasive ministerium verbi (Ministry of the Word), in which the Word is translated into varying cultures, in which a more accurate understanding is gained by its encounter with and advancement of these cultures and in which a new synthe-sis is obtained between faith and all forms of knowledge. This ministerium verbi is the first ministry which the Formula of the Institute lists in its enumer-ation of Jesuit apostolic commitments. The universities have a unique function in this ministry: to advance and to synthesize the Gospel and all forms of human culture. Comment: Thus the president, the academic vice-president, the deans, the provost--whoever de facto preside over the life of the university have a pro-foundly synthetic religious leadership as their primary task. Their leadership is not "religious" as opposed to "academic" or intellectual"---that is precisely the dichotomy that the university is to deny. But it must be stated that if the leader of any Christian community--be it a Catholic university or parish or family or monastery or hospital--is not persuaded of the appropriately religious charac-ter of his or her leadership, then the community drifts into secularization. Thesis 9: The manner in which this understanding of university[college administration is manifested in the Jesuit Constitutions is by the insistence upon the personal religious character of its rector (423) and upon the religious quality of his leadership, with learning and Christian life placed as a single finality (424, 490). Comment: There are no grounds for asserting that separate incorporation removes the essentially religious nature of Jesuit university leadership. It is not the case that the division of functions between rector and president meant that one was religious and the other secular: The rector of the community is the religious leader of the Jesuit commu-nity, and his function is to govern it in such a way that it is Jesuit in its life and supports this apostolate to which it is committed. The president of the Jesuit university is the religious leader of the univer-sity, and his function is to administer it in such a way that its life promotes that intellectual and moral integration of all human culture with the Gospel which is its purpose. See Pedro Arrupe, S.J., "The Image of the Jesuit University President," (August 8, 1975) Documentation 27/2. III. The Formal, Academic Catholic Character of the Catholic University Thesis 10: The formal character of any" university is not constituted by the 346 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1983 elimination or by the presence ~f any particular discipline. Comment: A university, to be a university, should include whatever passes as serious and disciplined knowledge. The exclusign of theology from a particular university does not mean in itself that it has excluded religious commitment; per se it means that it has fallen that short of being a university. On the other hand, the presence of Catholic theology on a university campus does not necessarily indicate that the university is Catholic; it indicates that it is just that much more a university. Thesis 11: The formal, academic character of any university is constituted by the order of the questions which are entertained and by the kind of knowledge which is considered most worth having. Comment: One would not expect restrictions upon discourse and study at the University of California at Davis, or at MIT, or at the University of Santa Clara. But the priorities in the issues to be investigated or the knowledge considered either fundamental or most important will be different in these different institutions. This trait will constitute the difference among them. " Thesis 12: The Catholic academic character of a university will be constituted by the quality and the influence of its theology, i.e. by the depth, rigor, and thoroughness with which theological inquiry is con-ducted and by the integrating influence of theology upon all of the other disciplines taught in the university. A Catholic university is one in which Catholic theology acts as an architectonic wisdom, one which draws the arts and the sciences and the engagements of the professional schools into an ongoing conversation about pre-suppositions, consequences, and common themes. Thesis 13." The Constitutions exhibit this understanding of the Catholic aca-demic character of the university primarily in the principal empha-sis which they give to theology (446). Literature, natural sciences and philosophy are oriented to this theological wisdom: their study prepares the students for the serious engagement in theology; theology unifies knowledge into a single understanding of the world, into a wisdom; the orientation of all learning tends to the same end ultimately as theology (447-451). Comment: The place of theology given by the Constitutions of the Society of Jesus is really quite different from that allotted to it by, say, Newman's Idea of a University. In Newman, theology would be one element among others in a circle of knowledge which forms the "philosophical habit of mind." In Igna-tius, theology is the principal and governing discipline in which the humane letters and sciences reach their natural completion (446, 450). Thesis 14: The formal academic curriculum of a Catholic university must be sustained by the surrounding presence of a more general Catholic culture that makes the daily life of the university itself. Jesuit, Catholic Higher Education / 347 Comment: Examples of this "more general Catholic culture" would be found in the quality and seriousness of its worship, the character of its collective morality and social concerns, the pastoral care of one member for another, the seminars and general lectures which it fosters, the atmosphere of intellectual and religious interests, and so forth (see Const. 481-489). IV. Agents of Integration of Faith with Culture Thesis 15: Granted this integrating function as the primary work of the administration, the principal administrator must be aided in his responsibility by subordinate officials whose ministry it is to see that this integration permeates the intellectual life (the Academic Vice-President), the social life (Vice-President for Student Affairs), and the religious life of the university (the University Chaplain). Thesis 16: Such an integral view of the Catholic university can never be realized if "campus ministry" is only or principally composed of those who are not part of the academic community and who confine themselves to the ob.viously liturgical and pastoral en-gagements of the university, i.e. if campus ministry confines itself to a "sacristy" or even to an "activist "function. Thesis 17: "Campus ministry" should be that interdepartmental committee whose function it is to assist the president in some aspects of his religious ministry to the Catholic university, i.e. the integration of faith with culture/life. Such a staff or committee is necessary because too many of the possibilities for such an integration can-not be realized in the present departmental divisions: members of the various departments should be invited to become members of this interdepartmental staff, composed of the University Chaplain and members of the university faculty, and full-time staff members. These are some implications and possibilities envisaged by this thesis: 1. The head of "campus ministry" should be the University Chaplain of the school, with the rank of vice-president to assist the president in his general religious ministry of the integration of faith and culture. 2. The majority of the members of the "campus ministry" committee or staff would also be members of other departments and schools. 3. Areas of religious integration which are open to such a "campus ministry" would be for example: a. Sponsorship of a religious/academic bookstore which would be a cen-ter of regular discussions, lectures, and seminars on the integration of faith and culture. b. Introduction into the campus of the great range of prophetic and intel-lectual movements within the Church, such as the Catholic Workers, Charis-matics, liturgical groups, Pax Christi, Rural Life Conference, Christian Family Life, Jesuit Volunteers--for the possibilities both of critique and of assimila- 341~ Review for Religious, May-June, 1983 tion into the life of the university. c. Sponsorship of prolonged engagements in Christian service which would be planned, supervised and reflected upon for their Christian elements and which would be of such an academic quality that the theology department could recognize them as legitimate courses. d. Through the presence of campus ministry on various academic commit-tees, planning groups, and other representative bodies, a continual source of the questions about the integration between these plans or programs and the purpose of the university. e. Through their presence within placement offices, career planning and counseling centers, a challenge to the university community, that the teachers would understand their lives and the students plan their futures as vocations rather than simply careers,.i.e, as a way of life and service within the world which is a response to the call of God in their lives, rather than a positive evaluation of obvious and secularly justifiable options. f. Organization of a rich and full liturgical life, which embodies such possibilities as the Morning and Evening Prayer of the Church, a eucharistic liturgy which follows the variations and harmony of the liturgical year, a series of "university sermons," etc., and which so integrates the university as a whole at certain solemn occasions that it is the university, as this form of the Church, which is at prayer. Thesis 18: To act as an architectonic wisdom, Catholic theolog.v must be restored as an integral discipline, distinct both from the more gen-eral "religious studies "and from an eclectic amalgam of disparate courses in Scripture or ethics or spirituality. "Theology "is here understood as an inquiry into the natu~'e, influence and claims of God as revealed in Christ, and "religious studies "as an investiga-tion of the nature and varieties of religions or confessions which have emerged in human history. Comment: As the architectonic discipline which integrates and marks a Catholic university, theology should be in constant interchange with the other sciences and arts, with the other schools, studies, and activities of the univer-sity. Theology gains in content and in method in its encounters with other disciplines; the other disciplines are drawn beyond themselves into a general academic unity by their discussions with theology. What kind of presence or curriculum-order is necessary to obtain such a dialogue can only be deter-mined by experience, but it should be of such a character as (a) to maintain theology as a serious and systematic study and (b) to constitute it in a synthetic unity with all the other aspects of the university. Thesis 19: Thus both theology and "campus ministry" have an integrating function within the university. Everything within the university is the object of the theological faculty as it attempts to move towards a synthetic vision which is a Christian wisdom, and of "campus Jesuit, Cathofic Higher Education Thesis 21: ministry" as it attempts to introduce that vision into practice and expand it in areas not under the purview of various departments. The manifestation of the sacramental nature of the Catholic uni-versity, i.e., of the historical presence of Christ drawing all human culture to himself, is to be found in every aspect of the university: in the priorities among the questions investigated and in the knowl-edge thought essential," in the quality of the intellectual, moral and religious life on campus; in the criteria by which decisions are reached and investments made; in the kind of recruitment informa-tion, of students admitted, and of faculty hired, and so forth. The Jesuit community is that local community of Jesuits who both collectively and individually minister to this kind of university. How it does so would be the subject of another twenty theses,t NOTES ~The Reverend George E. Ganss, S.J. is the distinguished translator and editor of the English version of the Constitutions of the Society of Jesus. 2Project One was an attempt of the American Jesuits, initiated in 1973 and extending over the next four or five years, to identify and evaluate their goals and efforts in the apostolate of education. 3Project One, Volume #5, pp. 194-195. 4The Ratio Studiorum is the successively revised Jesuit plan of studies, an organization of curricula and of instructional methods rather than an exposition of educational theory. "What Should I Wear Today?" Thomas Ryan, C.S.P. Father Ryan is associate director of the Canadian Centre for Ecumenism. He is the author of Fasting Rediscovered: A Guide to Health and Wholeness for Your Body-Spirit and Tales of Christian Unity (Paulist Press). He may be addressed at the center: 2065 Ouest, Rue Sherbrooke; Montreal H3H IG6; Canada. I got up this morning and stood before my closet and asked: "What should I wear today?" Not so long ago the question felt like a helpful freedom; more and more it is feeling like a bother, and I frequently find myself resenting the loss of time and energy as I stand there in morning grogginess trying to answer the question. Where 1 live we probably face it more than would be the case elsewhere, yet Quebec is certainly not the only place in North America where the religious uniform has been traded in for secular dress. The history here is unique, but some of its consequences are shared with the rest of the continent. Some twenty years ago in a cultural revolution in Quebec, Canada, the Church was perceived to be too friendly with a government that had permitted the English to keep the key positions of economic influence and kept the French down on the farm. Both the Church and English economic dominance were thrown off like unwanted and resented yokes by the increasingly nationalistic French majority. Education and the university became the new place of worship and the leaders of the Parti Qubbbcois, the new high priests of the society. In the period of anticlericalism that followed, the French clergy traded in their clericals for ties and turtlenecks, and the sign of contradiction was reduced to a cross on a suit-coat lapel. "The anticlericalism was so pronounced," explained one sister who lived through it, "that at any public meeting we would go to, we were condemned by our apparent association with the Church before we even opened our mouths. We priests and sisters began dressing in 350 "What Should 1 Wear Today?"/ ~151 civies just to get a fair hearing and have what we were saying evaluated on its own merit." Among the English clergy in Quebec, there are enough "ties" or enough "collars" present to leave one genuinely feeling free in either direction. In other words, there is an unpressured climate for each person to sort through the value questions involved and make a choice, knowing the "tie" will not mean "radical" nor clericals mean "conservative." When I said jokingly to a confrere this evening that 1 was going to submit an article to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS entitled "What Should 1 Wear Today?" he immediately responded, "Oh, you mean, 'Who am I going to see today?"' He was quite right, and that's part of what bothers me. When l'm going to be meeting with Orthodox clergy, I wear black. When l'm going to be meeting With Protestant clergy, ! wear a tie. When they're both going to be there, 1 find myself playing one off against the other in my mind in a kind of who's-more-important- to-me game. What I am uncomfortable with is that it's my projection of the other's reaction to me that guides the decision. Where are my own convictions in the matter? 1 was thrown back on that question because I caught myself feeling like l'd made the "wrong" (political, not moral) decision. One day I put on a suit and tie to speak at a clergy study-day in the neighboring province of Ontario. When I arrived and saw all the collars and religious habits I was reminded again of what a different world Ontario is from Quebec. "Are you a local minister?" (he meant Protestant) asked one clerically-attired person who turned out to be a permanent deacon. The irony was rich. So I asked myself on the way home, "What are your values on this question?" Some years ago I was in an identity group of seminarians as part of a training program for counselors at the Center for Religion and Psychiatry in Washington, D.C. We spent a few sessions on the question, "What does it mean for me to wear or not wear a collar?" It's certain that not all of the participants drew the same conclusions from those discussions, but the operating principle that evolved for me from our reflections was a variation of "The habit does not make the monk." Dress that identifies me as a religious person is a means. If it will be likely to help advance some pastoral situation, use it. If it is likely to get in the way (as may be the case on college campuses with university students), don't use it. During that formative period, the important thing seemed to be secure enough in my own identity that I didn't need the collar as a crutch. Satisfied that my identity as a priest and religious was anchored within, and not in what I wore without, I proceeded to live these past years with no consistent external mode of dress. Yet, the question is not settled with me. Where the above rationale breaks down is in the presumption that I can always accurately project which mode of dress will be a pastoral asset or liability. In our secularized society, there is a growing Catholic consciousness of our mission for evangelization. We are becoming more aware of the importance of each of us witnessing, according to 359 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1983 our occupation and way of life,to a faith-centered existence. This awareness is perhaps renewing our appreciation of sacramentals and their potential to be an occasion of reflection for the casual passerby. To the extent that a mode of dress conveys a religious meaning, it qualifies as a sacramental. On this question of sacramentals, Sacramentum Mundi notes that "the statements of the Constitution on the Liturgy point to an emphasis on their character as a sign. But they do not answer the fundamental question, whether the sacramentals are not part of a special religious world which may be outdated by. the present-day experience of existence in the world. This [question]. has particularly far-reaching consequences for the usage of the sacramentals and hence for their theology, which must concen-trate fundamentally on their apt and proper use . Religion must not be seen in purely transcendental terms or merely as a dimension in depth. It must be classified in the category of a sphere of religious manifestations . The difference between nature and grace, and between the present and the coming age, justifies the existence of an order of sacred signs which express and manifest this difference." The habit, the collar, the cross, have not lost their power to be a sign of transcendence or of contradiction, a symbol that casts a question. But I do not always have the courage or the desire to stand apart. Or sit apart, for that matter. When I'm on the bus, I've noticed people will generally not sit next to "a collar" if there's another choice. On a plane, where people don't know who they're choosing to sit next to, 1 often feel more-than-the-usual hesitancy on the part of the other to normal social discourse. Or the reverse happens and one finds oneself in a not-so-private counseling session. And on the street corner while waiting for the light, I try not to notice the out-of-the-corner-of-the- eye glances that indicate one is being coolly appraised: "Hmm! What is a young (median clergy age today: 50!), intelligent-looking (well, at least my sister says that my receding hair line makes me look more 'intellectual'), athletic (I confess: it is getting harder) person like that doing in the priesthood?" When 1 was living for a time with a family in France, the mother said to me one day, "If you catch our guests kind of staring at you sometimes, don't take it personally. It's just that for us a young priest is, well, a very curious beast." What I'm coming to recognize is that there's going to be a negative reaction on the part of some people whichever way one dresses, and a positive reaction on the part of others. Furthermore, the guideline, "What will help or hinder my pastoral effectiveness in any given situation?" seems more and more presumptuous to me. Who can ever really know what happens in the hearts and minds of people when they see a priest in his clericals? If presumptive guesses about what others want, will be pleased by, or will derive benefit from are unreliable, then what is there to guide me? My answer is: my desire to make my life an articulate sign of the gospel I am trying to live. I am closer now than 1 was five or seven years ago to seeing how religious symbolism in dress can be an effective concretization of that desire. But as long "' What ShouM I Wear Today?"/ 353 as religious garb is connected with actions or life-styles that do not clearly reflect gospel living (which will always be the case to some extent), clericals or a religious habit will never be an entirely reliable symbol of communication. Thus it is that my choice on any given day is made with a certain flexibility and tentativeness, and with a sense of its built-in limitations in either direction. I was recently in a conversation with a group of priests and one of them told a story on four of the others that illustrates the point. "When I met you at the port on the first stop of your Caribbean cruise, 1 was surprised to see you were all wearing clericals," said the recounter of the tale. "Ah yes," one of the four affirmed, "we were not pleased with the cabins we'd been given, so we were trying to influence the ship's captain." "And?" "Oh it worked quite nicely. For the rest of the trip we were given any available suite." That's why many of the priests in. Montreal have switched to ties and coats. But I wonder sometimes on the buses and subways and street corners whether anybody sees that little cross on their lapel, and I wonder if we're using all available means of witnessing to the presence of God in a society hungering for meaning and ready to respect people who stand for something. If you and I should meet, what will I be wearing? Well, I'll probably be wearing the question inside and wondering if I made the best choice that day! The Incarnation and Chariots of Fire Halbert Weidner, C.O. Father Weidner published an account of the spirituality of the Oratory in our issue of November, 1979. He continues to reside at South Carolina's Oratory, the mailing address of which is P.O. Box 11586; Rock Hill, SC 29370. The Liturgy of the Hours has been enriched with an appendix of poetry and among the most recent poets represented there are the remarkable British pair of Edwin Muir (1881-1959) and Kathleen Raine (born in 1908). Muir is a poet much admired by such different writers as T.S. Eliot and Thomas Merton. Kathleen Raine's work on William Blake remains current and widely read. Her poetry, autobiographies, and critical works have drawn much praise and attention. Both authors are religious writers in the most profound sense of the term and, as poets and pilgrims, have something to say to both believers and unbelievers. Muir is relatively unknown in this country despite a sojourn at Harvard and, with his wife Willa, being established as the first and most popular translator of Franz Kafka. Muir is not a consciously modern poet. In fact, his devotion to tradition and accessibility may put off the professional literati. Still, T.S. Eliot said of him: He was first and foremost deeply concerned with what he had to say--and by that l do not mean that his purpose was ever didactic or that he was striving to convey a "message." But under the pressure of emotional intensity, and possessed by his vision, he found, almost unconsciously, the right, the inevitable way of saying what he wanted to say.~ The best introduction to the poet is his own story, An Autobiography. He was born in the Orkney Islands, off the north coast of Scotland, and so is claimed by Scots. Muir himself says his native language was really a mixture of Incarnation and Chariots of Fire / 355 Norse, Scots, and Irish. Indeed, such words as creels (fishing baskets), bannocks (a fiat, unleavened bread), and byres (cow-sheds) are evenly woven into the narrative of his childhood. For Muir, the islands were not on the edge of the world, but were the "heart of civilization." The seasons nurtured each their own phase of an ancient culture. The Winter gathered us into one room as it gathered the cattle into the stable and the byre; the sky came close; the lamps were lit at three or four in the afternoon, and then the great evening lay before us like a world: an evening filled with talk, stories, games, music and lamplight? This winter time gave Muir his first introduction to poetry. The early ballads sung in the home came from an oral tradition about James V and Sir James the Rose. These songs were sung with full voice and personal confidence. Other ballads, late in the tradition, were "chanted in a literary way, in honor of the print in which they had originally come, every syllable of the English text carefully pronounced, as if it were an exercise."3 Spring carried the sacred rituals of breeding and killing--both aspects of farm life his mother tried to prevent him from seeing. He made sure, of course, that he saw both--though the activities of the bull and cow were not understood and the excitement was all in the activities of the men directing the affair. He did not, in the slaughtering, pity the animals, but somehow touched the terror and the need which were inextricably bound up in the process. "There was a necessity in the copulation and the killing which took away the sin, or at least, by the ritual act, transformed it into a sad, sanctioned duty.TM The spring, a series of vivid happenings, gave way to the summer, its opposite: a "motionless blue" in which "nothing happened." This nothingness demanded acceptance as the pivot marking the time of growth. This in turn gave way to the hard work of autumn and the feasts that defined the line between harvest and the winter. And so it went with each winter being favorite season of the farmer's child because it was the family time for play and song and story. The family religion was a fundamentalist Calvinism which combined early baptism with the stern demands for a later conversion and personal claim to being born-again. Muir's conversion, under severe pressure from his family, was sincere, but barely a prelude to his lapse from Christianity. His disbelief was, moreover, also the result of pressure. This time the strain came from the deaths of his parents and of two of his brothers when the family moved, in hopes of better employment, to the industrialized city of Glasgow. It was as if the Muir family in a few short years had been required to pay the price of the industrial revolution's whole century of devastation. "All that time," Muir remembered, "seemed to give no return, nothing but loss; it was like a heap of dismal rubbish in the middle of which, without rhyme or reason, were scattered four deaths.''~ The great city of free enterprise could not replace the agricultural community that once bridged birth and death with faith and ritual. As a young man forced out early on his own, Muir moved just south of 356 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1983 Glasgow to earn his living in what might have been the Checkpoint Charlie of hell: a bone factory. "The bones," he tells us, "decorated with festoons of slowly writhing, fat yellow maggots, lay in the adjoining railway siding and were shunted into the factory whenever the furnaces were ready for them." There was only one major problem: "There were sharp complaints from Glasgow whenever the trucks lay too long in the siding, for the sea gulls could gobble up half a hundredweight of maggots in no time, and as the bones had to be paid for by their original weight, and the maggots were part of it, this meant a serious loss to the firm."~ Thus necessity introduced the factory's most important ritual: a shotgun blast into the air over the trucks each half hour. It was in this atmosphere that Muir began a ferocious personal quest which included reading philosophy seriously. This led to Nietzsche and to a kind of socialism. He abandoned the tough Christianity of his family for a soft belief in "process." "Be hard' was one of Nietzsche's exhortations," Muir tells us, "but I was not hard enough to give up Nietzsche." Muir's hunger for ideas, as well as for communicating them, attracted the attention of A.R. Orage, editor of the New Age and a genius for gathering talented, left-wing, and sometime elitist writers. Muir had a high opinion of Orage, but a low one of his own work for him. Muir's column, "We Moderns," revealed, said Muir, that "whenever I hit upon a paradox which lay conveniently near the surface I took it for the final truth."7 Still, Muir was the rarest of twentieth-century beings: a non-university educated revolutionary. A marriage, "the most fortunate event of my life," led to a move into London for economic reasons. Eventually journalism and translation work allowed them the adventure of moving to Prague. This city became for them what Paris was for American expatriates: a city riding the crest of a billowing tradition and arriving at the edge of revolutionary changes. Now in his mid-thirties, Muir began writing poetry. "I had no training; 1 was too old to submit myself to contemporary influences; and I had acquired in Scotland a deference towards ideas which made my entrance into poetry difficult. Though my imagination had begun to work I had no technique by which I could give expression to it." He was a poet in the middle of life caught between a change in poetic consciousness. "There were the rhythms of English poetry on the one hand, the images in my mind on the other. All I could do at the start was to force the one, creaking and complaining, into the mould of the other."s In Muir's case, the distance provided by his experience of Prague as the far country, and some early psychoanalysis and dream work, led to a recovery of the childhood geography and the roots engendered there. If poetry incarnates meaning, as Muir believed, then this geography literally provided the ground for Muir's poems. He acknowledges this in his life's last poem: I have been taught by dreams and fantasies Learned from the friendly and the darker phantoms And got great knowledge and courtesy from the dead Incarnation and Chariots of Fire / 357 Kinsmen and kinswomen, ancestors and friends But from two mainly Who gave me birth? This healing recovery of his roots and reconcilation with much of his unconscious gave birth to his poetry at the very time that Europeans were destroying their past: "They were lost and on the road to greater loss, and ready to accept any creed which would pull their lives together and give them the enormous relief of finding, even under compulsion, a direction for their existence, whether it had a spiritual meaning or not.''~° Muir saw the political left and right taking over the violent spirit of his native country's religious past: they were like the old Scottish covenanters who went into battle with banners reading "Christ and No Quarter." During the time of no quarter, Muir returned to Britain and began his eight-year association with the British Council, an organization promoting British culture. Prior to the war, Muir's office in Edinburgh set up houses for refugees and introduced them to British life. During this time Muir wrote more poetry in the midst of administration and the central issues of the day than he had in previous and more solitary jobs. British Council work eventually led him to Rome and his first major encounter with cultural Catholicism. It was here that he had his encounter with the Incarnation: During the time when I was a boy I attended the United Presbyterian Church in Orkney. I was aware of religion chiefly as the sacred Word. but nothing told me that Christ was born in the flesh and had lived on earth. [But in Rome] that image was to be seen everywhere, not only in churches, but on the walls of houses, at cross-roads in the suburbs, in wayside shrines in the parks, and in private rooms. I remember stopping for a long time one day to look at a little plaque on the wall of a house in the Via degli Artisti, representing the Annunciation. An angel and a young girl, their bodies inclined towards each other, their knees bent as if overcome by love, "tutto tremante," gazed upon each other like Dante's pair; and that representation of a human love so intense that it could not reach farther seemed the perfect earthly symbol of the love that passes understanding.~ Before Rome, a friend had pointed out to Muir that he was Christian in his images and his metaphysics. It had not occurred to him, but he accepted it. What the encounter in Rome did for Muir was to support him in his conclusion that mystery was at the source of life, that it lived and touched us, incarnate in what were not "mere" symbols, but the final reality. Symbols, which Yeats said united the "sleeping with the waking mind," also unite us to each other and to the generating reality that cares for all, past and present. Incarnation was a delight and good news to Muir, for whom nothing airy and abstract could hold the truth: "A religion that dared to show forth such a mystery for everyone to see would have shocked the congregations of the north, would have seemed a sort of blasphemy, perhaps even an indecency. But here it was publicly shown, as Christ showed himself on the earth."12 In the conclusion to his autobiography, Muir anticipated the theologians of our time in their interest in the theology of story: ~1511 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1983 As I look back on the part of the mystery which is my own life, my own fable, what 1 am most aware of is that we receive it from the past, on which we draw with every breath, but also--and this is a point of faith--from the Source of the mystery itself, by the means which religious people call grace.~3 When we read of this mystery in Muir's poems, we are struck by the plain language. But the poems demand rereading before the light that comes from the depths of human experience begins to dawn. One poem in the Liturgy of the Hours is called "One Foot in Eden" and may be taken as an example. It is composed of twenty-nine short lines of ordinary words~ but in it Muir has communicated a highly developed reflection on the necessity of choosing experience over innocence and then given depth to the Easter cry of O Felix Culpa.t Muir's Eden is both a place of innocence which must be given up and an impossible Utopia which must not be succumbed to. The world outside Eden awaits a judgment for its failings, but also attention to its special value: Blossoms of grief and charity Bloom in these darkened fields alone. What has Eden ever to say Of hope and faith and pity and love. Strange blessings never in Paradise Fall from these beclouded skies.~4 The other poem in the Hours collection is "The Killing." In it there is a remarkably graphic description of death that reaches back to Muir's childhood memories of farmyard slaughters. Muir suggests in the poem that an incarnate God is not what people want, and they will kill in their disappointment. The Incarnation, rather than being an easy myth that a longing humanity desperately creates, is really an affront and a capital crime. The poem ends with the question of an agnostic, a stranger, who wonders if, in the very act of dying, an incarnate God crossed his path. The wonder is a real enough grasp of the mystery and a crack for grace to move through. Muir did not come to a church and an orthodox form of Christian faith. But his insistence that meaning can only reach its fullness in the real world of flesh and blood, and his embrace of the world in beautiful language can certainly help us ordinary Christians to remain orthodox. Muir's acceptance of limits and his belief in their necessity so that there can be both definition and a grace that can take hold is a challenge to any spirituality that wishes to escape the human condition. This poet from the North Sea islands could, then, help us to purify and enrich the language of our prayer and our pulpits and lead us to embrace, and be embraced by the Word made flesh. Kathleen Raine If Muir i~ the poet of the Incarnation, Kathleen Raine writes of the Transfiguration. She is a pilgrim like Muir and now a stranger to orthodox Christianity though she had joined the Catholic Church for some years. She presents an interesting problem. Her experiences have led her to believe more rather than less, and so she moved away from Catholicism: Incarnation and Chariots of Fire / 359 To me it seemed absurd to find one aspect of a total symbolic event less acceptable than other parts: mythical events (so I thought) are not to be verified (did they or did they not take place) but rather to be understood, as is poetry. If anything, I still continued to find the Christian myth, as comparett with the pagan richness of symbol, too meagre, and welcomed any addition.~5 She means here, of course, no denigration of the Christian faith by calling it poetry and myth. For her, the truths of existence cannot be expressed any other way. This is a position that she fought to get to and promote all her life. To get to it, she had to overcome the assaults of a narrow Christian upbringing and an even narrower philosophy at Cambridge University where she studied science. Writing of the Christian poet Vernon Watkins, who came to Cambridge at about the same time, Raine says: "Years later Vernon Watkins wrote a ballad on Abram and Sodom; but at the time acted like Lot and quickly left a town past praying for. He was not deceived by the prestige of ignorance in high places."~6 The scientific materialism prevailing in the university spilled over into a Marxist politics in one direction and into an analytically dry and thin literary criticism in the other direction. While at Cambridge, Raine began to write poetry that was in a romantic and mystic vein, twin heresies, which Cambridge literary leaders tried to tear out. She did have two great privileges in her time in the scientific Sodom. She was in the audience when Virginia Woolf came to read her manifesto for feminists, A Room of One's Own, and, because he was unpopular and unread there, she discovered T.S. Eliot on her own. Kathleen Raine's poetry is obviously based on her experience of the sacred, and in her three autobiographies, she is plain about some of these ecstatic and enlightening encounters with nature. What is reassuring to Christians is that her hints of the transcendent are not limited to impersonal experiences, but are also to be found in encounters with other people. What is constant in both is her belief that poetry and imaginative truth are intimately related in both experiences of nature and persons. Her devotion to the imagination as a voice and a revelation echoes a favorite quotation from William Blake, whose works Raine has really helped to make popular in our own century. Blake tells us: If the Spectator could enter in these Images in his imagination, approaching them on the Fiery Chariot of his Contemplative Thought . . . or could make a Friend and Companion of these Images of wonder, which always intreat him to leave mortal things (as he must know), then would he meet the Lord in the Air, then he would be happy.~6 Raine quotes Bede Griffiths, now a monk in a Christian ashram in India, to the effect that "the function of art is. to evoke the divine presence."17 She not only quotes the insight, she believes and preaches it fervently in her criticisms of much modern literature. Materialism and naturalism, she says, betray the material and the natural. She believes that the peasant had it right when he answered the question, "How can bread be God?" by replying, "What else would it be?" Of course, the difficult side to Raine is the superfluity of belief. She 360 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1983 remembers with joy the seriously considered polytheism of her old friend and Nobel prize winner, Elias Canetti. He told her, "If I believed in one God, I should be obliged to hate him." He would, she says, "rather watch supernatura supernaturans than relegate the supreme gods of all the ages from gold or stone to iron and the machine, to the ethnological section of any museum, or the files of case-histories."~8 Perhaps Cardinal Newman's dictum that the superstitious are infinitely closer to the truth than the rationalists might help us understand Raine's extremism. Extreme or not, in the poem "Word Made Flesh" is captured some of Raine's ability to convey an experience that uses Christian symbols well, even if they spill outside of Christianity. "Word" is described over and over in eight short stanzas: "Word whose breath is the world-circling atmosphere. Word traced in water of lakes. Word inscribed on stone. Grammar of five-fold rose and six-fold lily, Spiral of leaves on a bough, helix of shells. Instinctive wisdom of fish.and lion and ram. Flash of fin, beat of wing, heartbeat, beat of the dance." And finally: Statement of mystery, how shall we name A spirit clothed in world, a world made man?~9 The descriptions are all authentic application of the word or "logos," and challenge the Christian to find a more beautiful poetic expression of the Cosmic Christ of I Corinthians 15:28. Another test of authenticity is Raine's real ability to conjure the evocative power of language, not in the mechanical control of formula or the mystification of gibberish, but in the power which comes from the choice of images that resonate with the inner nature of things around us, including all and excluding nothing. One of the poems in the Liturgy of Hours comes from the 1952 collection called The Year One. The book title comes from a friend who said the historical applied only to humans and their toil because for nature "it is always the year one." The title of the poem is Northumbrian Sequence IV. Northumbria is a border county of wild weather, moors merging into seascapes and the site of Hadrian's wall built by the Roman emperor to keep out the barbaric Scots. The poem offered as possible food for prayer begins: Let in the wind Let in the rain Let in the moors tonight. The storm beats on my window-pane, Night stands at my bed-foot, Let in the fear, Let in the pain, Let in the trees that toss and groan, Let in the north tonight. The evocation continues to the heart of the matter: Let in the nameless formless power That beats upon my door. Incarnation and Chariots of Fire / 361 Let in the ice, let in the snow, The banshee howling on the moor, The bracken-bush on the bleak hillside, Let in the dead tonight. The poem continues to link individual aspects of nature with even more powerful figures symbolic of various dark sides of humanness. Then there is a question and a short response: Oh how can virgin fingers weave A covering for the void, How can my fearful heart conceive Gigantic solitude? How can a house so small contain A company so great? Let in the dark, Let in the dead, Let in your love tonight. The answer must be a gentleness and pity that understands the immensity of the forces at hand and does not shrink from them: Gentle must my fingers be And pitiful my heart Since 1 must bind in human form A living power so great, A living impulse great and wild That cries about my house With all the violence of desire Desiring this my peace. Whether an interior demand of self or of others, here is a promise of a presence that cannot be articulated or tamed, but is full of promise. The poem concludes with this stanza: Let in the wound, Let in the pain, Let in your child tonight. This conclusion is at once crushing and comforting: the alien forces so powerful, so destructive, so all-inclusive are nevertheless one child to us in need of father-mother. These forces, these other presences are not us, and yet are as close to us as possible, and so we need to claim them. The spell Raine invokes brings them home as one child. As in Muir, the acceptance of all promises pain. Raine is, in fact, afraid of anything that would take away the pain: "Buddhism;" in her view, ~"offers'release from suffering;~C- hristianity the Cross, heavy with all the anguish of the world, to be lived arid known as the very heart of a Mystery. I wished to understand that mystery, not to be freed from it."~0 In the other poem to be found in the Hours, we read: Sorrow is true for everyone--a word That illiterate men may read By divining in the heart God's human name, and natural shroud. 369 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1983 In that last image, perhaps we have the echo of the hard-won wisdom of another woman of sorrow, Cornelia Connelly, who saw in "accepted suffering" that "one simple remembrance of his presence that unwraps all the windings of the heart and makes us true as he is true." Kathleen Raine's poetry is grounded in earthliness and suffering, but she also sees more burning bushes than we do, and she seems to be constantly taking off her shoes in awareness of the sacred and the spiritual. She is a reminder to those with other vocations about the nearness of the transcendent and how the Word evokes its presence in a terrible beauty. NOTES ~T.S. Eliot, Preface to Selected Poems by Edwin Muir, London, 1965, p. 10. 2Edwin Muir, An Autobiographov, London, 1980, pp. 30-31. 3Ibid., p. 30. 4Ibid., p. 36. ~lbid., p. 104. 61bid., p. 130. 7Ibid., p. 151. Slbid., p. 205. 9Edwin Muir, Selected Poems, p. 96. ~°An Autobiography, p. 229. ~lbid., pp. 277-278. ~21bid., p. 278. ~31bid., p. 281. ~4Selected Poems, p. 80. ~SKathleen Raine, The Land Unknown, New York: 1975, p. 183. ~6Kathleen Raine, Defending Ancient Springs, London: 1967, p. 55. tTQuoted in Kathleen Raine, The Lion's Mouth, London: 1977, p. 25. ~81bid., p. 49. ~gKathleen Raine, Collected Poems: 1935-1980, London: 198 I, p. 20. ~°The Land Unknown, p. 188. Currents in Liturgy Notes on Liturgy Everett A. Diederich, S.J. Father Diederich has been professor of liturgy at St. Louis University School of Divinity and at Weston Jesuit School of Theology. He is presently an associate pastor at St. Francis Xavier Church; 3628 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. I want to offer a service in the area of liturgy to the readers of the REVIEW by furnishing them with a survey of current literature not easily accessible to them. I intend to focus on issues which are likely to be of greatest interest, namely, those dealing with the relation of present day liturgical practice to the forming and nourishing of Christian piety and spirituality. In the present survey in addition to calling attention to the themes of the national and international liturgical meetings of 1983 about which I have information at this writing, I have focused on articles and books dealing with concerns which have arisen around what I might call our post-conciliar, popular eucharistic practice and interior spirit. Unless I have overlooked some significant articles, I found in my reading that almost all the articles on the Eucharist were something of a critique of present popular eucharistic practice and theory, sometimes imply-ing, sometimes stating explicitly that it is somewhat unbalanced. By way of introduction to the survey of the articles on the Eucharist, I have summarized current evaluations of the overall liturgical reforms and their effect. I have also included a very brief, perhaps overly simplified sketch of the eucharistic piety and practice of the last one hundred years. National and International Liturgical Meetings of 1983 December 4, 1983, will mark the twentieth anniversary of the Constitution 363 364 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1983 on the Sacred Liturgy. This has set the spirit for some of our national liturgical meetings. From April 19-22, 1983, the Sixth Annual Pastoral Musicians' National Convention took place in St. Louis, Missouri. The title given to the convention was, "Remembering Into the Future." It was intended to help ". musicians and clergy of the United States and Canada to step back and look at the past twenty years--the changes, controversies, and developments of the American musical scene" (quoted from the program). A special feature of the program was a survey of the history of American liturgical music for the last twenty years, with presentations in five different sessions by a liturgist and a musician. The Notre Dame Liturgical Conferences are well-known for their uniform high quality presentations. The Twelfth Annual Conference, June 13-16, 1983, has as its theme, "Renewal! Perspectives on Twenty Years of Liturgical Change." Boston College is sponsoring a National Liturgical Consultation, June 19-22, 1983, with participation by invitation only. "The purpose of our meeting, expressly called a "Consultation," is to appraise the present liturgical situation in the light of (I) the pioneering efforts of the "40s and '50s, (2) the directives of Vatican 11, and (3) the experience of the last twenty years, with an eye to those measures that might be adopted in the immediate future" (from the program). The names of 16 participants appear on the pages sent with the program. It promises to be an important gathering, with a significant number present who were involved in those "Pioneering efforts of the '40s and '50s." The theme of the International Congress of the Societas Liturgica, August 18-22, 1982, in Vienna, Austria, is "Liturgy and Spirituality." When the topic for the 1983 Congress was discussed in Paris in 1981, the need was expressed for greater prayerfulness in our liturgical celebrations. We need to identify the spirituality of the liturgy because, "Spirituality, the life of grace in those who seek to live anew in Christ, finds communal expression in patterns of worship, ministry and service--in a word, in liturgy . In short, worship and piety, liturgy and Christian life.are tightly interwoven" (quoted from the program for the Congress). The 1983 Synod of Bishops is not a liturgical meeting, but its topic should have important consequences for the liturgy. The topic is, "Reconciliation and Penance in the Mission of the Church." The Synod Secretariat at the Vatican sent out a kind of working paper to all the bishops on the theme and invited the national bodies of bishops to reply to some questions which were enclosed. The paper deals explicitly with sacramental penance but does this within the broad context of the Church's mission of reconciliation. We can expect a good bit of writing on the topic after the Synod.~ It is clear from the themes of the national meetings that there is a strong pastoral urge to evaluate our experience of the liturgical reforms, We remember the vision given us through the Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy. Notes on IJturgy / 365 The active participation at which it aimed is now in place in all the major sacramental rites of the Church. The changes have given us a new house of prayer. At least it has been renewed, remodeled, and rehabilitated. The ques-tion in the minds of many is whether the post-conciliar liturgical reforms are really renewing the Church. We were very optimistic that it would twenty years ago. We had hoped that the renewal of the liturgy would be the renewal program for the whole Church. Now the existence of so many different renewal programs in parishes in our country makes us doubt that it was. A possible answer, of course, is that we are not giving enough energy and effort to the liturgy. In 1980 the NCCB Committee on Parish Development reported to the U.S. bishops. The Committee stated, "The central responsibility of parish leadership is worship and the spiritual development of the people . In spite of this, the parish activity least often directly addressed in the parish development programs we have reviewed is liturgy . It appears that we do need to adopt a more direct approach to the development of liturgy and preaching."z Pope John Paul II still thinks that liturgical renewal should renew the whole life of the Church: "A very close and organic bond exists between the renewal of the liturgy and the renewal of the whole life of the Church" (Letter to All the Bishops of February 24, 1980). The Societas Liturgica Congress should be a stimulus to all liturgists to take a second look at how the promoters of the liturgical movement in the first decades of our century tried to make the celebration of the liturgy the primary and indispensable source of the true Christian spirit, as St. Pius X said that it was. His pastoral judgment that active participation in the liturgy is the pri-mary and indispensable source of the true Christian spirit, spoken near the beginning of his pontificate, November 22, 1903, has proved to be the most durable of all authoritative pastoral judgments made about the liturgy. It inspired the beginning of the liturgical movement in 1909. It seems to challenge us still. The theme chosen for the Societas Liturgica Congress bears this out. Evaluation of the Liturgical Reform There has been a significant trend in the liturgical journals during the last ten years to evaluate the ongoing experience of the liturgical reform. An Italian liturgist, Domenico Sartori, C.S.J., has done us the great service of making a brief summary of each of these evaluations.3 After summarizing them he identifies their converging points. First, he says that the writers agree that the enthusiasm and pastoral fervor with which the reforms were received in their first stages has waned and that now we find a certain weariness, routineness, and even downright regression in the communities which have implemented the reforms. Secondly, all are basically positive in their evaluation of the reforms themselves. There is convergence around what their positive elements are. These are the emphasis given in the reforms to salvation history and to a dialogical conception of the liturgy, to its ecclesial dimension, to the principle of adaptation, and to the relationship between faith and sacrament. They also ~166 / Review for

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

Issue 35.1 of the Review for Religious, 1976. ; Review ]or Rehg~ous ~s edited by faculty members of the School of Dwmlty of St Lores Umvers~ty, the editorial offices being located at 612 Humboldt Braiding. 539 North Grand Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. It is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute: St. Louis, Missouri. Published bimonthly and copy-right (~) 1976 by Review ]or Religious. Composed, printed, and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri. Single copies: $1.75. Sub-scription U.S.A. and Canada: $6.00 a year; $11.00 for two years; other countries, $7.00 a year, $13.00 for two years. Orders shot, ld indicate whether they are for new or renewal subscriptions and should be accompanied by check or money order payable to Review /or Religious in U.S.A. currency only. Pay no money to persons claiming to represent Review ]or Religious. Change of address requests should inclt, de former address. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Everett A. Diederich, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Miss Jean Read, Editor Associate Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor January 1976 Volume 35 Number 1 Renew',ds, new subscriptions, and changes of address should be sent to Review for Religious; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, Minnesota 55802. Correspondence with the editor and the associate editor together with manuscripts and books for review should be sent to Review for Religious; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. Questions for .answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; St. Joseph's College; City Avenue at 54th Street; Philadelphia, Pennsyl- ¯ vania 19131. Review for Religious Volume 35, 1976 Editorial Offices 539 North Grand Boulevard Saint Louis, Missouri 63103 Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Everett A. Diederich, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Miss Jean Read, Editor Associate Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant EditOr Review ]or Religious is published in January, March, May~ July, September, and November on the fifteenth of the month. It is indexed in the Catholic Periodical and Literature Index and in Book Review Index. A microfilm edi-tion of Review 1or Religious is available from University Microfilm; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. Copyright (~) 1976 by Review ]or Religious. What Does. the New Expect of the Priest? Ritual of Penance Rev. V. Joseph Finnerty Father Finnerty teaches theology at Cathedral College of tl~ Immaculate Conception, the college seminary for ~the dioceses of Brooklyn, New York and Rockville Center. The seminary is located at 7200 Douglaston Pkwy.; Douglast0n, NY 11362. The problem with the sacrament of Penance is not about to be solved merely by external ritual changes. A new liturgical book though critical and long overdue is not an instant panacea for this problem. What is needed is a change of mind and attitude on different levels because the problem of Penance has many dimensions. Many topics sliould be dis-cussed prior to the prorriulgation of the new rite especially: a definition of sin, an understanding of conscience vs. superego, a rediscovery of the virtue of Penance, an emphasis on the e~:clesial aspect of the sacrament, a per-s0nalization of the ritual, an honest evaluation of devotional confession, a study of thi~ forgiveness present in the Eucharist, a look at the~ relationship between Penance and baptism. Most important of 'all is the change of atti-tude asked of the minister of the sacrament. What the Ordo requests of the priest-confessor is more demanding than any of the recent reforms relating to other sacraments. The Ministry of Jesus Let us look first at the ministry of Jesus since it is paradigmatic for our own. Scripture reminds us that a work of the Spirit is the shaping of a prophet. Jesus is that proph,et~ announcing a word of reconciliation, but He does not begin without first having received the Spirit's anointing. His first sermon began with the Isaian theme: The Spirit of the Lord has been given to me, for he has anointed me. He has sent me to bring good news to the poor . (Lk 4, 18) 4 / Review for Religious, Volume 35, 1976/1 The Lord's preaching was not especially intellectual: the Father loves us; men are brothers; the kingdom is at hand; life continues. It is not so much what Jesus said but what He did that is significant for us priests. He con-stantly reaches out to the riffraff. With scandalous ease Jesus is at home with a publican, a tax-col'lector, a prostitute. Jesus is a friend of sinners. That's the message. The message so upset the Pharisees that they wanted Him dead. It is hard to imagine anything that would be more offensive to the religious leaders of Jesus's day than to have meal fellowship with the riffraff who were considered beyond the pale. Yet this is what Jesus did. He risked being ostrasized, alienated or contaminated so that He could eat with sinners and minister to them. He did all of this joyfully? ~ Christianity is a-sinner's religion. He was given the name Jesus because He would save men from their sins (Mt 1:21). When John saw Him, he cried that here is the Lamb who takes away the sins of the world. Jesus gave His life so that men's sins might be forgiven. Before He died He took bread and wine, proclaimed these to be His body and blood, broken and poured out for the forgiveness of sins. The mystery of forgiveness of sins stands at the very center of the Christian kerygma as the sign of the king-dom. Do~es not the great prayer of the kingdom unite these two concepts "Thy kingdom come" and "forgive us our trespasses"? Simply put, if we priests fail in our celebration of the mystery of forgiveness, we fail at what stands at the center of the Christian message. The Minister as "Healer" " One of the first things to be said about the minister of reconciliation is that the model of priest as judge is inadequate. For too long Penance has been dominated by one image, that of the courtroom, with a judge and a defendant. The sinner accused himself, listed number and species, pleaded guilty, and. requested a pardon from the judge. The Ordo Paenitentiae is dis-satisfied with the image of priest as an examining magistrate. The priest is not primarily a judge who sits in judgment about another's misadventures. The dynamics of the courtroom offer a poor example of what Jesus did. The pries[ is a judge, but he is more than that. He is a physician who exercises a ministry of healing. It is not those who are well.who need the doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the virtuous but the sinner. (Lk 5:31-32) The Rite of Penance refers to sin as sickness and the sacrament as a healing ministry more than twenty times; it uses the image of judgment only twice. The image_of "Physician of Souls" has a long tradition in Scripture, in early Christian sources, and qspecially in the liturgies of the Eastern Churches. 1Joachim Jeremias, Rediscovering the Parables (New York: Charles Scribner, 1966) p. 97. New Ritual o[ Penance ahd the Priest / 5 The theology of forgiveness contained in the ritual is a challenging one. There is no one-sided emphasis on the sacrament working ex opere operato; no top,heavy statement on priestly power; certainly n,o min!st~y that can be exercised in a mechanical or perfunctory manner. First of all the setting for this healing ministry is less formal and more personal; No reference is made to the "confessional," the ritual speaks only of the place for the sacrament (~12) which national bodies of bishops are asked to define even more precisely (~38). It is not the purpose of the ritual to deny people their right to anonymity in the confessional dialogue. It is wrong to insist that people only experience the ministry of priestly reconciliation in a face to face situation. Pastors and liturgical experts must prepare creative sacred space for the sacrament in sucha way that it re-spects the option of being seen or unseen by the confessor. We must meet our people where they are, but God help us if we do not bring them any further. A thoroughg6ing personal exchange in the sacrament of Penance is x~hat is called for. The directive which says, "the priest welcomes him (the penitent) warmly and gr~eets him with kindness" (~41) reminds~ us of the para~bles of Luke where Jesus teachi~s that God takes 'the initiative. Metanoia, comes from the penitent's heart, but, it is first of all a response to the overture of the father's loving kindness. He searches out the sinners; he looks for us. One warning! This is a friendly greeting, not a slap on the back. The dynamics of this ritual are not those needed to get class reunions off to a gQod start. The celebrant of Penance must not hesitate to be him-self but he must not communicate only himself he must'communicate the Holy One of God. The minister of healing must not act as though he has nbt experienced healing in his own life. He must know that he himself is a man forgiven. He cannot announce Church doctrine in a cavalier (take it or leave it) atti-tude. He never loses respect for the penitent while not condoning his sin.ful actions. A year ago an article.in L'Osservatore Romano highlighted this healing work of the priest: ¯ . . no sacrament involves the personal action of the minister so much as the sacrament of confession. The believer seeks a minister who will devote time to him; he seeks a patient man who will listen to him and believe him; he seeks a charitable man who will not pour salt but balm on'his wounds. He seeks a wise man who will not place on his shoulders burdens that he cannot carry; he seeks a serious and experienced man who will understand and then apply the yardstick of the Lord of conscience. He seeks a prudent~ ,discreet man, who will not delve where it is not necessary, who will teach where he is certain and will ask only for an upright conscience in cases, where the com-plexity of life makes it impossible to give a peremptory definition of obliga-tions and solutions . It is not unusual to hear the complaints of penitents whose feelings have been hurt in the very act of seeking Christ through the painful and dignified accusation of their sins . A not unusual complaint, 6 / Review for Religious, Volume 35, 1976/1 due--let us be clear--not to criminal or juridically blameworthy behaviour on the part of the confessor, but to acts of carelessness, impatience, arbitrari-ness, and sometimes--to be frank---~f t~ndue and incomprehensible pressure of one man on another, in the most sacred realm of conscience. Is it not too much to ask every priest, who is a minister of forgiveness about his usual attitude to the ministry of the confessional? Does he devote to it, joyfully or at least patientlyi all the time it requires? Does .he receive every penitent with Christ's mercy, without discrimination? Is he prepared to listen rather than holding forth sententiously?. Does he bring to the confessional the spirit of a friend, a brother, a'father, who does not judge the other more severely than the Lord would? Does he endeavor to discover extenuating cir-cumstances and to see the good that always exists in a soul alongside the bad? . . . Those whose primary obligation it is to save confession from a crisis that seems to be threatening it, are first and foremo:~t .the priests, to whom it has been entrusted by Christ through the Church.: The Holy Spirit and the Ministeroof Forgiveness A study of the journey and route taken by the Ordo Paenitentiae on its way to the Vatican printing press over the past ten years is very interesting for many reasons. Such investigation reveals that a major sou. rce from which the new rite draws its inspiration is ,the Eastern churches. It is a fact that the role of the Holy Spirit in the liturgy of the W~st has not received due attention. The most :striking and far-reaching reform has been to bring the Holy Spirit into the center, to the heart of the sacramental happening, thereby fulfilling the mens of the .,council, even if this was not voiced in lettera. The Cons'titu-t! pn on the Sacred Liturgy helped us to rediscover Christ; the post conciliar liturgical reform will help us to rediscover the Holy Spirit.:~ The rite~,~attempts to do for the West what the East has never forgotten, namely to unveil' the primordial link established in the gospel of John be-tween the Spirit and forgiveness. Receive the~ Ho.ly Spirit. For those whose sins you forgive, they are forgiven; for those whose sins you retain, they are retained. (Jn 20:22-23) Time and ~time again' this theme is presented in the rite itself. Just as the penitent is moved by the Spirit to seek forgiveness (:;q:6), so too the minis-ter acts by the power of the Holy Spirit to declare and grant forgiveness. Whether it be the c6mmunal rite or the rite for the reconciliation of the indi-vidual penitent, the minister and the penitent are told to pray together for a few moments asking for the gifts of the Spirit (#!5). Many of the .sug-gested Scripture selections emphasize the role of the Spirit. Finally all of this reaches a climax in the prayer, of absolution spoken by the minister -""The Minister o~ the Sacrament of Penance" L'Osservato~re Romano, February 7, 1974. ¯ aGodfrey Diekmann,'"The Laying on of Hands" Proceedings o] the Catholic Theo-logical Society o! America 29 (1974) p. 349. New Ritual o[ Penance and the Priest / 7 who announces the reconciliation accomplished "by the Holy Spirit sent among us for the forgiveness of sins." Imposition of Hands--Sign of the Holy Spirit The proclamation of forgiveness is accompanied by the ancient gesture of the imposition of hands. For centuries the sacrament of Penance was known as "the laying on of hands ad paenitentiam." Charles Borromeo tried to restore the penitential laying on of hands but he also introduced the con-fessional. He could not have it both ways, so only the remnant of the solemn gesture remained, namely the vertical extension of the right hand. The laying on of hands is not a peripheral rite restored by liturgists who have a bizarre archeological mentality. The renewal of this ancient sign tells us that it is the sacramental gesture par excellence. It reminds us of the healing ministry of Jesus who so often cured with a touch of the hand. But most important of all, this basic sacramental gesture, reinstated now in the liturgy of each of the sacraments, teaches that an epiclesis, a calling on the Spirit to effect change, is not restricted to the Eucharist. During an earlier age when the liturgy of reconciliation had no specific formula of absolution this gesture was never eliminated. It had a power all its own. It meant that the forgiveness of sins was the work of the Holy Spirit. One 0t~ the problems with Penance has been its symbolic poverty (this is true not only of Penance but of much of our liturgy a baptismal bath that is'not a bath, Eucharistic bread that is not real bread, etc.). We are great with words but weak on symbolic action. Henri Nouwen says that even young clergy who should know better are systematically eliminating every trace of symbol in favor of more and more verbal discourse, chatter, explanation, endless and infuriating pedagogy. That this is liturgy's death should be, by now, apparent." Too often our liturgy ~s wordy beyond toleration. The ges-ture of the imposition of hands, a_t_ the climax of the liturgy of reconciliation, speaks more eloquently than a thousand words about the meaning of Sacra-ment. At first many priests will find the imposition of hands strange and un-comfortable. It demands of the physician of souls closeness, gentle.ness, and communication of strength. It will not be easy for us to overcome a training that emphasized reserve and distance in dealing with penitents. It will take time and a great deal of common sense. At this point in the liturgy the penitent should kneel as the priest stands to impose hands and proclaim the words of forgiveness. Naturally the gesture is impossible except in rooms designed with the new ritual in mind. Much depends on the i~articular penitent and the mood of the moment. For some, this physical gesture would be a wonderful sign of forgiveness, rec-onciliation and acceptance. For others its newness could cause some mis- '~Henri Nouwen, Reachit,g Out (Doubleday, 1975) p. 30. Review [or Religious, I/olume 35, 1976/1 understanding and create further tension in a sacramental situation already filled with anxiety. The confessor open to the Holy Spirit and sensitive to the disposition of the penitent must judge each person se!earately . Certain priests may need to push themselves into a more physica~l, touching manner of healing sinners. Others may find they must restrain a natural effusiveness which can alienate . Both types of confessors obviously should be on guard in these charged circurhstances when a troubled penitent might mis-construe the laying on of hands. Lonely, injured spouses or sexually immature individuals could see this as a kind of advance. Whiie a sympathetic priest may feel compelled to comfort and console, he should be aware that his well in-tentioned action may instead confuse and complicate,r' The Priest as "Spirit Bearer" The initial key "needed to unlock the theology of the minister of recon-ciliation found in the Ordo is the idea of the priest as "Spirit bearer." This was a frequent description of the priest in the early church (Hippolytus, Cyril of Alexandria, Didascalia). Gerald Broccolo remarks in Concilium that for years we have considered the priest as alter Christus--someone wholly configured to Christ. While this is true, alter Christus seems to be the com-mon vocation of. every Christian, every member of the priestly people of God. Perhaps, he says, it might be more fruitful to view the priest as "a sacramental personification of the Holy Spirit." There is a great similarity between the. function and mission of the Holy Spirit and the role of the priest. The priest personifies the spirit when he consoles, encourages, gives guidance and support, convicts the world of sin, and teaches the Christian vision of human existence. Even though other Christians can frequently minister to the human family :in some of these same ways, the priest has been given the special charism of office to do so.'; Discernment of Spirits The celebrant of the liturgy of Penance must'possess the quality of spiritual, discernment (:~10A). He has the key function of raising the penitent's consciousness about gospel values. The confessor's manner should lead the penitent into an experience of discovering the truth about himself°on a deeper level. He is the catalyst who helps the penitent recognize the root causes of sin. He helps in the discernment of hidden sins, unsus-pected'offenses, and unrepented deeds that escape secular man today but which rip at the fabric of every community. Too often we pray for the wrong "things, we confess the wrong sins, we deal with symptoms and never treat the real illness. Why is it that go many settle into mediocrity and become lukewarm in a search for union with God? The monotonous cata-logue of sins that routinely comes to the penitent's lips keep him from ¯ ~Joseph Champlin, Together in Peace (Notre Dame: Ave Maria Press, 1974) p. 145. ~'Gerald Broccolo, "The Priest Praying in the Midst of the Family of Man," Concilium 52 (1970) 56-72. New Ritual o[ Penance and the Priest seeing his true self. To know one's tru'e sins is grace. To have a healthy sense of guilt is gift. It,is-the result of prayer. A prayerful and mutual dis-cernment in the dialogue of confession under the guidance of the Holy Spirit is the first step in a process of discovery. "The Spirit Js the first step in a process of discovery" (1 Co 2:10). We need the Spirit to help us face the truth about ourselves. The Confessor as "Pray-er" The more ancient phrase, "Spirit bearer," says a.great deal not only about who the priest is but also about how he should act. If he is "Spirit bearer" in the midst of the penitential assembly or for that matter in the Eucharistic assembly, he must act in a way that stimulates the faithful to pray~ A primary presupposition of all liturgical reform, and most especially of the sacrament of Penance, is that the sacrament is prayer. John Gallen r(marks that "What the contemporary reform of the Church's liturgy needs most in this~moment of its history is the rediscovery of liturgy as prayer.''z It is no accident that the first request made by the ritual' is for the priest and the penitent(s) to pray together (:#: 15, 16). Familiarity with the many suggested .prayers in the ritual is important but free prayer in one's own words is called for as well. The minister of reconciliation is not conducting a counseling session,. nor is he giving a conference on spiritual direction (:#:7B). While it is frequently necessary to give a word of counsel and direction, any serious situation which demands extended attention might~more profitably take place ¯ ¯ elsewhere. The ,ministry of reconciliation cannot be effective unless the confessor is a good "pray-er." Whether it be in a communal liturgy of penance or in the rite for the reconciliation of individual penitents, the priest is the celebrant who truly prays. The priest is "Spirit bearer" by public deputation of office, so that when he prays among men he must do so in a way that stimulates others to pray. His manner of prayer must engender the gift of the Spirit in the people around him. This cannot remain merely an intellectual conviction for the minister, rather he must endeavor to communicate this conviction in a humanly tangible manner. It is unfair to make tran'slations and texts bear the brunt of negative criticism with regard to liturgical reform. The even more commonly voiced disappointment with the r~sults of contemporary liturgical renewal can frequently be traced to the lack of a celebrant's internal dynamism of the Spirit being communicated to the assembly. The liturgy~cannot be rushed, it demands preparation, it rakes time. In an earlier age, canonical Penance was presided over by the bishop with the assistance of his presbyters and deacons who were joined in this act 7Johrl Gallen, "Liturgical Reform: Product or Prayer?". Worship 47 (1973) p. 587. Review for Religious, l/olume 35, 1976/1 of worship by a community of 6elievers interceding on behalf of the penitents. The penitents themselve3 did not appear at this assembly without having spent months (even years) in prayerful preparation. Make no mis-take, we have no desire to slavishly imitate a sixth century liturgy in the twentieth century, but the Ordo Paenitentiae does have every intention of recapturing an understanding of reconciliation as a profound prayer ex-perience of the Holy One of God. In this act of worship, we attempt to communicate the incommunicable. Reconciliation cannot be mass produced. The-practice of "frequent confession" or "confession of devotion" will need redefinition so that the Sacrament will not be reduced to superficial ritual observance. After seven centuries of unbalanced emphasis on causality to the neglect of the signs, the Ordo Paenitentiae is another example of Post Vatican II's rejection of an unthomistic stress on causality that led in the past to a more or less mechanistic view of sacraments. Whittling down a penitential liturgy or any other sacramental celebration to what is abso-lutely essential for validity can erode its prayer context. More is required for fruitful celebration than a basic minimum. If celebrants use emergency rubrics as the normal procedure for the parochial experiences of the Sacra-ment, no translation, no text, no liturgical book will be of any help in solv-ing the problems of Penance. The American Bishops put it well. "Faith grows when it is well expressed in celebration. Good celebrations foster and nourish faith. Poor celebrations weaken and destroy faith.''~ :The Protestant community will be less likely to dismiss the sacrament ¯ of Penance if it sees it as a prayerful experience between minister and penitent(s) who stand under the word of God with faith prior to a procla-mation of!forgiveness. It is not magic. It is not over and done with in a few moments. It is now, as it was in the early Church, a process, an event that takes time. If Penance in our time has hit rock bottom, it will rebound only if we rediscover Penance as prayer. For this critical ministry the Church needs charismatic men at ease with situations which permit a free flowing prayerful exchange with penitents under the direction of the Holy Spirit. Tension Between Ecclesial and Individual Elements The Ordo Paenitentiae reminds the Church of the~ diversity of ways in which a Christian obtains forgiveness (prayer, Eucharist, works of mercy, Scripture, etc.) (:~4). The ritual of Penance now includes a rite which in-corporates general absolution after only a general confession of sinfulness. Kenan Osborne in a report made to the Catholic Theological Society of America remarks that with the Ordo "a definite break has been made; a door has been opened officially, and although the document takes a strad- SMusic in Catholic Worship" Bishops' Committee on the Liturgy, 1972. New Ritual of Penance and the Priest dling position, the openness to new forms cannot be saddled or bridled . ,,9 With regard to the limited use of general absolution the Ordo may be termed a transitional document, an important first step. Pastors anticipate an openness from the National Conference of Bishops ~ for expanded use of this rite in the years to come. However in age of personalism, being ministered to as "a face in the crowd" is no instant cure for the problem of Penance. True conversion, real change of heart, a new direction to one's llfe, and authentic reconciliation with God and Church does not happen more easily by eliminating a personal meeting with a sensitive minister of the Church. The second rite integrates the ecclesial and individual dimension of rec-onciliation. It must be said that with large congregations, even when many priests are available, it will prove awkward. At other times, with small congregations it may pose no real problem. However, in the lives of busy people it may prove impractical to expect everyone to wait until the entire group of penitents has confes~sed individually before concluding the ceremony. It will be pastorally and practical!y better in many parishes to conclude the. Penance service first and then invite the participants to individual confession and absolution. This will prevent truncating the. dia-logue of prayer" which is confession. Over the past ten years it is understandable that priests have spent most of their time attending to liturgical renewal as it relates to Eucharist. However during this same period many ~ther prayer services once familiar to Roman Catholics have disappeared. As a result we feel we have little choice when we come together for prayer. Is it not true that most Catholics labor under the false impression that the word "liturgy" means "Eucharist"? The Eucharist is the preeminent liturgical action, it is the "summit" of our worship, but it is not the entire mountain, We have placed too heavy a burden on the Eucharist to answer eyery .spiritual need of all the people all the time. We misuse the Eucharist by overuse as though it were the only prayer form that our people know. The rite,for the reconciliation of many penitents with individual confession of sins and the suggested non-sacramental penitential services in the Ordo are part of the answer to our prayer needs. These? rites (even when all do not individually confess) must be highlighted as important ways of. reinterpreting what is meant by our~ traditional concepts of "frequent confession" and "confession of devotion." Further, these rites are a good response to Vatican II's request for a. less individualistic liturgical piety. Liturgical services are not private functions, but are celebrations of the Church, which is the 'sacrament of unity,' namely a holy people united and :,Kenan Osborne, The Renewal o] the Sacrament o! Penance (Washington: Catholic Theological Society of America, 1975) p. 48. Review ]or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/1 organized under their bishops. Therefore, liturgical services pertain to the whole body of the Church; they manifest it and have effects upon it; but they concern individual members of the Church in different ways according to the diversity of holy orders, functions, and degrees of participation.~° It is to be stressed that whenever rites, according to their specific nature, make ~provision for communal celebration involving the presence and active partici-pation of the faithful, this way of celebrating them is to be preferred, as far as possible, to a celebration that is individual and quasi-private,it Every sacrament must' be celebration of Church. In an earlier age, the bishop presided over a penitential~liturgy that literally included every-one, priests, deacons, and laity. Today the priest is asked to work with liturgical committees in the formation of ministers of the Word, readers of prayers and examinations of conscience, musicians, acolytes, etc. In addition to this collaboration, the priest must ~sense that each l~enitent actually celebrates with the Church in the rite of individual con-fession and absolution. "Thus, the faithful Christian, as he experiences the mercy, of God in his life, celebrates together with the priest the liturgy of the. Church by which she continually renews herself" (~11). Since the penitent is in dialogue with the confessor in this rite, it is appropriate to encourage him to read the passages from" Scripture, to allow him time to make an act of sorrow, and even have him suggest an appropriate penance. Although not every Catholic is capable of such participation and we should not burden people who are not prepared, neither should we patronize or underestimate the ability of many American Catholics who desire from their priests "something more." Standing Under the Word of God Finally, it might be helpful to remember the bishop's mandate given to all priests moments before ordination: "Share with a~l men the word of God you have received with jby." Like Jesus the minister is anointed by the Spirit to bring the Good News of forgiveness to his people. HiS min-istry of "breaking the bread" of God's word in teaching the people by means of the homily is an essential part of the liturgy of Penance. Even in the rite for ~the reconciliation of individual penitents the priest should be reluctant to omit those few verses of Scripture and subsequent words of encouragement. Karl Rahner says that there are forgotten truths about the sacrament of Penance that need to be rediscovered. The homily within the ritual of Penance is a privileged opportunity "to teach as Jesus did" about the true meaning of sin and about the need for reconciliation with God and with the Church. Almighty and merciful God, you have brought us together in the name of your Son 1°Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy #26. 11Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy #.27. New Ritual o[ Penance and the Priest / 13 to receive your mercy and grace in our time of need. Open our eyes to see the evil we have done. Touch our hearts and convert us to yourself. Where sin has divided and scattered, may your love make one again; where sin has brought weakness, may your power heal and strengthen; where sin has brought death, may your Spirit raise to new life. Give us a new heart to love you, so that our lives may reflect the image of your Son. May the world see the glory of Christ revealed in your Church, and come to know that he is the one whom you have sent, Jesus Christ, your Son, our Lord. (Ordo Paenitentiae :~99 Opening Prayer) Bibliography' Alszeghy, Zoltan. "Reform of the Rite of Penance,"~Theology Digest 23 (1975) 100- 106. Buckley, Francis. "Recent Developments in the Sacrament of Penance:' Communio I (1974) 83-93. Champlin, Joseph. Together iJ, Peace Notre Dame: Ave Maria Press, 1975. Colborn, Francis. ',Psychotherapy and Conversio9," American Ecclesiastical Review 167 (19:.73) 75-90. Curran, Charles. ~'The Sacrament of Penance Today," Worship 43 (1969) 510-531, 590-619; 44 (1970) 2-19. Diekmann, Godfrey. "The Laying On of Hands: The Basic Sacramental Rite," Proceedings o/ tire Catholic Theological Society o[ America 29 (1974) 339-366. Donnelly, Doris. "The Problem of Penance," America 129 (1973) 324-327. Duffy, Regi'~i ~'Concelebration of Penance and a Therapeutic 191odel," Worsl, ip 48 (1974) 258-269. Gallen, John. "Liturgical Reform: Product or Prayer?" Worship 47 (1973) 580-591. -- "The Necessity of Ritual," Tire Way Oct. 1973, 270-282. -- "A ~PastoraI-Liturgical View of Penance Today," Worship 45 (1971) 132-150. Poschman, Bernard. Penance attd the Anointing o[ the Sick, New York: Herder, 1964. Prieur, Michael. The Sacrament o] Reconciliation Today, Bethlehem: Catechetical Comtnunications, 1974. Rahner, Karl. "Forgotten Truths about the Sacrament of Penance," ~Theological vestigations Volume II. -- "Problems Concerning Confession," Theological'Investigations Volume II. -- "Penance as an Additional Act of Reconciliation with the Church," Theological Investigations Volume X. Schillebeeckx, E. Sacramental Reconciliation New York: Herder, 1971. Sottocornola, F. A Look at the New Rite o] Petratrce Washington: U.S. Catholic Conference, 1975. Vogel, C. "Sin and Penance," Pastoral Treatment b] Sin ed. P. Delhaye New York: Descle6, 1968. Renewed Religious Life: The Dynamics of Re-discovery George Kosicki, C.S.B. Father Kosicki is on the staff of Bethany House of Intercession, a center of spiritual renewal that emphasizes intercessory prayer on behalf of all priests. His address is: Bethany House; Seminary of Our Lady of Providence; R. R. No. 1; Warwick, RI 02889, Six years ago, my superior general, Father John C. Wey, C.S.B., released me from University teaching and research in the field of biochemistry to work full time with prayer groups and to give retreats. He asked me to experiment with prayer groups and communities and bring back what I could for the renewal of our own religious ~ommunity, the Basilian Fathers. He advised me to search out various approaches and not to get. tied down to one thing too quickly. In following his advice, I have experienced a variety of communities and traveled extensively giving retreats, mainly to priests and religious these last years, searching for some understanding and some answers. It has been a time of being a pilgrim and I have found some in-sights and factors that I think need to be part of renewed religious life. Experiences by Decades My experience of religious life began after high school with the no~,itiate in 1946 in Rochester, New York. I remember it as a joyous time; a time when I wanted to give myself to the Lord without reserve. I felt ready to give whatever was asked of me with generous heart. There were no agoniz-ing questions, no searching for answers; all was there in the community and the rule, In 1956, two years after ordination, I was director of our scholastics (college seminarians) at Assumption University, Windsor, Ontario. It was a time of intense activity: studying, teaching, research and counseling. Con- 14 Renewed Religious Li[e / 15 cerns with the scholastics centered about the rule, spiritual exercises, aca-demic achievements, work with the boarding high school students and sports. Ten-years °later in 1966, as director of the. scholastics, I was involved in seminars on the documents of Vatican II and deeply immersed in the construction of a three-quarter-million-dollar house of studies. We had more novices than we had rooms! One of the concerns was the right layout and atmosphere that would "form community," such as the color of brick and the arrangement of rooms. .~ By the time it was opened we could not fill it. Now, approaching 1976, I .am searching for ways to renew religious life. I am trying to listen to what the Spirit is saying to the communities. There are no scholastics at the university and neither am I there. During these past years I have.been exposed to a variety of communities' experiments that have added to both my experience and non-experience of community. While traveling to many parts of the world giving retreats on faith renewal, I made my home base in various living situations. At the university I lived with fellow Basilian priests in an academic atmosphere where many were of one mind on our work, but so many of our hearts were off in different directions; in different theologies, different psy-chologies, different styles of living. ' During the summer of 1970 in Detroit I was part of a seven week program of sharing and prayer with a group of priests. It was a temporary community that inspired us to continue the searching. During the academic year of 1970-71 a group of students and a few priests came to live together as a community, using a former convent in the inner city at Santa Maria Parish. ,We were of one heart but never made cl~ar our agreements and found that we were not of~one mind. We thought that our common involvement with the large central prayer group at Gesu Parish, Detroit, would form us into a community; but we had no clear headship and a random pattern of living developed. In the beginning of 1971 a nucleus of five priests was attracted to a vision of a community committed to ~he renewal of priests. They joined,me at Santa Maria and on several retreats. We spent the summer together in sharing and prayer. It was a strained situation because the focus began with our interpersonal relationships, dealing with areas of trust and lack of trust, and seemed to continue at that level. In a sense, we were our own first customers; we were the ones who experienced healing, but there was so much more needed for so many brothers. The two priests, who stayed on with me (1971-72) in the retreat work with priests, found it increasingly difficult to work with the renewal of priests. Our community experience was good but not good enough. ,We tried to be of one heart and one mind but diversity of interest, of calling, and of talent seemed to dominate. Our temporary commitment worked against our making the needed agreements. For the next two years I moved to the Word of God Community in 16 / Review ]or Religious, l/olume 35, 1976/1 Ann Arbor, Michigan, as a base of operation. The leaders of the com-munity asked me to come and live with them and receive the Christian support I needed for the retreat with priests. The Word of God is an ecu-menical lay community of more than 1200 people living in extended family households. It is a life ~of prayer and common worship that over-flows in service. The bond of unity is commitment to the Lord and to one another. I came to experienc6 the pattern of their community life and to see before me re-discoveries of many basics of religious life. In living with a family household, I came to appreciate the enormity of the love and fidelity of the parents, at least thirty-six hours a day. I came to be aware of the devastating impact of the school, peer group pressures~ TV, movies and .advertising on the lives of the children, I realized the need of a Chris-tian space to be free to be Christian and the need of common worship to support the members. Then, in living with a household of young menocom-mitted to a single life as brothers, I came to experience the rediscovery of poverty, obedience and celibacy. I watched before my eyes young men committing their whole lives to the Lord, to one and another and to service of the community with an eagerness and simplicity that I knew many years ago. There is no lack of commitment among the young; it is being directed toward these vibrant communities. These community cells are the remnant clusters that,.~are rediscovering the basic elements of religious life in our times. They are rediscovering: commitment, prayer, obedience, sub-mission, ~order, celibacy, poverty, forgiveness and confessing of sins to one another, healing, admonitions, service, brotherly affection, and love. ~ During the past year I~have been living with a small group of Basilians attempting to apply some of these re-discoveries into our "Basilian Way of Life." It is a simple, experiment: (an we live our Basilian way of life in a simple way? We came to experience the support of each other in regular faith-sharing of God's movements in our day, in praying together daily, in our Eucharists and meals and in our weekly hour of intercession for the needs, of our fellow Basilians and the Church. We found ourselves of one heart.We could freely share and pray together and for each other, but our different apostolic works took us in different directions, limiting our time together, At the present. I am preparing for another community experiment: a house of intercession for priests by priestsl As a result of the power of heal-ing and unbinding we experit~nced in a forty-day period of intercession for priests last summer (1974), six of us have been released by our major superiors to form a core-community of intercession. We are inviting others tO join us for a week or mori~ of thisoministry of prayer for our brothers. The six of us (two Basilians, a Maryknoll missioner, a Trappist, a Jesuit, and a diocesan pastor) want to live as a community putting into practice some of the re-discoveries of religious life. We want to be a healing com-munity that will help unbind our brother priests. Renewed Religious Lile / 17 It is interesting to note that a parallel change took place in our seminary in Toronto during these same decades. In 1946 St. Basil's Seminary con-sisted of some fifty theologians and faculty housed in an old orphanage, A great emphasis.was placed on the theology of St. Thomas and on teaching. In 1956 the classroom extension on the new seminary marked the beginnings of the "New Theology." By 1966 the new freedom expressed itself in new patterns of studies, small group encounters, and a general ~democratization of life style. Now, approaching 1976, a remnant of Basilians is part of a theological union at St. Basil's College. What can be said about 1986? What will religious life be like? I have some. questions that concern me and some re-discoveries that have given me hope. Questions about Religious Life What can I say about the renewal of religious life in light of this back-ground of experience? I wish 1 had the answers. What I do have. is the anguish of many concerned questions and the insights of some re-dis-coveries. Will religious life, as we have known it, die out? Isoa remnant to preserve this way of life for a future restoration? Can the new wine of renewal be put into old wineskins? I would like to answer these questions with the surety that would give hope, but I am confronted with the reality of dying communities--empty novitiates, closed seminaries, the average age of membership increasing dramatically, continued resignation of mem-bers. Another question that concerns me is the :nature of the apostolic work usually done by religious communities; such as, schools, hospitals, and social work. Where does the religious community enter a government controlled structure and how does it survive as a work of mercy and charity in the midst of a bureaucratic system? A related question confronts religious com-munities: Do we dare sell our institutions or are we secure in them like the young rich man in the Gospel? Can we be secure in insecurity? Another concern ~about religious life is its isolation from the full ecclesial community. Have religious communities become churches unto themselves? Have they been more interested in their self-perpetuation and the advancement of their own apostolic endeavors than in the welfare of the people of God and the proclamation of the Kingdom? Another concern is that many religious communities have attempted renewal by a single directional thrust; that is, the lessening of discipline and order. The usual result has been the lessening of the time given to prayer by the individual and by the community. This type of renewal was not an experiment; it was just a change. There was little, if any, evaluation and no time limit set for the termination of the change. A greater emphasis was placed on personal responsibility and initiative, but so many of us have come to realize how much we need the mutual support of each other that is expressed through order. Review for Religious, l/olume 35, 1976/1 Another thrust has been on pluralism within the community. I, among others, was a strong proponent of pluralism at our renewal chapter of 1968, but now I see the need of unity, of unanimity, of being of one heart and mind in our community and apostolate. What has been the effect of these changes? The drastic changes in .the last decade have been devastating to the morale of many older members. Nonverbal communications came across: that what was done before~was not good and what we are bringing in is better. The renewal has ushered in new and good things. But have we discarded some of the treasures of the old? From my experiences of living in various communities, I have come to some insights into re-discovering some of these discarded treasures. Insights into Re-discoveries I have come to see that there is no lessening of cofnmitment among young men and women. It is being directed, however, to new styles of life, to the lay communities and not to the traditional forms of religious life. Religious communities and leaders in the Church need to take a sincere look at what is happening in these lay communities, not with a stance of "wait and see" or of tolerance, but of active participation and encourage-ment. The Spirit is speaking to these communities and .the Church needs to hear wtiat the Spirit is saying. ~, Religious communities will find that the basic practices that have been rejected in our renewal process are now being "re-discovered" by these lay communities. What richness they are finding in common and private prayer (what used to be called office, meditation, holy hours), in Scripture reading, in teachings (conferences), in an ordered life under headship (obedience and rule), in support, encouragement and admonitions, (moni-tions, spiritual direction), in confessing their sins to one another and praying for one another (examen, chapter of faults), in times of sabbath (grand silence). But, above all, the basic commitment to ~the Lord Jesus is made explicit and is freely, talked about and regularly renewed. The reality of Jesus as Lord of their lives together is what makes these com-munities vibrant and alive with new members. I have come to be less discouraged with the conflict experienced in religious communities, realizing that the source of the conflict is often the Holy Spirit Himself. The Holy Spirit convicts us so that we would get off dead-center, so that we would not be self-satisfied with our security. The message of the Spirit to religious communities may well be the message of the Spirit to the Church in Laodicea: You keep saying, "I am so rich and secure that I want nothing." Little do you realize how wretched you are, how pitiable and poor, how blind and naked! Take my advice. Buy from me gold refined by fire if you would be truly rii:h. Buy white garments in which to be clothed, if the shame of your nakedness is to be covered. Buy ointment to smear on your eyes, if you Renewed Religious Li]e / 19 would see once more: Whoever is dear to me I reprove and chastise. Be earnest about it, therefore, repent! Rv 3:17-19. The message of the Spirit is to repent, to be renewed. It is not a call just to a change, but ,to a change for the better, to a renewal. I see that religious communities need tO keep searching and re-discover their founda-tions. Experimentation I would encourage religious communities to cbntinue experimentation; that is, to try what is possible with agreed-upon limits. The difficulty with many experiments is that they were tried without an understanding of the nature of experimentation. It was not experimentation but change. Experi-mentation means actually doing something with pre-set limitations that allow evaluation. For instance, so often an "experiment" is attempted with no termination date and, when it finally does terminate, it is usually because it just fails due to the nature of the situation and the members feel the failure as frustration and/or guilt. A'termination date allows an evaluation of positive and negative features. Also, experimentation calls for oneness of heart and mind. The members of the group need to agree on their ideals and on the practical' steps necessary to achieve them; such as, time commit-ment, prayer schedules, work assignments, finances, order and headship. Experiments in community life fail so often because of the lack of agree-ments among the members; agreements are needed on the ideals as well as on the practicalities of day to day living and on the authority to call: one another to fulfill the agreements made. Agreements are the limitations set on the experiment that allow evaluation. The professor who directed my ~dissertation research in biochemistry insisted on two principles in regard to experimentation: One, "Don't talk about it, do it;" and the .other, "An experiment never has enough controls." ~(Controls are the fixed limits set on the experiment that make possible its evaluation.) And so~.in regard to experimenting With renewal of religious life, I would encoutage religious communities to "try and try again" and to ¯ "set specific agreements on what is to be done." I would encourage experi-mentation not just change, o ~ The Church needs many examples of what can be done. We need living models of renewed religious communities that can be a sign ot~ hope to other communities. We need religious~communities to be living witnesses of the Risen Lord Jesus. It would only take a few t6 spark a spiritual revolution in the Church. The Charismatic Renewal and Religious Life The charismatic renewal cannot be igno~'ed; it just won't go ,away by not paying attention to it. The message of the charismatic renewal is to the whole Church and in a special way to religious communities. We need to Review for Religious, Volume 35, 1976/1 hear what the Spirit is saying no matter what our experience of the charis-matic renewal has been. There are a variety of messages spoken directly to religious communi-ties, some of which can be easily accepted and others causing tension. The many people who have been renewed by a new fullness of this Spirit challenge religious to be renewed and have their hearts set on fire with the love and the power of the Lord. This fire expresses itself in the ways that should be part of religious life: by the presence of God, in the prayer of praise, in the power of ministry, gifts of prophecy, healing and discernment, in the love of Scripture and speaking of the Lord. This new fire is available to all religious for the asking, that is, if we ask with hunger for the Lord and the expectancy of faith. The challenge of the charismatic renewal is not only to the individual member of religious communities but also to communities themselves to rediscover the essential factors of their life together. This kind of challenge causes tensions. Many religious as individuals have experienced the power of their "baptism of the Holy Spirit" and have been set on fire with new life but confronted a tension when they returned to their home community. For many, the prayer-meeting with people not of their own community is the occasion of love, fulfillment, and prayer; but when they return home they find bickering and superficiality. Others, on returning home are confronted with the challenge: Why can't you find your fulfillment at home? I see that the major cause of the tension is the Holy Spirit Himself; He is healer but He also is.judge This is true of the individual and of the community.This tension is good and from the Spirit Who brings the sword. We are being challenged to be renewed. Are there any religious communities that have been renewed by the charismatic renewal? Some~have been founded anew, such as, St. Benedict's Abbey, Pecos, New Mexico. But we need more models of renewal. People are waiting for a community to say, "Here we are!" We need some :.real evidence of the Lord's work and we are waiting. We need to be patient and wait for the Lord's time-table. Some religious communities are experi-encing a charismatic renewal by "osmosis," that is, a gradual absorption of ' various aspects, such as, shared and spontaneous prayer,,a greater rever-ence for the Word of God, renewed interest in the Lord. But we also need the direct renewal of deeper conversion to the Lord Jesus. The greater yielding to the power- and ministry-gifts of the Holy Spirit and the deeper relationships of love for one another in full community, What can an individual religious do when there is tension within the community over the charismatic renewal? Love much and love still more. It is the witness of love expressed in daily service, care, forgiveness and patience that melts tensions. Only by asking for this love in daily prayer will we be able to love in this.way. ~n addition, the individual religious will need to find support in a praying-healing community. For a while this may Renewed Religious Life have to be outside the "religious" community! What a contradiction that a member of a religious community would have to go outside that community to find spiritual support. And yet I have seen far too many religious who have had to do just that. There are many lay communities that are experiencing a renewed li~e in the Spirit and are challenging religious communities to drink deeply of the new wine and be what they are called to be. Religious communities are being challenged to be leaders of renewal in the Church, to be an integrated part of the whole Church, to be a believing, confessing witness to the world, a charismatic witness to the Church. Religious communities ought to be charismatic communities with all the gifts of the H01y Spirit operative; including wisdom, knowledge, faith, healing, miracles, prophecy, discern-ment of spirits, tongues and interpretation (cf. 1 Co 12). Religious com-munities need to make use of all the gifts of the Holy Spirit that are given for the upbuilding of the Body of Christ. Religious communities have been challenged to renewal by the Second Vatican Council to look to the charism of their founders. Such a looking to, and renewal of, their original charism may in some cases be a "re-discovery" and in others a restoration. Com-munities do have a charism that identifies them. It may be a ministry or a life-style but always it is a fire. It is the fire that enkindled the founder and set on fire the hearts of those who followed. The characteristics of this fire can be seen in the early Church itself, as described in the Acts of the Apostles. Surely the whole Church needs to experience its founding charisms and it will if religious communities become charismatic. Factors in Renewed Religious Life From my experiences of failure and success in a* variety of community experiments, I see that there are basic factors to be taken into account in any renewed community. The factors I would like to stress include: common commitment, agreements, headship and submission, sin and forgiveness, prayer in private and together, Eucharist, celibacy and mutual support, poverty, discipleship, :apostolate and brotherhood (companionship) and witness. The order of importance of the various factors depends on the nature and state of the existing community and apostolate. There needs to be a dynamic equilibrium of being disciples, apostles, and brothers (com-panions). 1. Common Commitment: The common commitment to Jesus as Lord is the fundamental factor of Christian life. Each of us, individually and together, needs to profess Jesus as Lord. He alone can be the center and reason for our lives together. We need to allow Him to be the Lord of our lives. It is His Spirit dwelling in our hearts that binds us into one body. This dimension of community exists prior to us and we enter into it, that is, the community of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit pre-exists. As we enter into the Spirit of the Lord Jesus we enter into a pre-existing community. Review ]or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/1 We do not "form" community in the sense of giving it birth~ but rather we allow it to grow the more deeply in each of us as we enter into the Spirit and allow Jesus to be the Lord of our lives. As we enter into a relationship with the Lord, we enter into a common-union with Him and so with all the others who also have entered into this union. Our common-union-in-Christ is the bond that forms community. This is the bond that needs to be made explicit, public, vocal, and regularly renewed. Many religious communities continue to assume ,,that this basic rela-tionship is real in their members. My experience.,testifies that this assump-tion cannot be made universally and needs to be made explicit. We need to make explicit our relationship to Jesus as the Lord of our lives, that is, we all need to support one another in continued conversion. One way of supporting each other in this relationship is by our daily prayer support and faith-sharing (see below for further development) which gradually begins to counteract the domination of other "lords" in our lives. And we have been deeply influenced by "lords" other than Christ in these past decades: by the dominance of success, by the fallacy of numbers, by the influence of materialism, by the ideals of self-fulfillment, etc. We need to renew our basic commitment to the Lord Jesus. 2. Agreements: We cannot assume that we are of "one heart and one mind" (Acts 4:32); we need to re-discover how to make agreements and come to oneness of heart and mind. It is a process that takes time and listening to all the members but it also involves laying down our own pre-conceived ideas and desires to achieve a unanimity but not a uniformity. It means that we want to be reminded of our agreements so that we may keep them. Agreements need to be clear and even written down so that we do not have misunderstandings. The agreements that are not clear are usually the source of "double expectations." One person expects to do B and another C and neither is fulfilled. We need to agree on our expectations, our ideals, and on the daily, practical ways they are to be achieved. Agreements are the "controls" of the experiment; they set the limits of what can be done together, limits of time commitments, involvements and duties. When evaluation is done, we need to look to our agreements. They will show us how the experiment is working. 3. Headship and Submission: Each member needs to be under the authority of another, not in the sense of being under a superior~ as we knew it in the past, but in the sense of being a part of the body. Each member of the body needs to be in submission to and in support of the whole, body if the body is to function as one. In the past we had separated the roles of superior, confessor and spiritual director so that the superior was not to involve himself in the spiritual life of the individual and the spiritual director or confessor was not to involve himself in the daily life of the individual. We need tore- Renewed Religious Li[e / 23 discover the role of a "spiritual elder" who would take responsibility for the whole welfare of the person. Each person needs such a "head" to reflect his needs, to challenge him, to confront him with his agreements, to foster his total growth. Such a "head" has the responsibility to see that the individuals and the community are growing; he is to see that decisions and agreements are made and problems are faced up to but he does not have to make the decisions himself. Such headship means support and submission of all the members of the body to one another, not just to the head. This re-discovered concept of headship would extend obedience beyond the vertical relationship to the horizontal as well. It would mean a submission and reverence to one an-other as members of the same body. It would mean that members iaf a brotherhood would not be just keepers of their brothers, like Cain, but rather be brothers to their brothers in the Lord. ~" 4. Sin and Forgiveness: One of the major factors in the. daily living of Christian community that needs to be re-discovered is the effect of sin and the need of forgiyeness. Sin has a drastic effect on community. The sin of any one member of the body affects the whole body. My sin of resentment or anger affects you and your sin affects me. Sin is a communal responsi-bility. In the recent past we have made sin. a private matter mainly to pro-tect the privacy of conscience. We have relegated sin to the privacy of confession or to the spiritual director and have separated the office of confessor, spiritual director and superior. We~ need to reconsider the effect this has on community. Sin is not a private matter. We need ways to confess our ~ins to one another, forgive one another and pray for one another s6 that we be healed (cf. Jm 5: 16), In the past religious communities have had ways of confessing sin to one another; in chapter of faults and in monitions, but these became stylized into dead rituals and were dropped by many communities. There are simple ways of confessing our sins to one another that should be in-corporated into our daily life. Sin will continue to be a reality that we need to deal with daily. Seventy times Seven times a day we will have to forgive one another. 'Community exists not when sin disappears but when we learn to forgive four hundred and ninety times a day. We need to learn to ask for forgiveness, to give forgiveness and to receive it. When we exchange forgiveness we acknowl-edge sin but ~ve also'acknowledge that our love is greater than sin. To the extent that we have forgiveness--to that extent we have~ community (Bon-hoeffer). If there is any one single factor that needs to be present in com-munity, I think, it is forgiveness. Sins against our.relationships are the major factors that destroy community. Forgiveness, as we ourselves have been for-given in Christ, is our mission of reconciliation and restores community. 5. Faith Sharing: One of the ways that our common commitment to the Lord Jesus is supported is by faith-sharing. Daily we need to share our 24 / Review for Religious, Volume 35, 1976/1 faith experiences and how the Holy Spirit is working in our lives. In the past we had examen as a time to review our lives, but the emphasis was on ourselves, our sins, our virtues; it became a time to make a list ot~ our faults. The daily sharing at the end of the"day can become a new form of common examen. For example, beginning with a period of silence we can let the Spirit reveal to us where He acted today so that we could recognize His action in our lives; then each in turn can share two or three moments when they recognized the action of the Spirit and corresponded to it or did not correspond to it. In listening to one another we come to hear how the Spirit works in each of us. We can respond with joy, prayer and en-couragement. Daily faith sharing becomes a very special time of closeness in the local communities. We come to know and support each other; we come to know ourselves and the delicacy of the movements of the Holy Spirit. Our faith grows as we hear the faith of our brothers expressed. Faith comes from hearing and we need to hear the faith of one another as well as see it. As trust grows among the group, the confession of~.our weakness and sin becomes possible. It is in this kind of sharing that we can confess to another, pray for one another and so be healed. 6. Prayer: To be a Christian community, each member needs to be faithful to daily prayer. I would place the minimum for each person at an hour of private prayer each day. We need a block of an hour to be before the Lord, to let Him love us, heal us and teach us. If we are to work with Him, we must know Him and this takes time. There is no substitute for this daily time of drawing nourishment from the Lord; it would be better to miss a meal than to miss this time of being apart with Him. To be Christian, the community needs to pray together. The prayer of the' Church Calls us together several times a day, But over and above that, I have come to see the power of hours of prayer spent together in inter-cession for the needs of the Church. In interceding for others, we join Jesus before the throne of the Father. The Father waits for us to ask for our needs in the name of Jesus. Prayer is the time of drawing spiritual nourishment for life. Without prayer we are inviting death to reign in the community. Each individual needs to feed the community with his prayer and, in turn, the communal prayer strengthens the individual. It may well be that the lack of prayer in religious comn~unities, both~ private and communal, has been the major factor in the increased signs of death--decrease in commitment and decrease in vocations. If I were to venture a guess at the major factors among those listed, I would point to the lack of prayer and lack of forgiveness. We need to rediscover prayer--not a return to reciting prayers, but truly praying. We can make use of every form of prayer available to us: the official prayer of the Church, shared prayer, spontaneous prayer, prayer in Renewed Religious Life / 25 the spirit, silent contemplation, lectio divina, holy hours, litanies, the rosary, novenas, and any other form. In this time and state of the Church, we need to make use of every channel of power to cry out in our need for mercy. The prayer of Our time is just this: lamentation. To weep with Jesus forthe ChurCh and the world. ~' 7. Eucharist: The celebration of the Eucharist, I have come to experi-ence, does not "form" community in the sense of giving it birth, but it rather is the cause of growth of community. It nourishes the life that is there and celebrates it. The Holy Spirit gives birth to community and He must be dwelling in our hearts in order that we be nourished by the Eucharist. This means that we need to approach the altar with forgiveness and conversion of who we are. If we do not recognize the assembled body for what it~is as the body of the Lord, we eat and drink to. our own judg-ment and "that is why so many among you are sick and infirm, and why so many are dying" ( I Co 11 : 30). The Eucharist can be an escape from facing the real 'issues that divide us.,On the other hand, the Eucharist can be and should be the source of healing of our divisions. To be healed we need to confess both our sinful-ness and our faith in the two-fold presence of the Lord:' The Lord is present as spiritual food and as the assembled body. Our faith is expressed in,the invisible presence and our submission .and obedience is expressed to the visible presence of the assembly. To be truly one we are to be one in faith and one in obedience. Is the real source of divisions over this obedi-ence? Do we approach the Eucharist "listening to" (the real meaning of obedience) the Lord and one another? Do we approach the body of the Lord with reverence, submission and obedience? When we celebrate the Eucharist, confessing who we are and confessing who Jesus is, we truly will recognize the Lord in the breaking of the bread. He will open our hearts and minds and heal us so that we might be one. Eucharist ought to be and can be th~ summit and source of our life to-gether when we approach the table of the Lord as a, "confessing com-munity." 8. Celibacy: Mutual Si~pport o[ Love--Consecrated celibacy is a way of living for the Lord in a singular way. It is a gift of the Lord for the upbuilding of community by which we are freed to love more broadly and serve with greater commitment. In a sense, celibacy is a gift of time for the community; it frees us to give time to love and service. On the one hand; celibacy is freeing but, on the other hand, it limits us to be served and be loved by the community. To live as celibates we need to receive the support of community. This involves mutual 16ve and concern. It is a marriage to the bQdy of the Lord, His Church. I have come to re-discover the need of small celibate communities within the larger ecclesial communities because it is in the small com-munity that this mutual love, concern, and support is expressed in a daily Review ]or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/1 way. The mutual support of love can be expressed in a number of ways: praying for each other and over each other for support, healing and deliv-erance from various kinds of bondage, sharing of faith experiences, con-fessing our sins and .forgiving, speaking to each other the tru~th in real love, facing our fears fearlessly, sharing the daily events of work, recre~ation, meals and the special events of celebrations, submitting to one another so that each person is under headship, expressing our affection for each other in visible signs. "Greet all the brothers with holy embrace" (I Th 5:26). This sign of affection may seem like a small or silly thing but it is not. We cannot embrace a brother with a resentment against him.It has been a fascinating discovery for me to realize that the very signs of affection that were so definitely discouraged in novitiates and seminaries because of the fear of homosexuality, are the most effective way of avoiding the problem. A warm affectionate community is not only the greatest antidote to homosexuality but also is needed to live out our consecrated celibacy. 9. Poverty: Poverty needs to be re-discovered. I see that poverty has two fundamental aspects: possession and dispossession. The first movement of poverty is to be possessed by the power and the presence of the Person of the Lord Jesus Christ. When we are possessed by Him we are rich and truly free. The second movement of poverty is to be dispossessed---of all that is not of Christ: of things, attitudes,, and relationships. To me this means that we. may become poor in new ways as well as in the old: poor in the extent of involvement, poor in the use of our time, poor in productiv-ity, poor in successes; as well as poor in material goods, food, clothes, housing and transportation. When we are dispossessed, we stand weak and stripped before the Lord and man, and allow ourselves to be posSessed with the richness of the Lord; He becomes our power and joy. Religious communities are called to be poor, not just in spirit, but also in fact. Our sign to the world is that we are rich in the Lord, Can re-ligious communities be the sign of contradiction that confronts the "lords" of our age: materialism, competition, and ~ivarice? 10. Disciples-Apostles-Brothers: I am coming to rediscover the need of a dynamic equilibrium between three aspects of religious life. We need to be disciples, apostles and brothers (companions), that is, all three need to be renewed, not just one or the other. As religious, I see that we are called by Jesus as His disciples to follow Him, and sent by Jesus as His apostles with His power to do the work of the Father, and united as His brothers by His love to be a witness to the world. In renewing religious life we need to emphasize the word ltis; we are to be ltis disciples, ltis apostles, l-lis brothers (companions). Have we attempted to renew our communities according to our own patterns, making ourselves disciples of our founder, or apostles of our own brand of apostolate? Or have we attempted renewal of our communities by approaching the renewal of just one aspect, such as, Renewed Religious Li]e / ~17 the apostolate or the community? Community life cannot be renewed with-out the renewal of discipleship and the apostolate; they are all inter-related. I have experienced, however, that the aspect that is most easily passed over: is discipleship. We have a tendency to assume that all our mem-bers are undergoing continous conversion and all are praying.and know Jesus Christ in a personal way as Lord and Savior. My experience bears witness that this assumption cannot be made. To put it in another way, many religious need to be evangelized. Many more than we like to admit need to come to experience the presence and power of the Person of the Lord Jesus Christ. l 1. Ecclesial Witness: The religious community ought to be and can be the living witness of what it means to be Christian. It ought to be able to say to those in need: "Come and see." "Come and live with us that you may know how to live." The religious community ought to be and can be the yeast that leavens the Church with a ferment of new wine, bringing new joy and hope to the Church and a world that so needs new vision and good news. The religious community ought to be and can be a confessing com-munity; confessing both its sinfulness and that Jesus is Lord and Savior. The confessing community speaks the truth in love: we are in need ot~ help and Jesus is given for our help. The world needs to hear this truth spoken in great love. The religious community ought to be and can be a poor and praying community 'that is the sign to the world that Jesus is alive in our day. The religious community ought to be and can be charismatic and serve the body of Christ with all the ministries of the Holy Spirit., Steps Toward Achievement What can be done if, in fact, we are not experiei~cing the ideal? I would suggest some practical steps that could be taken to work toward it. These steps are possible at any time. 1. Ask the Father in Jesus to send Their Holy Spirit of love and power to draw men together; 2. Forgive, forgive, forgive and remove the obstacles to our being one; 3. Share to the extent possible; sharing our burdens, our prayer, our faith experiences, our goods; 4. Listen to the Spirit revealing Himself to each of us and through each other. We need vehicles of communal listening in otieying the Lord. If we want to know what the will of the Lord is, we need to look with discernment to what He is in fact doing and saying. A further step then follows: as the Lord calls together a core of leaders who are similarly drawn to meet (step 5) on a regular basis, even Review Ior Religious, Volume 35, 1976/1 daily, to carry out steps 1, 2, 3, and 4, this calling will lead the leaders to commit (step 6) themselves to one another. Around such a core of committed leaders, a believing and witnessing community can grow. There are some Christian communities who have grown in this way. We need to look to them for the message they are speaking to the Church in our day. They are living and speaking a radical message. Do we darer listen? Pastoral Ministry. For those who want to more. Trinity College offers a unique program integrating scripturel theolog~ and professional skills to 15elp you be of greater service to your fellow man and A combination of theoretical and 'practical preparation offers opportuni-ties for specialization in health care, the aging, correctional work, the parish or education. Choose from a 4 semester MA degree program, a 2semester non-degree program, or a 5 week Summer Institute starting June 28, 1976. Fc~r more information write or call Sister Mary Louise Norpel, S.N.D., Director, at (202) 269-2276. Trinity College Dept. 02 Washington. D.C. 20017 Please send me more informalion. narr~ address dry state__ZIP___ TR N H[NGTON The Art of Religious Leadership Sister Noreen Murray, F.M.M. Sister Noreen resides at 225 East 45th St.; New York, NY 10017. As a student at St, Louis University, School of' Social Service, I had the opportunity to participate in a Values and Ethics course that helped me to take a closer look at who I have become because of the values I hold. I selected the topic of leadership for ~'ne Of our assignments because I be-lieve that good leadership is essential for the growth of individuals. The emphasis of this paper is on the role of religious women who have assumed the responsibilities of leadership. As used in~ this paper, the term, "leader" is synonomous with the terms of "superior" or "coordinator" that are presently being used by many religious communities. The art of religious leadership is the creative process which unravels as an individual accepts responsibility to help other persons or organizations, strive to achieve the goals or ends for which they have come together with a shared vision. A religious leader is an individual who responds to life with her whole being; aware that every person she meets and every breath she takes is a gift from the ;Father for her. The discovery of God in her life has brought new insights and .meanings to everything she does~ She has been able to come,to a deeper understanding of' who she is, as she reflects on her womanhood, religious commitment and responsibilities. God has gently touched her and whispered her name, beckoning her to assume the office of leadership. I believe that a religious woman has a lot to contribute as leader, both within her own community and also in public organizations. The focus therefore of this paper will be on the various dimensions of creative leadership which are applicable to both settings and will be indi-cated by reference made to a leader with responsibilities in community. The importance for a religious leader to be aware of the reasons why her community was founded cannot be stressed enough. For when a leader 29 30 / Review [or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/1 is able to step back in time and become immersed in the history of her :ommunity, she is able to have a better perspective of where the community has come from and what is its potential for the future, In doing this, the leader may have to call the community to accountability because over the years they have become so involved in "doing" that they have lost the freedom of "being." The call to accountability is sometimes a painful one for the leader to initiate and yet if the community is to be viable, it must be one of life rather than of technological necessity. As a religious leader looks at the community, she realizes that it is a dynamic interaction of individual women who have come together with a shared vision, in the hope of one day attaining their goal. The uniqueness of each woman in the community gives a richness to the life of the com-munity, when she is allowed to be herself and grow to her potential. Com-munities that have been in existence for years have sometimes become so involved in their Work and apostolate that they get further and further away from the real meaning of their existence. The encouragement that a religious leader is able to give to women in her community to become sensitive to the roots of the community and see how the roots can remain firm as they branch out into various works, will often be a bond of unity for all.'involved. Personal reflection on the community enables the women to have a better understanding of what part they play in its growth and de-velopment. With this enriched insight, there is often a renewed dedication and commitment that occurs in the life of each woman. Although the religious leader cannot escape the complexity and magni-tude of the work she is confronted with each day, she can approach the situation responsibly. An awareness of who the women in her community are, may be one means she can use to delegate some of her work. In dele-gating work to an individual, the.leader is giving her ~the opportunity to utilize her talents and gifts and expand her potential. Once the leader has delegated what work can be done by others, she is then in a better position to see what she has to do. By taking time to list' in a priority sequence the things that are to be done, she,~will have a more realistic perspective Of what can be achieved. As this priority list is developed, the religious leade'r realizes the possibility of frustration has been lessened when she is not able to cover all the work that is before her because the demands that she has placed on herself are more realistic and in line with what can feasibly be accomplished: A religious leader is as human as the next person and like the rest of mankind, she must take time to step aside from her work and be re-freshed. It is important for the leader as well as the community to realize this because unknowingly in her desire to help others, she maybe over-doing things and stifling her own potential for growth. The community can be very supportive to her by respecting her humanness and acknowledging the efforts she makes to bring them closer to their goals. While the religious The Art o] Religious Leadership / 31 leader shares with her constituents the proposals and decisions that are to be made, it is often she alone who bears the brunt of mistakes and failures that have occurred. I believe that it is important for the women in community to accept the responsibility of our failures, as well as our suc-cesses with our leaders. We are human beings and any one of us is capable of making mistakes. We must learn to accept ourselves with our weaknesses as well as our strengths. The creativity of a religious leader to initiate new dimensions for change is often met with resistance from the community members. The stability and comfortableness that has existed for years does not want to be shaken. The question of "Why is it necessary to have these changes?", is often posed by some of the sisters to the religious leader. The prayerful preparation that has gone into formulating these changes gives the re-ligious leader the openness to listen to each one and respond in such a way that all have a better understanding of what is involved in these changes. The element of risk is often involved in any decision and one must be willing to pay the price for that risk, if one is going to be true to herself and her calling. To step into the unknown can be a frightening experience and yet as one begins the journey and stumbles and falls along the way, she is often in a better position to pick herself up and proceed onward. The channels of communicationthat are accessible to all the women in the community, is a very important consideration to which' the leader should be sensitive. If'the leader is to speak to the members of the community, it is important that she realizes there is more than one way of expressing our ideas, and if we are to speak to a group, we must see what method will be most receptive by this particular group. The ability of the women to com-prehend what is being said is important, and the leader must make every endeavor to make the arch of distortion ever smaller. The arch of distor-tion is affected not only by the acoustics of the room, its physical situation in the comm._ unity, but also by the importance and relevance that this com-munication will have on the individual sisters. The growth of community is not a one-sided effort but rather the interaction and exchange of all the women in the community. Because of this, it is imperative that the means of communication be accessible and used by all the members. Even though the religious leader may not have personal expertise within the area of financial management, it is important for her to be involved in the formulation of the budget and other financial expenditures. This principle highlights another aspect of leadership and that is the ability to select .persons who have expertise within a given field and the capability of utilizing this expertise on a broader scale. Once the leader is able to share various leadership responsibilities with qualified persons, she is relieved of many pressures and is therefore able to extend herself in a more human way to others. Review for Religious, Volume 35, 1976/1 The vision of a religious leader often extends beyond her immediate community to the larger community of the neighborhood,, city, nation or world. If her community is to be a dynamic witness to others, it is impera-tive that it has interaction with others. The call to leadership does not stop at one's doorstep, rather it calls one forth to become responsible in new and varied ways. Leadership is dynamic, if we-will allow it the freedom to be creative and responsive. When a religious leader knows what her beliefs are, it is important that she stands up to be counted. Christ's call to discipleship was never one of ease but rather self-giving. The truth and sincerity of religious leaders speak loudest in the silence of their presence and the beliefs to which they give witness. The emphasis of this paper has been on religious leadership in both communities and public organizations and was expressed from the view-point of religious leaders in community. I believe that the responsibilities for a religious leader in a public organization would basically be the same. By substituting the word organization for community in the paper, I think one can understand the validity of this statement. The presence of religious within a public organization can be a very powerful force in helping the organization grow to a new dimension. Change does not happen overnight in any organization but the influence that a religious can have on an organi-zation by her presence and convictions may stimulate the organization to have a greater accountability for its existence and policies. I believe that it is a challenge and responsibility that religious have to step out of our comfortable environments and into the realm of risk and venture forth into the unknown. Religious leaders do not have all the answers; they are striving as best as possible to encourage a great degree of collegiality in decisions that are made, for they recognize the ability that each woman has to enrich the community by sharing her ideas and insights. It mfiy seem as though I pre-sented an ideal type of leadership that is not very real, however I believe that it is very difficult to jud.ge or criticize another for mistakes when I am not totally aware of all the intricacies that are involved. My presen-tation was one of potential, something that should be strived for by all leaders. When we open ourselves to the humanness of our leaders, we ha~,e a greater appreciation for their efforts and stumbles they have made as they try to enrich our shared vision. The creativity that is involved in leadership brings each of us to new dimensions and possibilities. Are we willing to accept the guidance of religious leadership that may lead us into the unknown, facing us with the possibility of taking risk? If we do not have all the answers, are we willing to pursue that truth which will lead us to its discovery? Shall we take this journey through life, or shall we sit by the shores and watch the waves come in? The response that is to be given to these questions is a personal one. Are we ready to make that response and live with the choice we make? The Holy See, the Society of Jesus and the 32nd General Congregation Vincent O'Keefd, S.J. Father O'Keefe, past president of Fordham University, has been an Assistant General resident in Rome since 1966. He has frequently acted as Vicar General during Father Arrup¢'s absences from Rome. His address is: Borgo S. Spirito, 5; C.P. 9048; 00100 Roma, Italy. Introduction The modesty of that title reminds me of a course we had as novices. It was entitled, "From Adam to Pius XII." Anyone studying the 32rid General~Congregation now or at some future date will place its distinctive note in the deep and continuing concern and the decisive intervention of the Holy Father. I'd like to reflect on this with you and follow this order: first of all, a brief outline of the sequence of events which will provide a kind of framework of reference and indicate the essential documents; then a consideration of what happened at the congregation to bring about the personal inierventi0n of Pope Paul VI; this will enable us to look into the concerns of the Pope, and the stance and approach of the congregation; and finally, we'll try to sum up and indicate where we go from here. Sequence of Events 1) On Easter of 1972, Fr. General wrote to the pope of his intention of convoking a general congregation "during 1974 or in early 1975, and thus was cancelling the Congregation of Provincials which would have been held in 1973. Cardinal Villot replied, on April 18, 1972, in the name of the Holy Father, who was pleased that a general congregation would be convoked 33 34 / Review for Religious, Volume 35, 1976/1 and indicated what he considered to be important orientations. 2) On September 8, 1973, Fr. General issued his letter of convocation, setting the date of the 32nd General Congregation for December 1, 19~74. On September 15, 1973, Pope Paul VI sent an autograph letter to Ft. General in which he indicated the lines of authentic renewal in the spirit of Vatican II. 3) On November 21, 1974, Pope Paul VI received Ft. General, who gave him a copy of the postulata, along with a memorandum listing the topics which the general congregation would probably treat in accordance with the postulata and the preparatory period of the congregation. 4) The members of the 32nd General Congregation were received on December 3, 1974, by the pope, who pronounced a lengthy discourse which is the key document of the Holy See with regard to the general congregation. 5) Cardinal Villot sent a letter, dated December 3, 1974, in the name of the pope. In his meeting with the Holy Father on November 21, 1974, Fr, General had raised the possibility that the congregation in the course of its discussions might ask that the fourth vow be extended also to non-priests. Cardinal Villot's letter said that such an extension could present grave difficulties that would prevent the necessary approval of the Holy .See. 6) On January 22, 1975, the general congregation, .after serious and prolonged discussion, held an indicative vote, a sort of straw ballot, with regard to extending the fourth vow. More than two-thirds of the assembly voted affirmatively, and this was conveyed to the Holy See on the same evening. ~ 7) .P.ope Paul VI sent an autograph letter to Fr. Ge~neral on February 15, 1975, saying that the~e could be no innovation in the fourth vow and requesting that all the decrees of the congregation be forwarded to him before their publication. 8) On February 20, 1975, the pope received Fr. General. 9) On March 7, 1975, the pope received Fr. General ~nd the recently elected general assistants, and gave them a comrdunication for the con-gregation. 10) On May 2, 1975, Cardinal Villot wrote to Fr. General in the name of the pope, to authorize the publication, of the decrees of the general, con~ gregation. Along with the letter were some general norms of interpretation and particular observations on several of the decrees, The official edition of the documents of the 32nd General Congregation will contain those documents which the Holy See considers necessary .t0 evaluate: the congregation, and to assure that our religious and apostolic activities, are in conformity with the Ignatian Charism and obedient to the fatherly orientations which .the pope gave to the general congregation on different occasions. These documents are: 1 ) The H01y.Father's discourse of December 3, 1974 2)~ Cardinal Villot's letter of the same date The Holy See and~the 32nd General Congregation / 35 3) The autograph letter of Pope Paul VI on February 1 ~, 1975 4) The communication of the pope to Fr. General and the general ~. assistants on.March 7, 1975 5) The letter of Cardinal Villot on May 2, 1975, authorizing the pub- =~ lication of the documents of the congregation o The" Congregation With this background, let's consider what happened at the congregation. In its initihl stages it determined~its approach: and modus operandi. Right from the start, .it' wanted .to determine its agenda in the sense of what matters it should, treat, before launching into any particulhr question. This led to the drawing up of .a list of priorities--those matters to which the congregation wanted to direct its immediate attention. This was not meant to indicate the absOlute importance of any issue, but was rather an effort to select those items which the congregation as a whole felt it should0treat at the outset. One of these priorities dealt with the nature of formal membership in the order and such related ques~tions as differences in "grade" or official .status among members. One of the commissions formed dealt with the. matter of the grades and presented several reports to the congregation. It is to be recalled that Pope Paul VI alluded to this matter in his discourse of December 3, 1974, where he said, You are likewise priests: this too is an essential character of the Society, without forgetting the ancient and established tradition of enlisting the help of Brothers who are not~ in Sa~red Orders and who have always had an honored and effective role in the Society. Priesthood was formally required by the Founder for ali professed religious, and this with good reason, be-cause the priesthood is necessary for the Order~he instituted with the special purpose of the sanctification of men through the Word and the sacraments. o- Effectively, the sacerdotal character is required by your dedication to the ,active life--we repeat--pleno sensu. .~ In Cardinal' Villot's letter of December 3, 1974, he mentioned that the Suprrme Pontiff had studied the possibility raised: by Fr. General in the audience of November 21, 1974, of extending the fourth vow of special obedience dirca missiones to all Jesuits, including flon-priests. The Holy Father said that, after having studied the matter, such an innovation. seemed to offer grave difficulties which" would prevent the necessary ap-proval of the Holy See. This communication was sent so that it~ would be kfiown during the disCusgions of the congregation.' The congregation discussed the matter of grades seriously and at length. Several ,options were possible, e.g., make no Changes; ektend the fourth vow 'to all priests but not to .brothers; simply accept no more as spiritual coadjutors; abolish ~the distinction of grades, etc. In order to aid the com-mission in its arduous work of preparing a definite report, the congregation voted to hold an indicative vote, a straw ballot, The vote was held on 36 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/1 January 22, 1975, and a vote in excess of a two-thirds' majority in favor of suppressing the grades was the result. This was communicated to the Holy See on the same day by means of a personal messenger, Fr. General had arranged to keep the Holy See fully informed on the proceedings of the congregation. In addition to a personal messenger from the congrega-tion, the Acta and the news bulletins were sent regularly to the Holy See. The news of the indicative vote proved very disturbin~ and upsettin~ to the pope. After a report was sent to him of the reasons which led to the indicative vote, the Holy Father sent an autograph letter to Fr. General on February 15, 1975: He repeated what was in Cardinal Villot's letter of December 3, ~1974, and said that there was to be no. innovation with regard to the fourth vow. He. wanted ~no change in the Formula of the Institute. He also expressed doubt about certain .orientations and attitudes that emerged from the work of the congregation, exhorted it to reflect profoundly on its responsibilities, and asked that the decrees be sent to him before publication. ~ The congregatibn was deeply unsettled by this turn of events, and confused, It was a time that called for spiritual insight, humility and cour-age, and these qualities were not lacking. There was a situation of difficult communication and misunderstanding; a painful situation since the Holy Father himself was involved. The congregation tried to explain to him what it had intended in all loyalty. The Holy Father stated what he expected of the congregation. ~ Why Did the Congregation Treat This Matter? The question of the fourth vow is connected with the distinction of grades. It is a problem that the 32nd General Congregation had inherited from the 31st General Congregation. This latter congregation had mandated the constitution of a commission to examine the whole problem of the suppression of the grade of Spiritual Coadjutor, and also the advantages and disadvantages of granting solemn profession to Temporal Coadjutors. The commission was set up and prepared a first report which the secre, tary of the Society sent to all the provinces in 1970 as a helpful factor in deciding the VOte for calling or not calling a general congregation. Replies were expected from the province congregations on the possible options proposed in the commission's report. After the province congregations, the commission completed its work and presented a second report to the congregation of procurators in Sep-tember 1970. The 31st General Congregation had recommended the constitution.of another commission, w~ich sought to aid and stimulate the execution.of its seventh decree on Temporal Coadjutors, and also sought to clarify the profound theological aspect of the vocation to the Society of a religious who is not a priest: A complement to this activity was an International Congress The Holy See and the 32nd General Congregation / 37 of Temporal Coadjutors, the results of which were presented to the congre-gation of procurators. The congregation of Jprocurators discussed this question fully and underlined it as one calling for an urgent solution. Thus also for this pur-pose, it was fitting,that Fr. General convoke a general congregation within three to four years. After the convocation ,of the general congregation, the question of the grades, was the object of much work and study by special' groups in prepa, ration for the province congregations. The result of this intense work was the presentation of 65 postulata which directly treated the distinction of grades; and of these,,41 postulata from provinces called for the abolition of this distinction. The Commission set up by the 32nd General Congregation to deal with this question felt it was committed to study this matter, keeping in mind the letter of Pope Paul VI of September 15, 1973,,his discourse of December 3, 1974,.and Cardinal Villot!s letter of December 3, 1974. ¯ Since the problem of the distinction of grades in its totality and in the variety of its possible solutions went beyond the concession of the fourth vow, the.commission offered the congregation an accurate analysis of the postulata and the different .options possible which derived from them. Two reports were submitted which included the reactions and observations of tlie delegates. When the congregation voted on whether they should treat this question, 228 voted in favor of treating it. The commission presented its document for an initial discussion and an indicative vote on all the options. The results of the presentation and discussion were these: 1 ) ,the congregation was aware of the mind of the pope; 2) any decision of the pope would be accepted in full obedience; . 3) the congregation .wanted a full discussion of the matter, to arrive at an awareness and knowledge of the real state of the Socii~ty on this question, of the real difficulties involved, and of the possible remedies; 4) the congregation felt that if it should conclude that the only way to meet the difficulties was by the abolition of the grades, it would not only be possible but would also be.a duty on its part, in view of its responsibility to the Society, to present these difficulties to the Holy See by means of a genuine Ignatian rep.rese.ntation; 5) the congregation intended such an Ignatian representation to pre-cede any kind'of definitive act or action. The elements of a" genuine lgnatian representation were brought out. In the lived experience of the Ignatian life style, it is a primary feature of the fatherly mode of governing proper to the Society. It doeg not imply a will contrary to obedience, but rather a desire for common collaboration in the search for and discovery of the divine will.(Cf. Ex. Gen. 131; Const. 38 / Review for Religious, l/olume 35, 1976/1 292, 543, 627.) It presupposes always an authentic spiritual discernment, a disposition of interior indifference, and a total openness to the ultimate decision of the superior who in this way will be better informed. The discussion in the Congregation Hall was prepared by discussions in 18 small groups, The discussion itself was long and full; some 57 speakers aired their views. The meaning of the indicative vote was solely that of giving the future work of the commission and the subsequent action .of the congregation a more concrete orientation, and avoid long and useless work. No one could predict with-any degree of probability, however, what the end result of the vote would be. This, then, was the background of the congregation's indicative vote. The pope's reaction showed that there had been a misund~rstanding,,that he was displeased, and that there was a difference of approach and stance between him and the congregation. Fr. General was received by the Holy Father on February 20, 1975, who evidenced how grieved and concerned he was at the action of the con-gregation, which did not seem to be responding to his expectations. The pope was surprised that the congregation had not understood that he had meant to exclude discussions on the fourth vow right from the beginning. His discourse of December :3rd, 1974, did not seem to have received the careful attention it should have gotten. The congregation was following a line quite different from the one he had indicated. The pope showed by concrete reference that he was reading the Acta and the bulletins. He also mentioned specific~ally that he was praying every day for the congregation and offering Mass for its success. Fr. General expressed the regrets of the congregation that the Holy Father had been so grieved, and assured the pope of the obedience of the congregation. The pope insisted on the necessity of continuing discussions with him and said he was. ready to receive the general whenever he wished. The congregation then went on to follow the pope's wishes in com-pleting the decrees. A special group of delegates was named to study the different communications of the Holy See and to see whether the points mentioned in .these communications had been treated in the various de-crees of the congregation. This led to the formulation, discussion, and en-actment of the Introductory Decree as well as to a careful treatment of the other decrees. On their completion, the decrees were submitted to the Holy Father be-fore publication and promulgation. The congregation ended on March 7, and the last of the documents reached him just after mid-March, On May 2, 1975, Cardinal Viilot wrote to Fr. General in the name of the Holy Father, authorizing the publication, of the decrees, and including general norms for interpreting,the decrees properly ~as well as particular observations on five of the decrees. The Holy See and the 32nd Geheral Congregation Against ,this background let's look into the concerns of the Holy Father, and the stance and approach of the general congregation. The Pope's Concerns 1) The pope looked beyond the Society to the effects of the congrega-tion on all religious orders and congregations, and on the whole Church. In his .letter of Septerfiber 15, 1973, he said he was well aware of the.im-portance of the congregation, which could be an hour of decision for the Society, for its future destiny and work in the Church, as it is also an hour of decision for other religious families. He repeated this in his discourse of December 3, 1974, and added, You are at the head of that interior renewal which the Church is facing in this secularized world, especially after the Second Vatican Council. Your Society-is, We say, the test of the vitality of the Church throughout the centuries; it is perhaps one of the most meaningful crucibles in which are encountered the difficulties, the temptations,, the efforts, the perpetuity and the successes of the whole Church. This view of the Pope, embracing all religious families and the Church, is a constant theme in his dealings with the 32nd General Congregation. 2) The Holy Father wanted no changes in the Formula lnstituti lulii III, and describes himself as the guardian of the essentials of our institute. In his eyes it is 'fidelity to the Formula and to the basic documents of the Society' that make it the fit instrument of service to the Church that it has been for so long a time. He favors an updating and adaptation of our insti-tute, bUt.~always in conformity with the spirit and charism of our founder. 3) The pope considered a change in the so-called "grades" as a dam-aging mutation in our Formula, one that would change the nature of the Society, particularly in its distinctive note as a presbyteral order. In his eyes it would affect our lgnatian charism. For the Holy Father, the question of the grades was connected with a thrust for promoting justice, and'this could lead to an undermining of a direct priestly ministry, could stress a political and social involvement, and bring about the involvement of more lay peopl6 in our endeavors. The tluestion of the grades was what provoked the first intervention of the pope after his initial discourse, but his concern clearly went beyond this issue, which was a manifestation of certain orientations and tendencies in the congregation which were the' real concern of the Holy Father. 4) The pope feared that the"notion of priesthood inothe congregation would not sufficiently underline the distinction between a common priest-hood and an ordained, ministerial priesthood. The move would be away from the notion of priests, "who administer the grace of God with the sacraments; priests who recei~,e thepower and have the duty to share organically in the apostolic work of sustaining and uniting the Christian community, esp'eci~lly with the celebration of the Eucharist; . . " This 40 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/1 could represent a drift from. a priestly order to a type of secular institute. 5) The same danger is present in the discussions on the relation between evangelization and justice. In the letter of Cardinal Villot, of May 2, 1975, there is a particular observation, about the decree on Our Mission Today: "Human development and social progress in. the temporal order should not be extolled in such exaggerated terms as to obscure the essential significance which the Church attributes to evangelization and the proclamation of the full Gospel." (This is a quote from the closing remarks of the pope to the Synod of Bishops in October 1974.) There is a danger of looking at the promotion of justice solely or most importantly in its economic, social, and political aspects. This applies to the Society in a special way since it was founded for a particularly spiritual and supernatural end. Every other undertaking should be subordinated to this end and carried out in a way appropriate for an institute which is religious, not secular, and priestly. Moreover, we must not forget that the priest should inspire lay Catholics, since in the,promotion of justice theirs is the more demanding role. The tasks "proper to each should not be confused. 6) The pope felt that the general congregation gave less attention and importance to problems touching the renewal of spiritual and religious life which is an indispensable condition for a fruitful apostolate, whereas recent years show the effects of a widespread secularization on the Society. 7) In the matter of fidelity to the Holy See, something proper to the Society, the pope felt that the congregation tUrned its attention to restricting the limits of a necessary fidelity rather than to correcting certain regrettable deviations in doctrinal and disciplinary matters during the last decade with regard to the magisterium and the hierarchy. 8) The pope felt~ that the publicity about the congregation's indicative vote on the grades put him in an unfavorable position, could seem to place him before a fait accompli, led him to a disagreeable correspondence. It should be noted here that the reports in the public press did not manifest an understanding of what the extension of the fourth vow would entail. In fact, most of them spoke of an attempt to lessen or weaken obedience, and this in spite of serious attempts to give accurate information to the press. 9) The pope had intended his December 3, 1974, discourse to serve as a program for the congregation, and was disappointed and felt that it had not received sufficient attention from the congregation. To express the matter in the spiritual shorthand of our day, the Holy Father felt that the congregation was over-emphasizing the horizontal di-mension and that there should have been more emphasis on the principles of religious and ascetical life. 10) Ultimately, the pope's concern was that the congregation and the whole Society which it represented, should be faithful to Ignatius and to itself. He judged it to :be a decisive moment for helping the Church, so prone The Holy Se'e and the 32nd General Congregation / 41 to deviations in these days, when the vast task of doing great things is still reserved to the Society of Jesus~ His concern was that we should be men of the Church. The Congregation's Stance and Approach Turning now to the congregation, the following should be noted: 1') For the congregation, the matter of the grades was a mandate from the 3 Ist Congregation, was something of real moment and interest to many in the Society, as shown by the postulata, and could.be presented to the pope in the form of an Ignatian representation. The indicative vote was no more than that. The information that was given out on the indicative vote was in the context .of informing the Society of the. work and progress of the congregation since the whole Society had been called to participate in the preparation of the congregation. As the only legislative body in the Society, the congregation felt it could supply to the Holy See, ~better than anyone else, the iinformation needed to judge the status of the grades' question in the Society. 2) In the indicative~vote for the abolition of the distinction of grades, the congregation's fundamental motivation was.based on the conviction that it'was possible t6 distinguish between the fundamental~ lgnatian charism and its concrete realization in history. The charism looked to the creation of a group capable of a generous and effective commitment to the Supreme Pontiff by an aprstolic service centered in a zealous and continuing priestly work. Its concrete realization was in a juridical structure, created by Ig-natius~ which was the distinction of grades. A decisive number of the delegates thought it possible to maintain the fundamental charism but with a different structure. The abolition of the dis-tinction of grades was 'desired, but with the conviction and under the con-dition that. the Society should remain a religious, apostolic, and sacerdotal order bound in a special way to the Supreme Pontiff. The arguments in favor of the abolition had a common presupposition, and that is the development of directives and concrete norms for a severe selection process, starting from acceptance into the novitiate andcontinuing through the~succeeding probations. Along with legislation for the future, transition~ai norms would have been required to provide for the juridical and personal situation of those already in th6 Society. 3) The congregation looked on its response to the Holy Father's reply on the grades as an act of full, mature obedience given by a group of men acting according .to Ignatian obedience, predisposed to accept whatever the decision of the pope might be. 4) It is true to say that the congregation considered things .from the point of view of the apostolate and apostolic needs, but this did not entail a neglect in treating the principles of religious and ascetical life, or rele- Review for Religious, Volume 35, 1976/1 gating this to a secondary status. When examining the questions of religious and ascetical life, the congregation found that its predecessor, the 31st Congregation, had done this very well and felt no need to ~'epeat.what had been well articulated. The 32nd Congregation would confirm what its predecessor had enacted. 5) The congregation felt that horizontalism is indeed a central note, but need not oppose a vertical dimension. It would rather express an enduring consciousness of the needs of man and a desire to respond to them. In its initial stages, the congregation discussed a so-called "priority of priorities., Some, unfortunately, thought that the congregation had chosen the promotion of justice as the "priority of priorities," for the Society and her apostolate. ~ This was not true and led to misunderstandings. The con-gregation chose as the priority of priorities the criteria for the apostolic service of the Society and the promotion of justice, per modum unius. The congregation accented the "service of faith. The promotion of justice is intimately connected with this, but it is quite different from transforming the whole end of the Society into the promotion of justice. It is true to say that ~oncern for the dimension, promotion of justice, accompanied the work of the congregation whether it dealt with our life or our apostolate. The congregation underlined and emphasized the dimension, service of faith, precisely to correct and counteract a socioeconomic tendency in an exclusive sense. The thrust of the congregation was towards a healthy inte-gration of the religious and social dimensions of our Jesuit mission. 6) As an aid to understand the actions of the congregation, it is important to recall that there is little continuity from one congregation to the next as far as the participants are concerned. Each general congregation has a substantially different membership. In the group from the United States, only two or three had previous experience at,a general congregation. The role of the general at a congregation not called to elect a new general is not understood by all. He has an obvious leadership function, but he is subordinate to the congregation, is a member of ,it, and cannot impose his views on it. ~ It should be noted that Fr. General's example during the congregation was as of a tower of strength, a real source of unity for the participants. The activities of the congregation .forged a bond of solid t~nity between Fr. General and the members of the congregation. In spite of some groundless rumors, there was never any mention of resignation during the congrega-tion. 7) The congregation did obey the Holy Father in what were ~difficult circumstances, aggravated by an absence of dialogue and a growing fatigue. Obedience was shown by integrating into the texts of the decrees and declarations, suggestions and amendments in line with the pope's directives. 8) The special group set up to study .the communications of the Holy See to see whether the principal points were covered in the documents of The Holy See and the 32nd General Congregation / 43 ,the congregation, judged that they were covered, but the congregation went on to draft ano Introductory Decree due to the work of this special group. , .9) The,congregation sought a document which would put in modern-day terms~what the Formula lnstituti means today. This meant translating the propagation and defense of the faith, and the works of mercy, into what these t~rms mean" for us today. It was in this way that the congregation showed its commitment to and interest in the Formula lnstituti and our other basic documents. The congregation's approach was to study this matter during the con-gregation and put together a document little by little in the light of the dis-cussions. To some this could seem to be relegating this matter to a gecondary role,-but the congregation's mind was to make it a more meaningful docu-ment, to present the Formula in a vigorous statement ]or today's Jesuits .and today's mission. 10) The congregation was a lived experience of the complexity of relations with theHoly See. The ai~alysis we have been d6ing can seem clear and easy now. It was not quite the same during the congregation-itself. The clarity has ~come through prayer, reflection, soul-searching, and a form of frank exchange that was not always this way iw the past. Let me attempt to sum up something of what we've seen, with a few pointers for the future. -- Interventions of popes in general congregations are not unheard of. What is unusual with regard to the 32nd General Congregation is the per-sonal and continuing aspect of the intervention of Pope Paul VI. We have seen that, as far back as 1972, the pope was interested in the general congregation; his interest increased as the congregation grew nearer and continued right through the sessions of the congregation. He read the documents personally before allowing them to be published, and he shall certainly be interested in the implementation of the decrees. His statement, .given at different times, has been, "Show your fidelity by your actions." This~has~been a personal and direct interest on the part of the Holy Father himself and 'not handed over to one of his staff. In his eyes the congregation was to fulfill 'a: very important function for religious life. In his letter of September 15, 1973, and in his discourse .of December 3, 1974, the Holy Father's idea was to.set out a program and an approach for the congregation. There 'should be an effective renewal and proper adaptation in accord with Vatican II, but this could not follow a line that would be alien t6 the very character of the religious family, un-faithful to the charism of the founder, or that would lead to the abandon-ment of the primary values of a life consecrated to God. The common elements of religious life should be confirmed, and allowed to grow and develop. These elements are the following: the imitation of Christ as pro-posed in the gospel; the renunciation of worldly things so that the religious 44 / Review ]or Religious, l/olume,35, 1976/1 might live for God alone, and for the building up of the Church; a joyful and constant observation of the vows which should lead to the heights of the spiritual life, where contemplation is joined with magnanimous action. For the Society of Jesus this means a fidelity to its tradition based on Christ, the Church, and St. Ignatius. The congregation, therefore, was to attend to those principles of the spiritual and apostolic life which for cen-turies formed the structure holding the Society of Jesus together and made it a most serviceable instrument for the pastoral, missionary, and educa-tional apostolates, involving a cultural formation, of the highest excellence. The source of strength for the Society should be the foundations of religious formation, laid in the past. These are: a diligent, dedication to prayer; austerity of life; supernatural strength by which apostolic effective-ness is increased; complete observance of the vows, especially obedience, which 'is peculiar to the Society and a condition of its religious discipline; the ascetical value of community life and the advantage.s it offers for the formation of character; and, in a special way, fidelity to the Holy See. This was the program that Pope Paul VI traced for the.general congre-gation of an order that is religious, apostolic, sacerdotal~ and bound to the Holy Father by a special bond of love and service. ~ It was not clear to the majority of the delegates that this was intended to be the lines of a 'hard and fast program. It gradually became clear, after the ditiiculties arising from the treatment of the question of the grades, and after a good bit of discussion and reflection, Some had felt this from the beginning, but they were few in number. The congregation found that the 31st Congregation had treated the matter of prayer, the vows, and the principles of religious, and ascetical life, very well. The problem was one of execution rather than of articulation, and the 32nd General Congregation decided to confirm and renew the 31st Congregation. But this could seem to be neglecting these principles, or relegating them to a secondary place. Through his interventions, the Holy Father impressed on the congrega-tion the direction he wanted to be' followed. The congregation obeyed and followed this direction; and in his communication of March 7, 1975, the pope said that it was comforting to see that the congregation well under-stood the force and meaning of what he urged and that they accepted .his intervention in a spirit of cooperation. In all his communications; the Holy Father ,underlines the point~ that his actions are motivated by his deep affection for and attachment to the Society, and by his appreciation .of the role that the Society has played in the past and is to play in the future. Thus, he feels, that.he can,be frank in his remarks. I think that most preferred a frank and open exchange, rather than the circumlocutions of a diplomatic style of writing, Cardinal Villot's letter of May 2, 1975, conveyed the pope,s own observations on the decrees~ These are meant to assure the faithful imple- The Holy See and the 32nd General Congregation / 45 mentation of the decrees. When several articles appeared in the Italian press which put the May 2nd letter in a negative light with regard to the congregation, the Holy See sent the Italian text of the letter, to help correct these false impressions, The pope could truly say that the congregation had not achieved the global result expected of it. When we realize his plans for the congregation, we can understand this. But it does not express a negative vote on the congregation. It indicates that there is work yet to be done; the decrees are to be put into execution, and this should be in accord with the pope's directives, especially those in the discourse of December 3, 1974. As Cardinal Villot says in his letter of May 2, 1975, the pope directed that the decrees be returned to Fr. General so that they can be put into effect according to the needs of the Society, with the hope that Jesuits may draw strength from these decrees as they continue their progress in genuine fidelity to the charism of St. Ignatius and the Formula of the Institute. We are called on to enter into the views that animated Pope Paul VI. The quality of our religious life is to be such as to serve as a safeguard against a continually threatening secularism. The priestly character of the Society is of particular and enduring importance and must be a part of all our apostolic choices. There is much work to be done in reflecting on the integration of our priestly nature and evangelization in religious life, in reflecting on our specific way of living and being apostles. ¯ We are called to reflect on and' revise our behavior with regard to the service of the ecclesiastical magisterium, to revise the sense of our presen-tation and faithful explanation of the declarations of the magisterium and o1~ the hierarchy. We are ca/led to be men of the Church. The work ahead of us is to study, assimilate, interiorize, and put into action the decrees of the congregation, with an eye to the pope's fatherly observations . and directives. We must avoid two extremes: not attending to the Holy Father's observations; .and dismissing the validity and relevance of the decrees of the 32nd General Congregation. The final word belongs 4(0 Pope Paul VI. He told us to carry on in nomine Domini, Evolution in Chapters William F. Hogan,, C.S.C. Father Hogan is an Agsistant General of his congregation, as well as Procurator General. He lives at Via Framura, 85; 00168 Roma, Italy. The last fifteen years have seen great differences in the general and pro-vincial or regional chapters of most religious communities; in fact, for many of them, this period has seen the real beginnings of .chapters as such. In not a few congregations, indeed in most, the Opening and closing° dates of chapter meetings were decided before the capitulants assembled, thus often precluding any real in-depth study of issues and evaluation of the religious life and mission. Frequently the chapters were conducted like superiors' meetings, with decisions being handed down from the president as faits accomplis for information or perhaps ratification. The principal business was usually the election of major superiors and councils, .and it was more common than rare that provinces or regions'~did not have their own pro-vincial or regional chapters outside participation in the general chapter. Chapters evolved slowly in religious institutes from the time of Pacho-mian cenobitism when the monks gathered at Pabau in the month of August and the superiors gave a report on the condition of their houses and new superiors were appointed. St. Benedict instituted the local or con-ventual chapter in his rule, although he doesn't use this term; the whole community of the professed was to be consulted on important matters and was involved in the choice of the abbot. Other monastic groups followed suit and there eventually arose the policy of "what touches all is to be approved by all," a principle later included in the Rules o/Law at the time of Pope Boniface VIII. Regional and general chapters find their formal beginnings in the Carta Caritatis (1119) of the Cistercians, even though there had previously been regional meetings of abbots in order to have uni- 46 Evolution in Chapters / 47 formity in the religious life. The Cistercian order by rule was obliged to hold annual meetings of the abbots of the order and to regulate

Issue 33.4 of the Review for Religious, 1974. ; Review ]or Religious is edited by faculty members of the School of Divinity of St. Louis University, the editorial offices being located at 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. It is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute; St. Louis, Missouri. Published bimonthly and copy-right © 1974 by Review ]or Religious. Composed, printed, and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri. Single copies: $1.75. Sub-scription U.S.A. and Canada: $6.00 a year; $11.00 for two years; other countries, $7.00 a year, $13.00 for two years. Orders should indicate whether they are for new or renewal subscriptions and should be accompanied by check or money order payable to Review ]or Religious in U.S.A. currency only. Pay no money to persons claiming to represent Review ]or Religious. Change of address requests should include former address. R. F. Smith, S.J. Everett A. Diederich, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Editor Associate Editor Questions and .Answers Editor July 1974 Volume 33 Number 4 Renewals, new subscriptions, and changes of address should be sent to Review for Religious; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, Minnesota 55802. Correspondence with the editor and the associate editor together with manuscripts, books for review, and materials for "Subject Bibliography for Religious" should be sent to Review for Religious; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, SJ.; St. Joseph's Church; 321 Willings Alley; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19106. Assisting Those Who Leave Religious Institutes Sacred Congregati'on for Religious Under the date of January 30, 1974, the Cardinal Prefect of the Sacred Congregation for Religious sent the following letter to Father Pedro Arrupe, S.J., chairman of the Union of Superiors General of Men, in order that the contents of the letter might be communicated to religious superiors. The problem of the assistance to be given to religious who leave their institute has more than once been investigated by this Sacred .Congrega-tion together with the members of both Unions" of Superiors General. As a result of these investigations, the Sacred Congregation has prepared the enclosed document which I am happy to present to you in order that it may be made available to all superiors general. Both Directives and Principles In bringing to the attention of the superiors general directives concern-ing the help that should be extended to those who leave their religious community, the Sacred Congregation wishes to indicate at the same time the considerations and principles on which the directives are based. The Sacred Congregation is aware of the situation, in which institutes find themselves both on account of the considerable increase of the numbers of those who leave and on account of the criteria by which those leaving would justify their claims. General Principle Every religious family has the obligation to provide for the spiritual, moral, social, and temporal well-being of its members while they are mem-bers. This principle ought to be extended in some manner, though for dif- 769 770 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 33, 1974/4 ferent reasons and with definite limits, to those who leave their institutes and who find themselves faced with the necessity of inserting themselves into society as secular persons after having spent perhaps many years in religious life. Provisions of Canon 643, § 1 The Code of Canon Law prescribes that those who leave their religious community, whether dispensed from their vows or dismissed from the in-stitute, cannot claim any remuneration for the work they did as members of the institute. This principle, as stated incanon 643, § 1, is intrinsic to religious profesgion: Those who freely and voluntarily enter religious life place LhemseJves in :an entirely special situation. Religious profession is a reality'o,~f a spirituhl~nature and implies the total surrender to God of all. that one can achieve" during one's religious life, even if this implies uncer-tainty regarding the future. Accordingly, it is contrary to the very nature of a religious community to consider it as an organization having the rela-tionship with its members of employer to employees. No Release from Assisting Those Who Leave The above considerations, however, do not release the institute from the duty, based on the principles of charity, equity, justice, and social re-sponsibility, of assisting, those who leave the institute. Above all, the ne-cessity for empathy at the moment of departure from the religious life as well as the difficulty inherent in the transfer which involves theentire being of the person involved require that the person who leaves should depart feeling that he or she is being treated with. all the respect due a person. For the same reasons those in whose care the institute rests should be. con-scious of.,having acted justly and in .accord with the principles indicated. Provisions of Canon 643, § 2 The Church has made its stipulations for those departing from religious life in terms of canon 643, § 2, which was originally formulated for the benefit of exzreligious women and subsequently.applied to ex-religious men. But the prescriptions of this canon appear inadequate in view of the de-mands fldwing from, today's heightened social conscience. On the other hand,, considering the actual state of affairs and the fluid character of this problem; it is neither possible nor advisable to formulate general norms applicable to all cases. Further Criteria for Assistance It is above all necessary to give genuine assistance to the one l~aving religious life in order to enable him to find the place in the lay state which is best suited to his capabilities. As is evident, the measure of such as-sistance, the financial help provided, should be determined in each in- Assisting Those~ Who Leave Religious Institutes / 771 dividual case since no two are the same. The situation of those who have good qualifications and experience and whose placement in the world is assured in advance is far different from that of those religious who by reason of age or other circumstances are physically or morally unsuited for a remunerative position. Moreover, the measure of the assistance depends on what is possible for the institute itself as well as on the institute's obligations of charity, equity, and justice not to burden the members who persevere in the insti-tute with obligations caused by an ill-proportioned generosity toward those who leave the community. Religious institutes can undertake provision for the temporal needs of its members in ways that would assist even those members who leave re-ligious life. This would involve using means that are more consonant with the spirit of our times in the context of justice and-social security while at the same time respecting the nature of religious life. Among such means there might be considered, according to circumstances, the establishment of programs of social security at the community level or with the interven-tion of the National Conferences, as well as enrollment of members in ¯ already existing organizations of social security and insurance. It is commendable that religious institutes set up or support offices for the moral and economic assistance of those who leave in order to give them advice and to help them, according to their qualifications, to find as soon as possible a position and to earn a salary to maintain themselves decently and properly. Summary onclusion The plenary assembly of this Sacred Congregation in its session of October 23 to 25, 1972, after examining all the theoretical and practical aspects of the problem, formulated the following directives: 1. As a matter of principle, the norm laid down in § 1 of canon 643 remains in force. 2. Every religious 'family is urged to provide properly for" the spiritual, moral, social, and economic well-being of those who leave the institute. 3. Religious institutes should study and adopt suitable measures to provide for the future of their religious and consequently of those who return to the secular state. In communicating these directives to the superiors general, this Sacred Congregation urges them to bear in mind, in their interpretations, the prin-ciples and criteria set forth above. Where Have All the Sisters Gone? Alan Rogers Alan Rogers is the pen name of a priest of the Diocese of Gallup in New Mexico. For further information about the needs of the Diocese of Gallup, write The Chancery; Diocese of Gallup; P.O. Box 1338; Gallup, New Mexico 87301. Where have all the sisters gone?--to the Southwest. The Gallup Diocese had I20 sisters four years ago, now it boasts 180. The Beginnings In the days when Cardinal Suenens appeared as a liberator of women, and a Daniel Berrigan preached beautifully in motherhouses about com-mitment to the poor, encouraging sisters to leave their classrooms and to sit down and have a cup of coffee in the kitchen of a shack on the other side of the tracks and urged them to read their constitution and find out whether they were committed to the task they were founded for, many of them decided then and there to respond to the challenge. What Cardinal Suenens failed t~o realize was that he was talking about so.me of the small European convents where sisters prayed, and perhaps made vestments, but seldom had contact with people. He was not talking about the nuns of the 50's in the United States who were attending conventions, teaching in our schools, operating hospitals, running colleges, no--he was talking about the medieval nun in the European convent. Father Daniel Berrigan rightly quoted the Vatican decree on religious, but he did not quote all of it. Vatican II suggested that religious communities review the goals of their founders to see if these original ideas had a valid place in the world of today, but it also said that the value of a religious community consisted in this, that religious by being a group, could undertake projects that would be impossible for individuals. Many sisters left their commitment to a faith 772 Where Have All the Sisters Gone? / 773 apostolate for a social one. They impoverished people spiritually that they might experience physical poverty and try to alleviate it. Coming to the Southwest In any event, the new look in religious communities that was so up-setting caused schools to be closing in the Midwest and East and West Coast, while the nuns who formerly staffed them looked for poor areas in which to serve. When they heard that Gallup was the poorest diocese in the country--the most depressed rural area in the United States--they came looking for the kind of apostolate that had been suggested to them. Here in the United States they were able to use their own language and yet enter into an apostolate for the poor. Here they found some 170,000 Indians, many of them not yet related to Christ. They found them living in one-room mud and log hogans, or in adobe pueblos with earthen floors; here they shared their mutton stew and fried bread and chile. The change in thinking in religious life that caused such a spiritual impoverishment of our large Catholic parishes by the lack of religious teachers was a boon to the Indians and the Spanish speaking in poor areas of the Southwest. Work for the Pioneer and the Venturesome Here there is still work for the pioneer, for the adventuresome woman. Here at the end of the Santa Fe Trail, sister still finds an entr6 among the Indians and Chicanos, with her habit. She loves to hear the terms of endearment of "Madrecita"--"Hermanita." She enjoys sitting in the shadow of a hogan teaching little beady eyed, black-haired youngsters, with an oriental look, about the great good God who made the sun and sky and moon and loved them from all eternity. Sisters are needed to come to live in trailer convents in some thirty Chapters in "Checkerboard ~ountry." This is largely Indian land, but has a .few Anglo or Spanish ranchers among its population. The Diocese of Gallup is inviting sisters who, for some reason or other, wish to leave their community as a group, or find their community is no longer dedicated to the kind of apostolate they had hoped for, to found Motherhouses or "Small Central Houses" where sisters could return perhaps once every week or two, while they live out among the Indians in a trailer with a little chapel, and priest and brother close by. The Bishop of Gallup welcomes those communities who are looking for an authentic interpretation of Vatican II. Needs and Opportunities The bishop describes his priests as "going along with all the changes in the Church, but not running ahead of them." In this area wh~re missionaries are engaged in preevangelization, there is so much to be done in teaching the fundamentals, that there is little time for experiment and unorthodox 774 / Review [or Religious, Volume 33, 1974/4 interpretation of Scriptures or the Church's teaching. The call of Christ to come with Him into the desert still sounds loudly in the ears of sisters of today. Here are some of the opportunities the Diocese of Gallup offers: Aragon, New MexicowSanto Nifio Parish and its missions of Reserve, Horse Springs, and Glenwood. Carton County has only one priest, and until two years ago had sisters for cat~chetical work. Several years before that, the small Catholic school was closed. Two years ago two sisters, going to a catechetical meeting, .went over the cliff with their car in Salt River Canyon. They were killed outright. Since then the convent has been closed, because of no sisters to replace them. For the present, sisters are needed for catechetical work. Here one sister should be able to drive, in order to cover the various missions. There is a possibility of opening a school, which, is still used for an O.E.O. Program. These people are almost all Basques from northern Spain, but speak both English and Spanish. Gallup, New Mexico~Catholic Charities. Semi-retired sisters are needed to listen to the problems and difficulties of people who come into the Casa de San Martin in Gallup, and give non-profesional counseling to unwed mothers, teenagers, fallen away Catholics. A pleasant building in the center of Gallup. Gallup, New Mexico-~Cathedral Hall. Sisters are needed to supervise girls' dormitory after school hours, and to cook for about fifty boys and girls. Whiteriv~r, Arizona--St. Francis Mission needs sisters for catechetical work among the Apache Indians. Here, attached to a new hall, is a room and bath for two sisters. The Franciscan Father in charge would use this temporarily until' larger quarters could be found, if sisters were permanently located there. At present, sisters come for just a short period during the summer. There is a boarding school at some distance, where they might assist with the teaching, as well as several other schools. One of the sisters would have to know how to drive a car. Cibecue, Arizona--St. Catherine Mission. This is also an Apache Indian Mission, with very few Catholics. Here sisters would be doing home visiting and catechetical work, as well as in the Mission of Cedar Creek. Springerville, ArizonawSt. Peter Parish has a pleasant apartment above the kitchen of the hall, which has been outfitted for two sisters who would supervise a rather well organized catechetical program, and if able to drive, would go to St. Helena Mission at Alpine, Arizona, and assist in working with the State School for Delinquent Boys. These youngsters need counseling and religious instruction. Page, Arizona--Two sisters or three are needed to occupy an apart-ment waiting for them. In this boom town there are many people who have moved in from elsewhere, with religious and moral problems. Sisters are needed to visit homes, to teach in Indian school at Kaibito, and in released time classes. Where Have All the Sisters Gone? / 775 Coordinator of Education--A Sister "Supervisor" or "Coordinator" of Education is needed for the nine grade schools and two high schools in the diocese, to replace the sister who retired. Checkerboard Area--Groups of two or three sisters are needed in some thirty Chapters of Navajo Indians in the Checkerboard Area. In each Chapter, a parish is to be founded, sisters to be part of team, visiting hogans, and conducting religion classes. Retreat House--A group of sisters is needed to found and staff a House of Prayer, retreats, marriage encounters, cursillos, and searches for Chris-tian maturity. A group of semi-contemplative sisters could do a good job. Much of the time they would be free to pray, with perhaps twenty weekends a year managing the house for groups of twenty to thirty persons. Milan, New Mexico~St. Vivian Parish. In a parish of some one hundred and twenty families, a released time catechetical program is possible, since the church is immediately across from the ~ublic school. Two or three sisters could do a fine job here, and assist with work in the Mission of San Mateo. ~ Holbrook, Arizona~atechetical center, with released time, is planned for the Junior and Senior High School. Two sisters could staff this center, and live with one Victory Noll Sister in the convent near Our Lady of Guadalupe Church. Roving Catechetical Teams--one for Arizona and one for New Mexico (two sisters to each team), to work with the Director of Religious Educa-tion in organizing and instructing teachers of religion. But the greatest challenge of the area is perhaps the Navajo reservation --the fastest growing Indian nation in the world. Ten years ago some 70,000 Indians lived in this 25,000 square mile area--now there are 130,000. This is an area as .large as the State of West Virginia. In West Virginia there are 25,000 miles of hard surface roads; on the Navajo Reservation there are 1000 miles. It is beautiful country--big red rocks, deep canyons, but the Indians cannot eat the red rocks or find something to drink in waterless rivers. Sixty-four percent of the Navajo men have no work. There are no cities on the Navajo Reservation. Some Navajos are still nomads wandering with their sheep, some trying to eke out an existence on. the sparse grass that grows in the desert. The educational level is still only Fifth Grade. Sisters are needed to teach religion in the Federal Board-ing Schools, to continue the education of young adults and young married couples, traveling from one little group of three to ten hogans, to another. Sisters are needed to staff Catechetical Centers across from Arizona State Schools on a released time program. There are orphans .to be cared for, but there is no orphanage in the area. Plans are on the board for a Chil-dren's Ranch near Milan, New Mexico. According to traditional Navajo custom, people who are dying ought to be placed outside the house be-cause if they die in the house, the house must be burnt~estroyed. Where 776 / Review [or Religious, Volume 33, 1974/4 can the elderly go? There is no Christian Home to receive the old and the dying, with the charity of Christ, in the entire area. T-he Franciscan Fathers who came to the area with Coronado in the early 16th century tried their best to amalgamate the Indian religion with the Catholic religion. They built beautiful Mission Churches, still standing today--at Acoma going back to 1630; at Lagune and Zuni going back to 1690. These churches are evidence of the Catholic attitude toward the Red Man. A real effort was made to blend the Spanish and the Indian culture. It was from the Spaniards they learnt to make their "Navajo" rugs, their beautiful indian jewelry. When America took over, the reserva-tion system was inaugurated, and for the most part the Indian has remained segregated from the rest of the United States. The Indian has been treated as a child, money has been doled out to him, and he has reacted as a child. The responsibility for his condition lies largely with the unchristian treat-ment of the Indian in the past. At no time in history has he been so con-ditioned for the reception of Christianity. Medicine men are dying out. Not many young men are willing to learn the long "Sing" of the Medicine Man. Many young people today growing up in distant Boarding Schools know little about the secrets of the tribe that used to be given them in the "kiva," the tribal religious chamber. The great conflict that used to exist between Indian ideals and those of the white man is gradually disappearing. The Indian today wants to keep his identity~ wants to know about his background and be proud of his ancestry. At the same time he wants all that he has a right to in a civilized modern country such as the United States. Teenagers especially need help to avoid the conflicting and seem-ingly contradictory goals of two civilizations. The suicide rate in some areas is ten times that of the country as a whole among teenage boys and girls. The3, have lived in Federal Boarding Schools for twelve years, and have seen on colored T.V. what they could be in the world outside. They have the same ambitions that other teenagers have, to follow careers of various kinds, and then their parents and grandparents tell them to live as their forefathers did--to haul water from great distances, to live in one room without any privacy. They need help to resolve this dilemma. They need to be shown that there can be a beautiful blending of the white man's and the Indian's values; they must be made proud of what they have to contribute to the world of today. It is the job of the sisters to give hope and'pride of life to puzzled Indian teenagers. There is one frontier left in the United States. It presents the greatest challenge of the century to the sisters of today. Now is the time when Christianity will be accepted or rejected by the Indians. They cannot ac-cept what they do not know.l 1For more details on the needs and opportunities of the Diocese of Gallup, write or call The Chancery; Diocese of Gallup; Box 1338; Gallup, New Mexico 87301. Prayer, Pastoral Presence, and Group Solidarity Sister Elizabeth V. Roach Sister Elizabeth V. Roach is a Maryknoll sister who is presently engaged in pastoral ministry in South America. Her address is: Madres de Maryknoll; Apartado 145, /ca, Peru. In 1965 the Vatican II document on religious life gave religious women a clear mandate "to return to the sources of Christian Life and to adjust to the changed conditions of the times.TM It was as if the Church saw herself as a home in, need of spring cleaning. Indeed it was Pope John himself who invited us to open some windows. And so efforts at renewal began. It seemed like those in authority and those in the ranks began to ransack the house in search of cobwebs. All the rooms got pulled apart simul-taneously. Then, as the workers saw what a job was ahead, some panicked, some thought it better to burn down the house, and others wanted to get on with the job, but didn't know where to begin. Somehow, little by little, the results have begun to show. The following report describes a personal experience of current efforts of religious, ". to correlate their life and words, their attitudes and actions with the demands of the Gospel.''-~ Phase I--Group Reflection Calls Forth~ Individual Initiative In July 1970 thirty-nine Marykno]l Sisters in Peru gathered in Arequipa to reflect on our role in a changing Church. The outcome was enunciated in what we later referred to as "The Arequipa Paper." We were deeply concerned with identifying with the poor, with being a real sign of Christ's 1Vatican II, Appropriate Adaptation o] Religious Li]e, no. 2. ~Medelffn documents, "Poverty," no. 8. 777 77~1 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 33, 1974/4 love. The Medellin documents were a clear call from the L~tin American hierarchy to reexamine our pastoral presence.:~ One of our conclusions was: "Our life style has to be such that it may lead us to a true living together with the people in such a manner that it will facilitate a more objective knowledge of their real problems. We feel an urgency to search for a real identification with the exploited and to express our solidarity with the marginated., we should live in small communities or work groups which readily appear more dependent, less secure and more vulnerable.''4 The group saw that this would necessarily modify our presence and our work in the existing reality. We set up the general lines, but left it to each individual to see how and where and when she could put them into prac-tice. At that time I was employed as a public school biology teacher and was living in our convent in Az~ingaro. Like many convents in Peru it was a far cry from a U.S. convent, but it was much more comfortable than the homes of the people. We had electricity from six to eleven every other night. There was neither refrigerator nor central heating although we had high altitude cold at night (12,500 feet above sea level) and tropical sun by day. The diet was adequate, but limited in variety. The nearest city, Juliaca, was two hours away over a washboard road. Transportation was ir-regular and a trip to the city usually meant an overnight stay. My job in the public school with dirt floors, a thatched roof, and 23- year-old Quechua Indians, who spoke Spanish as a second language, was a real challenge. The young men were shepherds and farmers anxious to move to the city in search of a more human life. Looking for a New Ministry After the Arequipa Meeting I asked myself what my part would be in putting Our conclusions into practice. I felt that, compared with the extreme poverty of most of our people, my life style in Az~ngaro was far removed from theirs. Although I searched my soul I really did not°see what I could do about it. I did a lot of praying and consulted with many people, but I did not see what to do. My companions seemed to be in the same state. There was nothing to do but follow the example of the Apostles after the Ascension and "return to Jerusalem''~ and wait. I waited and watched for an opportunity. "~While I believed ~hat I was making a valid contribu-tion in the school I know that what had been a hardship post was now to become a preferred job because of administrative changes due to the new Educational Reform Law. I would now be easily replaceable. Meanwhile, 3Ibid., "Religious," no. 7. 4Arequipa Paper, Maryknoll Sisters in Peru, 1970. ~Acts 1:12-4. Prayer, Pastoral Presence, and Gioup Solidarity / 779 social and political changes in the country emphasized the need, ,for work with women who were outside, the formal school structures. This was a painful realization for a confirmed classroom teacher, but the Medellin documents were a constant reminder that the gospel mandate to evangelize the poor required a redistribution of religious personnel in Latin America. The Freedom of Abraham At a group meeting a sister presented a request from a Peruvian priest for two sisters to work in a deprived area. Another sister and myself of-fered to look into it. This was November 1971. The offer seemed to fulfill all the specifications of the Arequipa Paper. The parish was truly poor. The pastor was able to provide two rooms to live in, two cots without mattresses, and one meal a day. We would have to find some means of self-support. The housing would be much simpler than what we were accustomed to, but it was much closer to the reality of the people. It seemed like the opportunity we were waiting for. The group and the coordinators readily approved. Then our troubles began. The bishop of the area became very ambiguous in his response to our request for permission to accept the invitation that had been offered. He approved .and then suddenly withdrew the approbation. For a while we didn't know what was going on, but eventually it became clear that the bishop did not want the new work initiated. In the interim the other sister was asked .to fill a position that was ur-gent. I had given up my job in Az~ngaro and was enjoying more insecurity and vulnerability' than I had bargained for. I began to .appreciate what it means to belong to a praying, reflecting group. The value of our 1970 Meetiiag became really apparent because the group knew what our norms were and I was supported and encouraged by knowing that the group was agreed on general goals. We were not a homogeneous group, but the principle of respecting each one's individuality was and is sacred. So I was free to listen to the Lord and see where He would lead me. The experience of not knowing where or how or what the Lord was asking of me at that moment was the source of some new insights. I was fearful. I was not accustomed to being unemployed. My efforts came to nothing. Then I realized that the Abraham story calls for faith that leads us on an unknown path, one we have never been over before, Years of meditating on the meaning of poverty anff how it frees Yaweh's people began to make sense. I was freer. I wasfree to wait on the Lord, because I truly did not know what was to happen. In the midst of painful insecurity I experienced in a special way real freedom. And then the search became a true journey and a real pilgrimage! After a while our coordinator had a casual meeting with a sister of another congregation who seemed to be interested in the same kind of a 780 / Review [or Religious, Volume 33, 1974/4 pastoral presence that we were seeking. There was a place in Ica~' where she could attempt it if she had another sister to accompany her. After some visiting and studying of the situation we found that the bishop there approved and welcomed this kind of effort. Again the group considered the project and approved. Phase llmGroup Supports Individual Initiative On May 29 1972 I came to lea and lived temporarily in the convent of the other sister, Ines. On July 13th we moved to a little house in a government housing project called San Joaquin. There we had a chance to synthesize theory and practice. The ideal of complete availability was now not only possible but unavoidable. We learned firsthand that the poor do not enjoy the luxury of privacy. Many times when I awakened in the morning the neighborhood children were already on the roof looking in through the sky light. The parish priest lived next door and formed part of our praying, re-flecting, and working community. He also shared meals with us. Our house was an all purpose unit which served as parish office, meeting room, and youth center. The two back yards had a cement floor and a straw mat roof. This arrangement meant that sleeping hours were often limited to what could be had between midnight and 6 AM. Creating a Parish It was agreed from the beginning that our purpose was to create a parish situation where the worker class would be called to reflection on the mean-ing of being Christian. The three who formed the core team believed this required serious efforts at prayer and reflection on our part. We tried to meet sometime each day for prayer and Mass. Here we learned that our very closeness to the problems and sufferings of the people became an ever deepening source of inspiration for prayer. The result was that many new insights came to us about the saving action of Christ in today's world. The Eucharist was celebrated around a table and was made especially meaningful by the spontaneous petitions and gospel commentaries provided by the simple working people who attended. During this time away from my own congregation I was made aware of the many ways a praying, reflecting group can support a member who is temporarily separated from it. I had never been much of a correspondent, but suddenly I was receiving letters inquiring about the work, the people, my health, and promising prayers and visits. Many sisters devoted part ot~ 6Ica is a city of 200,000 inhabitants, four hours by car from Lima. It is situated in a'desert valley an hour from the coast and is the wine-making center of Peru. Prayer, PastJral Presence, and Group Solidarity / 781 their annual vacation to visiting me. Unknown to them this spoke to the people who remarked on these obvious signs of solidarity. After almost a year Sister lines, due to community needs, was asked to return to her local house. Because it would not have been appropriate for one sister to remain alone I received an invitation to live with the other congregation. The two of us hoped to continue with the same work. Phase Ill--Group Response and Consequent Development Group response was immedi~ate. Another sister offered to join me in Ica. Within a few weeks we received clearance from the bishop not only to continue but to extend our presence to other areas and to work on a city-wide level with women and marginated groups. The experience in the housing project after evaluation led us to make three decisions. 1. We would choose a location that was more central so we could serve more p6ople. 2. Since we. were beg~nmng a new house we would try to make it known as a center for prayerl and reflection and would avoid using it as a recreation center. The prlevious experience taught us that a choice had to be made, and we consciously gave priority to the prayer and re-flection atmosphere. We felt this more consonant with our.objective of being a Christian presence for!adult women and marginated groups. 3. There was a need for a team of Maryknoll Sisters. We hoped for a group with varied talents whose creativity could be made available to the church in Ica. At the same ttme we needed a dynamic faith community that would be a sign that ". the Church desires to serve the world radi-ating over it a light and life w. hich heals and elevates the dignity of the human person., and gives a more profound reason to all human ac-tivity.''~ And it seemed important that we share the life of the poor and have close contact with the peolSle. And so we were two! After'a foot weary search of almost a month we found suitable housing. It was '~a second floor apartment in a three family house.On June 2 the bishop ca ,fiae to bless the new apartment and expressed his delight at seeing that our friends were the poor. At first he had had some misgivings about the loca~tton, but after visiting with the people he remarked that this is where religious should be, ". in a house where no one feels they have to clean their shoes to come in.''s Shortly afterwards we put in writing our objectives and the means we would use to accomplish them: rMedellin documents, "Justice," no. 5. sSermon given by the Most Reverend Alberto Maria Dettmann y Arag6n, O.P., in the Maryknoll Sisters Convent June 2 1973 in Ica, Peru. At the time he was Bishop of lca. 782 / Review 1or Religious, Volume 33, 1974/4 1. To participate in a spirit of service and availability in the pastoral work of the diocese, collaborating with the bishop and other pastoral workers. 2. To live in such a manner that our life in community would be a sign of hope and encouragement for the poor. 3. To collaborate with the services and institutions that are devoted to the service of the poor with special emphasis on activities that deepen the Christian life of w6men. ~ Initially we chose the following means: 1. A life style that will permit us to experience something of the poverty of our people. 2. An atmosphere within the house of reflection and prayer that is nourished by the problematic of the People of God. 3. Personal relationships with the poor and the institutions that serve them. 4. Study of the problems of women here. Sister Vivian, a doctor, serves the poor in three government dispensaries in the sur~rounding farming areas. She also gives medical attention in a dioc-esan outpatient clinic located in the center of the city. I work with groups of shoeshine boys, domestics, and mothers. The work is mainly gospel reflection and orientation in social problems. My commitment to the San Joaquin Pastoral Team continues. Together we invite neighborhood women to reflect with us on the gospel. A year has passed and now we are awaiting the arrival of a third sister. The group has continued to express in many ways the solidarity that exists among us. And with our people we are becoming more conscious of the saving action of Christ in our lives. Some Changes That Have Occurred in Our Lives Today, almost four years after the Arequipa Meeting, some changes are evident in our lives. Three areas are especially noteworthy. 1. Poverty. Many people here are called "eventuales." This means they earn their living by odd jobs, street vending, and migrant work. In order to share their lives we have chosen to conform to a very limited budget. My income depends on occasional English classes, Sister ~ivian's on what the poor can offer for her services. The congregation will always be willing to help when things get too difficult, but dependence on a meager and sporadic income has helped us to appreciate the tensions,that the poor'face constantly. At the same time this makes us conscious of the Lord's loving care and our ultimate dependence on Him. 2. Relations with the Clergy and the Laity. Another difference is in the place we are given in pastoral work. Pre-1970 sisters were usually re-quired to fit into the plans of the clergy. Today we are invited and en- Prayer, Pastor~ Presence, and Group Solidarity / 783 couraged to participate in the.decision-making process and frequently ex-pected to take on the responsibilities formerly thought to be the private domain of the clergy. Prior to 1970, for example, I worked with domestics, but always as assistant to the clergy. Today I am designated by the bishop to set up and implement a program for domestics, with only occasional help from a priest. Because of this new relationship the laity too feel called to take more initiative in the proclamation of the gospel message. Last year in San Joaquin I was able to convince five women to pre-pare their own children for First, Communion. Though four of the women were unlettered they did teach their own children and later trained other mothers. The Parish First Communion was due to their efforts. At first they insisted that they couldn't do it, but later they confessed their delight at the deeper faith relationship that was created between them and their chil-dren. During the year the women have demonstrated their feeling of re-sponsibility for the faith life of the community by an increased participa-tion in reflection encounters. The shoeshine boys, encouraged by the priest who organized them, buy supplies cooperatively. They hay? taken on many adult responsibilities and are learning the value of working together. Agreement on prices has led to an official price and the support of the City .Council on collecting it. This way of working calls fbrth the laity's gifts. I believe that as we sisters exercise new initiatives, ~lwe become more sensitive to the latent talents in the Christian commun, lty." Thus the relationship to both clergy and laity changes. Our former t~isks in pastoral work were supplementary. Today we have a complementary role in the midst of the People of God where the kingdom is being built I~y many brothers. . 3. Integral Prayer. Each day between d~nner and dishes we devote a period to common prayer and ~'eflection. The form varies, but often we recount some experience, relate ~t to a Bible event, and are led to prayer. For example, one day I visited a very poor settlement. A woman noticed I was looking for an address. Inlthat neighborhood ~t ~s dangerous to leave a house unguarded. It was almost dinner time. The woman seeing my need, left her home, her belongings, ahd her cooking, and saw me to the house I was looking for. I thought gbraham's going forth was related to her willingness to help a stranger. This led us to pray that we might imitate her openness and care for others. It was easy to praise God's constant care of us. ~ Another day, as Sister Vivian trudged home hot and weary, a little child ran up to her with a merry greeting and a delightful smile. We re-membered what a free gift is God's Love. Thus, prayer is informed and nourished by the opportunity to share more intimately in the life of[ the poor. We are more conscious of the anguish and sorrow of modern man. As we become more aware of the Review ]or Religious, l"olume 33, 1974/4 Paschal Mystery, redemption is not only a doctrine to which we assent but an urgent need. Humility used to be a virtiae to be practiced and prayed for. When one encounters a shoeshine boy of seven who works till 11 P.M., it becomes an unavoidable conclusion. And the suffering of an innocent Christ becomes a now event! Apostolic Prayer Leonard Doohan Leonardfield, Cheshire;D°°hanEngland.Writes from Ingersliy Hall;. Ingersley Road; Bollington; Maccles- St. Paul's first advice in writing ~t0 Timothy was that "there should be p(Irxay Temrs 2o:f1fe )r.e Idn foourr e dvaeyrsy,o pnrea-y-epre~lsti tbifo.n rse,. .iqnuteersct,e psseitoitniosn, ,a nindt etrhcaensksisogniv, sinegem" to have fallen from favor. I would like to consider for a short while pray-ers of request and especially one type of petitionary prayer, namely, apostolic prayer. Prayer of Intercession : Philosophical knowledge of GJd is a wonderful background for prayer, ¯ but the knowledge of man is also, essentml. Emphasis on the former can lead to an imbalanced view especia!ly of prayer of intercession. Undoubted-ly, there is a great difference betwe'en God and us, but any necessary adap-tation as a prelude to encounter mu~st come from God, and this He has done in the Incarnation. ! Prayer of intercession is a ver~, valid form of prayer particularly when linked to personal commitment forI the attaining of the request made. Here the celebration of prayer is linked to the celebration of life--there is no escapism from reality into prayer, ~aor is there a seeking of a magical solu-tion in prayer for our own probler~s. Prayer when genuine leads to an in-ability to do otherwise than lead a life of total commitment for the realiza-tion of the requests made. St. Thomas More used to say: "The things that I pray for, Lord give me the grace to labor for." When approached in this way, our prayer leads to growth, ~nd has guaranteed efficacy. Notice how in St. Luke's gospel the three rfiainstages of Jesus' ministry-~baptism, 785 7116 / Review [or Religious, Volume 33, 1974/4 transfiguration, and Gethsemane--are closely connected. Each is linked to prayer, to a wholeheated accePtance of the Father's will, to 6ommitment to the mission given--and then they are rounded off with a heavenly rev-elation which is depicted as an answer to prayer. This idea of the close connection between prayer of intercession and commitment to the attaining of the request made, is well seen in a study of the Lord's Prayer. The disciples come to Jesus and ask: "Lord, teach us how to pray." Jesus' reply can be naturally understood as a recommended formula-prayer. When you wish to pray, say this prayer: "Our Father . " However, it is also possible to see in the words of Jesus a group of prayer-ful life-attitudes--seven, in fact, the typical Jewish number for fullness. If you want to dedicate yourself to a completely prayerful life=style then: recognize the Fatherhood of God ~anctify His name spread His kingdom do His will := ° acknowledge daily dependence on Him for what you ne,,ed forgive debts and flee from evil. Within these few lines we have interpenetration of an intercessory formula-prayer and attitudes of commitment for the attaining of the request made. In our intercessory prayer the interplay of these two points--formula-prayer and attitudes of commitment--manifest, I feel, its genuineness. Spirit, Kingdom, and Prayer In St. Luke prayer of intercession is given more emphasis than at first glance one would think. The word "to offer petition" (proseukomai) ap-pears 86 times in the New Testament, 35 times in Luke and Acts (19 in Luke). If cognates are included the word appears 57 times in Lucan ma-terial. Moreover, it is important to note that prayer of'intercession is closely connected with the Holy Spirit and with the kingdom. S. Smalley from Man-chester University says that Spirit, kingdom, and prayer, are closely con-nected at all important moments in the progress of salvation history. He gives the following examples: Annunciation, Zecharias, birth of Christ, baptism, confession at Caesarea Phillippi, transfiguration, the sending of the seventy, Gethsemane, the cross, Pentecost, election of Matthias, life of early church, election of the seven deacons, visit to Samaria, farewell at Miletus. The general thrust of Luke seems to be that in petitionary prayer the believer channels the activity of the Holy Spirit f~r the spreading of the kingdom. Smalley, quoting another author, says: "Lampe describes as 'one of the most characteristic features of St. Luke's teaching' his insistence on prayer as 'the means by which the dynamic energy of the Spirit is ap-prehended.' In other words, prayer is 'complementary to the Spirit's activity Apostolic Prayer / 787 since it is the point at which the communication of divine influence becomes effective for'its recepients' " (S. ~malley, "Spirit, Kingdom and Prayer in Luke and Acts," Novurn Testame,ntum, January 1973, 61, quoting Lampe, The Holy Spii'it in the Writings o[ S.t.Luke). ~ Petitionary prayer then is p.i'esented as closely connected with the setting up of the kingdom. It is n:atural, therefore, that once the kingdom had been established, Luke's vie,~, of prayer should change. Sure enough, once we arrive at Chapter 13 in the Acts (and there are 28 chapters in Acts), the element of prayer in t.he previous sense disappears because the kingdom is here. Any form of prayer is now directed to the preachers of its arrival~-Peter, Paul, and Barnabas, for the success of their work. Here we have in Luke a p.resentaUon of prayer of intercession as apostolic prayer--it is directed to the establishing and spreading of the king-dora--- the life and message of Christ. Intercession in Our Own Lives L6t us have a look at this in relation to our own life now. The gift of new life made to individuals in Christ is made only by the Father. No matter how much we try, we cannot achieve the conception of new life in others nor can we do much to help in its growth¯ "No one comes to me," said Jesus, "un'less my Father dra,ws h~m. And although Apollo may help in the planting and Paul water, it is God ,alone who gives increase and growth. I While human effort is essen.tIial not only for the development of the new life in us, but also for its presence and development in others, never-theless we must have our pnontle~s right. In this context even great activity on our part may of itself be of little value. In fact, there is an important d~fference between ~nstr0mentaht3~ 'and let us call it "apostolic persuasion." The instrumentality could be done by anyone, but it is the prayer of. "apostolic persuasion" that leads the Father to draw someone to Christ. The initiative is always the Father's, but He has placed the possible "apostolic persuasion" in the hands~ of men. The Council seemed quite concerned to revive our appreciation of the importance of apostolic prayer, anal moves freely from apostolate to prayer: "In order to be faithful to the ~livine command, 'Mike disciples of all nations' (Mt .28:14), the CatholiCI Church must work' with all urgency and concern . Hence, the Church earnestly begs of her children that, first of all 'supphcat~ons, prayers and in.tercessions, and thanksgtvlngs be made for all men . . . For this is good[ and agreeable in the sight of God our Savior, who wishes all men to be '.saved and to come to the 'knowledge of the truth' (1 Tm 2:1-4)" (DH !4). In the Decree on the. Missions the Council says explicitly that "it will be the bishop's task to raise up from among h~s own people . . . souls ,~ho will offer prayer . . . with a generous heart for the evangelization of the~ world" (AG 38). Yet again elsewhere Review [or Religious, l/olume 33, 1974,/4 the fathers of the Council say that by prayer a community can exercise a true motherhood towards souls who are led to Christ (see PO 6). Apostolic prayer is something in which all Christians can share, but is something which in a special way must be an intimate part of the life of a religious. Moreover, as apostolic activity decreases with the passing of years, the apostolic persuasion of prayer ought to increase. There are two main types of apostolic prayer. The simple prayer of request and then contemplation. Simple Prayer of Request Let us consider the first. I would like us to look at this in.a person whom we normally associate not with prayer but with tremendous activity, namely, Paul. For Paul, prayer is not only the source of his apostolic work, but feeds his apostolic spirit, prepares him for his apostolic work, accompanies him during it, and even takes the place of his work at times. In his early writingswe see the younger zealous Paul encouraging prayer to the Thessal0nians; but as time passes and PauI becomes immersed in his apostolic work he never moves away from his conviction of the value of apostolic prayer. Later on, his prayer does not decrease; rather it becomes more forceful. He ends his letter to the Romans with these words (Jerusalem Bible translation): "But I beg of you, brothers, by our Lord Jesus Christ and the love of the Spirit to help me through my dangers by praying to God for me (15:30). The word Paul uses here, sunagonisas-thai, is translated by the RSV version as "strive together with me in your prayers," and the New English Bible translates it as "be my allies in the fight; pray to God for me . . ." When speaking of prayer Paul often uses with the word prayer, the word to fight or wrestle: I am fighting or wrestling with God for you in prayer. He begins his second ch~apter of the letter to the Colossians with: "What a battle I put up for you and for those in Laodiciea," and towards the end of the letter he says that "Epaphras too is fighting for you all the time" (4: 12). Father Lyonnet assures us that in both cases we are in the context of prayer (Dieci meditazioni su san Paolo, Paideia, 1967, 28-9). This idea of fighting or insisting in prayer was not new in Paul; already Christ had told us of his esteem for the friend who insisted on having bread (Lk 11:5-8), and the widow who insisted on having justice (Lk 18:lf). Moreover, the, fathers saw Jacob's fight with the angel in a similar light. Clement of Rome in his letter to the Corinthians said: "Day and night you should wrestle on behalf of the brotherhood, and in His mercy and compas-sion the whole number of His elect might be saved." Intercession in God's Plan Christ and Paul leave us with the impression that God wants us to Apostolic Prayer / 789 pray and pray in such a way that it seems we are almost wrenching our requests from Him. Naturally, in God's plan we know that it is not sb much what we do as who we are or how we develop ourselves that is important. In this prayer we do not change God, but rather change ourselves and make ourselves and the Mystical Body of Christ more worthy apostol-ically. However, rather than examine how the apostolic prayer works, let us just concentrate in imitating Paul in his apostolic fight of prayer: "Paul is everywhere conscious of being but an instrument . . . but his prayer illustrates the depth to which that instrumentality reaches. He expresses in an incomparably living way the fact that, in the apostolate, God uses not just the external characteristics of the human person . . . but also his will. It is the whole man that is consecrated to the apostolate" (L. Swain, "Prayer and the Apostolate in Paul," Clergy Review, 1966, 464). Contemplation The second type of apostolic prayer is comtemplation when we abandon ourselves to be with God knowing that after all it is He alone who achieves all true conversion and gives new ilife. It is the sort of attitude that (~hrist showed at the Last Supper: "Father, I have glorified you; Father, it is for these that I sanctify myself." Apostolic prayer is powerfully efficacious: "Let each one remember that he can have an impact on all men and contribute to the salvation of the whole world . . . by prayer" (A~. 16,7). Pius XII said that prayer is the most powerful apostolate because it goes straight to God and speaks on behalf of men. ~I feel convinced that we uno" etr"e ts lma e our worth as partners with God in the dialogue of prayer. T. Me~rton said:~ "Man's real power lies hidden in the agony which makes him cr~ out to God; and there he is at the same time helpless and omnipotent" (Thle New Man, 8). Conclusion / In conclusion, apostolate and prayer are complementary. The apostle is contemplative in his apOstolate and apostolic in his contemplation. Prayer of intercession.is a typ~ical attitude of limited man. Some forms do become escapes and are Unreal. However, man who needs, is insuf-ficient in himself, loves and longs for life for self and others, finds in intercession a definitely valid f~rm. of prayer especially when that is directed to the growth and development of the kingdom. Let us pray with confidence, and determination and make our own the awareness and Conviction that Jes'.us showed in prayer: "Father, everything is possible for you" (Mk 14:36). I A Method of Contemplative Prayer ]. Borst, M.H.M. The following article is a reprinting of a booklet with the same title published by Asian Trading Corporation; P.O. Box No. 11029; Bombay - 400 020; India. The booklet is available from the Asian Trading Corporation at a cost of 50 cents plus postage and handling. The text of the booklet has been slightly adapted for the purposes of this reprinting; and the booklet's foreword by Abhishiktananda has not been included. There is only one way to become a contemplative; and that is by setting aside each day, or regularly, some time and place for prayer that is real, personal, and contemplative. Without the practice of contemplative prayer, no individual and no community can be called contemplative. No amount of other prayers and occupations can make up for this need. If, then, you wish to become a contemplative, get down to making yourself available for contemplative prayer every day. But how to go about it? In this article you will find some practical su~ggestions that have been found useful. But keep in mind that in this prayer you will be involved in a most personal x~ay; that you will learn to involve your deepest and truest self; that the Spirit of God breathes as and when He wills; that this prayer will make you a pilgrim of the Spirit, always on the~move, always more eager to reach the presence of the Lord. Then you will realize that these suggestions are indeed only suggestions. THE PRAYER ITSELF AND WHAT TO DO It is suggested that there are several "phases" which one can go through or "dwell in" in the course of prayer time. Depending on actual circum-stances or personal needs, one can dwell in or stay in one phase rather than another. Or one can restrict oneself to just one phase. For a start, it may be good to spend the hour for some days quietly 79O A Method of Contemplative Prayer / 791 seeking and remaining in an awareness of the Lord's presence and then, by way of exercise, go through the phases, taking one a day. After this, one should be guided each day by one's needs. From the start, .keep in mind what is said in the last paragraphs of this paper under the heading, It Matters liow You Live (p. 801 ). It should be noticed that earlier phases mentioned below prepare the way for the actual "contemplative" phase which, due to circumstances, we may not be able to reach every time. Phase of Relaxation and Silence Just sit down and relax. Slowly and deliberately let all tension flow away and gently seek an awareness of the immediate and personal presence of God. There is no violence in this movement: no suppression of moods, feelings, frustrations. Suppression implies violence and increases tension. No, just relax and let go of everything as you enter into the awareness of God's presence. You can relax and let go of everything precisely because He is present: In His presence nothing really matters; all things are in His hands. Tension, anxiety, worry, frustrations all melt away before Him as snow before the sun. Seek peace and inner silence. Let your mind, heart, will, and feelings become tranquil and serene. Let inner storms subside: obsessional thoughts, passionate drives of will and of emotions. Seek peace and pursue it (Ps 33; 14). Be ready, if necessary, to spend all your prayer time like this without any thought of result or effect or reward. Be ready thus to "waste" your time and make it a naked, selfless offering of time and attention for God alone. This movement towards peace and silence opens us to an inflow of grace; it creates conditions for a genuine, true, and personal love for God to be awakened in our spirit. Note that this movement is not just a neutral, psychological event; it is a movement of surrender and acceptance of God's will. We make it possible for our heart, will, and emotions to become impregnated with God's gift of peace and with His will to nonviolent love. Some may feel that relaxation coupled wi~h quiet breathing tends to make them fall asleep; it is as if one is tired and abandons oneself to quiet sleep. Here, however, we seek to become relaxed in order to be awake and alert to the presence of God rather like a sentry who makes himself quiet in order to listen for the presence of others. The mind, nerves, and emotions are stilled so that the heart may be ready: My heart is ready, O God, my heart is ready. I will sing, I will sing your praise. Awake, my soul! I will awake the dawn (Ps. 57; 108). Phase of Awareness of His Presence Sit down quietly and open yourself entirely to an awareness of His 792 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 33, 1974/4 presence. He is present to my spirit, attentive to my awareness. He dwells at the center of my true self, at the core of my being. Now I seek an awareness of this, but one day He will give me this awareness, freely. He is closer to my true self than I am myself? He knows me better than I know myself. He loves me better than I love myself. He is "Abba," Father, to me. I am because HE IS. In the mirror of created existence, I am His living image and likeness: when I know, I reflect His knowledge; when I love, I reflect His love; when I call out to Him, He hears; when I seek His awareness, He awakens me to His presence. In and through and with Jesus, He speaks His word of love: "You are my son, you are my daughter, beloved of Me, in whom I am well pleased." In and through and. with Jesus He pours out His Spirit, making me call out "Abba" Father! He fills me with thanks and praise for His wonderful presence. Phase of Surrender Before His face, aware of His presence, I surrender every aspect of my being; I return myself to Him; I seek to withdraw my possessiveness; I beg him to possess me, to live in and through me so that '.'I live, no, not I but He lives in me (Gal 2:20): my hands and wrists and arms; my head and ears and senses and brain; my feet and legs; each and every nerve and muscle and blood vessel and organ. May He accept all as an instrument of peace and render ;.t a clean oblation. I surrender my cares and worries; I grow in an awareness that if my faith and hope in Him are true there is no ground for anxiety and tension: He takes care and looks after His sons and daughters. So I let go of every-thing that preoccupies me, in a movement of faith and surrender. From now on I let Him lead me, step by step. I surrender my heart, my feelings, my love. My heart does not love with its own love: "Everyone who loves is begotten by God and knows him!" (1 Jn 4:7). It is Jesus who through His Spirit loves His Father in "my" breath of love. It is not I who love but He loves in me, through me. And His love is quiet, serene, ineffable, and enduring. I surrender my whole personality; and, beyond feelings, I grope forwards toward a gentle love, one beyond my thinking, "towards where One waited near, whose presence well I knew, there where no other might appear.'"-' And all my prayer is that in this silence He may pour out His Spirit and begin to live and reign in me. I surrender myself to Jesus my Savior and accept Him as my Lord. He has prayed and suffered to free me and to claim me as His own: "Take me and all I have and do with me whatever You will. Send me where You will. Use me as you will. I surrender myself 1The "intimior intimio meo" of St. Augustine. '-'St. John of the Cross, Poems, trs. by Roy Campbell (London: Penguin, 1960), p. 27. A Method of Contemplative Prayer / 793 and all I possess absolutely and entirely, unconditionally and forever, to Your control." This phase can grow into an ardent and insistent supplication for the Holy Spirit, for His outpouring, for His gifts, for an overwhelming sense of His presence and peace. And the supplication always ends in faith that He has already heard my prayer (Mk 11:24). Phase of Acceptance Many of our "natural" reactions are expressions and gestures of nonac-ceptance, of rebellion, of running away from reality, of suppression: it is our anger flaring up, our impatience possessing us like an evil spirit, our dislikes and grudges hardening our hearts, our resentment at interference and interruption. Without always realizing it, we often refuse to accept persons, events, situations, conditions, even ourselves, as God wills them for us and as He accepts them for us. This nonacceptance of His will in concrete circumstances is e~per.ienced in prayer as a barrier, a roadblock on our way to Him. It is His will that we accept people, circumstances, events as they actually are and occur, that we never endeavor to influence people or events by means of violence of the heart, that we bring to bear on them only the power of love and forgiveness, of suffering, acceptance, and thanksgiving. In daily life, this attitude includes: never judge, never argue, never criticize, never be violent, and try to mind your own business. And so in prayer I become aware of actual barriers of nonacceptance. I look at each barrier and deliberately accept God's will in this regard. I withdraw my self-oriented and condemnatory judgment; I withdraw my criticism. I regret my violence in thought, word, and deed. I risk the leap of faith and love that when I turn my heart toward Him, He makes each and every thing contribute to my true welfare (Rm 8:28). Acceptance of His will is in fact identical with acceptance of His guid-ance, His Lordship, as He leads me, step by step, through the concrete circumstances of my daily life. Through His will for me, He guides and leads me into His kingdom. His kingdom comes and advances where and to the extent His will is accepted and done. And so I lay down my own will and try to discern His will. My own thoughts and plans lose their com-pulsion as I seek to see His plan as it unfolds and as I endeavor to follow His pattern. Phase of Repentance and Forgiveness When we enter this prayer, we may be oppressed by a sense of sin and failing. It may be a general sense of sin and unworthiness, or it may be due to a sorry state we got into only iust now. We must face this barrier in a spirit of genuine repentance and true humility. We confess our sin, our failing, and we beg His forgiveness, and we thank Him most humbly for hearing our prayer. Then we face God as we are: sinful, spiritually 794 / Review for Religious, l/'olume 33, 1974/4 handicapped, and disabled in many ways--chronic patients. And we accept lhese handicaps and disabilities because He accepts us as we are and because He loves us as we are. We are not permitted to nurse a sense of guilt; we must fully and completely accept and embrace His forgiveness and love. Guilt feeling and inferiority feeling before God are expressions of selfishness, of self-centered-ness. We give greater importance to our little sinful self than to His immense and never-ending love. We must surrender our guilt and our inferiority to Him; His goodness is greater than our badness. We must accept His joy in loving and forgiving us. It is an outrageous thing not to surrender our sinfulness to His mercy. We may want to spend quite some time in letting all this sink into our consciousness. When we are unable to pray for no precise reason except a sense of unease and unworthiness, The Cloud of Unknowing may help us: Since all evil is summed up in sin, considered causally or essentially, when we pray with the intention for the removing of evil, we should neither say, think, or mean any more than this little word "sin" . . . . You should fill your spirit with the inner meaning of the single word '!sin,". without analyzing what kind it is, venial or mortal, or pride, anger, envy, avarice, sloth, gluttony, or lust. What does it matter to contemplatives what sort of sin it is, or how great? For when they are engaged in contemplation, they think all sins alike are great in themselves, since the smallest sin separates them from God and prevents spiritual peace. Feel sin in its totality--as a lump without specifying any particular part, and that all of it is you. And then cry ceaselessly in your spirit this one thing: "Sin! Sin! Sin! Help! Help! Help!" This spiritual cry is better learned from God by experience than from any man by word. It is best When it is entirely spiritual, unpremeditated, and unuttered. On occasion perhaps the overfull heart will burst out into words because body and soul alike are filled with sorrow and the burden of sin.3 One may also repeatedly cry out "Lord, have mercy!" or "Jesus, forgive me my sins!" until He gives the grace of compunction and melts the lump of sin within us. Phase of Contemplation By now I have put away all obstacles in my heart, all thinking in my mind, all wavering in my will. Now: Him I covet, Him I seek and nothing but Him (Chapter 7). It is enough that I should feel moved lovingly by I know not what, and that in this inward urge I have no real thought for anything less than God and that my desire is steadily and simply turned towards Him (Chapter 34). I lift up my heart to God with humble love. And really mean God Him- 3The Cloud o[ Unknowing, a book on contem'plation written about 1350 by an un-known author. It has been translated into modern English by Clifton Wolters (London: Penguin, 1961), Chapter 39 and 40. A Method of Contemplative Prayer / 795 sell who created me and bought me and graciously calls me--and not what I get out of Him. Indeed, I hate to think of anything but God Himself, so that nothing occupies my mind or will but only God . I think no other thought of Him, apart from my awareness of Him darkly but gloriously present. It all depends on my desire: a naked intention directed to God and Himself alone (Chapters 3 and 7).4 I turn myself entirely, to His presence. I steadily look at Him. His presence becomes more real to me. He holds my inward sight. My glance simply and lovingly rests on Him. My prayer is nothing but a loving awareness of Him: "I look because I love; I look in order to love, and my love is fed and influenced by looking.''5 "With nobody in sight, when all my house wa~ hushed, concealed from other eyes, when all my house at length in silence slept,''G I reach out to God in love. While I am quiet and exist in a calm and simple awareness of His pre.sence, my heart gropes towards Him and opens to receive His love. It is a prayer which is wordless, fed by a quiet ardor: "By love He can be caught and held, but by thinking never.''r There is a darkness which thought and clear knowledge cannot bridge, but only"longing love: "Beat away at this cloud of unknowing between you and God with that sharp dart of longing love.''8 As St. John of the Cross expresses it: Upon that lucky night in secrecy, inscrutable to sight I went without discerning and with no other light except for that which in my heart was burning. It lit and let me through more certain than the light of noonday clear to where One waited near whose presence well I knew there where no other presence might appearP This phase may well be sustained by a repetition prayer, carried on a quiet rhythm of breathing. Phase of Receiving God always responds. He cannot refuse a seeking in faith and love: "Seek and you will always find" becomes "Seek and you will always be 4Ibid. ~Dom Vitalis Lehode~,, O.C.R., The Ways o] Mental Prayer (Dublin: Gill, 1960), Part II, Chapter IX, Par. 2. 6John of the Cross, Poems, p. 27. 7The Cloud ol Unknowing, Chapter 6. 8Ibid., Chapter 12. ~John of the Cross, Poems, p. 27. 796 / Review [or Religious, Volume 33, 1974/4 found." He seeks us before we seek Him, while we seek Him, and after we have sought Him: "I have loved you with an everlasting love so I am constant in my affection for you"--It is the Lord who speaks (Jer 31:3). He responds, He turns to me, He seeks me, He is anxious to invade my spirit. He desires that His Spirit possess me. I bask in the warmth of His love. I feel His gaze upon me. Jesus, my. Lord, is eager to possess my heart with which to love His Father and with which to radiate His love: "Anybody who loves me will be loved by my Father, and I shall love him and show myself to him . . . and we shall come and make our home with him"--It is the Lord who speaks (Jn 14:21, 23). "We ourselves have known and put our faith in God's love towards ourselves. God is love. And anyone who lives in love, lives in God, and God lives in him (1 Jn 4:16). He fills us with His presence, with His Spirit. We may discern Him only in faith or, through His grace, in experience. His presence brings a deep spiritual peace, a share in His "sabbath" rest, a greater serenity, ability to accept and to suffer, a lifting of despair, a welling up of joy and love, a floodlight, a compulsion to praise and thank Him. Or if such be His will, it brings power to serve Him and to proclaim Him, to bear witness to His kingdom, to bring healing in His name, to bring peace and unity to men of good will. Phase of Intercession There is need for intercession. Jesus continues to save us through His uninterrupted intercession (Hb 7:25; see Rm 8:34 and 1 Jn 2:1 ). In some way, He also needs to use our hearts for this intercession. True, we seek the Giver rather than the gift, but the Giver seeks to save His People. Through His Spirit in us He is concerned for all those who should be His People; in us He wants to intercede and suffer. We must plead and never lose heart (Lk 18:1), with simple and expectant faith. His promise is there: Ask and you will always receive (Lk 11:10). We must learn to pray with faith that He has already given what we ask for, as the Lord has urged us to pray: "Everything you ask and pray for, believe that you have it already and it will be yours" (Mk 11:24; see also 1 John 5:14-5 and Jas 1:5-6). We pray acco~rding to His will (1 Jn 5:14-5) for His kingdom in ourselves and in others. Lord, teach me how to pray; glorify Your name; Your kingdom come; Your will be done in my life and the life of others; Lord, grant Your peace to. ; Help. in his need; Lord, make your love known to . Often one may wish to "intercede" for a while at the end of prayer. Phase of Praise and Thanksgiving Jesus invariably thanked and praised His Father and taught His. disciples to do the same. The Eucharistic Prayer is such a prayer of praise, thanks- A Method of Contemplative Prayer / 797 giving, and intercession. When He has made known His presence or touched us with His Spirit and filled us with His grace and peace, we should spontaneously thank and praise Him. Perhaps the time will come when we shall thank Him too when we share in Jesus's loneliness and suffering, simply because His will is being done in us. Distractions during Prayer Wandering thoughts (distractions) are often a ,problem. We may be unable to ,relax, to let tensions go and surrender. Or we may be just very tired physically and mentally. The first thing to do is to accept fully this weakness and to remember that this prayer is for Him and for no advantage of our own; be ready to waste this part of your time as an "immolation" poured out for Him. In one way, a sense of failure belongs to the essence of prayer because through it it we learn to become truly disinterested; we seek His presence and love Him even when His face is hidden, when His presence is not discerned. This is true of a more general sense of failure: Imperfection and even sins are such a help to that humilityowhich is the condition of prayer that they seem almost a help rather ~than a hindrance. To feel utterly crushed and annihilated, incapable of any good, wholly de-pendent on God's undeserved and infinite mercy, is the best and only prepara-tion for prayer. It means an entire confidence and exultation in being nothing because God is all, which brings the only peace which is tru~ peace.1° Here are two specific ways of minimizing distractions and of keeping our awareness focused on His presence to the greatest possible extent,al Rhythm, ic Breathing Tension, worry, excitement all lead to short and shallow breathing. On the other hand, if we make our breathing more deliberate, more slow, and more regular (rhythmic), tension ebbs away and we become more relaxed and have a greater sense of peace and serenity. 10Dom John Chapman, Spiritual Letters (London: Sheed and Ward), p. 293. a~Distractions are of two kinds: (a) the ordinary distractions such as one has in meditation which take one right away; and (b) the harmless wandering of the imagination alone, while the intellect is (to all appearance) idle and empty, and the will is fixed on God. These are quite harmless. When these latter distractions remain all the time, the prayer is just as good and often much better. The will re-mains united; yet we feel utterly dissatisfied and humbled (see Chapman, Spiritual Letters, p. 290). Here we are especially concerned with the "harmless" wandering imagination while our heart and will reach out to God and are fixed on Him. The imagination here is like one's pet dog in a room; we like it to sit down quietly for a while, but it keeps on wandering a little. The two aids (rhythmic breathing and repetition prayers) are like two dog chains which keep the imagination from wandering too much and too far. 790 / Review for Religious, Volume 33, 1974/4 During this prayer, therefore, we should try to breathe in and out slowly, deeply, and deliberately, to the rhythm of our pulse or heartbeat. More precisely, breathe in through the nose, counting mentally 1, 2~ 3, 4, 5, up to about 6, to about the speed of your heartbeat, hold the breath a little (or some counts), and then breathe, out in the same way in a controlled and slow manner. At the end of the exhalation pause a while (for some counts). You can practice this rhythmic breaihing some other time also, for example, when walking er sitting quietly or lying down. At first, it :ne~ds conscious attention and control, but gradually it will become habitual and you .will do it without thinking. The following note by Father Hoffmznmay also be helpful: Although we cannot bring about contemplative prayer by our own volition, there are ways to dispose ourselves for it. These ways each individual will discover for himself. St. John of the Cross mentions the fact that some places are conducive to prayer rather than others. Likewise, there is a tech-nique borrowed from the East, but not unsuited to the West. This is the practice of slow, deep breathing during prayer, tending to hold the breath at the point of exhalation,az This has the effect not only of quieting the psyche but also of giving something to the inner senses and the reasoning intellect to keep them occupied. Then they will not interfere by vain introspection of what they cannot touch within. This, of course, is to be used only if helpful. If not needed, it would be a distraction. It may be feared that such breathing or the comfortable position mentioned above will induce sleep. But at this point of ihe spiritual life, generally speaking, the victory over sleep during prayer has been won.13 Repetition Prayers It is very helpful when a suitable repetition prayer (.or .','ejaculatory" pr~ayer) is carried on our quiet and rhythmic breathing. One can speak the words (with the lips or, better, mentally) either while breathing in or breathing out, or both. In view of the rhythmic breathing, the prayer should have a cert,/in cadence or rhythm to let it be carried on the rhythm of the breathing. The best known example is the Jesus Prayer; the text consists either in a repetition of the holy name of Jesus: "Jesus . . . Jesus . . . Jesus," or in the words, "Jesus, son of the living God, have mercy on me, a sinner." It a2j. N. Dechanet, O.S.B., Christian Yoga (New York: Harper and. Row) cited by Dominic N. Hoffman, O.P., in The Li]e Within: The PraYer.o] Union (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1966), p. 217; the citation is the following: "To these three [phases of breathing: inhalation, holding the breath, and exhalation] already mentioned, you automatically add a fourth where the breath is held with the l.ungs empty. This promotes contemplation except ,when it is contemplation itself that~ has called for or caused this holding of the breath--that silent gaze of admiration that is poised on a thing." laHoffman, Lile Within, p. 217. ' A Method of Contemplative Prayer / 799 is carried rhythmically on one's quiet breathing, again and again and again, while one's awareness remains on the Savior.14 One may use other texts for repetition, for example, "Let thy love play upon my voice and rest on my silence" or "I with you on the cross no longer live, You live in me." In fact, .one could formulate such prayer.s specifically to express the phase of prayer one is in, provided that the prayer really expresses what one wants to say, and that its language is rhythmic, even if it be in a loose sort of maner. The Grail Psalms are fine examples of such rhythmic prayer. Thus one can formulate a prayer of surrender, acceptance, love, praise, thanksgiving, and so on. One may also like to repeat part of the Lord's Prayer in the same manner--either a very short prayer like "Abba,, Father!" or adding one petition, "Abba, Father glorify ybur name"; or make a longer prayer of the whole first part carried on a long, quiet outgoing breath: "Our Father in heaven, holy be your name, your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as in heaven." Such prayer may be a powerful intercession for His kingdom in ourselves and others "for the glory of His name." Finally, when one is physcially or mentally too weary to pray otherwise, one can use the Rosary prayer, quietly telling the beads, carrying the Hail Marys gently and rhythmically on one's breathing and dwelling with love on. some mystery of faith. One could say ten. to fifteen such decades in an hour. It has been found helpful to use the Rosary beads also for the other repetition prayers,during this hour of quiet prayer. Where to Pray I would say, in a place where one is completely private and alone, where one is unlikely to be disturbed, where there is not too much noise. Jesus says: "When .you pray, go to your private room and when you have shut the door pray to your Father who is in that secret place! (Mt. 6:6 [Jeru-salem Bible]). And He Himself "would always go off to some place where He could be alone and pray (l_;k 5:16 [Jerusalem Bible]). There is comfort in the fact that He did not always succeed (Mk 6:30ff.). Being together with others in the same place or room does not seem advisable, as the very awareness of other persons' presence often is a powerful psychological distraction and a hindrance to complete relaxation. 14The Jesus Prayer is described in detail in The Way o! the Pilgrim, trs. by R. M. French (New York: Seabury, 1970). Jean Gouillard also describes it in an appendix to Father Dechanet's Christian Yoga under the title, "A Note on the Prayer of the Heart." Swami Abhishiktananda in his book, Prayer (New York: Harper and Row, 1973), discusses the Jesus Prayer .in the chapter on "The.Prayer of the Name," and goes on to suggest our Lord's own prayer of "Abba, Father" as possibly the best way of entering into the life of the most holy Trinity. It may be noted that the Jesus Prayer has a scope and application which is far beyond our present concern (an hour of contemplative prayer a day) and looks forward towards a never ceasing prayer of union with God. 800 / Review [or Religious, Volume 33, 1974/4 Ideally, the best place is before the Blessed Sacrament, the sacrament of His presence among us, and this is what Father Voillaume advocates for the followers of Charles de Foucauld. But it is a fact of experience that in many churches and chapels there is too much distraction as well as too much noise. Cardinal Lercaro sums it up: If possible, in church or in one's room; preferably the latter if in church one is likely to be called upon to perform the duties of one's ministry or disturbed for some other reason. Somewhere out of doors would do--but in general the place to be chosen is that where is least likelihood of meeting with dis-tractions or interruptions.1~ How Long to Pray One thinks of one full hour daily. This is the traditional time fixed for "mental" prayer in most religious rules. St. Peter of Alcantara says: When the time is too short, it is "passed in unloading the imagination and in bringing the heart under control; just at the moment when we are ready and ought to be beginning the exercise, we stop it.16 It is a sobering thought that one full hour a day represents just about 4% of all the time we live. It would seem that-the more active and distracting our daily life is, the more need there is of a full hour of "relaxing, coming to rest in God," We need the steadying impact of this daily "exercise" on our nerves and emotions. We also need the daily "healing of soul" and "opening to the' Spirit" in quiet and silence if we lead a busy life. In this way, through daily, silent prayer, God 6hanges us and renews us more thoroughly than throhgh other beneficial activities. In view of all this, one would not advocate the practice of having two separate periods of thirty minutes each, instead, of one full hour at one time. At first, one full hour see~ms dreadfully long, ~and the first weeks' or months' perseverance may be an agonizing effort. But gradually we get used to this length and attuned to its spirit of quiet leisure spent with and for God. But we must make the effort: Work hard at it, therefore, and with all speed; hammer away at this cloud of unknowing--and take your rest later! It is hard work and no mistake, for the would-be contemplative; very hard work, indeed, unless it is made easier by special grace of God or by the fact that one has got used to it over a long period.17 When to Pray The actual time m.ust to some extent depend on what is possible within the framework of one's work and commitments. Some like the early 15Cardinal Lercaro, Methods oJ Mental Prayer (London: Burns Oates, 1957), 'p. 207. 16Ibid., p. 206. ~TThe Cloud o] Unknowing, Chapter 34. A Method of Contemplative Prayer morning: "In the early morning, while it was still dark, Jesus arose and went out and departed to a lonely place and was praying there" (Mk 1:35). The morning quiet may be rewarding if one has succeeded in being physically and mentally fully awake (bath, fresh air!). Other prefer the quiet evening before sleep; at this time it is easier to relax and ofie joins in "an hour of watch and vigil" with Christ. Many people have no choice and have to take any opportunity of a whole hour free. It may mean giving up certain things we like to do. It has been found possible to have one's quiet prayer even in a long distance bus, in a railway station. Those living in community and bound to mental prayer by religious rule should perhaps discuss the time problem together or with the superior and see from time to time when each can best engage in this prayer. It seems worth noting that this prayer fulfills the obligation of mental prayer or meditation which religious and others have. Does this mean that one no longer meditates? As a special exercise, meditation may be dropped but as such it never disappears. The one who seeks. God in contemplative~ prayer tends to read and hear the reading from Scripture with greater interest; the liturgy and other spiritual reading makes one reflect; one continues to ponder the mysteries and the ways of God. Posture during Prayer This is an important point as bodily posture has a definite influence on our ability to relax and remain undistracted. The body should be relaxed but attentive; one's posture should be comfortable but not a source of strain or tension. It is said that there is least strain when one's back is straight. In a vertical position, one holds back and head straight when there is a balance like someone balancing a load on the head. Traditionally, there is a preference for kneeling (straight). Sitting may be more relaxing (again straight); a low stool (about 10 inches high) without back may be useful. Those who are accustomed to squatting on the floor will find this position more restful, again if the back is held straight. Many who begin this prayer find it best to keep the eyes open but fixed on some point or object straight ahead. When one's eyes wander, the mind follows and one's attentiveness is interrupted. It Matters How You Live The hour of silent prayer must be important to you in relation to your whole life as a Christian, as a religious, or as a priest. Most religious experienced their original call as a call to a life of surrender to God and of dedication to His service but with the addition that God seemed to promise a life in which they would experience in a personal way knowledge of Him and of His love. This hour of contemplative prayer is meant to lead you to 802 / Review for Religious, Volume 33, 1974/4 a fulfillment of this promise. But your life must be ready for this grace in a twofold way: (1) First, you must endeavor to express your continued surrender by moving away from violence to nonviolent and peaceful ways, from any kind of falsehood to utter truthfulness and inner harmony, from self-asser-tion to great sensitivity to the needs, rights, and feelings of others, from self-indulgence to an instinct for purity of heart and mind, from possessive-ness and greed to giving and sharing and to a preference for soberness. In other words, you must resolutely set your face against the vicious tendencies which grieve the Spirit and kill the soul: pride and prestige, jealousy and dislike, anger and violence, self-indulgence and uncleanness, laziness and greed. You must welcome with all your heart the fruits of the holy Spirit: true love, joy in the Spirit, peace in your heart, patience in your manner, kindness towards all, goodness in your intentions, trustfulness in your dealings, gentleness in inward and outward bearing, and self-control of heart and mind. All this becomes possible to the extent that you open your heart and life to the Spirit of Jesus. And human nature being what it is, it also involves a continual return to repentance. (2) Secondly, you must nourish within yourself continually a desire for God, for the fulfillment of the promise He held out from the beginning. You may not have the same intensity of feeling, but you should at least sympathize with the person who wrote as follows about this attraction to God: If it happens that this attraction that you feel in reading or hearing about this matter [contemplative love of God] is of itself so overwhelming that it goes to bed with you, gets up with you in the morning, accompanies you all day in all you do, separates you from normal daily exercises by inserting itself between your prayers and you; if it is associated with and follows your desire to the extent that it seems to be just the one desire, or you scarcely know what it is that alters your outlook and brings a cheerful smile to your lips; if, while it lasts, everything is a consolation and nothing can upset you; if you would run a thousand miles to have speech with someone whom you know has truly felt as you do; if, when you get there, you have nothing to say, no matter who speaks to you, since you do not wish to speak except about one thing; if your words are few, but full of unction and fire; if one brief word of yours holds a world full of wisdom but seems mere foolishness to those who have not passed beyond reason; if your silence is peaceful, your speech edifying, your prayer secret, your pride proper, your behavior modest, your laughter very soft: if your delight is that of a child at play; if you love to be alone and sit apart because you feel that others would hinder you unless they did what you are doing; if you do not wish to read or listen to reading unless it be about this one thing--then, indeed, there is evidence that you are drawn to true contemplative prayer which is beyond words and thought.~s usa Letter o] Private Direction by the author of The Cloud o] Unknowing (London: Burns Oates), pp. 67-8. A Method oJ Contemplative Prayer / 803 We discern a similar intense desire for God in the words of the hymn, "Jesu, dulcis memoria": Jesus, just to think of you fills my heart with joy but there is no happiness to compare with the joy of your sweet presence. More attractive than any melody, more exciting than any news, more pleasant ¯ than any thought are you, Jesus, Son of God. Jesus, you are the hope of the repentant sinner, you are kind to those who ask your help, you are good to those who seek you but who shall say what you are to those who find you! No words can describe, no book can explain, and if you know from experience you can only believe what it means to love Jesus. When you visit my heart, it is bathed in the light of truth, the world loses all its attraction, and an inner love is burning. Those who have tasted you hunger for more; those who have drunk are '-thirsty for more; but only those who love you, Jesus, are able to long for you. Jesus, be my joy now as you will. be my reward; may your glory dwell in me for ever and always. Amen. Two 'Ways ot Strengthening Desire for God There are two ways in which we can feed and strengthen this attraction and desire for God. One way is "lectio divina"; this is a kind of meditative spiritual reading, the rea~ling of texts which we feel draw us to God and to prayer, the kind of texts which at times you want to read only in small parts because even in small sections they fill your mind and heart with love of and desire for God. Such reading tends to keep your mind in devout meditation, leading to contemplation: "Therefore if you burn with desire for contemplation apply yourself to devout and continual meditations; it is the infallible way to succeed.''19 And another author has written: A work impregnat~d with the divine quality is the only kind a soul should consider. Needless to say, ,holy Scripture is the first and purest source of all. And a truly recollected reading is both pleasing to God and often instrumental in bringing Him back. Now in the state of quietude the soul receives,many lights enabling it to discover new shadings and meanings that were hidden before; these seem to appear effortlessly and as a kind'of enlightenment that is sweet yet substantial enough to be experienced~ The sot{l then realizes that this enlightening presence is tile Holy Ghost. God's gift is a higher, loving knowledge of Himself and an increase ~of faith in His Sacred Scriptures.2° The other way is to pray for the gift of pi'@er: "Lord, teach me how to pray, how to know and love You in silent prayer; Lord, pour Your Spirit in me in all His fullness; Lord, let me be possessed by Your Spirit so that you may reign in me and through me." It is clear frolh the gospel that a'~Lercaro, Methods, p. 252, quoting Father Thomas of Jesus on acquired contempla-tion. 20Dom G. Belorgey, O.C.S.O., The Practice o/Mental Prayer (Cork: Mercier, 1951), pp. 144-5. a04 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 33, 1974/4 (a) we must ask for the gift of the Spirit with expectant faith and (b) this prayer will be heard (Lk 11:13). In conclusion, let us sum up this part of the article in the following phrases: A song of devotion should not be lightly sung. Your word should not be lightly given, but once given, kept. This prayer should not be lightly started. Start only when you are ready and then never look back. The Lord loves you and needs you. He is waiting for an opportunity to enter your life. Once you have begun praying, you will never be the same. He will make use of you. It will be the greatest thing in your life. May He be praised, alleluia! MEANING AND RELEVANCE OF CONTEMPLATIVE PRAYER Here in India one is frequently asked by non-Christians, "How do you pray?" People see our lifelong dedication to the service of mankind; they recognize in our. celibacy a discipline disposing us to pray; they surmise the secret of our strength to be a prayerful union with God, the full realiza-tions of His presence within us and they are eager to know how we have arrived at this. Yet the ordinary good priest or religious finds the question hard to deal with. We are not accustomed to reflect on the ways, means, and objectives of prayer and on its demands on the one who prays. Most of us have learned the practice of prayer (a) by reciting certain prescibed prayers such as the Divine Office, the Mass prayers, the rosary; (b) by making half an hour's meditation; and (c) by occasionaldirect "private" prayer to God. It has been held that provided we are faithful to our prayer routine, we have done our duty. In fact, the main obiective of teaching prayer in the seminaries and novitiates seems to have. been to initiate persons into the prayer program expected of priests and religious and to inculcate a sense of faithful observance of this program. The program included a simple form o[ meditation or mental prayer. This was practiced as part of the daily horarium, and such daily practice was intended to help a person along the path of prayer through life. Prayer beyond meditation; beyond prayerful reflection and exercises of the imagina-tion and will, that is, contemplative prayer, was hardly ever pointed out as a natural development of one's prayer life; the impression most often conveyed was that it was beyond the reach and proper ambition of ordinary good priests and religious. Father Sergius Wroblewski, O.F.M., has recently pointed out'-'1 certain 2aSergius Wroblewski, O.F.M., Bonaventurian Theology o] Prayer (Pulaski, Wiscon-sin: Franciscan Publications, 1967), Chapter 1. A Method ol Contemplative Prayer / 805 historical reasons for this shying away from real contemplative prayer in the Church during the last few centuries: the lack of appreciation and actual suspicion of such prayer by most Protestant Christians; the excesses of late Medieval extremists such as the Illuminists of Spain;°--" the deporable controversy between Bossuet and the saintly F6nelon in 17th century France ("Bossuet's victory made contemplative prayer something to be shunned. An irrational horror of Quietism-03 prevailed . No one dared even breathe the name of contemplation").'-'4 There was a consequent lack of true perspective in the religious life and in the lives of many priests committed to celibacy.''5 At the same time Father Wroblewski points to the flourishing of genuine contemplative prayer in the Church, especially in the Middle Ages, in the lives of the saints at all times, and to the rediscovery of this prayer as central to the religious life and to all Christian life in the present century. Restoration of Contemplation to All the People of God In one way or other, this form of true prayer remained alive in the lives of saints and devoted Christians. But it seems that in our own day and age, the Lord wants to restore this precious gilt to the whole ol God's People. Father Ren6 Voiilaume, in the tradition of the saintly Charles de Foucauld, encourages the practice of contemplative prayer, in silence and solitude, preferably before the Lord in the Blessed Sacrament, as the most meaningful part of the life of priests and religious. An experience of con-templative prayer has been recommended as a necessary preparation for those wishing to be ordained to the secular priesthood. Father John Dal- '-'2The Illuminists held that through contemplation they could in this life attain the beatific vision. Their view derived from a misinterpretation of infused contemplation in which God gives a direct experience of His presence. Against their view, spiritual writers stress that such an experience, while being a wonderful grace, is not by itself even a sign of~ true holiness. True holiness, which through grace leads to the beatific vision in the light of God's glory, is measured more by the fruits of the Spirit (Gal 5:22) and the living out of the commandments (Jn 15:19) in'daily life. On this see Hoffman, LiJe Within, p. 181; Stephen B. Clark, Baptisedin the Spirit (Dove Publi-cations, 1970), pp. 33-4; and 1 Jn-3:2; I Cor 13:12. '-"~Quietism: While in contemplative prayer the emotions and the mind and the imagination are quietened, the heart and will are actively focused on the Lord. This is the "longing love" of which the author of The Cloud o] Unknowing speaks. '-'4See Wroblewski, Bonaventurian Theology, p. 30. '-'.qn the religious life the vows express a dedication to the Lord and His kingdom which predisposes and leads towards a knowledge-in-love of God experienced in faith. When the cornerstone of contemplative prayer is no longer explicitly present in the fabric of the religious life, there is a lack of orientation and a distortion of perspec-tive: Love of God, the first commandment, must ever have the first place. In a similar way, celibacy makes sense, at a personal level, only if it includes a sharing in His knowledge and love of His Father. Review [or Religious, Volume 33, 1974/4 rymple, for a decade the spiritual director of Drygrange Seminary in Scot-land, in making this recommendation quotes Father Henri Godin as saying, "Let all missionaries who consecrate themselves to christianizing the work-ing world be first of all contemplatives"; and Father Godin, working among the working class of Paris was no starry-eyed visionary.-°~ Also the Second Vatican Council has urged all religious to combine the apostolate with con-templation: " . . . as they seek God before all things and only him, the members of each community should combine contemplation with apostolic love."z7 But is seems that there is more to come; the Spirit of God seems to breathe over our modern, spiritually starved and secularized society and to bring it to new life, especially through an awakening of young people. Cardinal Alfrink, addressing the Synod of Bishops at Rome in November 1971, remarked: We are yet preoccupied with the harmful effects of the process of seculariza-tion, but already in many countries our young people again find the way to God and to Christ, commit themselves to the betterment of the world, and also discover the way to contemplation. All this happens quite outside the official structures of the Church. Should this not bring us to a serious examination of conscience? We may also point to the close connection between contemplation and the charismatic renewal movement (or Catholic Pentecostal movement): in silent prayer as in a charismatic prayer group there is a movement toward complete surrender to the Spirit of God in love, peace, joy, and thanksgiv-ing. In both forms of contemplative prayer there is also the opening of heart and life to the gifts and fruits of the Spirit of Jesus who leads us to the Father.2s In any case, just as in the 1960s secularization, with the reform and loosening of structures, made a deep impact on the life of the Church, so it appears likely that in the 1970s we may see a new outpouring of the Spirit among God's People and a reintegration of true contemplative prayer into the life of the Church as the heart of a lasting renewal. This may well be the answer to the prayer of good Pope John who wrote in Humanae salutis: Holy Spirit, renew your wonders in our time, as though for a new Pentecost, and grant that the holy Church, preserving unanimous and continuous prayer together with Mary the Mother of Jesus and also under the guidance of St. Peter, may increase the reign of the divine Savior, the reign of truth and justice, the reign of love and peace. Amen. 26Father John.Dalrymple, "The Seminary and Prayer," Clergy Review, April, 1964. zrPer]ectae caritatis, no. 5. zsSee Father Simon Tugwell's several articles in New Black[riars in 1969-1971: these articles have been published in book form under the title, Did You Receive the Spirit? (1972). A Method of Contemplative Prayer / 807 What Is Contemplative Prayer? To grasp the meaning of contemplative prayer needs some careful thought. Let us first look at the three classical stages of prayer. First, there is vocal prayer, a prayer of the lips, with stress on words, recited or sung. The text is often prefabricated "or readymade and is often beautiful and inspiring.There is also spontaneous vocal prayer. Then there is meditative prayer or meditation, a prayer centered in the mind which pictures, ponders, reflects, and thinks of God and His wonderful dealings. The mind seeks understanding and insight. In meditation the lips are quiet and the mind is active. Finally, there is contemplative prayer or contemplation, a prayer of heart and will which reach out to God's presence. The lips and mind both come to rest; there is a simple gazing (looking) at the Lord while the heart reaches out in wordless prayer and the will seeks to be one with Him. Contemplation is "the awareness of God, known and loved at the core of one's being.''~9 When we seek his awareness and find it in faith, we speak of acquired contemplation; when He gives us this awareness in real experi-ence, we speak of infused contemplation. Mature and adult Christians are meant to reach the stage of contempla-tive prayer. The three stages could be compared to stages of schooling. One begins in the primary school with reading and writing (vocal prayer); the middle school of prayer is meditation where reflection on life and revela-tion is the main subject, although vocal prayer is not neglected. The high school of prayer is the beginning of the contemplative prayer which we are recommending. One does not forget or neglect what one has learned at the primary and middle school, but the growing point of our prayer life is an awakening to God's presence and an opening to His Spirit. Further Understanding of Contemplative Prayer To come back to contemplative prayer, if you compare it to vocal prayer, you could say that in contemplative prayer you seek an awareness that what is contained in the words is really and truly present to you: "Our Father in heaven!" We go beyond ~he words to an awareness of His presence to Us, deep within us, and we dwell in that presence. The actual words used serve as the ringing of a bell, wakening us from sleep to consciousness of His presence within.3° If you compare it to meditative prayer, you could say that instead of running over the Truth reflectively, you come to a halt and gaze at it, awakening to His presence within. Meditation could be compared to the activity that goes into making and painting a picture. Contemplative prayer '-;gClifton Wolters in his introduction to his translation of The Cloud o] Unknowing mentioned in footnote 3. aosee Abhishiktananda, Prayer. Review for Religious, Volume 33, 1974/4 is, then, the quiet looking at the completed picture, seeing it as a whole, becoming aware of the reality of the artist's vision which it portrays.'al Beyond symbols (words, thoughts, concepts) one seeks to enter a re-ality which is spiritual and true, enduring, overpowering: God Himself, our Father, Jesus His Beloved Son, and Their Spirit. As this reality is beyond the compass of clear concepts, beyond description, our mind cannot see or grasp it, but love can discern it and the Spirit awakens this love and °surrender. The ,author of The Cloud of Unknowing, therefore, says: "He may well be loved, but not thought; by love may He be gotten and holden, but by thought never.'''~-~ The Lord may graciously return this love, and so St. John of the Cross can say: "Contemplation is nothing else but a secret, peaceful infusion of God, which, if admitted, will set the soul on fire with the Spirit of love." Real, Spiritual, Pentecostal Prayer Contemplative prayer is the only real prayer in the sense that it leads beyond words (vocal prayer) and thoughts (meditative prayer) to the reality toward which words and thought point. In this sense, all prayer must have a real or contemplative quality because vocal prayer may never be just a recitation of words, and meditative prayer never just an exercise in thinking. Now, the reality we seek is spiritual reality, a reality" of our own spirit, but preeminently the reality of the Spirit of God. Contemplative prayer may be called "real" prayer and "spiritual" prayer in the sense of opening us to the Holy Spirit, to His action, to His gifts, or "opening ourselves un- .reservedly to the cleansing and healing of our spirit by the Holy Spirit, in an awareness of His presence." It is at this point that we see the reason why contemplative prayer may also be called pentecostal prayer (and vice versa) in the sense that through this prayer we seek an awareness of the indwelling Spirit given by Jesus as our Comforter who will be with us forever (Jn 14: 16) and who will supply us with all the spiritual gifts we need. In all this, we can only point to the Mountain of the Lord. Each must begin his pilgrimage on his own two feet. There are maps and guides. Do not fail to ask people you meet on the way. But it is the breath of the Spirit that carries you forward and upwards; it. is the Glory of the Lord dimly seen or guessed at the end that draws you onwards. 31Father Ren6 Voillaume describes this prayer as "looking at God while loving Him." See also Dom Vitalis Lehodey (Ways o] Mental Prayer, Part II, Chapter IX, par. 2: "We look because we love, we look in order to love, and our love is fed and inflamed by looking" as also Cardinal Lercaro (Methods, Chapter 14) when he attempts a definition of contemplative prayer: "Contemplative prayer is an elevation of the soul to God through a simple and highly affective intuition." 3"-The Cloud o] Unknowing, Chapter 6. A Method of Contemplative Prayer / 809 In the Carmelite tradition the first stage of this prayer is referred to as "acquired contemplation," that is, contemplative prayer accessible, with the grace of God, to any good man who strives. St. Teresa of Avila calls it the "prayer of .recollection.'':~'~ Bossuet seems to have popularized the name "prayer of simplicity" which has been adopted by A. Tanquerey.34 And there are other names, equally expressive, such as "prayer o[ silence," "prayer of repose," "prayer of the simple presence of God," "prayer of lov-ing attention," and "prayer of the heart.''~ At the Heart of the Gospel and of Christian Life At times the impression is given that contemplative prayer does not belong to the gospel of Christ and is at best a discipline taken by the Church from nonChristian religions and adapted to the Christian life. Un-doubtedly, there have been many people outside the Christian tradition who have eagerly sought and found God in prayer. But a careful study of the Gospels and of the Christian tradition reveals that contemplative prayer is at the heart of the gospel and of the Christian life. It was the prayer of the prophets and of the humble of the Old Testament, of those who sought the face of the Lord, endeavoring to love the Lord their God with all their heart, with all their soul, with all their strength (Dt 6:5) and to worship Him in the contemplative peace and rest of the Sabbath. It is also the prayer of Jesus, ofMary, and of the saints. A study of the lives of almost all holy people will bring this prayer to light as the heart ot~ their disciple-ship and of their Christian lives. It Is the Prayer of Jesus Jesus experienced His oneness with God also in and through His hu-man nature which is in every way like our own: He took to himself descent from Abraham. It was essential that He should in this way become completely like his brothers so that he could be a com-passionate and trustworthy high priest of God's religion, able to atone for human sins. That is, because he has himself been through temptation, he is able to help others who are tempted (Hb 2:17-8). We see how He sought to live in conditions (o[ solitude, privacy, si-lence, fasting, watching in prayer) which render human nature more open to the Spirit, better intruments of prayer, better instruments of an experi-ence of union in knowledge and love with the Father. It was in such silent prayer that He learned to know His Father's will and that He experienced complete surrender in love. In prayer He heard the Word His Father speaks a.~The Way o] Perlection, Chapter 28. ~4A. Tanquerey, The Spiritual Life, par. 1363ff. 3~Lercaro, Methods, Chapter 14. 810 / Review [or Religious, Volume 33, 1974/4 (Jn 17:8, 14), and in prayer He knew His Father in love (Jn 10:15; see also Mt 11:25-7). By sharing His Spirit of love and surrender with His disciples, He gave them a share in His union with His Father (Jn 17:21). In this way we have become adopted sons and daughters, sharing by grace what Jesus our Brother is in Hi~ very being: "And if we are sons, we are heirs as well: heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, sharing his sufferings so as to share his glory" (Rm 8: 17). Jesus, then, wants us to share in His own experience (in His human nature) of kinship to the Father in the love of the Spirit (Rm 8:28-30). In contemplative prayer we are led to re-create the prayer experience of our Lord, though in a very imperfect and faltering manner, to be made com-plete in the light of His glory ( 1 Cor 13 : 12; 1 Jn 3 : 2). It Is the Prayer of Mary There is a very significant clue to the understanding of Mary's spiritual life. It is her strange decision, a decision made before the Annunciation (Lk 1:31-4) in the face of Jewish tradition and of public opinion against the unmarried state.'~G This decision points to the unique grace that filled her from the beginning. From very young, she must have opened herself to an awareness of God and she must have experienced the joy of living before His face, the joy of being blessed with His smile (Nm 6:25). In-stinctively, she shied away from sin and evil, as casting a shadow over that relation, as tending to close her person to the Lord. In her heart lived the grace of the Anawim, the humble of heart, the poor of the Lord who singlemindedly seek His face and praise His name, and whose spirituality is so admirably expressed in Psalm 53 : Glorify the Lord with me: together let us praise his name! I sought the Lord and he answered me: look towards him and be radiant! Taste and see that the Lord is good; Seek and strive after peace! Those who hide in him shall not be condemned. Instinctively she was drawn to a way of life that would keep her free for the Lord, not merely in outward service but in inward service of praise a6In the history of Islam, which is so strongly opposed to the unmarried state, there is a telling example of virginity for God, against all opposition. It is the case of Rabi'a of Basra who died in Jerusalem in A.D. 801. She had a sense of utter be-longing to God, and in an ascetical life reached great sanctity and love of God. She profoundly influenced the contemplative movement within Islam (Sufism). Faridu'd- Din Attar wrote of her: "Rabi'a, the secluded one, was clothed with the clothing of purity and was on fire with love and longing, and was enamoured of the desire to approach her Lord and be consumed in His glory. She was a second Mary and a spotless woman" (John Subhan, Sufism, Its Saints and Shrines [Lukhnow: 1960], p. 14). A Method of Contemplative Prayer / Ill 1 and thanksgiving. She saw herself as the Lord's handmaid, singlemindedly attentive to His presence. If the Lord was going to bring salvation to His people through a poor and humble Servant of the Lord (Is 42; 49; 50; 52), "my chosen one in whom my soul delights" (Is 42:1), then she would be a poor and humble servant of the Lord, His handmaid, expressing in her whole life a bridal love and faithfulness which Israel as a people conspicu-ously lacked.3~ Thus, she felt drawn to a decision, if not a vow, not to marry, a decision which involved complete surrender in faith to His guid-ance; and He led her to a young man Joseph, gifted with a similar grace. She was a thoughtful person (Lk 2:19), treasuring the traditional poetic prayer songs (the Psalms) and the Lord's message through the prophets. She had the contemplative's feeling for language and, when in-spired, would express her own prayer in traditional song (Lk 1:46-55). She must have initiated Jesus into the Jewish ways of prayer. She--the Mother of Jesus, the teacher of prayer, and an aunt of the hermit-like prophet John the Baptist--she must have spent much time quietly in prayer and contemplation. The last time we find her mentioned in Scripture, we find her in continuous prayer, with the disciples, pleading for the out-pouring of the Spirit which her Son had promised (Acts 1:14). Relaxation in His Presence Contemplative prayer involves a search for peace, tranquillity, and serenity. We seek to meet the Lord of the Sabbath in His place of rest, deep within us; during an hour of rest and relaxation in His presence we give Him the worship of our lives. A major task, therefore, during this hour is to let tensions relax, to calm down, to surrender to Him in faith so that at His word the storm may cease, to accept His will. "Seek peace and pursue it" (Ps 34: 15), not with a violent effort but in a gentle letting go of all tension, excitement, anxiety, worries, the heat of desire, the venom of hatred, the weighing down of self-pity. One often meets the idea of "concentration" in connection with this prayer. Concentration yes (or should we call it "attention"?) but not as a result of a mighty and tense effort; only as a gentle letting go of things, a relaxing of our nervous grip on people and situations and the release from worry and anxiety. While all these gently flow out of us, there remains only one thing: attention to the Lord, awareness of the presence of Him who is the author and giver of all peace and strength. Nonviolence of Heart and Mind We must also be firmly committed to living a peaceful life. This is both a condition for and a fruit of this prayer. Our peace may be disturbed by all seven capital sins, those vicious tendencies that can hold us in their ¯ ~rA theme of all the great prophets. 812 / Review [or Religious, Volume 33, 1974/4 grip: pride, jealously, anger, gluttony, lust, laziness, and greed. Yet the main disturber of our peace seems to be the passion of anger. This, at least, has been suggested by Evagrius of Pontus (345-399).3s Any yielding to anger (which includes rancor, suspicions, antipathies, bitterness, peevish-ness, touchiness) is bound to be paid for at the time of prayer. Prayer is a useful barometer, indicating unabashedly our calms and storms: "Prayer is the offshoot of gentleness and the absence of anger" (Evagrius). At the root of anger lies a desire for and attachment to worldly things and values: "What in fact would a man have to get angry about if he cared nothing for food, wealth, human prestige, and so on" (Evagrius). It is clear that we must be wholeheartedly committed to the mind of Jesus as witnessed to by His indwelling Spirit, as revealed in the Gospels, and as proclaimed in the Sermon on the Mount: no violence, no hatred, no evil desire, no revenge, no judging, but gentleness, compassion, willing-ness to forgive and to share, an outgoing love and forgiveness for those who harm us. Transformation of Personality Slowly but surely, contemplative prayer will lead to a wonderful trans-formation of the human person. It is clear that our spirituality and our prayer must be "effective" in changing us, else it will be irrelevant and a scandal. You cannot "pray" day after day, month after month, and remain the same. If you do, your seeking and praying is not genuine but a subtle way of hiding yourself from the living God, a subtle way of keeping the Spirit from intruding into your life. But real, contemplative prayer involves an opening to the Spirit. His gifts and His fruits (Gal 5:22) will be more and more in evidence. Through this prayer we more and more experience Jesus' personal gift to each of us: His peace (Jn 14:27). We are "healed" daily in the living water of His Spirit and grow towards the full stature of the manhood of our Savior. The author of The Cloud of Unknowing, a Medieval treatise on con-templation, described this transformation in a delightful manner: All those who engage in this work of contemplation find that it has a good effect on the body as well as on the soul, for it makes them attractive in the eyes of all who see them. So much so that the ugliest person alive who be-comes, by grace, a contemplative finds that he suddenly (and again by grace) is different, and that every good man he sees is glad and happy to have his friendship and is spiritually refreshed and helped nearer to God by his com-pany. Therefore, seek to get this gift by grace; for whoever really has it will be well able to control both himself and his possessions by virtue of it. It gives him discernment when he needs it to read people's needs and characters. It gives him a knack of being at home with everyone he talks to, habitual zsSursum Corda, February 1971, pp. 329ff. A Method of Contemplative Prayer / 813 sinner or not, without sinning himself . to the astonishment of the on-looker and with a magnetic effect on others, drawing them by grace to the same spiritual work that he practices. His face and his words are full of spiritual wisdom, fervent and fruitful, assured and free from falsehood, far from feigned and affected hypocrites. For there are those who concentrate all their energies on learning how to speak w~ightily and to avoid making fools of themselves, with many humble bleats and displays of devotion . ao Then the same author goes on to paint a painfully true picture of the person who pretendg to this transformation but who does not pray. The point surel3~ is that a man who has learned to be relaxed, outgoing, and at ease with God is the same with other people; and that whereas nervous and irritable ("angry") people are most unpleasant company, we love to see and meet a person who radiates peace and strength, whose sympathy is positive and outgoing, and who, moreover, is aware of my "needs and character." St. Teresa of Avila contributes her own testimony to the "effectiveness" of contemplative prayer: "If you will try and live in the presence of God for one year, you will see yourself at the end of it at the height of perfection without your even knowing it." The following witness of our times is more modest, yet equally positive: After less than two years' serious effort in contemplative prayer, I recognize the following changes that have taken place within me: Joy, peace, calm where before there was fear, tension, unrest of all kinds. Even in difficult situations and decisions, peace remains and solutions are brought about in most unexpected ways--not my own wisdom, for I just don't see, but they happen. Growing convictions of the reality~ that is God and of His Spirit. Glimpses of the Fatherhood of God, the sense of personal dignity and worth because of His personal love for me--replace former self-hatred and negativism. Acceptance of my work, its unpleasant duties, of criticism in peace and a more loving surrender. More tolerance and acceptance of others with less irritability. Given my proud temperament and nature, 1 see through His mercy that I have been prevented from many tragedies. There is a gradual discovery of the false self-idol, a desire for truth. Many psychological ills come to light, making me more free. There is a greater appreciation of the gift of vocation--more stability and genuineness in striving to live it. Other prayers and devotions are more meaningful. Desire for God,has grown. This gives me more courage in the striving--formerly 1 was much given to despondency and self-pity. I think it is true that faith, hope, and love have been deepened. I long to share this treasure. Becoming More True to Yourself Another wholesome "effect" or fruit of this prayer is that through the 39The Cloud o] Unknowing, Chapter 54. St. John of the Cross also taught that "a deep life of prayer in the Spirit comes more quickly to those who are given to solitary prayer." 814 / Review [or Religious, Volume 33, 1974/4 action of the Holy Spirit, we become more fully and more truly human. Be-fore God, in His presence, we learn the necessity of being absolutely true to ourselves. We learn to see ourselves as we truly are, behind the mask of conventions, our poses and pretensions, our small and big deceptions. Gradually outgrowing artificiality in thought, word, and deed, false attitudes, our false self, we grow in truthfulness and genuineness. We become more truly ourselves, the more we are and live in God's presence. As we become more true to ourselves, because more t~ue to God, we shall also be more true to our surroundings (for example, more objective in our search for k~nowledge and in our evaluation of information) and more true to the people we live with. Our capacity for genuine interpersonal relationship, will increase. True charity (in the sense of ability to enter sympathetically into other people's feelings, situations, needs) goes to-gether with true prayer: the ability to be open and true to God and our-selves. How true the words of St. John: "He who says that he knows God and hates his brother is a liar." Sebastian Temple'° expresses something similar in his song ot~ the Happy Man: Happy the man who wanders with the Lord; happy the man who knows how to live. Happy the man who never seeks reward, giving because he loves to give. He seeks no gold, he wants no gain; he knows these things are all in vain. He needs no praise, nor honour too; his only. motto: To your own self be true. Happy the man who learned how to pray. Happy the man who has a burning goal. Happy the man whose service needs no pay: This man has found his own soul. Happy the man, happy the man of the Lord! Etfect on our Prayer Life The main effect on other prayers is to bring new meariing and a sense of unity to other prayers. One moves away from a routine saying of prayers according to a prescribed program. One feels the need, and one gradually olstains the ability, of giving all prayers a "contemplative" quality, that is, one makes them into real prayer and does not just recite or sing them. Initially, it may well be that one feels the need for a reduction of vocal prayers, an avoidance of repetition; one feels an inability to accept as normal prayer that is hurried or said slovenly, without due reverence or regard to its sense. But later on, gradually one may well be moved to return to more vocal prayer, especially of the repetitive kind (for example, the private 40"A tall, blonde, happy Catholic, eager to share his love of God. In his own search for truth he practiced Yoga for 17 years and was a Hindu monk in India for two years. Not satisfied, he considered embracing Judaism but instead found in the Catholic Church what he has been searching for. His newly released albums are And the Waters Keep on Running and God Is a Fire oJ Love" (The Examiner [Bom-bay], June 19 1971, p. 400). A Method o] Contemplative Prayer rosary, ejaculatory prayers, the Jesus prayer, and so on) because it helps us dwell in the presence of God and to "wander with Him." The Second Vatican Council also pointed to the benefit to be derived for the Mass and for Breviary prayers from a practice of mental prayer: In order that religious may share more intimately and with greater profit in the holy mystery of the Eucharist, and in the public prayer of the Church, "and that their interior life be more abundantly nourished, priority should be given to mental prayer over a multiplicity of other prayers. However, those community exercises which are traditional in the Church should be preserved and care taken that religious be rightly instructed in the ways of the religious life (Ecclesiae sanctae, no. 21 ). Surely, Holy Mother Church, in shortening and simplifying the prayers of the Office and of the Mass, wishes us to achieve two objectives, namely, (a) to make them into real and meaningful prayer; and (b) to give a little! more time for personal contemplative prayer. The Relevance o| Contemplative Prayer In conclusion, we may list some practical reasons that indicate the need and value of a daily hour of contemplative prayer: (a) We find that we have a number of irritating habitual faults and weaknesses which in spite of good intentions we cannot overcome (for example, criticizing, impatience and loss of temper, hard words, grudges, giving in to depression). These faults disrupt our peace with others, with ourselves, and with God. It will be seen that a sincere effort to seek God in silence and surrender, through this pra

Issue 32.1 of the Review for Religious, 1973. ; Review ]or Religious is edited by faculty members of the School of Divinity of St. Louis University, the editorial offices being located at 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. It is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute; St. Louis, Missouri. Published bimonthly and copy-right © 1972 by Review [or Religious. Composed, printed, and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri. Single copies: $1.25. Sub-scription U.S.A. and Canada: $6.00 a year; $11.00 for two years; other countries, $7.00 a year, $13.00 for two years. Orders should indicate whether they are for new or renewal subscriptions and should be accompanied by check or money order payable to Review ]or Religious in U.S.A. currency only. Pay no money to persons claiming to represent Review ]or Religious. Change of address requests should include former address. R. F. Smith, S.J. Everett A. Diederich, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Editor Associate Editor Questions and Answers Editor January 1973 Volume 32 Number 1 Renewals, new subscriptions, and changes of address should be sent to Review for Religious; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, Minnesota 55802. Correspondence with the editor and the associate editor together with manuscripts, books for review, and materials for "Subject Bibliography for Religious" should be sent to Review for Religious; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, SJ.; St. Joseph's Church; 321 Willings Alley; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19106. Review for Religious Volume 32, 1973 / 1 Editorial Offices 539 North Grand Boulevard Saint Louis, Missouri 63103 R. F. Smith, S.J. Everett A. Diederich, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Editor Associate Editor Questions and Answers Editor Review ]or Religious is published in January, March, May, July, September, and November on the fifteenth of the month. It is indexed in the Catholic Periodical and Literature Index and in Book Review Index. A microfilm edi-tion of Review ]or Religious is available from University Microfilm; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. Copyright (~ 1973 by Review ]or Religious. AIIocution on Secular Institutes On September 20 1972 members of the International Congress of Leaders of Secular Institutes were granted an audience with His Holiness, Pope Paul VI. During the audience the Holy Father delivered the following allocution, presented here in the English translation given in the Osservatore romano, English language weekly edition, October 5 1972, pages 3-4. Beloved Sons and Daughters in the Lord, once more we have the oppor-tunity of meeting you, Leaders of the Secular Institutes, who are and repre-sent a vigorous and flourishing section of the Church at this moment of history. The circumstance that has brought you before us is, this time, the International Congress which you have carried out and are about to con-clude here in Nemi, near our summer residence at Castel Gandolfo, and at which you examined the statutes of the "World Conference of Secular Institutes" (C.M.I.S.), about to be erected. We do not wish to discuss your work, which was certainly carried out with thoroughness and enthusiasm, under the watchful care and with the participation of the competent Sacred Congregation. We hope that it will reap rich fruits in relation to the increase of your institutions. Your Presence a Testimony We rather desire to dwell on some reflections about what the function of the secular institutes could be in the mystery of Christ and in the mystery of the Church. When we look at you and think of the thousands and thousands of men and women of whom you are part, we cannot but feel consoled, while a deep sense of joy and gratitude to the Lord comes over us. How strong and flourishing the Church of Christ appears in you! This venerable Mother of ours, whom some people today, even among her sons, take as the butt 4 / Review [or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/1 of harsh, pitiless criticism; about whom some delight in describing fanciful symptoms of decrepitude and in predicting ruin; here we see her, on the contrary, bursting continuously into bud and blossoming beyond all expec-tation with initiatives of holiness. We know that it must be so and could not be otherwise, because Christ is the divine inexhaustible source of the vi-tality of the Church; and your presence offers us a further testimony of this, and is for all of us an opportunity for renewed consciousness. But we wish to scan your face more closely, in the family of the People of God. You, too, reflect a "specific way" in which the mystery of Christ can be lived in the world, and a "specific way" in which the mystery of the Church can be manifested. Christ the Redeemer is such a fullness, which we will never be able to understand or express completely. He is everything for His Church. In her, what we are we are just because of Him, with Him, and in Him. Also for the secular institutes, therefore, He remains the ultimate example, the in-spirer, the source on which to draw. Based on Christ the Savior and following His example you are carrying out, in your own characteristic way, an important mission of the Church. But the Church, too, in her way, like Christ, is such a fullness, such riches, that no one by himself, no institution by itself, will ever be able to understand her and express her adequately. Nor would it be .possible for us to discover her dimensions, because her life is Christ, who is God. So also the reality of the Church, and the mission of the Church, can be expressed completely only in the plurality of members. It is the doctrine of the Mystical Body of Christ, the doctrine of the gifts and charisms of the Holy Spirit. A Consecrated Secularity This is the point, as you have understood, to ask ourselves about your particular way of carrying out the mission of the Church. What is your spe-cific gift, your characteristic role, the "quid novum" brought by you to the Church of today? Or: in what way are you the Church today? You know the answer; you have by now clarified it to yourselves and to the Christian community. You are at a mysterious confluence between the two powerful streams of Christian life, welcoming riches from both. You are laymen, consecrated as such by the sacraments of baptism and confirmation but you have chosen to emphasize your consecration to God with the profession of the evangeli-cal counsels assumed as obligations with a stable and recognized bond. You remain laymen, engaged in the secular values characteristic of, and peculiar to, the laity (Lumen gentium, 31), but yours is a "consecrated secularity" (Paul VI, Discorso ai Dirigenti e Membri degli Istituti Secolari nel XXV della "Provida Mater," L'Osservatore Romano, 3 February 1972), you are "secular consecrated" (Paul VI, Discorso ai partecipanti al Congresso ln-ternazionale degli lstituti Secolari, 26 September 1970, Insegnamenti A llocution on Secular Institutes VIII, p. 939). Though "secular," your position differs in a certain way from that of mere laymen, since you are engaged in the same worldly values, but as consecrated beings: that is, not so much to affirm the intrinsic validity of human things in themselves, but to direct them explicitly according to the evangelical beatitudes. On the other hand you are not religious, but in a certain way your choice is concordant with the religious, because the con-secration you have made sets you in the world as witnesses to the suprem-acy of spiritual and eschatological values, that is, to the absolute character of your Christian charity. The greater the latter is, the more relative it makes the values of the world seem, while at the same time it helps their correct implementation by yourselves and by your other brothers. Both Aspects Essential Neither of the aspects of your spiritual nature can be overrated at the expense of the other. They are both equally essential. "Secularity" indicates your involvement in the world. But it does not mean only a position, a function, which coincides with living in the world by practicing a trade, a "secular" profession. It must mean in the first place awareness of being in the world as "your specific place of Christian re-sponsibility." To be in the world, that is, to be engaged in secular values, is your way of being the Church and of making her present, of saving your-selves and of announcing salvation. Your existential and sociological con-dition becomes your theological reality; it is your way to realize and testify to salvation. Thus you are an advanced wing of the Church "in the world"; you express the will of the Church to be in the world in order to mold it and sanctify it "from within, in the manner of leaven" (Lumen gentium, 31), a task, too, which is mainly entrusted to the laity. You are a particularly concrete and efficacious manifestation of what the Church wishes to do to construct the world described and desired by Gaudium et Spes. "Consecration," on the other hand, indicates the intimate and secret carrying structure of your being and your acting. Here is your deep and hid-den wealth, which the men in the midst of whom you live cannot explain and often cannot even suspect. Baptismal consecration has been further radicalized as a result of an increased aspiration for love aroused in you by the Holy Spirit; not in the same form as the consecration of religious, but nevertheless such as to induce you to make a fundamental option for life according to the evangelical beatitudes. So that you are really consecrated and really in the world. "You are in the world and not of the world, but for the world," as we ourself described you on another occasion (Paul VI, Discorso ai partecipanti al Congresso Internazionale degli Istituti Secolari, 26 September 1970, lnsegnamenti, VII, p. 939). You live a real consecra-tion according to the evangelical counsels, but without the fullness of "visi-bility" characteristic of religious consecration; a visibility that is constituted, 6 / Review lor Religious, Volume 32, 1973/1 in addition to the public vows, by a closer community life and by the "sign" of the religious habit. Yours is a new and original form of consecration, prompted by the Holy Spirit to be lived in the midst Of temporal realities, and to bring the strength of the evangelical counsels--that is, of divine and eter-nal values--into the midst of human and temporal values. The Cross of Christ Your choices of poverty, chastity and obedience are ways of partici-pating in the cross of Christ, because they associate you with Him in the renunciation of goods which are elsewhere permissible and legitimate; but they are also ways of participating in the victory of the risen Christ, since they free you from the hold that these values might have on the full avail-ability of your spirit. Your poverty tells the world that it is possible to live among temporal goods and use the means of civilization and progress, without being enslaved by any of them. Your chastity tells the world that it is possible to love with disinterestedness and the inexhaustibility that draws on God's heart, and to dedicate oneself joyfully to everyone without tying oneself to anyone, taking care particularly of the most abandoned. Your obedience tells the world that it is possible to be happy without stopping at a comfortable personal choice, but remaining fully at the disposal of God's will, as it appears from daily life, from the signs of the times, and from the aspirations to salvation of the world of today. Thus, also your activity in the world--both personal and collective, in the professional sectors in which you are engaged individually or as a community--receives from your consecrated life a more marked orientation towards God, it, too, being somehow involved and swept along in your consecration. And in this singular and providential configuration, you enrich the Church of today with a particular exemplarity in her "secular" life, liv-ing it as consecrated beings; and with a particular exemplarity in her "con-secrated" life, living it as secular persons. Priests in Secular Institutes At this point we would like to dwell on a particularly fruitful aspect of your institutions. We are referring to the numerous group of those who, consecrated to Christ in the ministerial priesthood and wishing to be united to Him with a further bond of donation, embrace the profession of the evangelical counsels, joining the secular institutes in their turn. We are thinking of these brothers of ours in Christ's priesthood, and we wish to encourage them, while we admire in them, once more, the action of the Spirit, indefatigable in arousing desire for ever greater perfection. What has been said so far, certainly applies to them, too, but it would require further study and clarifications. In fact, they arrive at consecration in the evangelical counsels and commitment to "secular" values not as laymen, but as ecclesiastics, that is, bearers of a sacred mediation in the People of Allocution on Secular Institutes / 7 God. In addition to baptism and confirmation, which constitute the basic consecration of the laity in the Church, they have received a subsequent sacramental specification in holy orders, which have constituted them hold-ers of certain ministerial functions with regard to the Eucharist and the Mys-tical Body of Christ. This has left the "secular" nature of Christian voca-tion intact, and they can therefore enrich it by living it as "consecrated" persons in the secular institutes. The requirements of their spirituality are very different, however, as well as certain external implications in their practice of the evangelical counsels and in their secular commitment. Ecclesiai Communion In conclusion we wish to address a pressing and fatherly invitation to everyone: to cultivate and increase ecclesial communion, to have it at heart always and particularly. You are vital articulations of this communion, because you, too, are the Church; never make an attack on their effi-ciency. It is impossible to conceive or understand an ecclesial phenomenon outside the Church. Never let yourselves be overcome by, or even give thought to, the temptation, too easy today, that authentic communion with Christ is .possible without real harmony with the ecclesial community gov-erned by the legitimate pastors. It would be misleading and illusory. Of what value would an individual or a group be, however lofty and perfect their intentions might be subjectively, without this communion? Christ asked us for it as a guarantee to admit us to communion with Him, just as He asked us to love our neighbor as documentation of our love for Him. You are, therefore, of Christ and for Christ, in His Church; this Church is your local community, your institute, your parish, but always in the communion of faith, of Eucharist, of discipline, and of faithful and loyal collaboration with your bishop and with the hierarchy. Your structures and your activities should never lead you--be you priests or laymen--to a "bi-polarity" of positions, or to an "alibi" of interior and exterior attitude, far less to positions in opposition to your pastors. This is our invitation; this is our wish, in order that you may be in the midst of the world authentic operators of the one saving mission of the Church, in your own characteristic way, to which you have been called and invited. May the Lord thus help you to prosper and fructify further, with our Apostolic Blessing. Address on Religious Life Paul On October 19 1972 Pope Paul gave an audience to the.representatives of the national conferences of religious institutes of men and women together with the "Council of the Sixteen," a group composed of eight superiors general of men religious and of eight superiors general of women religious. During the audience the Holy Father delivered the following allocution which is printed here in an adaptation of the English translation that appeared in Osservatore romano, English language weekly edition, November 5 1972, page 5. Dear Sons and Daughters: Let Us first of all express to you the joy and emotion that we feel on receiving you. With Us you bear the honor and the weight of a great responsibility: the guidance and the authenticity of religi-ous life today. Beyond your persons we behold the thousands of men and women who devote their lives to following Christ in the practice of the evangelical counsels. They represent an immense hope for Us and for the entire Church. You have responded to the appeal of the Congregation for Religious and Secular Institutes to review during these few days the aggiornamento that the Council and your chapters have aroused and implemented, par-ticularly on the plane of prayer and common life. You have tried to ascer-tain how to overcome the tensions that are appearing--they are probably inevitable--within your different congregations and how to live, in a certain pluralism, the deep unity to which the disciples of Christ must bear witness. We are deeply satisfied with your collaboration with the Congregation which is charged with attending to and presiding over the solution of these problems and thereby with serving you. We hope that this collaboration will be more and more frequent, trusting, and fruitful. Religious Spirit Within the framework of this brief meeting today, it is not possible for Address on Religious Li]e / 9 Us to take up all the questions raised by the adaptation and renewal of religious life. Last year in our apostolic exhortation Evangelica testificatio, We set forth for you Our concerns and hopes on this matter. In the Lord's name We defined the criteria of discernment that will help to guide you along this demanding but compellingly attractive path to a more evangelical life. Webeg you to keep before your eyes and to meditate upon the various elements of religious life which We emphasized and to do this without ne-glecting any of them. This morning our only hope is to revive in you the "religious spirit" that must mark your persons and your communities as well as your positive adherence to the Church. You have chosen to live your baptismal vocation in the particular frame: work of the religious life; rather you have agreed to serve the Lord in this radical way which is a deep response to an evangelical appeal, a way which has p~'oved itself in the Church for centuries and which the Church has authenticated as an unequaled and indispensable testimony of the Beatitudes. We speak frankly to you: Be consistent with yourselves, be faithful to your vocation, do not let this essential character of religious life--which is youi" role in life--dissolve either in theory or in practice. Most Christians are called to affirm their faith and to exercise their charity as laymen with all the temporal responsibilities incumbent on them; their testimony is essential as We have often stressed. Some of them ale doing so today with the sup-port and according to'the requirements of a secular institute; and we have recently [see the preceding article in this issue of Review ]or Religious] praised again this new initiative. But all of thes6 laymen need your faith-fulness to your specific vocation as religious men and women. In addition to the vows of consecrated chastity, poverty, and obedience, religious life demands, as you know, a common life lived in complete brotherhood. It requires a particular kind of asceticism which leads you to renounce freely and joyfully the goods of this world as a sign of your attachment to the Lord Jesus loved for His own sake and above everything and even to the cross. It is manifested in an obedience which makes you completely available for the will of our Father. in heaven through the con-crete appeals of the Church and" of your superiors; it is the way that Jesus lived in obedience to His Father through the conditions of His incarnation (see Jacques Guillet, Jdsus-Christ hier et aujourd'hui .[Paris: Descl6e de Brouwer, 1963], pages 109-25). In short, you must aim at evangelical per-fection (see Mt 5:48) so as to be permanently living signs of the tran-scendency o[ the kingdom ot' God. Paradox of the Gospel Certainly, tl~is sign will not always be understood, and this not only by the "world," as understood by St. John, but even by men of good will and even by your Christian brothers and sisters. And as a result you will suffer. For this world is not only attracted--and sometimes enslaved--by posses- Review [or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/1 sions, power, and the flesh, but it has become supersensitive to the demand for personal development in the framework of complete autonomy. Accord-ing to some, your life may assume an aspect that is somewhat mysterious, strange, and even inhuman. And yet you know that what is foolishness in the eyes of men is wisdom in the eyes of God (see 1 Cor 1:25-7). Besides, would not the real scandal be to perceive that, on the pretext of adaptation, you renounce the requirements of prayer, humility, poverty, sharing, purity, simplicity, and disinterested service that Christ has asked of His disciples? Let us be clear: The form of religious life must not despise natural talents or personal charisms; it must serve the vocation of each person. And it is a heavy task for you as superiors to see to it that each of your brothers and of your sisters may develop in it and may be treated with con-sideration. But the paradox of the gospel--which you more than others have the mission to carry out fully--must not be forgotten: "For whoever would save his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it" (Mt 16:25). Be assured that this love of the Lord, lived to the extent of renunciation of yourselves, cannot remain without fruit. As it brings you deep joy and the hope of eternal life, it will mysteriously open up for souls the way to the God of love. In this sense, do not fear to be fully religious. Concern for the Missions We will now deal briefly with the second subject of our talk. Such love of God, continually awakened by deep prayer and stimulated by fraternal life, cannot turn you aside from the missionary concern animating you today --a reality in which We greatly rejoice. Whether you live a contemplative or a directly apostolic life, love of the Church will be at the heart of your con-cerns. You will, of course, adhere to the true faith that she professes. You will welcome confidently the guidelines she lays down, the decisions she takes, in different fields for the good of all. At this time this testimony of loyalty of all religious in their union with the See of Peter seems to Us to be of vital importance. Look at history: This loyalty was always decisive at the periods when the Church undertook her great reforms. But, according to the specific charism of your institutes, you will also share the Church's determination to really meet this world, new as it is in so many respects. It is not a question of conforming to it, but of accepting it, of understanding it, and of loving it to the extent of announcing Jesus Christ to it with evan-gelical patience and according to the means best suited to its understanding. In each of your dioceses, regions, and countries, the bishops have the task, with their priests' and pastoral councils, of discerning priority needs, of directing pastoral efforts, and of coordinating them. Each institute must clearly define its personal identity in order to find its place in this service with its own vocation. There is no question of absorbing the wealth of your multiform, traditional charisms in an authoritarian grouping or in an impov- Address on Religious Li]e / 11 erishing leveling process. Nevertheless, each one must participate, in complete availability, in the mission of the Church in harmony with the apostolate ex(rcised in the People of God as a whole under the responsibility of the hierarchy. You will always remember that "exemption" itself concerns particularly the internal structures of your congregations (see Evangelica testificatio, no. 50); it must never be an obstacle to the implementation of a close, deep, cordial communion of sentiments and of action with your bishops. Conclusion Dear Sons and Daughters, We have been thinking of you these days and as we celebrated Mass in honor of St. Luke. You are among those disciples that the Lord is sending before Himself today. We beg the Master of the harvest to send you numerous companions, men and women, of tested loyalty. Already it seems to us that the moment has come for a revival of religious life in depth. Therefore go forth throughout the entire world. Take Christ's peace to it. By your own consecrated life, proclaim His good news: "The Kingdom of God has come near to you" (Lk 10:9). With Mary turn to the Lord in thanksgiving and with perfect availability. And We willingly im-part to you Our blessing. Instruction on Intercommunion Secretariat [or Promoting Christian Unity This English translation of the Latin text of the Instruction is taken from the August 1972 issue of ln[ormation Service published by the Secretariat for Promoting Christian Unity. 1. The Question We are often asked the question: in what circumstances and on what con-ditions can members of other Churches and ecclesial communities be ad-mitted to Eucharistic communion in the Catholic Church? The question is not a new one. The Second Vatican Council (in the decree on ecumenism Unitatis redintegratio) and the Directorium oecumeni-cure dealt with it.1 The pastoral guidance offered here is not intended to change the existing rules but to explain them, bringing out the doctrinal principles on 1The Decree on Ecumenism (Unitatis redintegratio), no. 8: "Yet, worship in common [communicatio in sacris] is not to be considered as a means to be used indiscriminately for the restoration of unity among Christians. There are two main principles upon which the practice of such common worship depends: first, that of the unity of the Church which ought to be expressed; and second, that of the sharing in means of grace. The expression of unity very generally forbids common worship. Grace to be obtained sometimes commends it. The concrete course to be adopted, when due regard has been given to all the circumstances of time, place, and persons, is left to the prudent decision of the local episcopal authority, unless the Bishops' conference ac-cording to its own statutes, or the Holy See, has determined other~vise." See also the Decree on the Eastern Churches (Orientalium Ecclesiarum), no. 27. Directorium ad ea qaae a Concilio Vaticano Secundo de re oecumenica promulgata sunt exsequenda (~ Directorium oecumenicum), A cta A postolicae Sedis, v. 59 (1967), pp. 574-92: "'1. Sharing in Liturgical Worship with Our Separated Eastern Brothers. Besides cases of necessity, there would be reasonable ground for encouraging sacramental sharing if special circumstances make it materially or morally impossible over a long period for one of the faithful to receive the sacraments in his own Church, so that in Instruction on Intercommunion / 13 which the rules rest and so making their application easier. 2. The Eucharist and the Mystery of the Church There is a close link between the mystery of the Church and the mystery of the Eucharist. (a) The Eucharist really contains what is the very foundation of the being and unity of the Church: the Body of Christ, offered in sacrifice and given to the faithful as the bread of eternal life. The sacrament of the Body and Blood of Christ, given to the Church so as to constitute the Church, of its nature carries with it: --the ministerial power which Christ gave to His Apostles and to their successors, the bishops along with the priests, to make effective sacramentally His own priestly act--that act by which once and forever He offered Him-self to the Father in the Holy Spirit, and gave Himself to His faithful that they might be one in Him; --the unity of the ministry, which is to be exercised in the name of Christ, Head of the Church, and hence in the hierarchical communion of ministers; --the faith of the Church, which is expressed in the Eucharistic action itself-~the faith by which she responds to Christ's gift in its true meaning. The sacrament of the Eucharist, understood in its entirety with these three elements signifies an existing unity brought about by Him, the unity of the visible Church of Christ which cannot be lost.~ (b) "The celebration of Mass, the action of Christ and of the people of God hierarchically ordered, is the center of the whole Christian life, for effect he would be deprived, without legitimate reason, of the spiritual fruit of the sacraments" (no. 44). "2. Sharing in Liturgical Worship with Other Separated Brethren. Celebration of the sacraments is an action of the celebrating community, carried out within the com-munity, signifying the oneness in faith, worship, and life of the community. Where this unity of sacramental faith is deficient, the participation of the separated brethren with Catholics especially in the sacraments of the Eucharist, penance, and anointing of the sick, is forbidden. Nevertheless, since the sacraments are both signs of grace and sources of grace (see the Decree on Ecumenism, no. 8), the Church can for adequate reasons allow access to those sacraments to a separated brother. This may be permitted in danger of death or in urgent need (during persecution, in prisons) if the separated brother has no access to a minister of his own communion and spon-taneously asks a Catholic priest for the sacraments--so long as he declares a faith in these sacraments in harmony with that of the Church and is rightly disposed. In other cases the judge of this urgent necessity must be the diocesan bishop or the episcopal conference. "A Catholic in similar circumstances may not ask for these sacraments except from a minister who has been validly ordained" (no. 55). See also "Una dichiarazione del Segretariato per l'Unione dei Cristiani: La posizione della Chiesa Cattolica in materia di Eucaristia comune tra Cristiani di diversi confes-sioni," Acta Apostolicae Sedis, v. 62 (1970), pp. 184-8. ~-See Lumen gentium, no. 3; Unitatis redintegratio, no. 4. 14 / Review for Religious, Volume 32, 1973/1 the universal Church as for the local Church and for each Christian.''3 Celebrating the mystery of Christ in the Mass, the Church celebrates her own mystery and manifests concretely her unity. The faithful assembled at the altar offer the sacrifice through the hands of the priest acting in the name of Christ, and they represent the com-munity of the people of God united in the profession of one faith. Thus they constitute a sign and a kind of delegation of a wider assembly. The celebration of Mass is of itself a profession of faith in which the whole Church recognizes and expresses itself. If we consider the marvelous meaning of the Eucharistic prayers as well as the riches contained in the other parts of the Mass, whether they are fixed or vary with the liturgical cycle; if at the same time we bear in mind that the liturgy of the word and the Eucharistic liturgy make up a single act of worship,4 then we can see here a striking illustration of the principle lex orandi lex credendi.~ Thus the Mass has a catechetical power which the recent liturgical renewal has emphasized. Again, the Church has in the course of history been careful to introduce into liturgical celebration the main themes of the common faith, the chief fruits of the experience of that faith. This she has done either by means of new texts or by creating new feasts. (c) The relation between local celebration of the Eucharist and uni-versal ecclesial communion is stressed also by the special mention in the Eucharistic prayers of the pope, the local bishop, and the other members of the episcopal college. What has been said here of the Eucharist as center and summit of the Christian life holds for the whole Church and for each of its members, but particularly for those who take an active part in the celebration of Mass and above all for those who receive the Body of Christ. Communion during Mass is indeed the most perfect way of participating in the Eucharist, for it fulfills the Lord's command, "Take and eat.''6 ¯ ~lnstitutio generalis Missal& romani, cap. I, n. 1. ¯ ~See Presbyterorum ordinis, 4. 5See Pius XI, Quas primas, Acta Apostolicae Sedis, v. 17 (1925), p. 598; Vatican Council II, Presbyterorum ordin&, 5; Sacrosanctum Concilium 2, 6. ~"'Perfectior Missae participatio"--Sacrosanctutn Concilium, n. 55. And see the in-struction Eucharisticum mysterium, n. 12, Acta Apostolicae Sedis, v. 59 (1967), p. 549. The fact of having received the same baptism does not of itself afford a title of admission to Holy Communion. Eucharistic sharing expresses the integral profession of faith and full insertion into the Church toward which baptism leads. This sacrament "constitutes the sacramental bond of unity existing among all who through it are reborn. But baptism, of itself, is only a beginning, a point of departure, for it is wholly directed toward the acquiring of fullness of life in Christ. Baptism is thus or-dained toward a complete profession of faith, a complete incorporation into the system of salvation such as Christ Himself willed it to be, and finally, toward a complete integration into Eucharistic communion"--Unitatis redintegratio, n. 22. Instruction on lntercommunion / 15 3. The Eucharist as Spiritual Food The effect of the Eucharist is also to nourish spiritually those who re-ceive it as what the faith of the Church says it truly isBthe body and blood of the Lord given as the food of eternal life (see John 6:54-8). For the baptized, the Eucharist is spiritual food, a means, by which they are brought to live the life of Christ Himself, are incorporated more profoundly in Him and share more intensely in the whole economy of His saving mystery: "He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me and I in him" (John 6:56). (a) As the sacrament of full union with Christ~ and of the perfection of spiritual life, the Eucharist is necessary to every Christian: in our Lord's words, ". unless you eat the flesh of the Son of man and drink his blood, you have no life in you" (John 6:53). Those who live intensely the life of grace feel a compelling need for this spiritual sustenance, and the Church herself encourages daily Communion. (b) Yet though it is a spiritual food whose effect is to unite the Christian man to Jesus Christ, the Eucharist is far from being simply a means of satis-fying exclusively personal aspirations, however lofty these may be. The union of the faithful with Christ, the head of the Mystical Body, brings about the union of the faithful themselves with each other. It is on their sharing of the Eucharistic bread that St. Paul bases the union of all the faith-ful: "Because there is one loaf, we who are many are one body, for we all partake of the same loaf" (1 Cor 10:17). By this sacrament "man is in-corporated in Christ and united with His members.''~ By frequent receiv-ing of the Eucharist the faithful are incorporated more and more into the Body of Christ and share increasingly in the mystery of the Church. (c) Spiritual need of the Eucharist is not therefore merely a matter of personal spiritual growth: simultaneously and inseparably, it concerns our entering more deeply into Christ's Church "which is his body, the fullness of him who fills all in all" (Eph 1:23). 4. General Principles Governing Admission to Communion Where members of the Catholic Church are concerned, there is a perfect parallel between regarding the Eucharist as the celebration of the entire ecclesial community united in one faith and regarding it as sustenance, as a response to the spiritual needs, personal and ecclesial, of each member. It will be the same when, in the Lord's good time, all the followers of Christ rSee Presbyterorum ordinis, 5. sCouncil of Florence, Decretum pro Armenis, DB 698 = DS 1322. In the work of St. Thomas Aqu!nas we often come across the expression "sacra-mentum ecclesiasticae unitatis" (for example, S.T., q.73, a.2, sed contra). The Eucharist effects the unity of the Church or, more strictly, it effects the Mystical Body because it contains the real Body of Christ. 16 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/1 are reunited in one and the same Church. But what are we to say today, when Christians are divided? Any baptized person has a spiritual need for the Eucharistic. Those who are not in full communion with the Catholic Church have recourse to the ministers of their own communities, as their conscience dictates. But what about those who cannot do this, and who for that or other reasons come and ask for communion from a Catholic priest? The Directorium oecumenicum has already shown how we must safe-guard simultaneously the integrity of ecclesial communion and the good of souls. Behind the Directorium lie two main governing ideas: (a) The strict relationship between the mystery of the Church and the mystery of the Eucharist can nev+r be altered, whatever pastoral measures we may be led to take in given cases. Of its very nature celebration of the Eucharist signifies the fullness of profession of faith and the fullness of ecclesial communion. This principle must not be obscured and must remain our guide in this field. (b) The principle will not be obscured if admission to Catholic Eucharis-tic communion is confined to particular cases of those Christians who have a faith in the sacrament in conformity with that of the Church, who experi-ence a serious spiritual need for the Eucharistic sustenance, who for a pro-longed period are unable to have recourse to a minister of their own com-munity and who ask for the sacrament of their own accord; all this pro-vided that they have proper dispositions and lead lives worthy of a Christian. This spiritual need should be understood in the sense defined above (no. 3, (b) and (c): a need for an increase in spiritual life and a need for a deeper involvement in the mystery of the Church and of its unity. Further, even if those conditions are fulfilled, it will be a pastoral responsibility to see that the admission of these other Christians to com-munion does not endanger or disturb the faith of Catholics.9 5. Differences between Members of the Eastern Churches and o| Other Churches The Directorium oecumenicum1° gives different directions for the admis-sion to Holy Communion of separated Eastern Christians, and of others. The reason is that the Eastern Churches, though separated from us, have true sacraments, above all, because of the apostolic succession, the priest-hood and the Eucharist, which unite them to us by close ties, so that the risk of obscuring the relation between Eucharistic communion and ecclesial communion is somewhat reduced.1l Recently the Holy Father recalled that ~See Orientalium Ecclesiarum, 26. lOSee Directorium oecumenicum, nos. 44 and 55. liThe ~ollowing are two important passages from the Directorium derived from Council documents: "39. Although these [Eastern] Churches are separated from us, yet they possess Instruction on Intercommunion / 17 "between our Church and the venerable Orthodox Churches there exists already an almost total communion, though it is not yet perfect: it results from our joint participation in the mystery of Christ and of His Church.''1'' With Christians who belong to communities whose Eucharistic faith differs from that of the Church and which do not have the sacrament of orders, admitting them to the Eucharist entails the risk of obscuring the essential relation between Eucharistic Communion and ecclesial communion. This is why the Directorium treats their case differently from that of the Eastern Christians and envisages admission only in exceptional cases of "urgent necessity." In cases of this kind the person concerned is asked to manifest a faith in the Eucharist in conformity with that of the Church, i.e. in the Eucharist as Christ instituted it and as the Catholic Church hands it on. This is not asked of an Orthodox person because he belongs to a Church whose faith in the Eucharist is conformable to our own. 6. The Authority to Decide Particular Cases Number 55 of the Directorium allows fairly wide discretionary power to the episcopal authority in judging whether the necessary conditions are present for these exceptional cases. If cases of the same pattern recur often in a given region, episcopal conferences can give general directions. More often, however, it falls to the bishop of the diocese to make a decision. He alone will know all the circumstances of particular cases. Apart from the danger of death the Directorium mentions only two ex-' amples, people in prison and those suffering persecution, but it then speaks of "other cases of such urgent necessity." Such cases are not confined to situ-ations of suffering and danger. Christians may find themselves in grave spiritual necessity and with no chance of recourse to their own community. For example, in our time, which is one of large-scale movements of popu-lation, it can happen much more often than before that non-Catholic Chris-tians are scattered in Catholic regions. They are often deprived of the help of their own communion and unable to get in touch with it except at true sacraments, above all--by apostolic succession--the priesthood and the Eucharist, whereby they are still joined to us in closest intimacy. Therefore some sharing in liturgical worship [communicatio in sacris], given suitable circumstances and the approval of Church authority, is not merely possible but is encouraged (Decree on Ecumenism, n. 15; see also the Decree on the Eastern Catholic Churches, nos. 24-29). "40. Between the Catholic Church and the Eastern Churches separated from us there is still a very close communion in matters of faith (see Decree or! Ecumenism, n. 14); moveover, 'through the celebration of the Eucharist of the Lord in each of these Churches, the Church of God is built up and grows in stature' and 'although separated from us yet these Churches possess true sacraments, above a.ll--by apostolic succession--the priesthood and the Eucharist' (ibid., n. 15)." 1"-'Letter to Patriarch A thenagoras, February 8, 1971, printed in Osservatore romano, March 7, 1971. It had been given to Metropolite Meliton of Chalcedon during his visit to the Holy Father on February 8, 1971. 1~1 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/1 great trouble and expense. If the conditions set out in the Directorium are verified, they can be admitted to Eucharistic Communion but it will be [or the bishop to consider each case. The Supreme Pontiff Paul VI approved this pastoral instruction and ordered it to be a part of public law through a letter of the Cardinal Secre-tary ot~ State dated May 25, 1972, and sent to the undersigned Cardinal President. Given at Rome in the offices of the Secretariat for Promoting Christian Unity, June 1, 1972. JOHN CARDINAL WILLEBRANDS President JEROME HAMER, O.P. Secretary Commentary on the Instruction on Intercommunion Jerome Hamer, O.P. The following commentary on the preceding instruction was written by the secretary of the Secretariat for Promoting Christian Unity and was published in Italian in Osservatore romano, July 8, 1972. The English translation is that published in the August 1972 issue of the lnIorrnation Service of the Secretariat for Promoting Christian Unity. 1. The instruction just published proposes to explain the doctrinal rea-sons for the regulation of the Church as outlined in the Conciliar decree Unitatis redintegratio and in the first part of the Ecumenical Directory which was published on 14 May 1967. It is intended as a help to the bishops in the concrete decisions they have to make in regard to admitting to Eucharistic Communion Christians not in full communion with the Catholic Church. The doctrinal reasons for the regulation made by the Church are to be found briefly expressed in the two documents mentioned above. It seemed useful, however, to give a more ample exposition of these reasons in order to facilitate the application of a regulation which touches on certain basic points of our faith. 2. On the one hand there is a close bond between the mystery of the Eucharist and the mystery of the Church, and on the other hand the Eucharist is a spiritual nourishment whose effect is to join the Christian in person with Jesus Christ and to bring him yet more deeply into Christ's Church. These two statements are of equal importance and have both to be safe-guarded, whatever may be the pastoral decisions which pastors are called upon to make in particular circumstances. As it is, generally speaking, on the second statement that those who ask for "Eucharistic hospitality" in the Church base their request, the instruction aims to remind those concerned what may not be done at the expense of the first statement in which the inde- 19 20 / Review lor Religious, Volume 32, 1973/1 structible bond between the Eucharist and the Church is underlined. The regulation itself in regard to this matter, however, changes with the times. That brought in by Vatican Council II offers somewhat more of a welcome than the one in force previously. But the profound doctrinal reasons remain unchanged, because these are bound up with the very nature of our Eucharistic belief. The instruction does not simply take its stand on a general question of principle. It shows how the two statements can be safeguarded at the same time, and are in fact safeguarded, in the actual regulation laid down by the Church. Those called upon to express their views on this matter must constantly be concerned not to sacrifice the one statement in favor of the other. We have no intention of repeating here what can be found explicitly stated in the instruction. We wish simply to underline one point which this document puts very clearly. To ask a Catholic priest for the Eucharist, a member of another Christian community must feel "a serious spiritual need of nourishment from the Eucharist" (cf. 4b and 6). That sets the problem on a high level, that namely of profound spiritual needs. 3. The regulations laid down for admission to Eucharistic Communion are less stringent in the case of those belonging to the Eastern Churches, not in full communion with us, than they are in the case of other Christians. Why this discrimination? The reason is to be found in the first of the two statements mentioned above. On the question of profession of faith, of the sacraments, and of ecclesiastical structure, the Eastern Churches are very close to us, and so the risks of obscuring the essential bonds between the Church and the Eucharist are notably less. The instruction recalls the Holy Father's recent declaration as to the "communion almost total, though not yet perfect" between the Orthodox Church and our own. On the particular point of belief in the Holy Eucharist these Eastern Churches hold a faith conformable to ours in virtue ol the prolession ol ]aith made by the same Churches. On the occasion of being admitted to Holy Communion, therefore, their members will not be asked for a personal profession of faith in this sacrament "as instituted by Christ and in ac-cordance with the tradition of the Catholic Church." 4. The instruction ends with a brief comment on no. 55 of the Ecu-menical Directory. It recalls first of all the extent accorded by the Directory itself to the authority of the bishops in applying the general criteria to par-ticular cases. It then makes it clear that the two cases mentioned as examples in no. 55, namely deprivation of freedom and conditions of persecution, are not the only ones in which there is to be discerned a great spiritual need for the reception of the Holy Eucharist. It is clear that a need of this kind can be felt even apart from situations of suffering and danger. The case given of the diaspora (groups of non-Catholics settled in a Catholic country) is illuminating on this point. Instruction on lntercommunion / 21 5. The instruction is, then, an expansion of certain points of the 1967 Directory, which itself still remains in force. We may recall that this Direc-tory was the work of a "plenary meeting" of the Secretariat for Promoting Christian Unity (this "Plenary" is the annual session on the part of the mem-bers of the Secretariat, composed of 7 Cardinals and 24 Bishops), to meet a need already made manifest in the Council. It was produced with the active collaboration of experts from different countries, of episcopal confer-ences throughout the world, and of various organizations pertaining to the Roman Curia, such as the Sacred Congregations for the Eastern Chu:ches, for the Evangelization of the Peoples, and for the Doctrine of the Faith. The Directory was approved by the Holy Father during an audience granted to the "Plenary" of the Secretariat on 28 April 1969. 6. A more or less similar procedure was adopted and followed in the case of the present instruction: --In February 1968 a mixed commission was set up, chosen from the Secretariat for Promoting Christian Unity and from the Sacred Congrega-tion for the Doctrine of the Faith, to study the interpretation to be given to certain norms laid down in the Conciliar decree Unitatis redintegratio and in the Ecumenical 'Directory on the question of "communicatio in sacri$." --In November 1969, the "Plenary" of the Secretariat was informed as to the conclusions arrived at by the commission, and then discussed the whole problem on the basis of a document prepared by a committee of its own Consultors. The "Plenary" requested the Cardinal President to set up a commission limited to three bishops to pursue the study of the whole matter. --As a practical result of this resolution there was a meeting of the three bishops concerned from May 30 to June 2, 1970, in which the question was studied, use being made of nine considered opinions given by as many specialists (Biblical scholars, historio-patrologists, theologians). This com-mission produced a report which was submitted to the "Plenary" of 1970. --In 1971, a new mixed commission, chosen from the Secretariat for Promoting Christian Unity and the Sacred Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, determined the line to be followed in the production of a new pastoral instruction. This commission worked on two basic documents: the conclusions of the first commission (1968-69) and the report from the meeting of the three bishops (May-June 1970). --Along the lines determined upon, a sample instruction was worked out, which the Cardinal President of the Secretariat for Promoting Christian Unity submitted to the Sacred Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith with a view to agreement and possible observations. A definitive reply was given by this Congregation on 8 February 1972. --On being submitted to the Holy Father, the present instruction was approved on 25 May 1972. 7. With this approval of the Holy Father the present instruction is Review for Religious, Volume 32, 1973/1 now offered to all those who have need to formulate exactly the motives for the practice adopted by the Church, whether it be in pastoral directives, or in preaching, or in teaching, or in catechetics. Both the faithful of the Catholic Church and also the other Christian brethren who read it can judge how clearly our mode of action in this matter flows from our most profound religious convictions. We feel sure that this text will be studied by all with the same anxious desire for truth, for understanding, and for fraternal charity, as that which has inspired all those who have contributed to its production. Rome, June 29, 1972. The Prophetic Challenge of the American Sister Segundo Galilea Segundo Galilea is the Director of the Instituto Pastoral Latinoamericano in Quito, Ecuador. His article was sent to the REVIEW through the kindness of Hermana Lucy Martinez; State Coordinator of Las Hermanas of Colorado; 3635 Humboldt; Denver, Colorado 80205. I write this during the Bishops' Synod in Rome. They are discussing situa-tions of injustice in the world--above all, in the Third World. I do not know what solutions they will arrive at, but the theme of the Synod is in itself a message: it reminds us that the Third World is a world of injustice and poverty. I write as a Latin American priest. This means that I belong to a part of the Third World whose population suffers from chronic conditions of misery and injustice, while at the same time it becomes more and more conscious of the causes and their possible solutions. This is why Latin America is a continent in the process of revolution: its people look for rapid changes in order to arrive at a more just society. The Old Vision and the New Until a short time ago there was talk of poor countries and rich ones, o[ progressive countries and backward ones. The United States was a progressive, rich country and Latin America was backward and poor. What was needed, then, was to help the backward regions to progress. Govern-ments and individual North Americans have dedicated themselves for several decades to make loans and investments in South America. Idealistic and generous individuals have continuously traveled south in a hardy pilgrim-age, to collaborate in that development. The Christian layman and the American religious have participated in the vision of these things by degrees extending from paternalism to the conviction that there is a need for more 23 24 / Review [or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/1 intense help lent by the North to the Latin Americans towards a develop-ment of themselves by themselves. Nowadays, for the conscientious Latin American, the existence of this vision has ended. In this fact is rooted his awareness of change. He has seen that the poverty of some countries is not only backwardness, but that it is due in a high degree to the richness of others. That is to say, wealth in the modern world consists of the power to impose international systems of markets, of interchange, and of industry which benefit the rich coun-tries and do further harm to the poor. Today the whole world knows that the poverty of Latin America is simply the shadow of the wealth of the United States, that there are not underdeveloped countries and developed ones, that there are only independent ones and those dependent upon them from a socio-economic point of view. (Latin America depends upon the United States.) We know today, too, that there are no rich countries and countries on the way to development, but only rich countries and countries on the way to greater underdevelopment. While the United States becomes richer every day, Latin America becomes poorer in the same measure. The loans and investments of North America do not really help us; they only tend to make the masses of Latin America more beggarly. Every economist knows that for each dollar that the United States invests in Latin American countries today, it gets back four per year. Therefore, when President Nixon fourteen months ago asked of a South American President if in his judgment the United States had sufficiently helped along the progress of his country within the past decade, the answer may have come as a surprise to any malinformed North AmeriCan: "On the contrary, I believe that my country has contributed considerably to the enrichment of the United States." Principal Source of Third World Poverty This very serious situation is the principal source of the poverty and in-justice of the Third World, more especially of Latin America, since the African Poverty is due in a larger manner to Europe. But it would be sim-plistic to particularize responsibilities blaming the government, or the com-panies, or the citizens of the United States, or the South American oli-garchies which benefit from this situation. The blame lies not in groups or persons who in their good will have often thought they were of help, but in the system: a system of economic and social relations which has made slaves of poor countries and has left rich ones to bask in a dulled conscience, believing that they apparently cannot do much else outside of extending personal and economic help. This is sufficient to calm their worry but does not allow them a vision of the basic problem: the necessity to liberate poor countries and to convert rich ones into abandoning their privileges according to the system. The liberation of Latin America and the conversion of the United States within a system of justice and not Challenge o] the American Sister of domination depend one upon the other. It seems to me that the differ-ence lies upon the more vital conscientization of the Latin American, inso-far as his need for liberation is greater than the North American's con-scientization of his conversion to a system which would tear him out of a consumer society and an economic domination. Furthermore, this conversion is not made easier by the degree in which the people of the United States has become, because of its riches, closed in upon and satisfied with itself. If this conversion does not come about, though, there will not be justice in the world---which paves the way in the coming decade for the violent revolution of the Third World. Prophetic Role of U.S.A. Church Confronted by these circumstances, I think the Church in the United States has a decisive and prophetic role. It should be the moral force-- disinterested and.free--to voice the interests of the poor fighting for their liberation, be they Negro, Chicano, or Latin American. It should be a prophetic voice capable of awakening the consciences not only of Catho-lics but of every North American of good will, to his responsibility as an influence within his own country towards ch~inge ending in international justice. The reason is that nowadays it is no longer a matter of going to Latin America to work for its development but of remaining in the United States to work for the reform of a system responsible for the misery of others. More important than going to teach the poor children of the Andes is the formation of a Christian youth convinced of the necessity to push for internal change once they attain to influential positions. This is why I believe that the North American sister confronts a prophet-ic challenge. My impression is that she is still the apostolic agent exerting the greatest influence in the North American Church given her position, up to now, as educator and catechist. For the same reason I believe that she must re-examine radically her educational attitudes and decide up to which point in time she will continue to form Christian generations of conform-ists satisfied with the prevailing system and little conscious of any serious social responsibilities. Each sister, then, should represent the prophetic conscience of the Church who frees its sons out of their "good conscience" and leads them towards social change. On the other hand, many sisters who have discovered either the Latin American situation or the poverty of the world have thought that the best way to make a personal response is to migrate south as missionaries. This, I repeat, is today more and more unnecessary. The role of the religious is to work for the conversion and conscientization of her native country, to be an impulse toward its social justice, rather than work in development programs in neighboring countries which in the end do not solve the basic cause of poverty--found more with the United States than Latin America. Review ]or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/1 Escaping Future Mediocrity I believe that if the North American religious communities want to escape from future mediocrity, they will have to create ways of making their sisters aware of these problems. This work is the responsibility of every Christian seeking justice, and it is nothing distant or alien to him. Each religious community should make of each one of its sisters a prophet of justice and of war against misery, capable of transmitting her message to various groups and generations of American Christians educated by her to a diversity of social roles. This means that evangelization in the United States should remind each citizen and the whole society that conversion to the kingdom implies not only personal changes but also a collective responsibil-ity towards social and legal transformations opening the way for the libera-tion of the poor countries. If religious life avoids these problems in its preaching of the gospel, it shall remain at the margin of history and will become irrelevant--because, in the end, the surest signs of reform within religious life are not external ones involved in activity, but the capacity to give prophetic answers to the problems of today's history. Contemporary Religious Spirituality and the Signs of the Times Robert S. Pelton, C.S.C. Father Robert Pelton has served as the Vicar for Religious Institutes in the Arch-diocese of Santiago, Chile. He is now the theological adviser for the programs of religious renewal within the same archdiocese. He is also the theological adviser of the Sisters of the Holy Cross in the United States. His United States address is: The Presbytery; St. Mary's; Notre Dame, Indiana 46556. The text of the article was originally an address given at Mundelein College on July 16 1972 at the request of the Theology Committee of the Leadership Conference of Women Religious. Preliminary Observations In his 1971 Exhortation to Religious, Pope Paul said: The aspirations of men to a more fraternal life among individuals and nations require above all a change in ways of living, in mentality and hearts. Such a mission, which is common to all the People of God, belongs to you in a special way. How can that mission ever be fulfilled if there is lacking an ap-preciation of the absolute, which results from a certain experience of God? This does but emphasize the fact that authentic renewal of the religious life is of capital importance for the very renewal of the Church and of the world,x I now wish to reflect upon such an authentic renewal in the context of the reality of our world--the "signs of the times.'"- I wish to discern with you the hopeful implications of this document, relating this to other docu-ments of the Church, and in particular those of Latin America where a special effort is being made to relate to the extraordinarily rapid changes in our times. 1Evangelica testificatio, § 54. "A Scriptural expression (Mt 16:1-4 and Lk 12:54-7) which was used in the Second Vatican Council and in particular in the Pastoral "Cotzstitution on tile Church in the World (nos. 4, 11, 40, and 44). 27 28 / Review [or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/1 Fresh Implications for Our Spirituality In a particular way we, as religious, are being called to a deeper in-volvement in the Church's contemporary mission? This implies a more Scriptural understanding of "world" and a fuller understanding of "ascetics." In the New Testament those who spoke about the world belonged to a small and threatened group. Thus, for the early Christians, "world" referred to an attitude hostile to the Lord? In Christ's actions we see that the sep-aration between God and the world is fundamentally that of sin. It is in the understanding of "new life" that we come to grasp what our attitude to-ward the world should be. It is in the context of redemptive life and growth that theology describes the world for us. In contemporary theology, we may say world is all that touches us in our human experience, that which gives meaning to our lives, that which affirms life, that which has been completed and that which is still in process and projection, that which suffers. In the documents of Vatican II we have a similar description: ¯ . . the Council focuses its attention on the world of men, the whole human family along with the sum of those realities in the midst of which that family lives. It gazes upon that world which is the theater of man's history, and carries the marks of his energies, his tragedies, and his triumphs; that world which the Christian sees as created and sustained by its Maker's love, fallen indeed into the bondage of sin, yet emancipated now by Christ.5 Christian Asceticism Authentic Christian asceticism in any age is essentially a Paschal exis-tence, a creative and dynamic struggle in which new life emerges only through death. Both theology and modern day social sciences contribute significantly to the understanding of this asceticism. 1. Theological Principles In the Gospels we find ample evidence of the necessity to renounce oneself in order to arrive at Christian perfection: 3Evangelica testificatio, §§ 52, 53. aSee Jn 17:15-21. This is a classic text which develops this point: "I am not asking you to remove them from the world, but to protect them from the evil one. They do not belong to the world any more than I belong to the world. Consecrate them in truth; your word is truth. As you sent me into the world, I have sent them into the world, and for their sake I consecrate myself so that they too may be consecrated in truth. I pray not only for these, but for those also who through their words will believe in me. May they all be one." The last sentence points out in particular the social mission of Christians. ¯ "Gaudium et spes, no. 2. The description of world and the later observations on asceticism are taken from Reflexiones pastorales, no. 4, 1971 (Vicario de Religiosos, Archdiocese of Santiago, Chile). This is a pastoral study prepared by the present author with a team of religious. Contemporary Religious Spirituality Then Jesus said to his disciples, "If anyone wants to be a follower of mine, let him renounce himself and take up his cross and follow me. For anyone who wants to save his life will lose it; but anyone who loses his life for my sake will find it" (Mt 16:24-5). Then he said, "If anone wants to be a follower of mine, let him re-nounce himself and take up his cross every day and follow me" (Lk 9:23). We must see this call to renunciation in terms of. the central mystery of Christianity: that of the death and resurrection of Jesus, and in terms of man's existential relation to the world. For Jesus, His death was His total gift of self to the Father, and for man and the world who are in-separably related. In His final prayer at the Last Supper, Jesus speaks of his "sanctification" or "consecration" to God by means of a total renuncia-tion of self. He often repeated, "I go to the Father." There was a distance that He had to overcome between Himself and the Father. He returns to the Father by a sanctification, by dying to the world of sin, and by rising to God. In Christ's return to the Father the personal sanctification of Jesus and the redemption of mankind take place. Jesus experienced the incompleteness of man and the need to over-come the distance that exists within man himself and the distance that exists between man and the Father. This "distance" or lack of integration is part of man's lot. Perfection for Jesus, as for all men, was overcoming the forces of disintegration, the forces which tend to make communion with men and God impossible. Man's incompleteness, his situation of imperfection is one in which there exist forces of evil and sin; that is, forces which tend to man's disintegration. Man's existence is a constant struggle to overcome these forces and to attain a union, a harmony, an integration within himself, with his fellow man, with nature, and with the world which is the place where he realizes this process. For the Christian the more he comes to live the Paschal mystery, the more he attains integration. And in order to attain it, he must enter with Jesus into an attitude of "consecration" by a total renunciation of the forces which tend to his dissolution. In this way the Christian accepts the call to renunciation of self and lives in a very personal way the death and resurrection of Jesus. With Christ he thus reduces the distance between himself and the Father. It must be noted here more explicitly that the aspect of renunciation (death) for the Christian operates only in function of his perfection or integration (resurrection). A renunciation .which is practiced apart from this spirit is neither Christian nor humanly of value. 2. Creative Discipline If there is anything the movement toward secularization has taught us, it is that man's search for perfection or integration is at its core a deeply human process. This articulates what Irenaeus said many centuries ago 30 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/1 about God being greatly glorified by man who is fully alive." .We have also come to see with greater clarity that complete integration is only at-tained through our total harmony with God as well as with the world. Expressed differently, integration is a process which includes all the ele-ments of our human experience, our relationship with ourselves in our own unique psychological and physical make-up, our relationship with the world in which we live, and our relationship with God who is the ground and center of our being. Certain aspects of this process seen in secular terms help us to amplify our understanding of Christian perfection, salvation, and particularly the role asceticism plays in its realization. Let us consider, first of all, the example of a human interpersonal rela-tionship. For a relationship to be of deep and lasting value it must be rooted in the dynamic rhythm of a mutual active sensitivity as well as a certain mutual creative discipline. Both grow out of an interior harmony within ourselves. To attain this harmony we must be sensitive to ourselves, and the relation that exists between ourselves and our friend, including both our capabilities and our limitations. The depth of our relationship will de-pend upon the quality of our perception together with a type of interior discipline. A denial of self is essential to the development of a meaningful inter-personal relationship. In this there is a need for creative fidelity which demands a balance between activity and receptivity in struggling to over-come the distanc~ which separates us from the other. This fidelity includes a faithfulness to what is perceived through sensitive listening as well as an excrcise of delicate initiative. Such an interpersonal relationship is a fragile, delicate, and tenuous experience. We enter into a reflection upon ourselves in a simultaneous act of identification with and separation from the object of our love. At certain moments we will assume a posture of disciplined separation to gain perspective, to evaluate, while constantly maintaining a sensitivity toward further growth. In' such growth there is an analogy with that which Christ achieved as He approached the Father in the redemp-tive act. Such an interpersonal relationship frees a person to be even more crea-tive in dealing with others. This whole process might be described as an ac-tive sensitivity which is quite different from a determined manipulation of self which has been understood and practiced as Christian discipline by many in the past. 3. Christian Asceticism as Creative Discipline Now let us look at this same human process in a more specifically reli-gious context to explore more deeply our understanding of Christian asceti-cism. The Christian, therefore, finds himself in the world, which is the place in which he works toward a fundamental integration and union with "See Adversus haereses, V, 3, 2; IV, 2. Contemporar[y Religious Spirituality / 31 himself, with his fellow man, with nature, alnd with God. His vocation is precisely this struggle for perfection, or lntegrat~on, as it might more aptly be called. Redemption comes to us through Jesus who in His gift of self overcame the incompleteness of man and the distance tl~at exists between man and the Father. The Christian attains his own personal sanctification in his identi-fication with Jesus. The renunciation of self; in this process is parallel to that of the development of a true human friendship. In his work of inte-gration the Christian must be sensitive to him~self, to his possibilities, to his limitations. His work, which is defined in tertrns of his human and Christian I vocation, demands the same discipline: openn,ess and sensitivity to the world in which he lives, to the inspiration of the Spirit, to his fellow man. He must be open to the Spirit in order to recognize His inspirations. He must enter into reality, into profound relationships with the world, in an attitude of complete giving, presence, a~nd service to that portion of reality which is his. He makes his activity in Ithe world an extension of him-sel~ and his inspiration. At the same time hie draws back in a disciplined separation from his activity in an attitude ~f quiet listening. By attaining a clearer recognition of inspiration, his activity once again becomes in- I ¯ spired and attains a greater quality of expression. Active sensitivity might ¯ also describe Christian asceticism. The ~deas of asceticism expressed in I terms of disciplined separation, of a drawing close in identification and of active sensitivity, might also be expressed in terms of a "rhythm of develop-ment and renunciation" and of "attachment and detachment" according to the thought of Teilhard de Chardin.~ f 1 Within the context outlined, we must be care u to recognize that Chris-tian asceticism is not merely an exercise of abnegation for the sake of ab-negation. Neither ~s it a practice that wdl automatically result in the per-sonal sanctification of the individual by the mere fact that he has denied himself. This concept of asceticism is an error that has continued too long ¯ in the formation of Christians and of relig~ou,s. Abnegation is part of a total process; apart from that process it has no value. God does not wish the suf-fering of men. The element of suffering that enters into the process of crea- I tive discipline defined in Christian terms is merely a side effect and not a goal. The Christian must not concentrate on the "value of his suffering," as if suffering were that which is of value. I~ itself, suffering has no value. It is merely an element of the dialectic into lwhich the whole person enters as a response to the Spirit and in identificati6n with Jesus in his self-giving. Asceticism depends not only upon man b~t upon the Spirit who invites the Christian to a free response and active cooperation. Christian asceticism consists in fidelity to the inspiration of the Spirit in a response of active sen-sitivity to that call. ;Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, The Divine Milieu (London: Fontana, 1965), p. 99. 32 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/1 It is only through such a liberating spirituality that we will be open to discover the "signs of the times" and thus contribute our share to the build-ing of the kingdom in Christ's vision that He may be fully all in all. An Integrated Vision In enabling our mission to have greater effectiveness it is essential to relate what has been said in the Exhortation with other documents. For instance, the necessity for religious to share in the Church's mission (§ 50) can be more fully understood when reflecting upon Vatican II's discern-ment of "the birth of a new humanism where man is defined before all else by his responsibilities to his brothers and to history" (G.S., no. 55). This, in turn, is related to a statement in the Development o[ Peoples: "What must be aimed at is complete humanism . . . the integral development of the whole man and of all men" (no. 42). This leads to a deeper apprecia-tion of Christian liberation which is: . . in its broadest meaning . . . the process of freeing man from all that prevents him from developing his potentialities and his obligations as a person who is created in the image of God.s Forming the New Person The Exhortation speaks of the necessity to form the "new man" spoken of by St. Paul (§ 38). But to achieve this newness it is necessary to go beyond what Pius XII referred to as the "technological spirit.''9 This is a spirit in which the quantitative and the measurable take precedence over the qualitative. Increasing material growth becomes an ultimate norm of a suc-cessful human society. To avoid being entrapped in such a mentality calls for a continuing conversion of heart. The Latin American Bishops said at Medellin that "new and reformed structures" cannot be built "without new men who know how to be truly free and responsible according to the light of the Gospel.''1° Necessary Discernment In order to make the necessary discernment in this dynamic process our prayer needs to be deep and constant as well as truly concerned with the needs of the "earthly city" (§ 49). It will be a prayer which, while it makes more profound our experience of God, will at the same time make us more aware of our own humanness and that of others. It leads us to a mor~ meaningful experience of what Douglas Steere refers to as "the prayer of presence": ¯ SFifth Inter-American Bishops' Conference, Statement, February 1970. ~'Christmas Address, 1953. 1°Second General Conference of the Latin American Bishops, The Church its the Present Day--Trans]ormation in the Light o] the Council (1968), v. 2, pp. 58-9. Contemporary Religious Spirituality / 33 ¯ . . in prayer where intercession is involved, I make those for whom I am praying present for myself by thinking of them and of their need and of the One who can meet that need in its deepest sense. Perhaps my friend is swept away by a persistent temptation to which he has yielded often enough to threate~ to glaze over his life, to numb the heart core in him, and finally to cut him off from ever sensing the deepest spring of love in another person or in the One that sustains him with both an unceasing and unspeakable love. In my prayer I make him present to me by thinking intensively of him and of the threshold over which both God's and my own caring must pass in order to reach him. I think, too, of this whole solace of intercessory caring which God's love and the love of the whole communion of saints is forever drawing at his life. My own caring for him is frail in comparison to this, but I feel that it is swept up into this greater net of attracting energy and that for all of its frailty it may be the decisive impulse that may touch my friend's decision and open to him those ever present forces that could change his whole perspective,al Our Spiritual Lives and the Signs o| the Times The Exhortation (§ 19) encourages us to avoid being carried away by an uncurbed seeking for our own ease, and in doing so repeats what the Council said about that bondage which modern man can suffer when he "indulges in too many of life's comforts and imprisons himself in a kind of splendid isolation" (G.S., no. 31 ). An authentic poverty and sense of justice (§ 18) must find a real echo in our lives since without these we shall contribute to what Medellin has entitled "institutionalized violence.''r-' Rather than being heralds of libera-tion and social catalysts we give scandal. By our failure to take social posi-tions, others can legitimately assume that we are in favor of the status quo. Spiritual Fruitfulness for the World It is in the building up of the earthly city with its foundation in the Lord that we give clear testimony to the presence of the Spirit among us. The religious life itself is a "little Church" in which the network of loving rela-tionships should become more and more evident among us. When the lov-ing bond among us is very evident we shall, in fact, be heralds of liberation and vital participants in the building up of the kingdom of God. Our Political Obligations In closing, it is appropriate to say a few words--particularly at this mo-ment in U.S. history--about our political duties. The construction of "a new humanity" cannot be left solely to the technocrats.13 Religious should contribute to this. This implies the art of politics, not in the narrowly parti- 11Douglas Steere, On Being Present Where You Are (Pendle Hill, 1968), p. 18. r-'This occurs when institutions do violence to others through unjust practices; for a development of this see Medellin, "Peace," no. 2,2,2. a3Paul VI, Acta ,'lpostolicae Sedis, v. 60 (1968), p. 393. 34 / Review [or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/1 san sense, but rather that type of statescraft which fosters the common good through the moral use of power (Pacem in terris, no. 54). In the use of this statescraft we need to ask ourselves the type of searching questions which were proposed-at the World Conference on Religion and Peace at Kyoto, Japan, in October 1970:14 31. Religion cannot in good faith demand of society that it reform its struc-tures without honestly examining its own institutions and programs, including problems related to the ownership and use of property and the possibilities of self-taxation for development purposes. 32. In this examination we might ask the following, among other, ques-tions: What role is assigned to the young and to women in our institutions? Are these institutions designed to preserve the status quo or do they point the way towards the future? Is our institutional apparatus used to convey real knowledge to people, to relate them to their environment, and to teach them their rightful place in society? Is worship used as an escape from or as a means of relating men to reality? Do we fulfill our prophetic role by denounc-ing injustices not only in distant countries, but more dangerouly at home? Do we give voice to the voiceless or only echo the rationalizations of those who sit in the places of power? Finally we need to ask ourselves more explicitly just what is the con-temporary sense of politics and what should our competence be in this area in the United States. Recently the Confederation of Latin American Religious distributed a research text to pastoral leaders on "The Religious Life and the Socio-political Situation in Latin America" in order to probe more deeply into these relationships on that continent. As the text becomes more refined, thousands of Religious will be invited to respond to it. This in turn takes us back to the beginnings of our reflections which hopefully have led us to appreciate more the relevance of our religious spirituality in the context of the "signs of the times." We have seen that in Latin America at this moment there is a type of liberating theology which is very helpful in establishing these relationships. t~Working Group II on Development, Report, §§ 31-2. The Eucharist as a Central Theme in the Ghent Altarpiece Maurice B. McNamee, S.J. Maurice B. McNamee, S.J., is a faculty member of the English Department of St. Louis University; 221 North Grand Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. It is becoming increasingly clear that, by all odds, the most persistent theme in Flemish iconography is the Eucharist. Some of my own studies have pointed up the pervasive interest in that theme in Medieval Flemish art;1 and other recent studies have called attention to the same fact.z The new-est ~orroboration of the importance of that theme in the art of Flanders is a recently published book by Professor Lotte Brand Philip, The Ghent Altarpiece.3 The work is something of a landmark in van Eyck studies. It presents a reconstruction and reinterpretation of the famous polyptych which is very persuasive and suggests new solutions to the many problems that, in the past, have intrigued and sometimes baffled such great art historians as Max Friedl~inder, Erwin Panofsky, Hermann Beeken, and Charles de Tolnay. Professor Philip's thesis that the twelve panels were originally part of an elaborate stone framed, multi-level altarpiece, which adapted ele-ments from reliquary shrine-altars, tower tabernacles, and rood screens, is brilliantly argued. It does handle the many problems of authorship (Hubert or/and Jan van Eyck), and apparent aesthetic and iconographic incon-sistencies between the various panels far better than any interpretation 1M. B. McNamee, "Further Symbolism in the Portinari Altarpiece," The Art Bulletin, XLV, 1963, 142-143; "The Origin of the Vested Angel as a Eucharistic Symbol in Flemish Painting," The Art Bulletin, LIV, 1972, 263-278. °-See, for instance, Ursula Nilgen, "The Epiphany and the Eucharist: An Interpreta-tion of Eucharistic Motifs in Medieval Epiphany Scenes," The Art Bulletin, XLIX, 1967, 311-316. :~Lotte Brand Philip, The Ghent Altarpiece and the Art o] Jan van Eyck, Princeton University Press, 1971. 35 36 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/1 previously advanced. The thesis advanced here, I am sure, will be discussed and perhaps challenged by art historians for many years to come. Methodology But what may be of particular interest to the readers of Review Jot Religious is a statement by Professor Philip in her Preface about the method-ology which she thinks ought to be followed by an art historian at-tempting the interpretation of a religious work of art from the past. She feels that too often these works have been approached in artificial isolation as "pure" works of art abstracted from the religious and sometimes liturgi-cal purpose for which they were created, with the result that their thematic, iconographic, and even aesthetic values have sometimes been misconstrued. This is Professor Philip's own pertinent statement on the matter: It is this isolated work of art which art historians have often sought to put into a broader context by linking its form and content to modes and trends of the period which were known to them from other fields. But while it may be instructive to see art in a general framework of Geistesgeschichte or sociology applied to it, as it were, artifically from without, we should not forget that for each individual work there had once existed a specific and natural "framework" quite palpable and concrete and supremely "sociologi-cal" in essence. Perhaps the simple and direct method of placing a work of art back into the very context of its own original setting and practical purl~ose can supply important new insights on the nature and meaning of a master-piece.' t Professor Philip's application of this method to the study of The Ghent Altarpiece is an excellent example of the fruitfulness of the method. I can-not here go into all the intricacies of the arguments for her reconstruc-tion of the .setting and purpose of The Ghent Altarpiece but I would like to call attention to some of the important new insights on the nature and meaning of this masterpiece that her study provides. General Plan In the first place she shows that the polyptych was probably planned as part of an altar complex in a chapel in Saint Bavo's Cathedral in which the Blessed Sacrament was reserved. It is this fact which may have suggested the all-pervasive Eucharistic motif of the whole polyptych. Professor Philip rather convincingly postulates the presence of a tabernacle in the center of a predella just above the mensa of the altar in the original compo-sition; and, on the analogy of The Mystical Fountain panel in the Escorial, which was undoubtedly derived from The Ghent Altarpiece, she further postulates a sculptured representation of Ecclesia accepting the mystery of the Eucharist on the left and of Synagoga rejecting it on the right. Above the tabernacle and predella and revealed through an arcade of columns 4Philip, ibid., p. viii. The Eucharist in the Ghent Altarpiece / 37 reminiscent of the supporting columns of a raised reliquary casket in a reliquary altar-shrine, would have been seen the existing panels of the Mystical Lamb and the four side panels of the judges, the knights, the her-mits, and the pilgrims . . . all converging on the Altar of the Lamb in the central panel. On the upper level, in the center, framed like the figures on a raised metal reliquary shrine, there would have been displayed the ex-tant great figure of Christ enthroned, accompanied by the Virgin Mary on His right and St. John the Baptist on His left, along with singing vested an-gels in panels on each side. This upper range would have been terminated horizontally at either end by the nude figures of Adam and Eve in a different perspective from that of the figures in the five central panels. They would have actually been incorporated into the sculptured frame of the entire composition rather than into the space of the center panels. And above this range Professor Philip postulates, again rather convincingly, the existence of a sculptured tower like the traditional Gothic tabernacle towers such as the one still in existence in St. Peter's Church in Louvain. And in it she further postulates, again on the analogy of several comparable com-positions in illuminated manuscripts and altars, the existence of a sculptured figure of God the Father. Christ the Priest Hence, in the complete composition as she reconstructs it, the icono-graphical program begins with the figure of God the Father on the top tower commissioning the Incarnation of the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity. (This scene of the Incarnation itself would actually be revealed in the An-nunciation scene which would appear immediately below the sculptured figure of God the Father when the panels were closed.) At other times what would appear in this position is the figure of Christ enthroned ful-filling the destiny consequent upon this Incarnation--that of functioning as the Eternal Highpriest offering Himself as the Eternal Sacrifice to God the Father. His priestly function is symbolized by the crossed stole He wears and by the triple tiara. He is accompanied to the right and left, as He always was represented in the Byzantine Heavenly Liturgy, by angels vested in the dalmatics and copes of deacons and subdeacons of the Mass, who join Him in offering up the Eternal Sacrifice of the Mass. Mary sits crowned on His right in recognition of her part in that sacrifice because of the human body she gave Him in which He suffered and died. And St. John the Baptist, the precursor who foresaw and foretold that Christ was the Lamb of God who would take away the sins of the world, is enthroned on the left and points to Christ in the central panel. On the far extreme ends of this upper range, but properly represented in a different perspective than that of the figures in the central panels, are the realistic nude figures of Adam and Eve. They do belong here be~;ause it was their sin that occasioned the De- Review ]or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/1 cree of the Incarnation by God the Father and because they are also the first fruits of the redemptive Sacrifice of Christ commemorated in this range by the figure of Christ functioning as the Priest of the Eternal Mass. Art historians have spoken of Adam and Eve as being out of place in this range and put there by the artist to fill up empty spaces created by a clumsy combination of panels originally meant for separate altarpieces. This is so far from being the truth, Professor Philip points out, that the whole com-position was originally called The Altar o[ Adam and Eve rather than The Mystical Lamb. The fact that iconography and decorative details of the three central upper panels are derived from and simulate the raised metal reliquary of a reliquary altar symbolize, Professor Philip suggests, both the arks of the Old Testament and the Eucharistic Tabernacle of the New Testament. This again brings us back to the central Eucharistic focus of the whole polyptych. Related to this, too, is the beautiful gemmed crown at the foot of the enthroned Christ--a reminder of Christ's own glorification which followed His sacrificial offering of Himself and His resurrection as well as of the reward that.follows the Martyrs' sacrificial offering of themselves with and for Christ. This symbolic meaning of the crown occurs in many early Christian representations and is often actually associated with the Of-fertory of the Mass as it is, for instance, in the procession of Virgin Martyrs carrying crowns in an Offertory procession in the beautiful mosaics of San Appolinare Nuovo in Ravenna. The Mystical Lamb On the lower painted range and seen through an arcade of columns at a simulated greater distance than the large figures in the upper range and therefore in a much smaller scale, appears the figure of the Mystical Lamb. He is mounted on an altar and is shedding His blood into a chalice. He is on a vertical axis with the postulated figure of God the Father, and with the enthroned figure of Christ as Highpriest. Between Him and the figure of Christ as Highpriest above appears the much controverted figure of a dove, the symbol of the Holy Spirit. The Mystical Lamb on His altar is the central focusing point of a vast landscape stretching across all five panels of this range and acting as a setting for the great processions of figures from all walks of life moving towards the Altar of the Lamb. The altar itself is sur-rounded by figures of the prophets and apostles and by angels, all vested in amices and albs, either carrying the instruments of Christ's passion or incensing the Lamb on the altar. The whole vast scene is obviously focused on another symbolic representation of the Sacrifice of the Mass--but this time represented in the Heavenly Jerusalem. And Christ appears here not as the priest but as the Lamb--the Sacrificial Victim pouring out His blood for the redemption of mankind. In the figure of the dove hovering The Eucharist in the Ghent Altarpiece / 39 over the scene we are reminded of the action of the Holy Spirit in the Incarnation by which the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity became man and was thus enabled to become the redeeming Sacrificial Lamb. The Great Fountain In" the foreground of the central panel and again on an axis with God the Father, Christ as High Priest, and Christ as Sacrificial Lamb, is the figure of a great fountain, which, as it were, is being fed by the Saving Blood of the Lamb above. And from the fountain runs a stream which, in Professor Philip's postulation, terminates at the tabernacle housing the ci-borium which contained the real Eucharistic presence of Christ Himself. She remarks pertinently of this probable juxtaposition: With the representation of the Lamb's sacrifice shown directly at his eye level, the viewer was compelled to feel that he was witness to this scene. He saw the sacred water, the result of the celestial sacrifice, flowing directly into the vessel from which the priest would hand him the Host. The believer thus virtually became a participant in the celestial rite.g In this way the work of art becomes almost a part of the liturgical and sacra-mental function and underlines the significance of that function. There are many other insights that this new interpretation of The Ghent Altarpiece provides but I have room to call attention to only one more. Professor Philip presents good evidence for the former existence of a water color antependium that once hung before the altar table of The Ghent Altarpiece which represented Hell. Hence, with this antepen-dium in place, the whole composition could also have been read as a Last Judgment scene arranged vertically very much as the Eyckian Last Judg-ment panel in the Metropolitan Museum. In such a reading it is the accept-ance or rejection of the Sacrifice of the Mass, represented by the enthroned figure of Christ as High Priest and by Christ as Sacrificial Victim in the Mys-tical Lamb, and of the Mass in time as offered by the priest at the real altar in the chapel of Saint Bavo's Cathedral, that results in either the welcome extended to the blessed in the Heavenly Jerusalem or the condemnation meted out to the lost in Hell. Conclusion But, however you read the various motifs combined in this great polyp-tych, and there are several other motifs discussed by Professor Philip be-sides those that I have detailed here, the central focus of all of them is the Mass and the Eucharist. Professor Philip's relook at this greatly con-troverted masterpiece "in the very context of its own original setting and pur-pose" has indeed provided important new insights on its nature and mean-ing. Her study shows a marvelous interplay in this great masterpiece be- ~Philip, ibid., p. 67. 40 / Review for Religious, Volume 32, 1973/1 tween theology, liturgy, and art. And this more contextual study of the work has suggested some cogent solutions to the problems that have plagued the study of it throughout its history. Whether the reader can accept all Professor Philip's postulations and suggested reconstructions or not, her study does show how intimately art can serve theology and the liturgy; and, in turn, how much inspiration both theology and the liturgy can bring to a creative artist when they are all as happily married as they seem to be in her interpretation of this great work by Jan van Eyck. To Pray Is to Work Sister Marilyn Feehan, C.S.J. Sister Marilyn teaches religion at Cohoes Consolidated Catholic School and lives at St. Agnes Convent; 32 Johnston Avenue; Cohoes, New York 12047. The strong reactions of years past to the "to work is to pray" adage indi-cated the seriousness with which the dictum was taken. Conflicting opin-ions have explored, exposed, and explained not only both sides of the question but also the solid base of agreement that will eventually underpin any solution. Would that the same expansive reaction could be expected to the state-ment, "To pray is to work"! The self-evident quality of those words may appeal to some, but to at least two points of view, the phrase hardly qualifies as a defensible opin-ion, let alone an axiom. Two Objections On the one hand, those who are deeply immersed in visible, concrete activity often view time spent in preparation for, and pursuit of, the prayer experience, as time "taken from" rather than "given to." Measured in the scales of the unfinished business remaining on the agenda of man in general, and the Church in particular, prayer seems to weigh light, much as the scholar's pen is easily outweighed by the soldier's sword. The tangible ex-haustion of pouring oneself out for another testifies to the work aspect of so many activities, but is prayer seen perhaps as a private, esoteric action, a relic of the God-and-I syndrome? For some, then, prayer is not work because it does not seem to demand the exertion and effort of the concrete apostolates. On the other hand, those who see life iri terms of free, spontaneous gift, view prayer as an instinctive turning of the heart in its overflow towards 41 42 / Review for Religious, Volume 32, 1973/1 the Source of all that is good. What place i~ there i'n this for "work," foi" serious directed activity towards a foreseen goal? Have not the days of meditation points, reflections, and resolutions at least been replaced, if not repudiated? The insertion of a serious work element into the prayer ex-perience seems to threaten the human freedom of the act, to foreshadow perhaps a return to confining structures that once satisfied and now con-strain. For others, then, prayer is not work because it ought not to be such. This segment of the Church is skeptical of any view of prayer as a discipline to which one responds in reason, rather than with feeling. Both objections, in seeing prayer from too restricted a point of view, miss the overall scene. By zeroing in on the work quality of one kind of activity, the first group ignores the effort required in true prayer because it is not recognizable to them as work. One might well say: "The work involved in prayer is not identical to the work involved in concrete activity." Agreed, but need one add: "Therefore, it does not call forth real effort"? In fact, dare one add that judgment? Contrarily, by pinpointing the spontaneity of prayer, as a free response to the ever-approaching, ever-approachable God, the second group ignores the human process and fantasizes that prayer is somehow excluded from rather than the culmination of the normal cause-and-effect character of man's actions. To fail to reach the goal of union with God in prayer is a great sadness; to cut oneself off from that goal in the very name of seeking it is a tragedy. Prayer Is Work The thesis of this article is indeed simple: To pray is to work. The two notions in the proposition could well be clarified if the phrase is to be properly understood. In this context then, what is prayer and what exactly is work? Prayer is the union of the human person with the very Person of the absolute Good by means of tentative responses to the overtures made by God in this present life. This union may be fleeting or steadfast, whole-hearted or weak, clear or confused, but always directed in some manner to the God who first called out, from the man who humanly responds. Of particular importance in the definition is the overriding creative role of the personal Lord who initiated the whole process and elicits from man all that he is capable of giving at any one time. Seen from the viewpoint of the pray-er, the union can be dissatisfying, often marred by his very humanness, so unsure in both its verbal and sensible manifestations, but always pointed in vague hope to the future when he will know even as he is known. This prayer involves real work, that is, the physical and mental efforts To Pray Is to Work / 43 and activities that are directed towards the accomplishment of something, in this case, union with God. Again, any restriction of outlook to this single aspect of prayer as work would be a serious error. Let no one assume that personal effort is the only element of importance or that striving ever takes the place of receptivity to God's initiative. No, but on the other hand, let no one ignore these fac-tors. What kind of work is usually helpful in the pursuit of union with God in prayer? Three classifications of human effort immediately suggest them-selves: the physical, the intellectual, and the psychological. Physical Work Because God is the initiator, no formula of quantitative physical activi-ties can possibly signal the prayer experience. However, one can mention two observable physical efforts that usually assist it to take hold: presence and place. By presence is meant the conscious choosing of a situation that to the pray-er is sacred. Just as the needs of the body are faced, met, and often celebrated, as at meals, the need to pray should be faced squarely, met honestly and celebrated openly. To be consciously present to the Lord once or twice a day can well be termed "work" because of the effort and dis-cipline a man must exercise to examine the day, to plan out a possible time, and then to set the seal of sacredness on it in a very real sense. To wait for an available hour, to let choice melt into convenience, is to forego the human right to choose and follow through, intimating that man's role in this adventure is mere formality, ritualistic at most. By place is signified the thoughtful selection of a particular setting that has proved to be a means for opening the person to life, especially to Life Himself. For one, the choice is the quiet of a chapel; for another, a hillside in the evening; for one, the noise and stimulation of a city street; for an-other, the silence and peace of a private room; for one, the strain of dis-comfort; for another, the ease of a favorite chair. This is indeed a worthy search for any man: to seek out the physical scene in which the hand of God has easy access to him. But if the search is not made, if the meeting place is left to chance, will God come? Yes, but not as forcefully and fully ¯ as He would have if the pray-er had reasonably prepared himself. Intellectual Work Intellectual work is the second kind of exertion that prayer calls forth, or rather, that calls forth prayer. Two areas of overriding importance are serious study of God and deep thought about life, both of which require real effort. To meet a person and be fascinated by him is to want to know more about him, to come closer to him. In prayer, one meets God in a strange, 44 / Review [or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/1 personal way and the natural reaction is to wander off, awe-struck, in search of more knowledge of Him and closeness to Him. In very fact, the Scriptures serve just that purpose in explaining bits and pieces of His actions, in exposing aspects of His person, in hinting at His secrets. Leaving the sacred writings on the shelf is tantamount to asserting that one has no need of or interest in them. They represent the inexhaustible source of truth and inspiration, one that is accessible but useless unless man's intelli-gence reaches out to it. In a lesser category are the spiritual writings that collectively trace man's aspirations towards God across the centuries. No one is called upon to master that myriad of books but certainly insights can be gleaned and deep feelings triggered by exposing oneself to those movements of other men towards God. The second practical intellectual work that prayer fathers forth is serious thinking on personal questions, religious or not. Nothing is easier to do than to put off, sometimes indefinitely, the reasoning through of a troubling situa-tion or the planning out of a future course of action. The outcome is fre-quently an inability to pray because the unresolved problem lies in wait to capture the attention as soon as man turns to the Unseen. Of particular importance is the exploration of the question put by Jesus to Peter: "What do you think of Me?" Often the picture-book images of God fade with the years while man carefully avoids examining the change for fear of what he will have to face, a fear that feeds on his closed intellectual attitude. Can man reach union with God in prayer without serious intellectual ac-tivity? Yes, but in this culture and time, for most persons, the intellectual effort is a practical necessity, though not a speculative one. Psychological Work Psychologically, a man works to keep his person open and at the same time to channel negative intrusions into growth situations, both of which require considerable effort. Because the pray-er is so vulnerable in the very act of praying as he ex-poses himself to the Lord, he is often struck, almost mortally, by his own weakness. Reacting to this wound, he can turn in confusion and deny his prayer in hopes of obliterating the pain. Or else he can work to face the truth, examine it, feel its deep shame, and wait in faith for the calm that will eventually come when he accepts himself as completely as God has al-ready accepted him. Of equal importance is the work involved in man's use of negative emo-tions to nurture positive development towards God. Self-pity in all its guises drives one away from prayer because of its centering on the person rather than on God, as a kind of subtle idolatry. Effort is needed to accept this weakness, then offer it as sacrifice to the Lord, and receive back from Him the self-knowledge that means growth. Merely collapsing in the face of such To Pray Is to Work / 45 an embarrassing self-revelation is hardly a stepping stone to prayer, but the end result can be a meaningful asset. God is certainly not bound to unite Himself to a man on the basis of his psychological maturity but He is clearly worshiped by a person's attempt to reach out to the unseen hand that in turn reaches out so lovingly towards him. To repeat the original thesis: physical, intellectual, and psychological work are an integral part of the prayer experience, with no claims of absolute necessity but rather a serious call on man's consideration in view of his very human needs. To ignore or belittle the work aspect of prayer is to fail to understand either work or prayer. To pray is indeed to work, not as a slave to fulfill a command and escape a punishment, but as a son to experience a joy and answer a loving Father. The Prayer of the Heart Michael Azkoul Father Michael Azkoul is a priest of the Russian Orthodox Church outside of Russia and lives at 912 Bellstone Road; Shrewsbury, Missouri 63119. A preliminary version of this ,article appeared under the title "Out of the Heart" in the March 1972 issue of The Russia, Orthodox Journal. In the Western world, the "heart" is considered to be the scat' of the emo-tions, especially the emotion of "love." Eastern spirituality, however, dis-covers in the "heart," kardia, not the source of emotions, but the spiritual center of man. As Father Meyendorff once observed, the "heart" is some-thing akin to the "subconscious." In fact, it is the very fount of good and evil in every man. In the words of our Lord: "For out of the heart proceeds evil reasoning, murder, adultery, fornication, theft, lying, blasphemy . " (Mt 15:19). Without the "pure heart," it is impossible to "see God" (Mt 5:8). We are commanded to love God with all our "heart" (Lk 10:27). It is with the "heart" that we attain salvation, for St. Paul writes: "If you con-fess with your lips that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved" (Rom 10:9). Guarding the Heart According to the Eastern fathers, the "heart" is the central force in human nature. A man becomes what his "heart" is and the "heart" is what we permit it to become. Therefore, it must be protected from all evil in-fluence. "Guard the heart," phylake kardias, they admonish. Keep away from anything which might pollute it, that is, any situation, person, or thing that leads to sin, amartia. The Scriptures, the fathers, a spiritual guide,1 and 1In the East spiritual guides are almost always monks. The word for such a monk is starets (Slavonic) or hegemon (Greek), that is, an "elder" or "old man" who by the grace of God has received spiritual gifts such as spiritual insight and discernment, enabling him to act in a special way to be a spiritual guide or director. Anyone accepting that direction must expect to be absolutely obedient. 46 The Prayer of the Heart / 47 sometimes our own experience teach us what to avoid. Generally, we can "guard the heart" through obedience, humility, chastity, fasting, prayer, and the sacraments. In particular, the "heart" is protected by controlling the faculty of "imagination." This faculty of the mind, nous, is the power with which we form, compare, connect, and separate images. With it we speculate, phanta-size, and ruminate. The "imagination," phantasia, arranges the data given to it, whether from the world of objects and persons, a priori knowledge, or the experience of the mind with God or demons. The devil and his angels are man's great antagonists, according to the fathers. From the imagination, the "image," now received by the mind, passes irresistibly to the "heart" and from the "heart" to the "flesh." The body, then, is excited, agitated, sometimes driven to acts of violence, murder, lust, and malice. St. Silouan of Mount Athos (d. 1937) observed that every "passion," pathe, is the result of a "sinful image." And since, as St. Macarius of Egypt (c. 330) says, "the heart commands and rules the whole body," what enters the "heart" must reign over all the members of the body. So long, too, as "vexatious and lying images" govern the mind (and, therefore, the "heart"), we have no right to "philosophize about God," as St. Gregory the Theologian (Nazianzus) tells us in his Theological Orations. Indeed, such "philosophizing" is useless, for the impure mind and "heart" will bring no true knowledge, no union with God. Conversion of the Heart Conversely, the Holy Spirit will, by our sincere effort to achieve "pur-ity of heart," bestow the grace for its realization: Grace engraves the laws of the Spirit in the hearts of the sons of light. There-for. e, they should not draw their assurances from the Holy Scriptures alone, but the grace of God also inscribes the laws of the Spirit and the heavenly mysteries on the tablets of the heart. For the heart commands and rules the whole body. And grace, once it has filled the heart, reigns over all our mem-bers and thoughts. For in the heart are the spirit and all the thoughts of the soul and its hope. Through it, grace passes to all the members of the body. We become unlike the children of darkness in whose heart sin rules and from which sin infects the the entire body . . . (St. Macarius, Homily 15). Spiritual perfection comes only when every haunting of memory, every se-ducing idea, and every wicked image is renounced whenever they presume to enter the mind. There is, to be sure, no end to the struggle for perfec-tion in Christ. Objectively, the cure for sin is, of course, the redemption of Christ, but His saving acts must be appropriated, subjectively acquired, and ap-plied. The principal way is "purity of heart," a "purity" which is accom-plished, in the first place, by "mental prayer." Now, this "prayer" is im-possible if the mind is continually exposed to evil sensations, that is, when 48 / Review for Religious, Volume 32, 1973/1 the senses are subjected to spiritually debilitating perceptions. Reception of them by the mind induces the "imagination" to act and the results are cast into the "heart." "Evil images" in the "heart" eventually affect the body and, if not removed, the body finds itself in the grip of evil habits or pas-sions- greed, lust, hate, envy, gluttony, pride, and so forth. By means of the passions, declares St. John Karpatbius, the demons "torment our flesh with all manner of sin and throw the soul into confusion" which leads to "fancies," "heaviness of body," "increase of animal needs," "arrogance and haughtiness," "vainglory," "rejection of repentance," "forgetfulness of death," "despondency and boredom," "a special inclination for earthly occu-pations," and "hardness." The devil is relentless. He uses every means to "drag the soul after him," warns St. Barsanupius. He bombards our sense with sights, titillating, agitating, and licentious; with foods and drinks, delicious and pleasant to the eyes, with voluptuous aromas, and so forth; and, indeed, all the allure and power of the aeon rush upon our weak and vulnerable natures, ever-enticing, ever-proliferating, mounting, everything soft and warm and tanta-lizing, anything to storm the suburbs of the soul in order to conquer the "heart," its citadel. The temptations men face are those of Adam which St. John described as "the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life" (1 Jn 2:16). Spiritual Combat and Prayer The surest response to the incessant barrage of evil is "withdrawal," but not all men are called to be monks. We must, nevertheless, undertake the "spiritual combat" (Eph 6:10-9) which differs from the monks' struggle only by degree--only by the fact that "the field of battle" is slightly altered. It is true, nevertheless, that the spirituality of the Eastern Church is the spirituality for all her members. Monks are not a special class, only the highest stratum within the Church, albeit "the true and authentic Chris-tian," as St. Basil the Great calls him. For both monk and "ordinary Chris-tian," the enemy is the same, the weapons fundamentally the same. The great weapon is "mental or interior prayer," prayer with the Name of Jesus. In the words of St. Macarius: Be attentive to the Name of the Lord, Jesus Christ, by contrition of heart. When your lips are moving, draw it to yourself and do not lead it to your mind only to repeat it, rather ponder your invocation, "O, Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me!" Then, in your repose you will be aware of His Divinity present to you. It will drive away the darkness of passions . . . it will purify the inner man . . (Apoph, 16). The believer must turn away from the "outside world"-and seek the things of the Spirit--"The kingdom of God is within you"--a "turning," incidentally, symbolized by the Eastern Hesychasts who prayed with heads bowed and eyes fixed on the abdomen. To be sure, no one can avoid sense The Prayer o] the Heart / 49 perceptions altogether, but the believer can fortify himself against those in-imical to him. Also, the Church offers spiritually beneficial alternatives to the destructive sensations of the "world"--rites, icons, incense, psalmody, candles, vestments, prostrations, flowers, palms, and so forth. She well understands that man cannot exist within an "imageless world." Nor is the destiny of man to be a "pure spirit." The Jesus Prayer It follows, then, that Orthodox spirituality relates body to spirit in prayer. Posture and attitude, sound and sight are utilized. "Interior" or "mental" prayer also begins at the empirical level. It is initiated with words spoken aloud and only when we have perfected "interior prayer" does it become "prayer of the heart." The petition most common in Orthodox spirituality is the Jesus Prayer--"Oh, Lord Jesus Christ, Thou Son of God, have mercy upon me, a sinner" (an adaptation of the prayer of the publican in Lk 18: 10-4). This prayer is not only the epitome of Orthodox doctrine, but is implicitly the totality of her piety. As St. John Cassian wrote: "Let the Name of Jesus cling to your breath and your whole life, for it is your faith and your salvation." The technique of this prayer is not complicated. "Those who approach the Lord," writes St. Macarius, "should make their prayer in a state of calm (hesychia), peace, and great tranquility, without anxiety and con-fusion. Rather let him come to the Lord with complete attention (prosexein ton noun), with effort of the heart and sobriety of thought (nepsis)." When we come to pray, therefore, we must come humbly, without hate for anyone, without desire, ready to yield everything to God, confessing our sins, and holding to true doctrine. Neither must we be concerned what we are to say, for "the Spirit helps us in our weakness . . . himself interceding for us with sighs too deep for words. And He who searches the hearts of men knows the mind of the spirit, because the Spirit mediates for the saints according to the Will of God" (Rom 8:26-7). Furthermore, the body is involved in the Jesus Prayer (as in all types of prayer). There is no particular position, for it, although, in the Orthodox Church, kneeling is forbidden between Pasch and Pentecost and on Sun-days. Sitting, often in'a Yoga position, lying on the back are acceptable. When the invocation of God begins, we ought .to be relaxed. To keep the eyes from wandering, it is useful to use a candle and icon. Incense may con-tribute to the atmosphere, to give a sense of the Divine Presence and to set the mood for the great physico-spiritual task about to commence. Then, as The Pilgrim says, we must pray sincerely and ~lowly, "without ceasing," the Jesus Prayer. The words are repeated again and again. Some ascetics have recited as many as fifteen hundred in one night, some many more. Simul-taneously, the believer must str.uggle against contrary thoughts and fatigue, but persistence, night after night, will bring the victory. (Of course, there is 50 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/1 no reason to limit the Jesus Prayer to night and a certain physical posture; it may be recited at any time.) The Prayer o| the Heart Gradually, as we persevere in obedience to our guide (if one is avail-able) and continue diligently in prayer, the mind will be cleansed. The soul and body will be kindled with "the flame of grace," to use the phrase of St. Symeon the new Theologian. This is the sign of the Holy Spirit's presence. If we perfect ourselves sufficiently through prayer, fasting, obe-dience, chastity, and good works--prayer intensifying all the time--we may be privileged to see "the divine light," "the Light o~ Mount Tabor," "the Light of the Glorified Christ," "the Light of God's Uncreated Energies," "the Light of the Transfiguration." In other words, as the mind or spirit trains itself to resist evil sensations and control the imagination, the believer learns "to collect the mind in the midst of the heart and pray with silent words." Soon words will not be necessary, then, not even thoughts, because the Name of Jesus has entered the "heart" and is repeated, automatically, with the beat of the physical organ itself. The soul, like a flower reaching for the sun, ascends to God; the warmth of God's Uncreated Energies, Light and Grace, increase; the "heart" is "purged" (katharsis); and, finally, the total man becomes "di-vine" (theosis). Thus, being "like God," we shall "see" Him "face to face" (that is, the "deified" will "see" the eternal God-Man, the enthroned Christ --no one may ever behold the "face" of the Father). This "union" (he-nosis) is the final end of the Jesus Prayer, of all prayer, for, according to the Eastern Church, salvation is nothing else but "union with God," deifi-cation, the mortal becoming immortal, the corruptible becoming incorrup-tible, the sinful becoming sinless, eternal "rest," "partaking of the divine nature" (2 Pt 1:4). Bibliographical Note For those interested in making a more detailed study of Orthodox spirituality and of the prayer of the heart, the following books are recommended: The Arena: Art Offering to Contemporary Monasticism by His Grace, Bishop Ignatius Brianchaninov (originally published in Russian in 1867 but now rendered into English) (Madras, 1970). The Art o[ Prayer, trans, by Kadloubovsky and Palmer (London, 1966). The intro-duction to this work provides an excellent discussion of the Jesus Prayer. Early Fathers [tom the Philokalia, trans, by E. Kadloubovsky and G. E. H. Palmer (London, 1954). The same scholars have translated Later Fathers o] the Philo-kalla; at present, they are involved with other scholars in a complete translation of this formidable treasure of Eastern spirituality. The Ladder of Divine Ascent by St. John Climacus, trans, by Archmandrite Lazarus Moore (London, 1959). Mystic Treatises by St. Isaac the Syrian (Isaac of Niniveh), trans, by A. J. Wensinck (Amsterdam, 1923). Ott the Prayer o] Jestts, trans, by Archmandrite Lazarus Moore (London, 1952), Prayer and Work: Protestant Religious Orders for Women Elizabeth Moltmann-Wendel The following article is a translation of a German article that appeared originally in Evangelische Kommentare, May 1972, pages 280-283. The translation was made by Charles W. Pfeiffer, a doctoral student in the Divinity School of St. Louis University; 3658 West Pine Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63108. The translation is published with the kind permission of the editor of Evangelische Kommentare. The address of the author is: Dr. Elizabeth Moltmann-Wendel; Hausserstrasse 43; 74 Tiibingen, West Germany. In a poor quarter of Algeria there live three women. One works during the day as a teacher, another as a nurse, and the third keeps house. They subsist in the hot and arid poverty of those countless millions who live on the edge of society and suffer in their environment a spiritual and material deprivation which defies description and far outweighs any relief provided by social organizations. Their neighbors stand in amazement. The children are the first to approach and to quizzically explore the significance of this house which is always open to everyone. Out of these initial contacts a mutual trust begins to grow. The Muslim understand trust and come with their personal and social problems while the three women, having come from the security of bourgeois, European homes, learn from the Muslim how to survive and manage with a small amount of water. When the revo-lution breaks out, the white people hasten to flee the country, but the three women stay on to the even greater astonishment of their neighbors: "They have not fle!! God is present among us!" The Sisterhood of Grandchamp To live with neither missionary ambitions nor in direct diaconal engage-ment but in solidarity and friendship with the poorest of the poor is the basic premise of the Sisterhood of Grandchamp, a French-Swiss religious 51 52 / Review [or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/1 order for women to which these three women belong. Similar to the French Catholic orders, the Little Sisters of Jesus and the Little Brothers of Jesus, without special words or deeds they "live friendship" at the apex of social distress. Thus they have founded cells in Lebanon, in the industrial area of the Parisian suburb of Saint-Quentin, in Vlaardingen near Rotterdam, in a high-rise apartment building in a suburban settlement near Lyons, in Israel, and in Lucerne. The sisters maintain their financial independence from the order by earning their keep as cleaning ladies, workers, nurses, and secretaries. One of them is always at home to keep the house or apart-ment open for those who seek advice or companionship. Their motto is "Pray and Work," and the community rule sums up their purpose in one sentence: "Be among men a sign of brotherly love and joy." In the beginning this order was actually of a quite different nature. During the Thirties some women from French-speaking Switzerland de-cided that through reflection and contemplation (retreats) they wanted to experience once again the meaning of their lives. They rented a house in Grandchamp near Areuse on Lake Neuenburger. An increasing number of guests desirous of some days of quiet meditation began to assemble. The reception of these guests allowed the women to gradually grow to-gether into a community. They designated themselves as sisters and asked the initiator of the first retreats, Madame Micheli, to join them in the capac-ity of Mother. In 1952, eight of the sisters and the Mother committed themselves to remain together for life. One year later they joined the young, Protestant, Swiss Brotherhood of Taiz6 in Burgundy and adopted the brotherhood's rule and liturgical prayer. During the closing years of the War the Swiss Brotherhood of Taiz~ grew fr

Issue 31.3 of the Review for Religious, 1972. ; ASSOCIATE EDITOR Everett A. Diederich, S.J. QUESTIONS ANI) A N S\V E R S E 1) ITO R Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Correspondence with the editor, the associate editor, and the assistant editor, as well as books for review, should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; 612 Humboldt Build-ing; 539 North Grand Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, SJ.; St. Joseph's Church; 321 Willings Alley; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19106. + + + REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Edited with ecclesiastical approval by faculty members of the School of l)ivinity of St. Louis University, 01e editorial offices beihg located at 612 tlumboldt Building; 539 North (;rand Boulevard: St. Louis, Missouri 63103. Owned by the Missouri Province Educalional In';titute. Published bimontbly and copyright © 1972 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Printed in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri. Single copies: $1.25. SuBscription U.S.A. and Canada: $6.00 a year. $11.00 for two years; other countries: $7.00 a year, $13.00 for two years. Orders sbould indicate whether they are for new or renewal subscriptions and sbould be accompanied by check or money order payable to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS in U.S,A. cur-rency only. Pay no money to persons claiming to represent REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Change of address requests should include former addre.~s. Renewals and new subscriptions should be sent to REVIEW I:OR RELIGIOUS; P.O. Box 60 Duluth. Minnesota 55802. Manuscripts, editori-al correspondence, and books for review should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS: 612 [lumboldt Building; 539 North (;rand Boule-yard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to the address of tile Questions and Answers editor. MAY 1972 VOLUME 31 NUMBER 3 BENEDICT ASHLEY, O.P. ¯ Retirement or V gil? [ Benedict Ashley, O.P., is Profess6r of Theology at The Institute of Religion and Human " Development; Texas Medical Center; P.O. Box 20569; Houston, Texas 77025.] Retirement and the Work Ethic To provide for the retirement of senior members has bdcome an urgent task for many religious communities. D~clining vocations, risfng medical costs, changes in traditional apostolates and in sources of income demand that we develop new, organized ways to care for those who have reached that last, often lengthy phase of life which we Americans call "retirement." The action of Pope Paul VI in requesting even cardinals and bishops to retire acknowledges that in times of rapid change older persons, for all their expe~'ience and "tested virtue," often lack the energy and flexibility to carry on the apostolate. However reasonable this trend may seem to those long dist~int from the "cut-off point," it is prQducing great anxiety, discontent, . and bitterness in many aging religious. This intensifies the polarization against which many communities now struggle. Recently an elderly but very much alive sister said to me: "What a paradox that our community is how so concerned to give younger sisters free choice¯ of apostolates, while forcing older sisters to retire willy-nilly. I was told to retire last year without any consultation or discussion of my preferences. My only choice, which was no choice at all, was to come to this retirement house. The young are demanding small interpersonal communities. I must live with over a hundred sisters, most of them sick, some completely senile, although my health is good, my mind active, and I like to live with young people, 'where the action is.' " Of course, some communities take great pains to discuss the situation carefully with members who must retire from present apostolates, to give them choices and training for a "second career," or at least maximum opportunities for "semi-activity." They realize that the problem of these religious is, after all, only part of the larger geriatric problem in the United States which will probably increase still further as our national birthrate continues to decline, and the average age of Americans begins to rise. However, I wonder if the very term "retirement" does not reflect the dehumani-zation of our technological society. It is borrowed from the practice of American business and starkly reflects the "work ethic" dominating our culture, against which the counter-culture is rightly protesting. This ethic evaluates human 'worth only in terms of production, organizational efficiency, capacity for marketable innovation. It values "doing and making," but ignores the values of "being," unless they can be translated into commodities. Even without the protests of the .counter-culture, we should know from the gospel that "man does not live by bread alone" (Mt 4:4) and that we have been told "do not be anxious for what you are to eat or wear, because unbelievers are always. running after these things" (Mt 6:31-32). The values of the work ethic are real and ¯ 326 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 are not repudiated by the gospel, but they are .~ternly subordinated to a very different appreciation of what really counts in life. Let us retire the term "retirement," and even "semi-activity." The notion of "a second career" is better, yet it too has a work ethic flavor. Moreover to talk about "second careers" to religious for whom it seems nothing remains of life but suffering, prayer, and gradual decline is to coin another of those horrible euphemisms with which we today in our society of affluence indecently hide the unacknowledged' miseries of neglected poverty and death. We are Christians who ought to have the courage to face the facts of old age with a realism warmed by Christian hope. Trying to wrestle with this fact of life theologically, I have found in the gospel a theme which seems to me very relevant, the notion of vigil. Christian Vigil The current liturgical reform began with the renewal of the Paschal Vigil, called by St. Augustine "the mother of all vigils," because it sums up the expectation of all ages of Christ's victory over death. Its meaning is beautifully stated in the General Instruction bn the Liturgy of the Hours issued by the Holy See in 1971 (nos. 70-2): [St.Augustine writes] "by keeping vigil, we observe that night when the Lord,arose, and by his own flesh began in us that life which knows neither sleep nor death. ; then as we sing together to the risen Lord a little while longer by keeping vigil, he will grant us to reign with him by living forever." Asin the Easter Vigil, the custom soon arose in different churches t6 begin various solemn feasts by keeping vigil, notably in the Birth of the Lord and Pentecost. The Fathers and spiritual writers frequently urged the faithful, especially those who live a contemplative life, to nocturnal prayer, which expresses and fosters our waiting for the Lord?s return: "At midnight someone shouted, 'The groom is here! Come out and greet him!' " (Matthew 25:6); "Keep watch! You do not know when the master of the house is coming; whether at dusk, at midnight, when the cock crows, or at early dawn. Do not let him come suddenly and catch you asleep" (Mark 13:35-36). To implement this idea the Church in its new calendar has not only given the Paschal Vigil the central place in the liturgical year and retained the ~vigils of the Birth of the Lord and of Pentecost, but recommends the use of "Bible vigils" (Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy, no. 35), and in the instruction just quoted encourages the use and development of the Office of Readings as a time of vigil, thus preserving the nocturns or night Office of the traditional Breviary. This last recommendation is not only for priests and nuns, but for the laity as well (Instruction, nos. 20-2). These liturgical reforms are rooted deeply in the New Testament. Jesus Himself prepared for the great moments of His life by keeping vigil. For forty days and nights (Mt 4:2) He prayed in the desert before beginning His ministry. Before extending it beyond Capernaum, He went to a "Ion.ely place" (Mk 1: 35) to pray till dawn. Before announcing His inevitable passion, He kept vigil with Peter, James, and John on the mount of transfiguration (Mk 9:1-8). On the eve of the passion He agonized in Gethsemane (Mk 14:32). In their turn the disciples and Mary kept vigil before Pentecost (Acts 1 : 14; 2:2). The newborn Christian community prayed for its leader Peter when he was in prison (Acts 12:5, 12), and before ordaining presbyters (4:23). Paul continued this custom on his missions (16:25). The significance of such vigils was indicated by Jesus Himself in many of His discourses and parables in which He urged his followers to "Watch, for you know Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 327 not the day nor the hour!" (Mt 25:13). If we look at the well-known work of Joachim Jeremias, The Parables of Jesus (rev. ed.; New York: Scribner's, 1963) we notice that he classifies the parables in ten groups: "1. Now is the Day of Salvation; 2. God's Mercy for Sinners; 3. The Great Assurance; 4. The Imminence of Catastrophe; 5. It May Be Too Late; 6. The Challenge of the Hour; 7. Realized Discipleship; 8. The Via Dolorosa and Exaltation of the Son of Man; 9. The Consummation; 10. Parabolic Actions." These very titles indicate how close all these themes are to the vigil concept, although groups 4, 5, and 6 are particularly pertinent. The parables constantly say: "Wake hp! Watch !" When we look at the Epistles we find that Peter and Paul and the others have the same pastoral advice. For example: Stay sober and alert. Your opponent the devil is prowling like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Resist him, solid in yo6r faith, realiz!ng that the brotherhood of believers is undergoing the same sufferings throughout the world. The God of all grace, who called you to his everlasting glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish those who have suffered a little while. Dominion be his throughout the ages. Amen (I Pt 5:8-10). Asregards specific times and moments, brothers, we do not need to write you; you know very well that the day of the Lord is coming like a thief in the night. Just when people are saying, "Peace and security," ruin will fall. You are not in the dark, brothers, that the day should catch you off guard, like a thief. No, all of you are children of light and of the day. We belong neither to darkness nor to night; therefore, let us not be asleep like the rest, but awake and sober! Sleepers sleep by night, and drunkards drink by night. We who live by day must be alert (1 Thes 5:1-8). The Theology of the Vigil To discover the the.ological meaning of these New Testament actions and teachings, we must begin with the obvious fact that a vigil is eschatological prayer. It is directed toward the future, toward Christ's victory over sin and death through Resurrection and Ascension, toward the coming of God's kingdom on earth through the mission of His Church, toward the universal transformation of the cosmos at Christ's Second Coming when all things will be summed up in Him in the glory of the Father (Phil 2:9-11 ; Col 1:15-20: Eph 1:18-23). A vigil is expectation in faith, hope, and yearning love directed to the future and eternal life. Its heart is joy, not the joy. of fulfillment, but the bitter-sweet joy of anticipation, a hunger and thirsting for the justice of God's reign. This is why a vigil humanly is a struggle to keep awake, to arouse ourselves from the oppression of drowsiness. The Apostles could not keep awake with Jesus in the Garden, because although "the spirit is willing, the .flesh is weak" (Mt 26:41). Luke says they slept because they were "exhausted with grief" (22:45). The weariness, discouragement, apathy, the numbing dread of waiting! Who has not waited in fear in a doctor's office? Waiting can be still more dreadful when we wait for some great joy, in growing doubt that it will ever come. During such painful times we all seek to escape the tension, to drug ourselves with some empty distraction or even sleep and forgetfulness. It is against this spiritual sleep that Jesus warns us. We must live in active hope, in wide-awake awareness, because in truth Jesus has already come. God is already present in our world if our eyes of faith are wide-open to sense His presence. The symbolism of "watching in the night" is simple and profound. This "night" is the world in the Johannine sense: "He was in the world, and through him the world was made, yet the world did not know who he was" (Jn 1 : 10). The world is humanity not in its earthliness or secularity, but in its hard-heartedness, self-centeredness, self-righteous pride and aggression which blind it to the present LOrd: 328 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 "Men loved darkness rather than the light, because their deeds were wicked" (Jn 3:19). It is in this night where God is present but man is absent from Him, in this shadow of death, that the Christian lives by faith and hope. Another element of the symbolism of the vigil is the silence, when the rush of activities, the vanity of human plans and boasted accomplishments, the flood of sights and sounds advertising expensive but delusive pleasures, conceal from us the reality of the void, the desert of human despair. Existentialism has revived for us this aspect of vigil, the search for authenticity. The Christian enters the desert of silence not to escape, but driven by the Holy Spirit to confront the Evil Spirit as Jesus was (Mk 1:12-3). Night has its peace and cessation from exterior work, but it is also the time of spiritual combat with angels, both evil and good. Tobiah struggled with an evil spirit and came out whole (Tobit 8); and Jacob with a good one, but was crippled (Gen 32:23-33). Night is man's encounter with the hidden levels of his personality and with the subtle cosmic influences that profoundly affect his life, yet which are covered over by his day-time activities. Watching, therefore, is not a mere passive waiting, but an active preparation, struggle, reflection, purgation, integration, simplification of life, requiring the use of the deepest human energies, it is an activity not at the periphery of human life where most of our "doing and making" take place, but in the central abyss of our being. Again, because it is eschatological, a vigil is also a time of judgment. Many of the Psalms speak of this nocturnal examination of conscience: 1 am wearied by sighing: every night I flood my bed with weeping. I drench my couch with my tears; My eyes are dimmed with sorrow. They have aged because of all my foes (Ps 6:7-8). I bless the Lord who counsels me; even in the night my heart exhorts me (16:7). i will remember you upon my couch, and through the night-watches I will meditate on you (63:7). By night my hands are stretched out with flagging; my soul refuses comfort. When l remember God, I moan; when i ponder, my spirit grows faint. You keep my eyes watchful: I am troubled and i cannot speak. I consider the days of old; the years long past I remember. In the night I meditate in my heart; [ ponder, and my spirit broods. "Will the Lord reject forever and nevermore be favorable?" (77:4-8). In a vigil we face ourselves in truth, we accept the punishment of remorse, we are freed from the burden of illusions. Even when our conscience does not reproach us, we come to understand that we are children of Adam, part of the inhuman race of men. Yet as Christians we do not come to judgment so much in fear as in petitiqn to be healed. Purgatory begins for us, a merciful cleansing through hope and longing, because a vigil is penitential, expiatory, redemptive. This is not because God exacts a payment for sin (it is only the unjust steward who thought God a hard master), but because He requires us to share in the work of repairing the damage we have done to others and to ourselves. "God's glory is man fully alive," as St. Irenaeus said, and the restoration of God's glory by penance is nothing other than the healing of man and of the broken relations between men by forgiveness. How does a vigil repair the human world? It does so first by healing the watcher himself, since in this purgatory he learns to forgive others and to lay down .the burden of his own follies. But a vigil is also communal. It is a time when together, at least in spirit, we pray for one another and share one another's burden of guilt and sorrow. Today, some people think prayer is only an excuse not to help others Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 329 through action, but even after we act we may find that our neighbor is still alienated from us by hidden barriers that nothing but prayer can ever pierce. Furthermore, a vigil is communal because it is a witness. Who has not been strengthened to know that another watches in prayer for him with a love that is ever awake? A vigil also always implies the coming dawn, the Resurrection, the rising Sun of Justice. At the heart of the vigil is the well fueled lamp of love, as Jesus indicated in the Parable of the Ten Virgins. He also asked: "When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?" (Lk 18:8). Matthew speaks of "charity" (24-12). The greatest human prdblem is to persevere in faithful love, a love that increases until the kingdom of God kindles like a consuming fire (Lk 12:49). This silently burning light in the night vigil is a fire stronger than the waters of death: "For stern as death is love, relentless as the grave in its devotion; its flames are a blazing fire" (Song of Songs8:6). The Paschal fire is the liturgical symbol of this "living flame of love," which John of the Cross and all the mystics tell us begins to burn in the dark night of the spirit. The Psychology of Later Life Recent developments in developmental ego-psychology, exemplified in the work of Erik Erikson, show us that the phases of human life all have or can have a positive meaning, including old age. It will suffice here to quote a passage from Erikson's Identity: Youth and Crisis (New York: Norton, 1968, pp. 139-40): In the aging person who has taken care of things and people and has adapted himself to the triumphs and disappointments of being, by necessity, the originator of others and the generator of things and ideas - only in him the fruit of the seven stages gradually ripens. I know no better word for it than integrity. Lacking a clear definition, I shall point to a few attributes of this stage of mind. It is the ego's accrued assurance of its proclivity for order and meaning - an emotional integration faithful to the image-bearers of the past and ready to take, and eventually to renounce, leadership in the present. It is the acceptance of one's one and only life cycle and of the people who have become significant to it as something that had to be and that, by necessity; permitted of no substitutions. It thus means a new and different love of one's parents, free of the wish that they should have been different, and an acceptance of the fact that one's life is one's own responsibility. It is a sense of comradeship with men and women of distant times and of different pursuits who have created orders and objects and sayings conveying human dignity and love. A meaningfulold age, then, preceding a possible terminal senility, serves the need for that integrated heritage which gives indispensable perspective to the life cycle. Strength here takes the form of that detached yet active concern with life bounded by death, which we call ~wisdom in its many connotations from ripened "wits" to accumulated knowledge, mature judgment, and inclusive understanding. Not that each man can evolve wisdom for himself. For most, a living tradition provides the essence of it. But the end of the cycle also evokes "ultimate concerns" for what chance man may have to transcend the limitations of his identity and his often tragic or bitterly tragicomic engagement in his one and only life cycle within the sequence of generations. Yet great philosophical and religious systems dealing with ultimate individuation seem to have remained responsibly related to the cultures and civilizations of their times. Seeking trans-cendence by renunciation, they yet remain ethically concerned with the "maintenance of the ¯ world." By the same token, a civilization can be measured by the meaning which it gives to the full cycle of life, for such meaning, or the lack of it, cannot fail to reach into the beginning of the next generation, and thus into the chances of others to meet ultimate questions with some clarity and strength. Erikson points out that this achievement of integrity implies that the person has the courage to retain his own individuality and life style even in the face of changing times: Forheknowsthat an individual life is the coincidence of but one life cycle with but one 330 Review for Religious, Volume 3 I, 1972/3 segment of history, and that for him all human integrity stands and fails with the one style of integrity of which he partakes (p. 140). He also points out that when old age is not used positively, it will end negatively in disgust and despair: Such a despair, is often hidden behind a show of disgust, a misanthropy, or chronic contemptuous displeasure with particular institutions and particular people - a disgust and a displeasure which, where not allied with the vision of a superior life, only signify the individual's contempt of himself (ibid.) From a Christian point of view, therefore, the period of vigil for the Lord's Coming is a precious gift. It is not merely for the aged, but is a feature of every Christian life. All of us, young and old, must have some vigil in our life, some time of reflection, purification, integration. It should begin early, so that old age will only be its culmination and intensification. It is not something separated from active life but is rather a harvest time in which the fruit of experience ~is reaped, assimilated, and made part of our total personality. The Paschal mystery means for us that although this world and its life must pass, yet nothing experienced here in faith will ever be lost, no genuine tie in love will ever be severed. In Christ our life will be summed up, "recapitulated," and transformed in the eternal life of the Trinity. Death is not a closing in of the horizon, but an opening on an ever wider vista - a narrow door that opens on an expanding landscape. The end of the film 2001: A Space Odyssey is one way of saying it. Therefore, the vigil time of life is not just "waiting to die," but is a process of integration in which we "get it all together," discovering in all that we have done and suffered an inner core of meaning. Moreover, we have the obligation of letting others who are in the midst or the beginning of life know there is meaning to what seems to them a mad scramble, a rat-race. The generation gap can never be closed in time, because the wisdom of experience cannot be expressed in the language of inexperience. Yet something can be communicated and must be communicated to the young, and that is hope. Only those seniors who have achieved peace, and who prove it by letting the young live their own lives, are able to give a truly credible sign of hope. The Apostolate of Vigil In view of this psychological and theological meaning of vigil and of later life as a time of vigil, it seems to me that we can frame a better practical understanding of the so-called "retirement problem." (1) In order to obliterate the "retirement" idea, I think we should institute both in name and fact a new apostolate in our communities, the Apostolate of Vigil. It is a genuine apostolate in the wider sense in which traditionally the contemplative life was considered the supreme apostolate, because contemplatives perform a special service of intercessary prayer, reparation, and witness to the transcendent, eschato-logical goals of the Christian life. Lately, active communities are recognizing this need by establishing "houses of prayer." It seems to me that the notion of "vigil" adds to the concept of "prayer" that "thrust into the future" which is so necessary to our time that suffers from "future shock" and "existential despair:" The work of this apostolate consists in several related elements: (a) Reflection. Erikson's emphasis on old age as a time of integration indicates that those in the apostolate of vigil must give themselves seriously to reflection. In a recent movie Kotch, Walter Matthau brilliantly portrays a retired business man who annoys everyone by his constant, apparently disconnected garrulity. Yet as we Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 331 listen to him, we see that he is still a mentally very active man, more alert ~han his rather stupid son and daughter-in-law. He is reflecting over his reading, his life, his successes and failures, and is distilling real wisdom from them. He looks at life with a tolerant yet discerning eye. He contemplates its beauty with delight and tries to express it in language that has its real poetry. But no one listens. On tlie other hand, another movie, 1 Never Sang for My Father, shows the tragedy of another elderly "successful" business man who cannot find the clue to the real meaning of his life, but endlessly moves in the circle o~ the old, bitter thoughts of his rejected youth. Some of our attempts at community dialogue have left the old silent, because we are always talking about the future. Perhaps we should try to have some times of discussion devoted to the needs of the senior members to talk about their past. (b) Prayer. This should not only be intercessory and reparative, as I have already indicated, but also a prayer of praise and thanksgiving. If we need time to "make a thanksgiving" after Holy Communion, don't we also need time to give thanks for the banquet of life? Undoubtedly older religious will want to continue the forms of prayer which have formed the basis of their lives, and, as Erikson says in the quotation above, this is a part of their personal integrity. At the same time, they may welcome the opportunity to deepen these accustomed forms of prayer if they are given opportunities for better theological.and liturgical instruction on the values which they contain. A prayer group made up of older priests, with which I am acquainted, is finding the new "Liturgy of the Hours" a delight. It retains the basic elements of the older "Divine Office" but in a form which makes recitation more meditative and leisurely. (c) Counsel. This is a difficult point which requires a good deal of study and experimentation. In traditional societies the elders were the counselors, yet today it is argued by Margaret Mead and others that the young really have more experience than their seniors. Furthermore, it is said that elderly counselors incline to an authoritarian moralism that is contrary to the non-directive methods of modern counseling. On the other hand it is certainly true that some older people have real assets as counselors. They have time to listen, a broad sympathy based on their own self-knowledge and the experience of human struggle, and a calm, hopeful attitude, sceptical of facile solutions, yet free of pani~ about the crises of life. There is no reason that such persons cannot still learn to improve their technique as.counselors if given some additional training and supervision, Their tendency to moralize or over-direct is more a result of their desire to help, than an incapacity to learn a more psychological approach. I suggest that while not all older people will make good counse.lors, many will if.given some additional training. (d) Suffering. The physical and mental decline of later life tends to become the focus of many wasted days and years, unless this suffering is understood as an element of Christian experience not merely to be endured but to be used creatively. The Cross is a means of integration and fulfillment, as it was for Jesus who said: "It is completed" (Jn 19:.30). To make this suffering a spiritual resource, however, requires spiritual guidance and support. In Gethsemane Jesus was strengthened by an angel (Lk 22:43). The flagging energies of the sick and aged make it difficult for them to exert themselves to prayer. They can relapse into a routine of gradual decline and apathy. Consequently, it is important to help them use the energies they have to grow personally. (e) Small Services. Today religious orders rightly seek to free themselves from wasting their energies on "trivialities." Nevertheless, we need to realize that nothing 332 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 humanizes our lives so much as the small personal services that make us feel loved and that free us from details for more creative work. In any religious community its life and its apostolate can be immensely aided by persons who have the time, the tact, the humility to render some of these small services either within the community circle or as a feature of particular external apostolates. For example, how much a really good receptionist contributes to the work of any organization! Jesus spoke of the "cup of cold water only" given in His name (Mt 10:42) and of the "widow'smite"(Mk 12:41-4) to indicate the dignity and beauty of such small services given in love. They exemplify the first beatitude of poverty of spirit. (f) Hope. The culminating task of the Apostolate of Vigil is the witness of genuine hope, free of "future shock," of gloom, of cynicism, or panic. We need only to think of the example given the Church and the world by the aged John XXlII to realize what a rainbow sign (Gen 9:11-7) this witness of hope can be, giving life and renewal to the whole community. (2) A second step we need to take is to make clear that this Apostolate of Vigil is not exclusively for the old, but an option for all religious at any age, as a permanent or temporary apostolate. There are young and middle-aged religious who will find that their charism is more contemplative than active, or that at least for certain periods of their life they need to '~be" rather than to "do or make." We should ¯ make clear also that age does not automatically qualify a person for this apostolate, or make it his or her single choice. Some senior religious will still find themselves more inclined to a "second career" or to "semi-activity" and should be given this option if it is at all a realistic choice. Finally, we should avoid identifying this apostolate with the problem of residence. It is true that the "villa" may be one center of such an apostolate, but some religious will prefer to carry it on in houses of prayer or active communities. (3) Since this apostolate requires special qualifications other than mere age, it also requires proper training, facilities, and evaluation, exactly as any other apostolate. When a religious is considering choosing it, he or she should discuss the matter with a qualified counselor. The community itself should have definite plans for developing, evaluating~ and revising this apostolate in the formation of which theological, liturgical, psychological, and medical expertise should be used. (4) Finally, proper recognition should be given to those who sincerely engage in this apostolate, so that they know and feel that they truly contribute to the community's life and work. One form of recognition is, of course, a clear financial arrangement by which it is apparent to all that persons in this apostolate are not a "burden" to the community but an asset. This is no mere legal fiction because: (a) This apostolate is a fundamental service to the Church and the world which every religious community has the obligation to provide in some form or other. (b) In actual fact a great part of the free gifts made to any religious community come because the laity look to the assistance of that community's prayer and penance. (c) Religious by their contributed services in their years of "active apostolate" have certainly invested enough in the community to deserve in justice the opportunity to engage in the Apostolate of Vigil if they choose. Some communities solve this problem by paying each local community of which the religious is a member a regular monthly salary as her contribution to its financial upkeep. An Obvious Objection An honest doubt about the idea I have outlined naturally arises. How can we speak of an apostolate for a really senile person who has lost memory, emotional Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 333 control, clarity of mind and purpose? What of those who really are "just waiting to die," living only on a vegetative, custodial level? I can only suggest two points for reflection: (1) Today certain psychologists and some young thinkers of the counter culture are raising sharp questions about the way our work ethic culture tends to define "mental incapacity" or "mental illness." They point out that in many cultures persons we label as "crazy" or "mentally defective" are considered "wise," "prophetic," or "sacred." Jesus spoke of the wisdom of the child, and St. Paul of the wisdom of those whom the world calls fools. St. Luke pictures those two ancient prophets, Simeon and Anna, who alone recognized the Messiah. I certainly would not subscribe to overromantic ideas about the wisdom of the senile, but I do not think that we should identify the value of human personality with the well-being of the brain. The senile person can still be capable of faith, hope, and charity. The process of spiritual purgation and integration which goes on in later life no doubt can reach its completion even when life has reached its ebb tide. (2) In any case our real problem is not the extremely senile patient for whom nothing remains but custodial care. We will give that care gladly and it raises no great puzzles. The real geriatric problems are the much larger number of religious who are still very much alive, perhaps with many years ahead of them. We must help them live these years as a vigil of hope, of effective prayer for the Lord's Coming and for the establishment of His kingdom on our earth. DAVID A. FLEMING, S.M. Formation and the Discovery of Identity [David A. Fleming, S.M., is a faculty member of Marianist Seholastieate; 2700 Cincinnati Avenue; San Antonio, Texas 78284.1 People in formation today tend to feel uncomfortably like bridges. At one end they cling to the solid but sometimes arid rock of a tradition, while at the other they try to find some footing in the shifting sands of new styles of life and experience. Meanwhile they often feel that people are walking all over them from both directions and fighting their battles on top of them, while they themselves look down at the gaping abyss beneath. Luckily, though, many of us like being bridges, despite the discomforts involved, and we feel that the attempt to reach across the gap is more than worth the effort. Our problem, our sense of battles and abysses, is, 1 think, related to a major cultural shift in the understanding and expression of religious values. This shift became an experiential reality for me not too long ago one evening when I attended two parties in religious communities, one - frequented by older members - celebrating the jubilee 9f a much respected member of my province, and the other a community party in a house of formation celebrating the end of a semester. It struck me very forcibly that what I was doing was observing the ways in which two distinct cultures celebrate. To attempt to summarize cultural differences is a risky undertaking. No one is ever satisfied by someone from the outside attempting to sum up basic commit-ments and ways of seeing. And, of course, none of us is ever or should ever be completely "outside"; our summaries are inevitably colored by our own commit-ments and viewpoints. But if we are to talk meaningfully of the situation in which the person involved in formation finds himself today, it is necessary at least to draw up a schematized and admittedly unnuanced outline of the very real contrasts that govern our situation. By culture I mean simply the sum-total of the social values, ways of thinking, means of expressing human relationships, and habits of life shared by a whole group of people (whether tribes in Africa, villages in France, or social groupings in America). At the two parties I recognized two contrasting ways of celebrating, two approaches to festivity. The older party was characterized by a happy convention-ality. People told the old jokes and sang the old songs, reminisced about the way things used to be, shared common memories about the persons and mores of a true but somewhat idealized past. The younger one was colored by creative expression (new skits, new games and ideas) and fantasy (making up new stories and new songs). At both parties, there was much sharing of laughter at things normally taken very seriously. The cultural differences are not restricted, of course, to behavior at parties. The two groups' means of expressing values are notably different. Both are preoccupied with fidelity, but the older group stresses fidelity to an established role, believing Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 335 that a man's true fulfillment and the greatest service he can give lie in being as faithfully and totally and interiorly as possible what he is called to be by the work assigned to him: a good teacher, pastor, cook, or whatever. For the younger group fidelity means, above all, a continuous search to discover and live out what is one's own unique contribution. True fulfillment for this younger group means the discovery of self, which will then lead to a service to society which may or may not correspond to any pre-established role. The older group stresses perseverance in holding to the role that is given, while the younger group stresses honesty with oneself, even though that honesty may not lead very quickly to stability. The older group sees forgetfulness of self and modesty as prime virtues for relating with others, while the younger group stresses openness, the willingness to let oneself be influenced by the thought and action of the other. The older group stresses the necessity for each individual to stick to what he thinks is right, no matter what social pressures he may be subjected to. The younger one feels that communion with the group is a prime value; although he too knows how to withstand social pressures, they prompt him more quickly to re-examine his position, rather than stiffen his resistance to corruption. The older group speaks much about preserving and enriching a tradition that comes out of the past, while the younger one is more oriented towards building a future that may or may not spring very obviously from the past. The experienced seek a carefully limited, realistic, but wholehearted commitment to the goals they have accepted. This approach seems narrow to the young; fascinated by a multiplicity of goods, they tend rather to become overcommitted to too many things, while at the same time being only partially committed to any one of them. The patterns of thought of the two groups are also quite diverse. For the older, truth is to be achieved above all by method, by a disciplined and patterned application of long-tested paradigms; for the young it is to be sought in dialectic, in conversation and interchange, more by group experience than by individual reflection. The older person wants someone to give him answers to his questions; the younger one simply looks for a person to share the process of discovery. The older man has been educated more in a rhetorical tradition that takes a position asa given and then finds all the supporting reasons and arguments; the younger man's education has increasingly stressed a heuristics that is concerned above all with the search for the position that is (existentially) true. For the older man, knowledge tends more to be a possession (the kind of knowledge denoted by the French verb (savoir), something that is dominated, assimilated, and put to profitable use. For the younger man it tends to be a mode of being-related (conna~tre), a personal or quasi-personal communion. The older man looks in his thinking for stability and attempts to stick to the essence of things; the younger man is taken up with the process and is unimpressed by thinking that relies on stable effsences. Discursive thinking and logic tend to be the natural realm of'the older man; symbol thinking, poetry, and art, that of the younger. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, the ways of relating to people and forming friendships differ between the two groups. The way to an older man's heart is to work together with him at a common project perceived as meaningful. The way to a younger man's heart is to listen to him creatively, to share one's own experiences - a process of much dialogue and many hours of deep conversation. Obviously this outline of the two approaches is quite schematized, and most of us - old or young - are somewhere in-between. The purpose of this rather cavalier summary and contrast has been to point up that the two approaches exist (although 336 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 hardly ever in a "pure" state), that they are, in fact, very different - a difference such as has not often been experienced between any two successive generations in human history - and to intimate, by expressing the values of each in a positive way, that both approaches are very open to living the message of the gospel. It is evident that we have two contrasting ways of being faithful, and we who work in the formation of young religious find ourselves very much in a mediatorial, reconciliational role between them. Our role in this cultural situation is, I believe, best conceptualized today as being of service to individuals and communities in the discovery of an identity. Our most obvious task is to aid the indivMual in developing a social identity with the concrete group which he or she is in the process of joining. Because of the cultural crossroads where we find ourselves at this point in history, however, it is unrealistic to reduce the whole of our role to "socialization" within a given congregation. Neither the individual nor the life of the group can remain static, and a true commitment to the group can happen only as the individual finds within the group a true aid to releasing his own creative potential and an increasingly rich field for expressing that potential. A person can develop an identity with a group only on the basis of a strong personal identity, and. strong personal identity can be developed, paradoxic-ally, only in an interplay with a social group. The person working in formation must therefore deal with both poles of identity - the group and the personal. Hence a second, by no means subordinate, part of our role is to be of service to the young person who comes to us in the absorbing work of his own personal search for identity. Formation people, though they tend. to be "generalists" rather than specialists, should, if anything, be specialists in "human development." Although we should only begin working with young people who have already developed a fairly advanced degree of security, self-identity, and clear-headedness, their entry into religious life, at whatever age, is always part of a search for personal identity and identity within society, and we must be prepared to be of service in that extremely personal search. Given the state of constant evolution in which we more and more consciously find ourselves, the first aspect mentioned above, that of identification with or true membership in the order or congregation can no longer be conceived at any level as identification with a status quo. Commitment to religious life today means rather a commitment to God working in a concrete group of people who are pledged to grow and evolve together, to share the consequences of their lives and decisions. Membership means the willingness to keep growing together, to keep sharing consequences, and to let others within the group continue to influence our lives. Joining religious life is less a flight into a specific desert (for deserts can become rather comfortable, as full of fleshpots as any Egyptian oasis) than a going on pilgrimage together, a common movement toward the God who speaks in our lives and calls us forward through history. Religious life, if it is to give its most telling witness to mankind today, must become (as Schillebeeckx has put it) a '~sacrament of dialogue," a living sign, open and visible to men, of the fact that people can live together and share the search for God's concrete will for them in the present, and that this common search can become a fascinating, absorbing, and fulfilling life project. If we view religious life in this dynamic, search-centered way, it becomes increasingly evident that formation must involve a great deal of contact between the candidates and the experienced members. A decision to throw in one's lot with a given order or congregation can be made only on the basis of knowing and Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 337 experiencing the sacrament of dialogue as it really is. Isolated formation houses no longer fill the need, at least not for the totality of the period of basic formation. They were viable in a day when the problem of formation was simply that of taking on an accepted and rather standardized culture. They are good at providing the deeply spiritual motivation that is alone adequate to sustain a person in the challenges which the communal search for God demands. But they do not give an experience of the communal search to which the community as a whole is pledging itself. They rather give another experience - that of a group of peers struggling with commitment together - an experience which will happen anyway, with or without an isolated house of formation, and one that can too easily create a kind of sub-culture, spiritually and emotionally alienated from the group as a whole. They accentuate cultural differences, rather than helping all - young and old -go beyond them to a deeper unity. Identification with the group is complicated today by the problem that many of us are in fact probably better at being of service to personal growth than at helping develop social roles. We tend to have some competence in psychology, none at all in sociology. Yet as each individual grows personally, he becomes more conscious of his unique contributions and personal richness, and he usually discovers the fact that there are no ready-made social roles into which he can easily fit. Because of the rapid change in our society, many of the traditional service roles which religious have filled (teaching, nursing, pastoral work) are themselves in search of an identity, and many religious want to alter these service roles in significant ways. In this crucial area of both personal and community growth, it is above all important that as much of the whole community as possible be involved in developing and living with social roles. Our own personal identity, that of our younger members, and that of the order or congregation as a whole are inextricably entangled. They can either enrich or discourage one another. Rather than a pledge to adopt unquestioningly a given service'role, a commitment today means a pledge to share in mutual growth as we reexamine our traditional service roles. In turning to the question of our service in the area of each one's personal quest for identity, we will find it helpful first to consider the psychological characteristics of the typical young person with whom we have to deal today, his problems and prospects. The most striking strength of the typical candidate we meet today is his sensitivity. Impressionable, responsive to friendship, and anxious to give a service that is personally perceived, he is capable of developing a pers6nality that will be richly responsive to people. The weakness of our candidate is the typical weakness of a sensitive person. He is quite unsure of himself, uncertain of the best way to respond to the heavy pressures of the experience in which he becomes so deeply involved. He does not take all kinds of values, ways of acting and thinking, for granted. He has grown up in a scattered, fragmented world, and he has not yet had the time and the experience to build up a very firm personal stance - a coherent and well-articulated system of values, beliefs, and ways of acting. Because of his own insecurity and his sensitivity to influences, he tends to waver from position to position with what (for us) seems like astonishing rapidity. Growing up in a period when informational input has been reaching and surpassing overload capacity, our candidate has become aware of far more than we knew at his age, but he has simply not had the stabilizing and strengthening influence that we now enjoy nor even the stabilizing influence that we had at the same stage of our own growth. Hence he is very cautious about taking stands. He wants to continue to be "open" to experience, and he does not want to close too many doors too fast. He has come to 338 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 religious life because he is struggling for an identity that is out of the normal; he will not be satisfied with the ready-made roles which society presents so per-suasively to him. Hence he is, in his own peculiar way, cautious about making commitments, and he wavers through many possibilities before finally determining upon one. Our candidate's experience of the past twenty years has taught him that institutions and ideologies fall with great regularity, and that those who build their lives upon them do not survive. What he can perhaps trust is people. He is person-oriented, deeply conscious of his need for friends. He may find trust difficult; but once he has achieved it, he easily becomes dependent, and he is unashamed of finding strength in the support of his friends. He .is less concerned with building an institution, or an ideology than a friendship. He frequently seems to us to have an "affective" problem. His needs are enormous (or so it seems for those of us who have not lived through his cultural experience) in the area of personal friendship and support. He tends to think that the satisfaction of these needs will solve all his problems in life. He can easily be moved, even manipulated (and here we must be careful to respect his person), by motives of personal friendship, less easily by other motivations. In helping our candidate in his search for identity, we are often tempted to solve his problem for him, to shower on him the rich fruits of our own experience and expect him to respond with profound gratitude. Actually though, the nature of his problems (perhaps the nature of all human problems) is such that only he can solve them. Only he can discover and create an identity for himself. Our genuine help can be in sharing the process of discovery with him; in asking sensitive, helpful, but challenging questions; in sharing, but in a non-coercive way, something of our own search and some of its outcomes. In her fascinating little book Culture and Commitment, Margaret Mead has pointed out that the days of the "postfigurative culture" (the one in which the adults are supposed to have answered all questions and to provide a reproducible pattern for the young to imitate with exactitude) are gone. She believes that we are in a "cofigurative culture," one in which everyone, both young and old, determine the solutions to their problems and the answers to their questions by learning from their peers, with the danger of never being able to open up to an experience that is foreign to them. Our future lies, she believes, in a "prefigurative culture," one in which different age-groups and people with quite different experience can work together in the process of discovering new answers. Youth can contribute the special wisdom of its sensitivity, lack of complacency, and pertinent questioning; experience can enrich the dialogue by sharing, in a genuine search, some of the answers and guideposts it has met on its pilgrimage. Even though many of us still like to think we are quite young, we are on the side of "experience" when it comes to formation. The best that we can do for our candidate is engage in an intelligent, open, ongoing dialogue with him. One of the major problem arias that this dialogue will have to confront is that of authority, freedom, and independence. Because of our typical candidate's lack of security and wavering personal identity, he can become very dependent. He can mistakenly think that he has solved his identity problem by patterning his life after a respected elder. Thus he may be, in the judgment of many, a "model religious" for a time, until he discovers that what he was trying to be was not really himself. When the dependence has been considerable, especially when it has begun at an early stage of maturity and resulted in a rather far-reaching superego acceptance of Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 339 norms that are not internalized (an inauthentic identity plastered on from the outside), the young person, if he is healthy, will sooner or later rebel against the artificiality. More or less intensely and for a longer or shorter time, he will rej6ct much of his past experience, what he might call the "system" of religious life, the structures which characterize it, and possibly even some of the people, especially those with whom he has most closely identified. This rejection will be all the stronger if it is the first significa.nt one, if it has not already taken place in regard to home and parents, for it seems to be an almost inevitable part of growing up in the tensions of present-day society. In this area we need, therefore, to be especially careful. Most of us tend, like the generality of human beings, to be over-protective. We enjoy having someone a bit dependent on us. It is, in fact, a beautiful experience of spiritual fatherhood or motherhood, but it is not something which we, as celibate persons, can cling to. At this point a caution against "overcounseling" deserves special attention. Even though the ongoing dialogue is, I am convinced, of the essence of our task, it is sometimes possible to use counseling as a means of manipulating the young person's emotions, of forcing a growth for which he is not yet ready, of protecting him from learning by experience, and of re-enforcing the tendency toward dependence rather than helping him achieve freedom and self-actualization. Recognizing and accepting the psychodynamics of rejection enables us to maintain enough distance to be helpful rather than compound the problem. But this recognition should not lead us to discount the criticisms of the young person. The period of rejection may be a very special occasion for surfacing some real and deep-going problems, and it may point out some genuine weaknesses of our structures, our demands, and our means of formation. Creative listening and discernment of spirits at this critical juncture may be painful, but it may also help us see the )/bung person far more clearly and truly than ever before, and it may in turn reveal to us some of the deepest-penetrating dynamics of our own interaction. In working through this critical state, many young people come to the conviction that religious life is not what they want, that it does not correspond to the authentic identity which they. finally see themselves developing. They may often seem wrong, and we may sometimes realize better than they that their decision is simply part of the rejection process. At best we can keep it from becoming a particularly bitter or scarring part. Nevertheless, some of the most painful decisions we have to face come at this critical period. It is the strains and stresses of this period that especially urge the wisdom of taking candidates at an older, more mature period, since the strength of the rejection is more or less directly in proportion to the levels of inauthenticity and false docility that have to be uncovered and the depth with which the false super-ego identity has penetrated the person. But° we must ask ourselves whether our tendency to defer entrance is in each case a matter of prudence or pusillanimity. The dynamics of identity growth happen in late adolescence in a never-to-be-repeated fashion. The period can be so painful precisely because it is a time of so much growth. Many can develop a true personal i~lentity as religious if we can work sympathetically and understandingly with them through this difficult period. Once the person has passed this crisis, he usually begins to experience the need for building again, for discovery of means to live his religious commitment that correspond to his new found, more authentic self. For example, he will often reject prayer structures at one point only to find himself later, but more genuinely, seeking again to find true means to express his prayerful attachment to God, in 340 Review fog Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 concert with the community. The end result can be very creative - but oniy, of course, if we know how to keep concerns and realities alive without stifling the individual's periods of docility, rejection, and new growth. Our best role, throughout the whole process, I am convinced, is to engage in an ongoing dialogue with the person, to serve as one who can sympathetically share the process, avoiding as much as possible the danger of becoming an object of too great dependence and thus the eventual target of rebellion. Our most useful help will be to aid the young person to handle his dependence, his rebellion, and his new, more authentic independence, to help him find his true place within life and especially within our congregation. We can facilitate the search; we cannot do the discovering for him. The lines between dependence, independence, helpful ques-tioning, and coercive probing are so delicate at this period and so different for each individual that we must face the fact that we will sometimes succeed and sometimes fail. That is part of the joy and suffering of our mission. Another major problem area that we must face in our ongoing dialogue with our candidates is that of psychosexual identity. Here I am of course thinking more than ever in a male context, and those who work with women must make whatever applications they find appropriate. The problem seems to be somewhat different for them. At any rate, our typical male candidate today is not very' sure of his masculinity or even of what masculinity means. Popular society gives him some images of the male hero which he is rather quick intellectually to reject, but which he cannot easily replace: the strong man, excelling in sports, never expressing powerful emotions, capable of handling his drink and his women. The young man today is caught between this image, which it is hard for him to avoid, and his value system, which calls into question most of this image and lays a heavy stress on the goodness of emotion and sensitivity, which makes him very conscious of his own needs and his own very active life in these areas. He is part of the so-called "generation without a father," for his relations with his father have probably been rather occasional and distant. He feels very much the lack of a strong masculine image, and he even doubts at times his own true virility. If this young man is to undertake a life project involving celibacy, he must be able to reassure himself that he can find friends to fill his affective needs. He is horrified by the prospect - one which he is quick to detect, accurately or not, about him - of the middle-aged religious who has no real friends. He can be willing to undertake celibacy only if he is able to experience it as a unique way of loving others. He feels that it is as great a sin to be celibate without love as it is to have sexual relations without love. Very conscious of the eros within himself, he has to grapple with ways of discovering, releasing, and expressing that eros that corres-pond to the identity which he is seeking as a religious. In simpler terms, he wants to learn how to love (as all young inert do), but if he i,s to be a religious, he must learn to love in such a way that his focus is sharing the Spirit - in such a way that the peace and joy and goodness of God is the focus of his interchange with people. He can be attracted by the ideal of a love that is selfless, but not by one that is isolated or theoretical; the selflessness he seeks, if he is capable of celibate love, is the self-emptying of moving together with other human beings beyond the self and towards the God who calls us on. Too often we older religious have biocked the unique experience of celibate love in our hearts. We may have been celibate, but we have perhaps not always been fully loving. Sometimes the experience of wanting to be possessive, protective, jealous, and competitive, to dominate another person instead of freeing him, may Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 341 be an almost inevitable part of learning to love and to find self in relation to God. The aim of the genuine celibate is to share the Spirit and not bind the persqn to ourselves. The usual challenge for the young person is learning to share the SPIRIT, rather than himself; the challenge for many of us is learning to SHARE that Spirit whom we find within ourselves but often tend to stifle. Only by finding his identity as a celibate person in the midst of genuine love and friendship can a young religious man today achieve a secure psychosexual identity. Much of our work consists of helping him through that painful process - not, again, by expecting him to repeat our own experience, but rather by sharing with him in as understanding a way as possible the progress of his search, Many other areas would have to be touched if our aim were to exhaust the questions that confront the young person in formation: discovery of a meaningful relationship with God in prayer and in service, growth in self-awareness and self-confidence, discovery of identity as a worker and a professional person, and so forth. But what has been said suffices to show how the person who works in formation today is in a very delicate situation, one that can be riddled with anxiety - the anxiety of not knowing exactly where we are going, having a sense of the fragility of human life and commitment, recognizing the precarious religious identity of many of our candidates and longing to protect it, but still having to deal creatively with each one's personal quest and realizing that only he, under the guidance of the Spirit, can fashion his own life. If I may conclude, in Pauline fashion, with a catalogue of the virtues to which we are called, I believe they include a buoyant, persevering zest for life; a willingness to live with some anxiety, to let things and people be as they are; and a creative acceptance that affirms all the good in each person and helps him but does not coerce him to channel it towards the growth of mature religious identity. Abov.e all we need to develop a capacity for creative listening - listening to people as they are, without passing judgment, yet giving them our honest insights and letting the call to growth in the kingdom sound through us. All of this demands what Paul characterizes again and again as "patience" and "magnanimity" - hypomone, the gift of persevering zest, of withstanding pr.essures with love and graciousness; and makrothymia, the "great big heart" that is able to let God and men touch it and fill it and call on it no matter what. There is probably no role in religious life today that calls more than ours for deeper prayer, more hope, and more faith in God's loving strength - for more "waiting on the Lord." Perhaps our motto should be taken from Isaiah: "Those who wait for the Lord renew their strength, run and do not grow weary, walk and never tire" (Is 40:30). THOMAS N. McCARTHY Entry Age for Church Vocations [Thomas N. McCarthy is Vice President for Student Affairs at La Salle College; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19141.] Optimum age for entry into Church vocations continues to be a controversial subject. During the 1960's many seminaries and religious institutes, yielding to both internal and external pressures, raised entrance age requirements from early to late adolescence, and during that decade many permitted the demise of high school juniorates. Pressures for further change persist. The thrust of the early 1970's appears to be toward a further delay of entry from ageseventeen or eighteen to twenty, twenty-one, or beyond and with this a growing trend to phase out college level minor seminaries and scholasticates. At the same time that delayed entry for younger candidates is being encouraged, the admission of older candidates, that is, those over thirty years of age, is being actively encouraged. The purpose of this paper is to provide some empirical information on the relationship of applicant age to entry/non-entry rates among those who present themselves as candidates to Church vocations during post high school years and to persistence/attrition rates among those who enter then. The figures reported here are taken from a larger study currently being completed in which 750 candidates to two institutes of teaching brothers, 360 candidates to an institute of religious priests, and 1100 candidates to four institutes of teaching sisters were followed up for periods ranging from three to thirteen years to find out who entered and who did not, who had persisted and who had withdrawn. The relationship of these outcomes to characteristics of the people at the time they became applicants was then analyzed. Some of the applicant characteristics studied were age, education', ability, personality, and interests. The results of this study provide some empirical grounds on which to base policies about when people should be admitted to Church vocations - information which is currently not available in the literature. There are, of course, many relevant factors, of which empirical evidence is one, in a policy decision of this sort. Some Influences on Postponing Entry Among reasons for the demise of early adolescent entry to Church vocations in the United States are support from Rome for the delay, changes in family life, psychological and sociological theory, evidence of very high drop-out rates among high school age entrants, and feelings of interpersonal deficiencies among the current generation of religious leaders. While Rome has declined to officially condemn early entry - indeed it continues to encourage 12-13-year-old entry in some countries - in 1969 the Sacred Congregation for Religious and for Secular Institutes issued a document,Instruction on the Renewal of Religious Formation, recommending the practice of postponing Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 343 entrance for a year or two after high school graduation. The document moved beyond the recommendation that seminaries and religious orders get out of high school age formation - the cause c61~bre of the sixties - to getting out of some college age formation work as well. The recommendation rests on the assumption that older entrants would be more mature and consequently better able to profit from spiritual training. It also rests on the related assumption that, being more mature, older entrants should be more stable vocationally. These assumptions have not been put to an empirical test for religious candidates. It is not known if being older would in fact be related to greater maturity nor is it known if being older would be associated with higher persistence. The purpose of this paper is to provide information for testing the latter assumption among post high school age candi-dates. On theoretical grounds "one would expect that post high school entry, that is, entering when about seventeen or eighteen years old, should be associated with more stable career choices than entering prior to that time. That expectation is based on changes in family life, typical career choice patterns in the United States, Erikson's theory of ego identity, and Super's career development theory. The question of achieving greater vocational stability by delaying entry to even later ages, however, remains an open one. The American family, often mother dominated during the thirties when fathers suffered crushing economic humiliation and during the first half of the forties when men were off to war, has come more under the influence of father in the past twenty-five years, Undoubtedly this is one of the reasons for the decline in vocations which began to occur in the mid to late sixties. There is ample evidence that mother is most frequently the primary inspiration and support of religious vocations. Fichter is quoted by Rooney (1970) as reporting evidence for the greater influence of priests than of mothers in priestly vocations. Later research, especially that of Potvin and Suziedelis (1969), however, clearly supports the primary role of mother. In all likelihood there is no essential disagreement between these findings. I suspect that maternal influence is probably the major predisposing factor in the development of priestly or religious interests and that the influence of a given priest or'religious is generally the precipitating factor associated with a specific choice of institute. Mothers generally are more religious in orientation than fathers are, and with declining maternal influence and a corresponding increase in paternal influence, I think it can be safely assumed that today's teenagers are not as subject to family p.ressures to enter church vocations as was formerly true. It can be assumed further that pressures of this sort are felt most greatly in early teen years, that is, before an independent sense of self is well developed, than in the late teen years when eg.o identity normally is firmer. Thus a strong maternal influence on Church vocation choices most likely would be associated with both early entry and high rates of entry, while waning maternal influence would be associated with later and declining entry rates. Furthermore, if the dynamics of husband-wife, parent-child relation-ships have indeed changed with father re-assuming greater ascendancy since the"mid " 1940's, one could also infer support for a psychoanalytical interpretation that children in their early teens today should feel less heavy maternal emotional demands than was true of youngsters in the past. Consequently today's youth should feel less need to escape the home and these demands. Also instrumental in supporting delay of entry until after high school is the general tendency in America today to put off professional career choices until 344 Review for Religious~ Volume 31, 1972/3 college. Typical career development patterns now c~ll for a tentative choice of broad field and entrance into training for it around age eighteen. This generally is foll6wed by a period of narrowing course and career selection from around age 20 which eventually culminates for those who successfully complete career training in actual job entry around age 22-25. The near universality of this pattern for professional careers appears to be having a persuasive influence on Church pers.onnel practices. Both advocates and adversaries of delayed entry accept the premise that there must be substantial differences between preparation for Church vocations and preparation for secular careers. Education for the Church requires both an academic and a personal formation side, whereas preparation for secular careers is almost always restricted to the former. Paradoxically, agreement about this has fed the controversy about optimum entry age, both sides using it to make their case. Advocates of early entry have argued that the seed of a vocation is typically implanted early, will not be properly cultivated and is unlikely to grow outside a religious house of formation, and that vocations will be reduced unless early admission is permitted. Adversaries have argued that a person in his early teens does not know his own mind and that he needs the broader experiences - especially heterosocial ones - of ordina~'y family and social life before he is mature enough to profit from the spiritual formation side of Church vocation preparation. The immense popularity of Erikson's theory of adolescent identity crisis has had a remarkable effect on the attitudes of Church authorities toward proper entry age. Erikson's views about the development of a sense of self-identity, more than the views of any other theoretician, have provided the rationalization for delaying entry until an individual has achieved sufficient psychological independence from the primary adults in his life to have an ego identity of his own. That independence is thought to occur generally around age eighteen rather than at the beginning of the teens when so many youngsters formerly were funneled into religious or clerical life. Two recent religious writers, Mitchell (1970) and Gerlach (1971), have argued the viewpoint that the nature of a Church vocation requires entrants to have resolved not only the teenage identity crisis but also to have achieved a successful resolution of the problem of how to be intimate with another, the next level in Erikson's developmental theory. This viewpoint is offered as a basis for a further delay of entry age to twenty or so. Other than the theory behind the position, I find little else to support it. To my knowledge there is no published empirical information comparing the eventual social adjustment and persistence of entrants at one age to entrants at another age. Nor am 1 aware of any evidence that learning how to be intimate outside of religious life generalizes to the special circumstances within the life. On the contrary, this strikes me like a girl telling an interested boy to go learn how to make love and then come back when he knows how. He'll probably go elsewhere and learn all right, but it is not likely that he'll return to her. Super's career development theory, thanks to the promulgation of it among Church leaders by people like Kinnane (1970), also has influenced the move toward post high school entry. Super has proposed that the specification of a career choice, that is, electing a given career and taking concrete steps to prepare for it, normally occurs between ages eighteen and twenty-one and follows a period of roughly four years (ages 14-18) during which a career preference is crystalized out of an individual's growing awareness of his own interests, values, abilities, and opportuni-ties. Following Super's reasoning, entering the preparatory stage of a career before Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 345 age eighteen would have, for most people, the effect of foreclosing other options before the individual knows himself and the world of careers well enough to make a sound choice. For Super the choice of career involves a way of implementing one's concept of oneself, and a person is not ready to do that until the self-concept is relatively clear. Drop-out rates have never been well publicized even in professional literature and as a result are hard to document, especially over long periods of time. An occasional master's dissertation (see Verstynen, 1948) and studies dealing with some other aspect of seminary life sometimes report this information. People involved in Church personnel administration also generate a reservoir of information, often more anecdotal than systematic, about attrition rates. By the middle 1960's these varied sources, admittedly not rigorously scientific, had provided some foundation for the belief that drop-out rates are inversely related to age at entry. Patterson (1942), for example, reported a drop-out rate of over 80% for those who entered one seminary after grade eight declining to just over 75% for those who entered after having had some high school. So far as I know, to date there has been no systematic attempt to establish relationships between age of candidature and entry/nonentry, persistence/attrition rates across different types of church voca-tions. Is age of candidacy related to entry/nonentry or persistence/attrition in the same way for brothers, priests, and sisters? Dissatisfaction with interpersonal aspects of their lives is evident among a large number of the current generation of priests and professed religious. This is one of the most common complaints to come out of several studies over the past five years (see Schneider and Hall, 1970; Louis, Bowles, and Grace, 1967). Many in Church vocations feel that interpersonal deficiencies could have been corrected had candidates been required to remain outside the walls for a longer period of time. While there is no direct evidence that this in fact would happen, the desire to have better interpersonal relationships has been strong enough to persuade many to this viewpoint. All of these factors appear to have contributed to the demise of entry before high school graduation and to support of the current trend to delay entry for another year or two after that. It is a curious comment on the times that during all the controversy over this matter of optimum age for entry very little research was carried out to assess the actual psychological impact of formation on individuals at different ages. Keefe's study (1965) is the only one I know of which compared individuals of the same age in seminary and non-seminary high schools to see if there was a differential effect on maturity associated with one type of school as opposed to the other. He concluded that neither group was more mature than the other. Other doctoral dissertations done at Fordham (Mastej, Sandra, Vaughan) have shown increasing signs of maladjustment during college years of formation, but the cross-section methodology used in those studies leaves open the question of whether the subjects themselves actually changed or whether the group average changed as a result of better adjusted people having dropped out. 1 think the weight of the evidence on theoretical grounds, social changes, and on what empirical information exists clearly justifies delay of entry until the comple-tion of high school. As to justifying delay beyond this, it seems to me that empirical evidence is currently lacking and that the implications of theoretical positions such as Erikson's developmental views are open to conjecture. At the same time, however, there does appear to be a growing trend among college 346 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 students to put off career decisions longer than was true in the recent past. Some Empirical Evidence In 1970 I did a follow-up study of approximately 2200 candidates I had examined for seven Church institutes during the years 1957-1967. Information about age at the time they applied for entry was available for 742 candidates to two provinces of the same institute of teaching brothers, 354 candidates to an order of religious priests, and 1089 candidates to four institutes of teaching sisters. Their age when they were examined for admission was then studied in relationship to their having entered or not and to their having persisted or not for those who entered. The examinations were conducted on the average 3-9 months before actual entry. On the average when they sought entry the candidates to the brothers were 17 years, 11 months, to the priesthood 19 years, 2 months, and to the sisters 18 years, 5 months (see Table 1). The half-year difference between candidates to the brothers and sisters, the eight month difference between candidates to the sisters and the priesthood, and the fourteen month difference between candidates to the brothers and priesthood were all statistically significant and could not be accounted for by chance. Thus each type of institute attracted candidates of somewhat different ages. Table 1. Mean ages in months of candidates, nonentrants, entrants, persisters, and withdrawers for seven institutes of brothers, priests, and sisters.* Brothers Standard (2 Provinces) N Mean Deviation t p Candidates 742 215.3 19.7 Non-Entrants 389 216.8 24.9 Entrants 353 212.9 15.9 2.56 .05 Persisters 151 214.0 18.1 With'drawers 202 212.2 14.0 1.01 ns. Priests Standard (1 Institute) N Mean Deviation t p Candidates 354 229.6 34.4 Non-Entrants 60 239.8 45.2 Entrants 294 227.5 31.3 2.00 .05 Persisters 98 227.8 29.1 Withdrawers 196 227.3 32.3 ,13 ns. Sisters Standard (4 Institutes) N Mean Deviation t p Candidates " 1089 221.2 24.4 Non-Entrants 222 228.8 32.5 Entrants 867 220.5 21.5 3.60 .01 Persisters 469 219.7 18.2 Withdrawers 398 221.4 24.8 1.13 ns. *Age refers to how old the person was when he was examined as a part of the application process. Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 347 Older candidates to all three types of institutes were less likely to enter than were younger candidates. As shown in Table 1 the differences between the average ages of entrants and nonentrants were statistically significant beyond chance expectancy in all three cases. For the brothers nonentrants were on the average four months older than entrants, for the seminary a full year older, and for the sisters eight months older. Clearly promise, at least from the viewpoint of entrance, was not associated with being older for these seven institutes during the eleven years from 1957 through 1967. It would not be correct to conclude from this that superiors had a tendency to deny admission to older candidates on the basis of age alone. The more usual situation was that being older tended to be associated with some other factors considered signs of poor promise: indecisiveness, family problems, psycho-sexual problems, and questionable motivation being common. Only eleven of the 2185 candidates were over thirty years old. The brothers had two such candidates and neither entered; the priests had five, of whom three entered; the sisters had four, of whom two entered. All of the other candidates were in their late teens or twenties. At the lower end of the continuum 78 of the brothers' candidates were sixteen in comparison to 6 seminary candidates and 27 candidates to the convents in that age group. The brothers had 2 candidates who were fifteen and the seminary 1. The sisters had none that young. All of these younger candidates have been lumped in the 17 and under category in Table 2. Table 2. Proportions of entrants, non-entrants, persisters, and withdrawers by age of candidates to seven institutes of brothers, priests, and sisters. Total Candi- Non- Institute Age dates Entrants Entrants Persisters Withdtawers N N % N % N %* %** N %* P 5 2 40 3 60 1 33 20 2 67 40 S Base Ratet (17%) (83%) (34%) (28%) (66%) (54%) S 4 R S Base Rater * Proportion of entrants (All figures ~e for age at 115 19 506 81 274 54 44 232 46 37 60 19 256 81 142 55 44 114 45 36 37 28 93 72 49 53 37 44 47 33 8 44 10 56 4 40 22 6 60 33 2 50 2 50 0 0 0 2 100 50 (20%) (80%) (54%) (43%). (46%) (36%) ** Proportion of candidates ~- Proportions without regard to age time the person was examined during the application process). B 2 2 100 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 E R Base Rate~ (52%) (48%) (42%) (20%) (58%) (27%) S 348 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 The largest single age group applying to all three types of institutes were seventeen years old: 94% of the brother candidates, 46% of the seminary candidates, and 55% of the sister candidates. This was followed by those in the eighteen and nineteen-year-old bracket who comprised 19%, 30%, and 29% of the candidates to the brothers, seminary, and sisters respectively. Five percent of the candidates to the brothers were between twenty and twenty-four, 19% of those applying to the seminary, and 12% to the convents. Very few candidates to any of the institutes were between twenty-five and twenty-nine (see Table 2 for all of these figures). The base rate figures in Table 2 indicate the overall proportions of nonentrants, entrants, persisters, and withdrawers without regard to age. If being a given age was a "good sign" for entry, the proportion of those entering from that age group should be above that of the base rate. For the brothers and priests the 17-year-olds had the best entry rates and for the sisters those in the 17-19 age brackets had the best entry rates. For the brothers all ages over 17 had entry rates lower than the base rate; for the priests those in the 20-24 and over 30 age groups had lower entry o rates; and for the sisters all those 20 and over had lower entry rates. Do these same patterns hold with regard to persistence and attrition for the seven institutes? The data are not nearly so clear on this point. The figures in Table 1 show no appreciable age differences between those remaining in and those who left. It is important to bear in mind that all figures are for the ages of persisters and withdrawers at the time they applied for entry, not at the time of the follow-up. Two base rate figures are given for persisters and withdrawers in Table 2. The first refers to the proportion of those who entered who eventually remained or left; the second refers to the proportion of total candidates wt~o remained or left. Brothers For the brothers 42% of the 353 entrants were still in when the follow-up was done. The best persistence record was for those few entrants (1 I) who were between 20-24 when they applied for entry. On the other hand, the best persistence record for all candidates was for those who were either 17 years old or between 25-29 when they sought entry. Only two persisters were in the latter age group, however, versus 122 in the l~-year-old group. Clearly, delaying entry for candidates to these institutes w~uld have resulted in a very heavy loss of people who are still persisting. This, of course, assumes that the interest of the 17-year-olds would not have been sustained while waiting for a later entry - an outcome which I think is highly likely, though not amenable to proof from these data, even with lots of tender loving care in extramural aspirancies. The normal training period for these brothers extends for six years. In general, though this was not true for everyone at the time of the follow-up in 1970, it can be assumed that those still persisting from among candidates who had applied during the years from 1957 through 1962 were finally professed. These men would have been in their respective institutes anywhere from eight to thirteen years. In absolute numbers far and away the greatest number of final professed came from among candidates who had applied at age 17. There were 63 professed from that age bracket versus 5 from those who had applied at age 16, 13 from the 18-19- year-old applicants, and 3 from the 20-24-year-olds. On the basis of the proportions of candidates within each age group who remained to be finally professed, again the highest proportion was found among the 17-year-olds, though the differences from one age group to another were Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 349 relatively small: 17% of the 16-yea.r-old candidates eventually were finally pro-fessed, 23% of the 17-year-olds, 15% of the 18-19-year-olds, and 20%of the 20-24- year-olds. The entrants in each age group who had taken final vows were distributed as follows: 45% of the 16-year-olds, 48% of the 17-year-olds, 37% of the 18-19-year-olds, and 60% of the 20-24-year-olds. With only 3 people in the latter category, one could hardly justify delaying entrance to that age unless one could also demonstrate their superiority over the 81 professed who had entered at the younger age. The differences between the persistence rates of candidates and the persistence rates of entrants suggest that pre-ad.mission screening improves persistence rates rather substantially at every age. Priests In the case of the priests the overall persistence rate for the 294 entrants was 34% in comparison to 28% for the 354 candidates. The best persistence record for entrants was achieved by those who had applied when they were between 20-24 followed by the 17-year-old applicants. The best persistence record for candidates was achieved by 17-year-olds followed by those 20-24. There were fairly sizeable numbers of persisters in all the age brackets from 17 through 24 but substantially greater numbers who withdrew. Thus it would be very difficult to generalize about an optimum age for entering this seminary aside from being under age 25. At the time of the follow-up 19 of 118 candidates who had applied during the years 1961 and 1962 had been in the seminary eight or nine years. On the average they had been 19 years, 9 months when they sought entry. Of the 19 a total of 10 were ordained. The youngest candidate among the ordained had been 18 when he applied. The majority (6 of the 10) had been between 20-24; 1 was 27; 2 were 19. There is a strong suggestion from these few figures that for this seminary being in one's early twenties was a better sign of promise for eventual ordination than being younger. It needs to be pointed out, however, that older candidates had less education to complete when they entered and were thus more likely to have been ordained within the eight-to nine-year span covered by this study than were younger entrants. When the follow-up was done 9 non-ordained of the 19 persisters over this time span had been 18 or younger on becoming candidates: 1 was 16; 5 were 17; and 3 were 18. Accordingly, one might still be reluctant to deny admission to 17-year-olds. Looked at another way and assuming the 6 remaining 16 and 17-year-old persisters all accept ordination, that would result in an expected ordination rate of 13% for the 46 candidates in that age bracket during the years 1961-62 versus an actual ordination rate of 26% for the 23 candidates who were between 20-24. The comparable ordination rates for entrants in these age brackets would be 15% versus 37%, respectively. For candidates 18-19 years old, 3 already were ordained and assuming ordination of the remaining 3, their ordination rate against the total candidates in that age bracket would be. 14% versus 18% for entrants in that age group. Though the numbers involved are very small to draw firm generalizations, the ordination rates, both actual and assumed, give rather clear support to the view that candidates in their early twenties show greater promise than do those in their late teens. Sisters Fifty-four percent of the 867 who entered the four convents were still in as of 1970 in comparison to 43% of the total 1089 candidates. The persistence rates of 350 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 all entrants under 25 years old differed very little from one another: 54% of the 17-year-old entrants were still in, 55%of the 18-19-year-olds, and 53%of the 20~24- year-olds. Entrants over age 25, a very small number (10), were less likely to persist (40%) than the others. Using the total pool of candidates as a reference point the best persistence risks came from those who were between 17 and 19 (44%) when they applied. The poorest risks were those over 30 (0%), followed by those between 25 and 29 (22%), and 20-24 (37%). A separate analysis was done of the 209 candidates who had applied to three of the convents sometime between 1958 and 1962 and who were still in as of 1970. The fourth convent did not begin psychological evaluations until 1963 and was excluded for that reason. Thus for the other three institutes those persisting had been in their respective convent for eight to twelve years and normally would have been finally professed by that time. For these people essentially the same persistence rates were found for all ages between 17 and 24. Of the 17-year-old entrants 53% were professed compared to 54% of the 18-19-year-olds, and 56% of the 20-24-year-olds. Using candidates as the base for comparisons, 47% of the 17-year-olds were professed, 47% of the 18-19-year-olds, and 42% of the 20-24-year olds. In absolute numbers far and away the greatest number of professed (I 13) applied when they were 17 followed by 67 18-19-year-olds, 23 20-24-year~olds, 3 25-29-year-olds, and 3 16-year-olds. No candidate over thirty remained in.Sixteen-year- old candidates were a rarity. There were only four and all applied to one convent. Three of the four were eventually professed. What can one make of the figures for the convents? With about one-half of the 17- year-old candidates having remained in the convent at least eight to twelve years, it would be hard to support the contentii3n that they are a less stable group than older candidates and thus should be delayed from entering for another year, two years, or more. Profession rates for 18-19-year-old entrants are no better than theirs and after that age the persistence rates drop off. Unless one could assume holding the interest of 17-19-year-olds during a period of delay, a large drop in absolute numbers of those who eventually take final vows can be predicted and probably without much change in overall persistence rates given the same amount of screening done in the past. Summary Observations An increase in the number of nonentrants among candidates to Church vocations is one likely consequence of postponing entry beyond high school graduation. Age in itself would not be the reason for this increase. However, age-related factors such as career indecisiveness, social and sexual adjustment, and similar factors probably would be. A second consequence very likely would be a sharp decline in the number of candidates making application. This already is evident for institutes which have adopted a policy of postponed entrance for a year or more after high school graduation. The brothers, in particular, would be affected by this. The two brothers institutes in this study do not conduct colleges whereas the institute of priests and the four institutes of sisters each conduct at least one college and in some cases :two or more. 1 do not know if this was a contributing factor to brothers attracting the youngest candidates of all three types of institutes and having had relatively small numbers of candidates in their early twenties, but 1 suspect that was the case. In addition, for the brothers almost three times the proportion of candidates in their early twenties failed to enter than was true for the seminary and convents. I take Review for Refigious, Volume 31, 1972/3 351 this to mean that applicant proximity to the age group with which the Church institute works may be a significant factor both in becoming a candidate and in entering. Persistence was related to ag~ differently for the three types of institutes. Considering only those who had remained in for periods ranging from eight to thirteen years, for the brothers 17-year-old entrants had the best persistence records and in absolute numbers constituted by far the largest group of persisters compared to other ages; for entrants to the priesthood being in the early twenties was associated with a persistence rate twice that for 17-year-olds and approximately twice that for 18-19-year-olds as well; for the sisters essentially the same persistence rates were found for all ages between 17 and 24. The absolute number of persisters was much higher for 17-year-olds, however, than for any other age group. These figures indicate that it is unwise to generalize about optimum' age for entry without taking into consideration the type of institute. Given the same set of circumstances for the future that prevailed in these institutes through 1970 - an admittedly questionable assumption - one would have to predict that postponing entry to age 20 for the brothers could shortly put those institutes out of business. For the seminary reported on here to do that could result in a reduction of up to 50% of those who remain in to be eventually ordained, though I would estimate~ the more likely reduction would be on the order of 20-25%. For the convents to postpone entry to age 20 one would predict a very sharp drop in total number of entrants but without appreciably improving persistence rates of those eventually admitted. The net effect would be a substantial drop in new professed. All of this obviously assumes a simpler relationship between age and persistence than fits the facts, but the estimates have some empirical foundation. I think the more important question than simple persistence is whether one can identify among post high school candidates those who are mature enough to hold promise for an effective ministry. On the side of negative characteristics, there is firm evidence that candidates with poor motivation and poor prognosis due to family problems can be identified with a high degree of success (Weisgerber, 1969). The very sharp differences for the brothers in persistence rates for entrants from the different age groups in comparison to candidates from the different age groups probably reflects the results of effective screening. The brothers admitted only about 50% of their candidates. Similar differences in persistence rates were not found between entrants and candidates to the seminary which had not screened nearly so rigorously. Some institutes prefer to admit candidates without putting strong emphasis on the psychological evaluation. This typically results in higher entry rates and lower persistence rates, an outcome which indirectly suggests that signs of promise among candidates can be identified with some accuracy by pre-admission evaluation. So, too, does the much higher long-term persistence rate for the brothers than for the seminary, the former institutes having been more selective than the latter. The research project of which this report is a part is also concerned with specifying psychological attributes which distinguish successful 17-year-old candi-dates from nonsuccessful ones, success defined in terms of interpersonal relation-ships and job competence after final profession. Preliminary results suggest this can be done to some extent for a given institute but that the findings are not generalizable even between two similar institutes, for example, between two institutes of brothers engaged in the same work. This, too, would argue against 352 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 making specific entry age recommendations for all Church vocations and would argue instead for institutes establishing entry age policies based on studies of their own candidates. REFERENCES Gerlach, J. Form. ation: Some Reflections and Convictions. Review for Religious, Vol. 30, No. 5, September, 1971. Keefe, J. Maturity io the High School Seminary: An Empirical Approach. The Catholic Psychological Record, 1969, 6, 1, ,I 5-29. Kinnane, J. F., Career Development for Priests and Religious. Washington, D.C.: C.A.R.A. 1970. Lewis, A., Bowles, W. and Grace, R. Attitude Study Among Priests and Religious in New Orleans Archdiocese. Project ~560, May, 1967 Unpublished paper. Mitchell, K. R. Priestly Celibacy from a Psychological Perspective. The Journal of Pastoral Care, Vol. 24, No. 4, December, 1970. Patterson, H. A Study of Student Mortality at St. Anthony's Seminary and Suggestions for Improving the Situation. Master's Dissertation, Catholic University of America, | 942. Potvin, R. H. and Suziedelis, A. Seminarians of the Sixties. Washington! C.A.R.A. 1969. Rooney, J. J. Psychological Research on the American Priesthood: A Review of the~ Literature in E. C. Kennedy and V. J. Hecker, The Loyola Psychological Study of the Ministry and Life of the American Priests (Washington: National Conference of Catholic Bishops, 1971). Sacred Congregation of Religious and for Secular Institutes. Instruction on the Renewal of Religious Formation. Washington, D.C.: United States Catholic Conference, 1969. Schneider, B. and Hall, D. T. The Role of Assignment Characteristics in the Career Experiences of Diocesan Priests. in W. E. Bartlett (ed.) Evolving Religious Careers, Washington, D.C.: C.A.R.A. 1970. Verstynen, R. J. A Study of Perseverance in Relation to Vocations to the Priesthood. Master's Dissertation, Catholic University of America, 1948. Weisgerber, C. A. Psychological Assessment of Candidates for a Religious Order. Chicago: Loyola University Press, 1969. JOHN R. SHEETS, S.J. Soundings on the Present State of Religious Life [John R. Sheets, S.J., is professor of theology at Marquette University; 1131 West Wisconsin Avenue; Milwaukee, Wisconsir~ 53233.] Anyone who attempts to assess the present state of religious life in America today is in a position similar to that of a weatherman who might try to give a neat presentation of the weather across the country. It defies any neat categories. In one part it is calm, in another stormy. In one, it is warm; in another, below zero. High in the atmosphere there are currents of air which no one picks up without the proper instruments, while close to the earth there are other currents which everyone can feel. Changing the comparison, we would like to present some "soundings" concerning the present condition of religious life in America. "Soundings" is a safe word for what we would like to do. Taking soundings of the ocean floor, for example, is always a combination of accurate analysis plus some educated guesswork. At the same time, the nature of sounding what lies beneath the surface respects the fact that the picture can change very suddenly because of the constant movement of the currents. There are two assumptions underlying all that is said below. They are quite obvious, but it is necessary to mention them in order to put the rest of" the remarks in their proper context. The first assumption is this: There are certain fundamental components involved in all change which must interact harmoniously if there is to be growth and development. These components of change are mainly concerned with permanence and variability, sameness and newness, unity and diversity, continuity and discon-tinuity, conservation and innovation. When these components are mutally suppor-tive, there is progressive growth. When they fail to mesh and are at odds, the result is frustration, stagnation, fragmentation, and disintegration. The second assumption concerns the vital synthesis of these components. They are held together only through vision and values which are shared. The components are only mutually supportive if they are held together from above through faith enriched by love. Where faith is lost, these components lose their synthesizing center. They tend to break off and live a life of their own when the center is gone. On the other hand, where they are rooted in a common faith, then, while there may be stress and strain, there will inevitably be growth. We would like to make our soundings of religious life on the basis of these two assumptions. It seems that our soundings pick up an antagonism between these components of change as well as approaches to synthesis. We would like to hazard the opinion that this antagonism comes largely from an overreaction to what we 354 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 can vaguely call a "classical" view of religious life. This is the first point we would like to make. In the second place, we would like to comment on the fact that in many instances the synthesis is lost because the vision and values that were shared are no longer shared. In the third place, we want to call attention to the phenomenon of fresh synthesis that is taking place in many religious personally as well as in their congregations. Overreaction to the "Classical" Mentality We said above that growth depends on the harmonious interaction of the various components of change and that frustration occurs where these begin to be antagonistic to each other instead of supportive. One of the main sources of this antagonism today comes from an overreaction to the past. Today one often hears our own age of rapid change contrasted with a "classical" world view. This term is a hard one to nail down adequately. Among other things it connotes a mentality which is static, uniform, traditional, symmetrical. No period and no person in history ever verified this description perfectly. It is for the most part a mental construct. Nevertheless, in comparison with our present age, it does serve as a useful category. Our own age takes its orientation not only from the various forces that are at work, but also from the fact that these forces are fed by undertows of reaction toward the past. This is not an unusual phenomenon. Other periods of history have been marked largely by the way in which they reacted .to the past. The period of Romanticism, for example,took its shape and force largely as a reaction to the Enlightenment. The same process takes place in individuals as well as in groups. A person who has been brought up in a home that is overrestrictive can turn his initial taste of freedom into a spree of irresponsibility. It seems that many problems in religious life today come not simply from a legitimate reaction but from an overreaction to what can be vaguely called a "classical" form of religious life. Reaction in itself is not necessarily harmful. It can in fact provide impetus to move a person or a group forward. When it becomes an overreaction, however, it moves a person or a group into a position of imbalance. Overreaction can act like a blind force pushing a person or a group into a position beyond the point where they would normally go if they had full control of the situation. Where there is overreaction, reason does not lead. It is only called upon to legitimate the position a person has been forced into by overreaction. Similarly, overreaction is not the product of freedom and choice but of a passion generated by antagonism against a previous state of things. Reaction, as was said, can be an incentive to move beyond the point where one finds himself. Reaction can be the realm of the Spirit. Overreaction, on the other hand, is the realm of the demonic. Reaction can be the activity of the prophet. Overreaction is characteristic of the fanatic. Reaction is power under control. Overreaction is power without control. We can ascribe three main characteristics to the "classical" mentality. They are (1) anonymity, (2) structure, (3) subordination of the individual to the community. In lining up these characteristics we repeat the caution that they are largely a mental construct we put on the past. While they are verified, they are never found in an unmixed form. At the same time we want to avoid the idea that we are condemning the "classical" mentality. It is like pointing out a particular style of architecture that characterized a certain period in history. It is no reflection on the Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 355 genuinity of religious dedication in the past. Our contemporary "architecture" will become "classical" to the generations that follow us. The Reaction against Anonymity One of the reactions to what we called the classical mentality is the reaction against "being a nobody." It is a reaction against a certain kind of anonymity that was part of religious life. Perhaps anonymity is not the right word. In any case, the religious was not to call attention to himself as an individual. He was in a sense to " be a symbolic presence, where what he stood for shone through the individual characteristics. For this reason, particularly with religious women, the religious garb itself served an important function, not only in its positive value as sign, but also in what could be called a negative sense. Individual characteristics were "blacked out," very often to the point where only the face was visible. Whenever religious women today reminisce about the kind of clothes they used to wear, they usually do so with a mixture of humor, wonder, and relief, somewhat in the same way that children react to the old pictures in an album. However, when one realizes the thinking behind that manner of dress, it is not all that ridiculous. The dress was in some way to reduce what was purely individual in order to manifest the personal. Individual characteristics were suppressed to make room for what was beyond the individual. We are not calling for a return to those particular modes of dress. It is important, however, to understand the rationale behind them. The same thinking was behind the custom of changing one's name. When a religious gave up his family name and assumed a new name, this change was symbolic of a new mode of existence. This anonymity was a kind of a general condition in which religious, especially religious women, worked and lived. It monitored one's whole life. One's home, background, family, were kept hidden like a precious secret. We can all remember (except the ~,ery youngest of us) when one of the greatest childhood thrills was to discover the color of sister's hair, or to find out her real name. The cloister itself was a graphic symbol of this hiddenness. Today there is a strong reaction against any factor which is associated with anonymity. As HammarskjiSld observes in his diary, "Our final wish is to have scribbled off the wall our 'Kilroy was here.' " We all want to be recognized, not to be a nobody, but to be a somebody, and to have what we do acknowledged by others as our own work. Though we boast about our being able to go it alone, wo are very dependent on the recognition given us by others. No one can deny the value in such a reaction where it makes someone a more genuine person. Often, however, it results in making someone more of an individual, but less of a person. The difference between the individual and the personal is the difference in the color of one's eyes and the light in his eyes, or the shape of one's body and the genuineness of one's love. What is individual in us is (to use St. Paul's expression) the earthenware vessel in which we carry the personal. Where the individual is cultivated at the expense of the personal, we find something like those tiny Japanese trees which are very beautiful but unfruitful. While each of us has the temptation to sacrifice the person on the altar of the individual in us, the overreaction to the anonymity of the past has in many cases brought about a cult of individualism rather than a deepening of the personal. There is a difference between the liberation of the person and the liberation of what is individual in us. Often what passes for liberation of the personal.:in us is simply a disguised form of individualism. 356 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 Another aspect of this reaction against the anonymity of the past is evident in the strong movement to have a say in what is happening. In the past, religious, especially religious women, were to be seen, not heard. They never had a share in the decision-making in the parish, diocese, or Church. They were always obediently "there." Decisions from Rome, the Sacred Congregation of Religious, or the chancery office were accepted with unquestioning obedience, at least as far as execution was concerned. There was a certain mystique to the whole idea of authority in the Church. An interesting reaction has taken place, which in many instances has assumed the proportions of an overreaction. If in the past there was a mystique about authority, today there is a de-mystification of authority to the point where the very ¯ foundations of ecclesial authority are denied. Ecclesiastical authority, especially if it is of the unAmerican type, is relegated to something like baroque architecture, which is a relic of the past. In a very brief span of ten years, many religious, as individuals and as groups, have come of age, and issued their declaration of independence, often in the words dictated to them by some other authority. Chesterton's remark, though written decades ago, is apropos. He said: "Thousands of women rose up and said, 'We shall not be dictated to!' Then they sat down to be stenographers." It is unfortunate that an overreaction to a "classical" mode of exercising authority has led many to reject or to question the authority of the Church itself in matters touching their religious life. When this happens, another authority comes in to take the place of the one rejected. Nature abhors a vacuum. An authority vacuum is soon filled with another authority. Often the situation is like that described in the gospel, where seven devils enter who are worst than the first. In something of a similar vein, religious are feeling their "political oats." There is also a reaction to anonymity here. They are beginning to realize that they can and should have a voice in the affairs of the Church and society. Much of this is on the positive side of the ledger. There is a danger, however, that some may lose sight of the fact that a religious group does not exist primarily to exercise political pressures through the use of political tactics. Their political influence in fact is mainly exercised through witness to the gospel values in a manner which ve.ry often is incompatible with the strategies involved in politics. The Reaction against Structure We have commented on the imbalance that comes from an overreaction against a kind of "classical" arlonymity which we associate with religious life of the past. This same kind of a phenonmenon occurs in reaction to "structure." It is hard to pin down exactly what is contained in the word "structure?' Many use it in different ways. In any case, it seems to be loaded with many of the connotations we described as being part of the "classical" mentality. It conjures up spectres of impersonalism, inflexibility, regulation, and stereotype. In the past, at least in the case of many religious, practically every detail of their lives was regulated, the way they dressed, the order of the day, their manner of dealing with externs, their correspondence, and so forth. It is understandable that there should be a reaction to this type of regulation. But, as in the case with the reaction against anonymity, which has become the cult of the individual, here also the overreaction against structure has often turned into adolescent immaturity. There is almost an allergy to any type of regulation at all. Even language itself has to be purged of words that suggest anything like regulation. The word "rule" has Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 357 gone into the limbo of forbidden words and has been replace.d with safe words like "guidelines," "directives." As an overreaction to the regulation of everything, many are spastic about the regulation of anything. In many cases even the revised constitutions, the product of much work, prayer, study, discussion, are very careful to be "safe" in their terminology. Words that have any connotation of structure are carefully avoided. Very often these constitutions are written on the tide of overreaction and are careful to play down any idea of subordination of self to anything like structure. Yet it is a matter of common sense that structure is one of the components of growth that we spoke of earlier. It is like the branches of a tree through which the life flows to produce the fruit. Of course, structure without life is dead, and life without structure is aimless. Along with this reaction to overregulation, there is also the reaction to oversupervision. Some religious consider their duty is done if they "check in" occasionally to let superiors know what is happening. In many cases, superiors themselves have abdicated any real role of authority. They see their role only as serving as a kind of check point to keep the traffic running smoothly. These remarks should not be construed as hankering after the days of yore, where every detail in a person's life was regulated, and being an authority was identified with giving orders. They serve to point out a fact, however. Overreaction to that kind of a life has often resulted in a caricature not simply of religious life, but of any kind of life, which needs a certain structure and regulation if there is to be concerted work for a goal. The Reaction to Institution Along with the reaction against anonymity and structure, there is the reaction against institution. While this word is related to structure, when we use it here we are thinking of the corporate nature of the religious group. It takes into consideration the relationship of the part to the whole, and the whole to the part. We see the same phenomenon here that we have commented on above. There is a profound malaise with everything connoted" by the word "institutional." Once again, as a reaction against certain features of our institutional life, this movement can be very healthy. However, when it becomes an overreaction, the components of change begin to clash instead of supporting each other. One aspect of the reaction to "institution" is the movement to small commu-nities. It is an attempt to "de-institutionalize" one's life. It is too early to assess the results of this. In some cases, it has resulted in a more genuine community life, both within the small community, and in the relationship of the small community to all of the other communities. In other instances, the s~ into individuals who share the same rooms without sh~ As part of this reaction against institution, there i., vision of one's apostolate to one's personal career. apostolate of many religious communities has lost tl~ has been reduced for all practical purposes to a group own flight plans. The apostolates that have suffered areas, where hospitals and schools have closed and r facing an uncertain future, because they have no !~ whether religious will still be interested in such work. Now I feel I must tread where even angels fear religious garb. A few years ago (though it seems like a concerned with modifying the religious garb. Now it nail communities degenerate ing anything else. the tendency to narrow the is a great tragedy that the community dimension and individuals turning in their the most are those in rural aany others find themselves uarantee from year to year walk. It is the matter of ',entury) the discussions were a matter in many cases of 358 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 adoption of a mode of dress which in no way disti.nguishes a person as a religious. This is a very touchy subject. Though the question of clothing is trivial in itself when compared with values like faith and charity, it assumes in practice an importance out of all proportion to the fact that it is something extrinsic, while the other values are intrinsic. This phenomenon should already give us a hint concerning the nature of clothing. Clothes are never merely extrinsic. They are like the face. They mirror forth the person behind the face. We have been speaking of the reaction against anonymity, structure, and institution, where an overreaction results in individualism instead of personalism, fragmentation instead of integration, careerism instead of group apostolate. It seems that the question of clothing is of particular importance because it becomes as it were the symbol of the reaction against all of these classical features, not just against one of them. On the other hand, is it not possible that it has become an anti-symbol, where it symbolizes individualism, fragmentation, and careerism? We hope that, even though this is such a sensitive subject, most of us are beyond the stage where rational discussion is swallowed up in emotional reactions. We seem to have forgotten that the social sciences have given us much insight into the matter of clothes. All studies of human clothing point out the basic fact that clothes are not just things. They are part of the body-person, t Leaning on the research of the social sciences, we would like to comment on two aspects of clothing: what we wear gives visible shape to our inner attitude, and in turn what we wear shapes the attitudes. In both cases, this comes from the fact that clothes have a symbolic nature. Our inner attitudes are expressed in the way we speak, act, and dress. This is the law of our being. Human clothing is not just a protection against the elements. It forms an important link in that interlocking network of symbols in which we communicate with one another. Clothes are a function of meaning even more than words. They do in fact provide the light in which people interpret our words. We all recall the story of the Turkish astronomer in The Little Prince. No learned society accepted the report of his discovery of the new asteroid until he changed from Turkish clothes into European costume. Clothing, therefore, is never neutral. While this is true for every human being, it seems that it is especially true. for women. Clothes are not blank cartridges. When Judith prepared to meet Holofernes, she knew what every woman knows. Clothes are a manifestation of inner intentionality. The medium is the message. There are three levels of our existence, each of which is manifested by the way we dress. On the first level, clothes manifest our inner attitudes. On the second level, they manifest something more superficial, a job that we have, as we see in the uniform of a policeman, a soldier, a nurse. On the third and most profound level, they symbolize our meaning. A wedding dress, for example, is more than a symbol of an inner attitude, more than a uniform someone wears to get married. It symbolizes the meaning of a person's life, which from this point on is to be a life-with-another. The same is true of the vestments worn by the priest when he is celebrating. They symbolize more than a mentality. They are not a uniform used for worship. They serve to draw the worshippers into a new mode of existence. The symbolic aspect of clothing is obvious. There is another aspect of clothing, I see for example in Encyclopedia of the Social Sciences the entries under "Dress," "Fashion," and so forth; see also: J. C. Flugel, The Psychblogy of Clothes (New York, 1950), and Mary Shaw Ryan, Clothing: A Study in Human Behavior (New York, 1966). Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/3 however, which we do not think about as often. Clotl as the saying goes, "clothes make the man." In a ge man more really than man makes the clothes. All psychologists, and for that matter anyone w aware that the most sure way to change a person's v the symbols which surround his life. A person's changing his ideas alone. The change comes fr( meaningful sense symbols which gradually change sudden a person finds himself thinking in a different way a person dresses affects the way he thinks. self-image; they create it. Clothes are like reflectors. are, but they also act as reflectors in which we see of what we see. It is of great importance for religious to avail the~ matter of clothing provided by the social scientists. 0 that clothes are a way of speaking. The question to be To what extent should what I wear speak to others' inner character, or my job, or my meaning? Similarb psychological effect that clothes have on our thinking" Let us sum up our remarks for this first part. We r~ growth depend on the harmonious interworking of t many cases we saw th, at these components, insteac ended up in antagonistic positions. This can be trace overreaction to what is called a classical mentality. Ma from reaction, but where reaction gets out of bound: frustrate progress. We pointed out three areas in whi have been particularly strong: against anonymity, : nature of religious life which we globally describ~ commented on the fact that attitudes toward, religi influenced by the same type of reaction. The Loss of Shared Values and Shared Vision We mentioned above that the components of c! synthesis through shared faith and shared values. Whe works and lives at cross purposes. They are like rowe trying to row in his own direction. There is no doubt that the atmosphere of seculari~ and hearts of many religious. This is a process of h that are distinctively Christian are leveled to a vague, h betterment. Those values of the gospel which are rationalistic mind and sinful nature are de-scandaliz~ categories of relevance. Those gospel values which res Such are the scandal of the cross, the virtues of h~ renuntiation, repentance, and penance. In some cases secularization has not only de-Christ: even infected the ideas that some religious have about To all appearances some religious seem to have lost the Sometimes the gospel values crystalized in the tra chastity, poverty, and obedience, are lost in the perf~ vows is "updated" into some more meaningful an~ 359 es not only manifest the man; luine sense, clothes make the no knows human nature, are ,hole personality is to change character is not changed by ,m the pressure exerted by the concepts, until all of a way than he did before. The They not only express his ['hey not only reflect what we urselves and assume the shape tselves of the insights into the ne cannot avoid the basic fact answered by everyone is this: ' Should clothes manifest my ,, we have to be aware of the entioned that all progress and ~e components of growth. In of supporting one another, at least in great part, to an ny positive features can come ~ it delivers ultimatums which .~h this overreaction see.ms to ;tructure, and the corporate d ds institution. Finally we ~us garb are to "some extent ~ange are kept in a healthy a these are lost, a community rs in a boat, each of whom is ation has infected the mind~ arizontalization where values umanistic concern for human a perennial scandal to the d and adapted to the bland st adaptation are abandoned. ~nility, docility, abnegation, anized the gospel, but it has God, Christ, and the Church.

Issue 30.6 of the Review for Religious, 1971. ; EDITOR R. F. Smith, S.J. ASSOCIATE EDITOR Everett A. Diederich, S.J. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS EDITOR Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Correspondence with the editor, the associate editors, and the assistant editor, as well as books for review, should be sent to I~VIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 6:31o3. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; St. Joseph's Church; 321 Willings Alley; Philadelphia, Pe.nnsylvania 191o6. + + REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Edited with ecclesiastical approval by faculty members of the School of Divinity of Saint Louis University, the editorial offices being located at 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 63103. Owned by the Missouri Province Edu-cational Institute. Published bimonthly and copyright ~) 1971 by REVIEW 'VOg RELIGIOUS. Published for Review for Religious at Nit. Ro\'al & Guilford Ave., Baltimore, .Xld. Printed in U.S.A. Set'ond class postage paid at Baltimore, .Maryland and ,at addithmal mailing offices. Single copies: $1.25. Subscription U.S.A. and Canada: $6.00 a year, $11.00 for two years: other countries: $7.00 a year, $13.00 for two years. Orders should indicate whether they are for new or renewal subscriptions and should be accompanied by check or money order paya-ble to REVIEW POg RELIOIOGS in U.S.A. currency only. Pay no money to persons claiming to represent REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Change of address requests should include former address. Renewals and new subscriptions should be sent to REviEW FOR RELIGIOUS; P. O. Box l 110; Duluth, Minnesota 55802. Manuscripts, editorial correspondence, and books for re-view should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; 619 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louts, Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to the address of the Questions and Answers editor. NOVEMBER 1971 VOLUME 30 NUMBER 6 JOSEPH F. GALLEN,.S.J. Decree on Confessions of Religious. In a decree dated December 8, 1970, effective immedi-ately, and confirmed by the Pope on November 20, 1970, the Sacred Congregation for Religious and Secular Instb tutes made the following.changes in the canon law on the sacrament of penance for religious, especially religious women, and on exclusion from a religious institute of one in temporary vows because of ill health. These provisions will remain in force until the new Code of Canon Law is effective. Number 4, e), of the Decree states that the pre-scriptions of the present canon law that are contrary to the new provisions, incompatible with them, or which because of them no longer apply, are suspended. Any provision of the Decree that~ affects novices will apply to those in a temporary commitment other than temporary vows. The numbering of the Decree has been retained in the following explanation. 1-2. The Decree exhorts religious to value highly the sacrament of penance as a means of strengthening the fundamental gift of metanoia or conversion to the king-dom of Christ, and to esteem in the same way the fre-quent use of this sacrament, which debpens ~true knowl-edge of self and humility, provides spiritual direction, and increases grace. These and other wonderful effects, according to n. 2, contribute not only to daily growth in virtue but are highly beneficial also to the common good. 3. All religious, men and women, clerical and lay, ex-empt and nonexempt, should strive to receive the sacra-ment of penance frequently, that is, twice a month. Supe-riors are to encourage this frequency and make it possible [or the members to go to confession at least every two weeks and even oftener, if they wish to do so. In the past, canon law did not oblige religious to go to confession at least once a week. The canonical obligation extended onl~ to superiors, who had to make it possible for their subjects to confess at least once a week. How-÷ ÷ ÷ Joseph F. Gallen, s.J., writes from St. Joseph's Church at 321 Willings Alley; Philadelphia, Penn-sylvania 19106. VOLUME 30, 1971 4" 4" J. F. Gallen, S.J. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 944 ever, the Code of Canon Law presupposed that an obliga-tion of weekly confession, existdd at least from custom, and very universally the constitutions obliged religious to confess at/east once a week. 4, a). "All women religious and novices, in Order that they may have proper liberty, may make their confession validly and licitly to any priest approved for hearing confessions in the locality. For this no special jurisdiction or designation is henceforth required." The first sentence of this number" gives all women reli-gious and novices, in orders, congregations, or societies of common life, the right always to go to confession validly and licitly to any priest of their choice, whether he is diocesan or religious, who is approved for confessions in the locality of the partic.ular confession. Furthermore, as this number of the Decree also states, the confessor does not have to be designated or appointed, for religious women.' Even in the past there were no canonical norms on the confessions of men or women postulants, who were regulated canonically by the same laws on confession as secular men and women. Religious women and novices are therefore .no longer obliged to go to ordinary or ex-traordinary confessors, eveh when such confessors exist for their houses. The special confessor of a particular reli-gious woman of canon 520, par. 2, no longer exists be-cause a religious woman may go, even habitually or al-ways, to any confessor of her choice. The same reason excludes the supplementary confessors (c. 521, par. 2), the occasional confessor (c. 522), and the confessor of seri-ously sick religious women (c. 523). Number 8, e), of the recent norms on the papal enclosure of nuns permits the following: "A priest [even if he possesses no jurisdiction for confessions] may likewise be admitted to assist those religious suffering from a chronic or greave illness." Mere spiritual direction, unlike absolution, does not require jurisdiction for confessions. Because of the sus.pended canons listed above in this paragraph, canon 2414, the last canon in the Code, is also suspended. This canon reads: If a superioress acts against the prescriptions of canons 521, par. 3, 522, and 523, she shall be admonished by, the local or-dinary; if again delinquent, she shall be punished by removal from office, and the Sacred Congregation of Religious is to be immediately informed of the matter. By reason of the second sentence of this number, spe-cial jurisdiction is no longer required for the valid or licit confessions of professed women religious or novices, whether in orders or congregations, nor for those in the analogons states of societies of women living in common without public vows (c; 675). All of these are now ab-solved in virtue of the same jurisdiction as secular women. Priests ordinarily possess jurisdiction for the con-fessions of the faithful ol~ both sex~esf@hey may therefore, in the locality for which they posses such jurisdiction, valid!y absolve the religious women listed" above any-wherd, in the confessional or outside of it. They may licitly do the latter in a case of sickness or for any other reason of like import (c. 910, par. 1). In the pa.st, to absolve validly and licitly the~ same religious women listed above, special jurisdiction was nec-essary. The jurisdiction was special becfiuse it "~as not contained in the jurisdiction granted for the faithful of both sexes~or for women. It had t3 be given expressly for religious women (c. 876, par. 1). The pres.ent suspension of the necessity of special jurisdiction also implies the suspension of the necessity of the designation of a special spiritual director (c. 520, par. 2) by the local ordinary or the regular superior. The i'eason for the necessity of this designation was that special jurisdiction for confession was granted to such a spiritual director. Lay religious institutes o[ men. According to n. 5 of the Decree, the applicable norms of n. 4 on women appertain~ also to lay institutes of men. Therefore, all religious and novices of such institutes may go to confession to any confessor, as explained above for women (n. 4, a). Be-cause of this right of choice, the special ordinary ~onfes-sor of professed °(c. 528), for whom the permission of the religious superior was° required, no longer exists," as is true also of the supplementary confessors of novices in the same institutes (c. 566, par. 2, n. 3),'and likewise of the occasional confessor of both professed and novices (c. 519). All of canon 566, par. 2, on confessors of novices in lay and clerical institutes of men is also suspended. Clerical institutes o[ men. Nothing is said directly in the Decree on the confessions of members of clerical or-ders' or congregations except that they too Should go to confession twice a month (n. 3). However, the applicable provisions on the confessions of women religious and nomces must also apply to clerical institutes. Otherwise, their members would be in an inferior condition to that of religious women and of the members of lay institutes of men, which has not been their status thus far in the laws of the Church. It is also the sufficiently evident intention of the Sacred Congregation to simplify the law on confes-sion [or religious and to grant greater liberty, and these are also desirable in the laws affecting clerical institutes. Therefore, all religious and novices in clerical institutes may make their confession to any confessor, as explained above [or women (n. 4, a). It would be incredible that clerical religious alone would be excluded from the pre-ceding concession. As above for lay institutes of men, the occasional confessor of both professe.d and novices (c. 519) ÷ ÷ ÷ Conlesslons VOLUME 30, 19TI 945 ~. l~. Gallen, $.~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 946 no longer exists nor the supplementary confessors for novices of canon 566, par. 2, n.3. 4, b). An ordinary confessor must be named for monas-teries of contemplative nuns, for houses of formation of women, and for large houses of women. An extraordinary confessor is to be named at least for the first two types of the preceding houses. The women religious and novices are not obliged to present themselves to either such ordi-nary or extraordinary confessors. The provision for the monasteries of contemplative nuns should in practice be extended to nuns who are doing immediate apostolic work, for example, conducting schools within their monasteries, and also to the houses or monasteries of contemplative congregations of sisters, for example, the Sisters Adorers of the Precious Blood, who have monasteries in the archdiocese of Portland, Oregon and in the dioceses of ~Brooklyn, Lafayette, Indi-ana, Manchester, Ogdensbu?g, Portland, Maine, and To-ledo Houses of formation of women include novitiates and juniorates, although the small number of novices and juniors and other circumstances can in some cases render the appointment of ordinary and extraordinary confessors impractical. There is no canonical definition of a large religious house. The determination of such houses should be made hy the local ordinary after a considera-tion of all the circumstances and even by consultation of its members. It could happen that the members of a very large house in a city can and prefer to go to any confes-sor. The presence or absence of members who cannot go outside the house for confession is obviously an impor-tant factor. Nor is consideration for the confessor to be forgotten, for example, an ordinary confessor who would come every two weeks and find nothing to do. In some cases a priest such as the one Or" ones who celebrate daily Mass in a larger house may be able to handle readily the few confessions that will occur. The fact that no religious woman or novice is obliged to present herself to any of these ordinay or extraordinary confessors follows from the general principle of the decree in n. 4, a), that all women religious and novices may make their confession validly and licitly to any priest approved for hearing confessions in the locality. This number of the Decree commands merely [he appointment of an extraordinary confessor, that is, the confessor who frequently, not neces-sarily at least for times during the year, is accessible that the members of the community may have the opportunity of confessing to another than the ordinary confessor. This was the definition of the same wording in canon 528 on the extraordinary confessor for professed religious in lay institutes of men. The Code explicity commanded the extraordinary confessor of professed religious women and novices (c. 521, par. 1)and of novices in institutes qf men' (c. 566, par. 2, n. 4) to be available atleast four times a year, but this provision is suspended by the Decree, In a liouse of ~formati0n, ord_i.nary .and extraordipar.y_, confeS, sors are to be app0intedl only for those in formation unless, with regard to an ordinary confessor, tbe other members of the house are sufficient to constitute a large house. This doctrine is evident from the fact that ordi-nary and ~xtraor,dinary confessors would not be ap-pointed [or these other members if they were in another house. Therefore, for example, in a novitiate house these confessors are appointed for the novices, not [or the mem-bers of the generalate or provincialate staff residing in tbe same house of formation. 4, c). "For other co.mmunities [in additition to the monasterieg of nuns, houses of formation, and large houses of n. 4, b) immediately above] an ordinary confes-sor may be named at the request of the community itself or after consultation with its members if, in the judgment of tlie ordinary, special circumstances justify such an ap-pointment." The "special circumstances" will be at least very com-monly those that prevent the religious women of a house fi'om going to confession twice a month unless an ordi-nary confessor is appointed. This can arise from the pres-ence in the house of religious who cannot go out for confession, from the location of the house that makes access to other confessors difficult, or that allows such access to only one confessor, for example, the sole priest in the one parish in a small town, and so forth. Lay and clerical institutes oJ men. With the exception of that on monasteries of nuns, the provisions of n. 4, b) and c) immediately above apply also to lay institutes of men by reason of n. 5, and to clerical institutes in virtue Of the arguments given under n. 4, a). It would again be incredible that ordinary contessors would continue to have to be appointed for all houses of clerical institutes (c. 518, par. 1) but only for the restricted number of houses of religious women and lay institutes of men ac-cording to n. 4, b) of the present Decree. Houses of for-mation in Clerical institutes include also houses of study (C. 587) and houses for the apostolic year and tertianship (see Sedes Sapientiae, nn. 48, 51). The judgment on the existence of a large house and on the special circumstan-ces tbat justify the appointment of ordinary confessors in houses that are not houses of formation or large apper-tains in clerical orders and congregations to the religious superior who has the right of appointing ordinary confes-sors according to the constitutions 0f the particular insti-tute. 4, d). "The local ordinary should choose confessors 4. 4. 4. ~. F. Gallen, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 948 ~arefully. They should be priests of sufficient maturity and possess the other necessary qualities. The ordinary may determine the number, age and term of office of the confessors and may name them or renew their appoint-ment after consultation with the community concerned." This paragraph of the decree commands the local ordi-nary to choose the ordinary and ektraordinary confessors of women religious and novices of the tw9 preceding sections with care. The suitability of priests for these two duties appertains to the judgment of the local ordinary. For example, it is no longer required that these confessors be 'forty years of age (c. 524, par. 1). The local ordinary also determines the number of such confessors, and it is no longer demanded that per se only one ordinary and extraordinary confessor be appointed for each house (cc. 520, par. 1; 521, par. 1). The local ordinary may but is not obliged to determine the duration of the term of office of these confessors, for example, two year.s, and may reappoint them immediately and indefinitely after con-sultation with the community concerned. He may also, with the same consulation, immediately appoint an ordi-nary coiafessor as extraordinary of the same commun.ity (see c. 524, par. 2). Clerical and lay institutes o[ men. The ordinary and extraordinary confessors in these institutes from the na-ture of the matter are to be priests suitable for the office. The provisions, however, of n. 4~, d) of the Decree imme-diately above apply only to institutes of women both from their wording, which is based on the canons on confessors of religious women, and from the fact that the present canon law prescribes no qualities for the ordinary and extraordinary confessors in institutes of men, whether clerical or lay. It is evidently permitted to follow such a provision as the previous consultation of the com-munity concerned. The following are the canons specifically on confessors of religious that remain in force: Can. 518, par. 1. In . every clerical Institute there shall be deputed. [ordinary] confessors with power, if it be ques~ tion of an exempt Institute, to absolve also from the cases re-served in the Institute. Par. 2. Religious Superiors, having faculties to hear confes' sions, can, in conformity with the law, hear the confessions of their subjects who spontaneously and freely approach them for that purpose, but they may not without grave reason hear them habitually. Par. 3. Superiors must take care not to induce, personally, or through others, by force, by fear, or by importunate persua-sion, or by any other means, any of their subjects to confess his sins to them. Can. 524, par. 3. The confessors, whether ordinary or extra-ordinary, of religious women are not, in any manner, to inter- fere either in the internal or external government of the com-munity. Can. 525. For all houses of religious women immediately subject to the Apostolic See or to the local Ordinary, the latter selects both ordinary an.d extraordinary ,confessor;. ~o~" those subject to a Regular Superior, this Superior presents the con-fessors to the'Ordinary who will grant them the approval to hear the confessions of'the nuns; the Ordinary also shall supply, if necessary, for the negligence of the Regular Superior, Can. 527. According to the terms of canon 880, the local Ordinary can, for a serious~ cause, remove both the ordinary and extraordinary confessor of religious women, even when the monastery is subject to Regulars and the confessor himself a Regular, nor is the Ordinary bound to make known the reason for the removal to anyone except to the Holy See, if it should require the reason from him; he must, however, if the nuns are subject to Regulars, inform the Regular Superior of the removal. Can. 875, par. 2. In an exempt lay Institute, the Superior proposes the confessor, who, however, must receive jurisdiction from the Ordinary of the place in which the religious house is situated. The preceding are taken from the authorized but unof-ficial translation, Canonical Legislation concerning Reli-gious. Canon 891, which also remains in force, is ~not contained in this translation. It reads as follows: Can. 891. The master of novices and his socius, the superior of a seminary or of a college may not hear the sacramental con-fessions of his students residing in the same house with him, unless the students spontaneously request this in particular cases for a grave and urgent reason. The canons therefore specifically on confessors of reli-gious that remain are part of canon 518, par. 1, and all the rest of this canon; all of canons 524, par. 3, 525, 527, 875, par. 2, and 891. "II The final clause of canon 637 is to be understood in the sense that a religious in temporary vows who, because of physical or mental illness even if contracted after pro-fession, is judged by the competent superior with the consent of his council, on the basis of examinations by physicians or other specialists, to be incapable of living the religious life without personal harm or harm to the institute, may be refused admission to renewal of vows or to final profession. The decision in such cases is to be taken with charity and equ!ty." According to canon 637 a professed of temporary vows could be excluded from the renewal of temporary vows or from making perpetual profession because of ill health ofily if it was proved with certainty that the ili health had been contracted and fraudulently concealed or dissi-mulated before the first profession of temporary vows. The same principle is true of the dismissal of a professed of temporary vows (c. 647, par. 2, n. 2). These canons are not completely logical. The time of temporary vows is Confessions 949 4. 4. 4" J. F. Gallen, S.J. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 950 one of probation; the canons permit exclusion or dis-missal of such professed for other inculpable causes; and canon 637 otherwise requires only .just and reasona-ble causes for exclusion and canon 647, par. 2, n. 2, only serious reasons for dismissai. These canons also caused serious and, without recourse to the Holy See, even insol-uble problems. This was verified especially with regard to psychological disorders when the subject would not vol-untarily leave the institute. His retention could cause great difficulty to the institute, even intensify his own condition, and cases occurred in which superiors could not in conscience admit such subjects to further profes-sions, particularly to perpetual profession~ It is evident that the decision in these cases of physical or psychologi-cal health is to be made with proper regard and considera-tion for the subject, and, as the Decree states, with char-ity and equity (see REVIEW I~OF RELIGIOUS, 16 [1957], 218-9, 271; 25 [1966], 1104-5). In virtue of the present legislation in II, an exclusion from further temporary or perpetual profession because of physical or psychological illness, even if contracted after the first temporary profession, may be made by the competent superior with the consent of his or her council if they judge, on the basis of examinations by physicians or other specialists, that the subject is incapable of living the religious life without personal harm or harm to the institute. The subject should ordinarily at least be first encouraged to leave voluntarily and this as soon as such a condition is sufficiently ascertained. The new legislation is concerned only with an exclu-sion from further profession; it does not extend to the dismissal of a professed of temporary vows in the same case. This can cause a serious difficulty if the case comes to a head when a considerable part of a temporary profes-sion is unexpired, for example, in the early part of the second year of a three-year profession, and the subject will not leave voluntarily. This case, when it occurs, may be proposed to the Sacred Congregation for a solution. Practical summary o[" the Decree. The~ norm'~f fre-quency of confession is every two weeks. All religious may always confess to any confessor in the locality. Spe-cial jurisdiction is not required for religious women. The only confessors proper to religious are ordinary confessors in monasteries Of nuns and in the following houses of men and women: houses of f6rmation, large houses, and other houses in special circumstances, and extraordinary confessors in the same monasteries and houses of forma-tion. Such confessors of women do not have to be forty years of age. A professed of temporary vows may be ex-cluded from further professions because of physical or psychological illness. CHRISTOPHER KIESLING, O.P. Ministry in the Schools of the Church Religious should get out of Catholic schools. Such schools should not exist.The Church should not be in the business of education, but should devote its resources to the social problems of our day. Moreover, Church schools serve the affluent middle and upper classes more than the oppressed minorities. Religious, ther~efore, should go into other ministries in which they can serve the world, especially the underprivileged. Undoubtedly it is good that religious are venturing into nev~ ministries besides ~eaching or administration in schools of the Church. It is good for sisters and brothers because some have temperaments, inclinations, interests, and talents which equip them much better for other min-istries titan that of the church school. It is good for the Chnrch and the world because both have grave needs which can be met only by the service of highly motivated and generous people such as religious. But while some religious should be encouraged to enter into new forms of apostolate, it would be most unfortu-nate if others were not encouraged to enter Or Continue in the apostolate of the schools of the Church. This apos-tolate is extremely important and even assumes, a ni~wness today by virtue of the many changes taking place in both the Church and the w6rld. As is well known, these schools are threatened with extinction today. The demise of the schools of the Church, however, is a most grievous set-back to the emergence of mature Christian laymen in the life and apostolate of the Church and hence in the Church's mission to the world, especially to the world's social problems. Vatican II expres'~d the int.egral mission of the Church with special clarity. It was compelled to do tiffs in its efforts to describe p, ositively the place, digni_ty, and role of the laity in the Church. The Decree on the Apostolate o] the Laity, for instance, says: 4- 4- Christopher Kies-ling, O.P., is a fac-ulty member of Aquinas Institute School of Theology in Dubuque, Iowa 52001. VOLUME 30, 1971 951 + C. Kiesling, O.P. REVIEW I:OR REI.IGIOUS 952 Christ's redemptive work, while of itself directed toward the salvation of men, involves also the renewal of the whole tem-poral order. Hence the. mission of the Church is not on!y to bring to men tlie message and grace of Christ, but also to pene-trate and perfect the temporal sphere with the spirit of the Gospel (n, 5). Tlie missiofi of the Church, in other words, is not to rescue men from this world for salvation in another world, but to unite men to God in this world and through them permeate human activity, culture, and his-tory with fl~e spirit of Christ, thus cooperating with God in bringing all creation to its divinely intended goal: eternal life and resurrection of the body for men in a new heaven and a new earth. Every member of the Church participates in her mis-sion: For this the ChurCh was founded: that., she might bring all men to share in Christ,s saving redemption; and that through them the whole world might in actual fact be brought into relationship with him. All activity of the Mystical Body directed to the attainment of this goal is called the apostolate, and the Church carries it on in various ways through all her members. For by its very nature the Christian vocation is also a vocation to the apostolate (ibid., n. 2). The Church is the whole body of baptized believers, sent by Christ into the world to bring men his truth and grace and to work for the divinely willed perfection of creation. In order to accomplish this mission, baptized believers nfinister to one a~aother, building up the whole Body of Christ in truth and grace for service to the world for the glory~of tlte Father. Some ministries are purely charismatic, the fruit of the Spirit's quickening believers to particular services to fellow members of Christ's Body for their joint mission to the world. Some ministries are also institutional, that is, in addition to the call of the Spirit, they have a more or less per.manent place and a more or less defined [unction in the structure of the Chnrch as ordained by God in Christ or by the Christian community in the course of history; consequently, these ministries appear in the canon law of the Church. But whether institutional or not, all these ministries are in-cludetl in the Spirit-inspired serf-help which the members of Christ's Body give to one another for the vigorous life of His Body and for its continuing mission and ministry to the world. What is required of the members of Christ's Body if they are to fulfill their apostolic vocation? They need articulate faith, a keen appreciation of the meaning and value of creatures, and zeal coupled with skill for building a better world of truth, justice, love, and freedom for every man, woman, and child. By "articulate faith" is meant a faith with some under- standing of the assertions.of faith, .including recognition of the difficulties which these assertions present to human intelligence today, their historical conditioning, and their need for continual reinterpretation and restatement if they are going to remain vali'd'expression~ of'~tuthentic faith in the midst of constantly changing human con-sciousness of reality. More importantly, articulate faith is aware of itself as.an adventure into ineffable mystery and personal communion with the living God, for which faith's assertions are a means not an end: a gateway, not the end of the road. Articulate faith also includes the willingness, ability, and c6nfidence to talk about what one believes. Because faith is a great adventure toward the fulfillment of men's deepest longing, one is willing, even eager, to discuss matters of faith; and one does not shy away from such discussion for fear of being wrong, because one is aware that faith is response to a loving Person who is more interested in drawing men to per-sonal communion with Him than He is in theological niceties. Vatican II expects the members of the Church to have such articulate faith, in accord with their capacity for it. According to the Decree on the Apostolate of the Laity, "the apostolate of the Church and of all her members is designed primarily to manifest Christ's message by words and deeds and to communicate his grace to the world" (ibid., n. 6). Noteworth~ in this statement is that all mem-bers of the Church are to manifest Christ's message by words, as well as deeds, and to communicate His grace. The ministry of teaching and sanctifying is not restricted to the clergy's ministry of the word and the sacraments. The decree proceeds to note that one of the ways in which the laity exercise their apostolate of "making the Gospel known and men holy" (ibid.) is through the testi-mony of a good life. But it goes on to say that "an aposto-late of this kind does not consist only in the witness of one's way of life; a true apostle looks for opportunities to announce Christ by words addressed either to non-believ-ers with a view to leading them to faith, or to believers with a view to instructing and strengthening them, and motivating them toward a more fervent life" (ibid.). ¯ In other words, the laity, as well as the clergy and religious, are responsible for building up the Body of Christ in truth and love and [or implementing its teach-ing and sanctifying mission. To fulfill this responsibility, laity, as well as clergy and religious, need articulate faith. A second need which each member of Christ's Body has is for a keen appreciation of the meaning and value of creatures: The Lord wishes to spread his kingdom . In this kingdom, creation itself will be delivered out of its slavery to corruption 4- 4- 4- Schools VOLUME 30, 1971 4" 4" 4" C. Kiesling, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 954 and into the freedom of the sons of God (cf. Rom. 8:21) . The faithful, therefore, must learn the deepest meaning and the value of all creation~ and how to relate it to the praise of God. They must assist one another to live holier lives even in their daily occupations. In this way the world is permeated by the spirit of Christ and more effectively achieves its purpose in justice, charity, and peace (Constitution on the Church, n. 36). In the light of revelation,, baptized believers must see and appreciate creatures in their original goodness and in their relationship to the Incarnation and the eschaton; They should perceive and treasure creatures as the poet does, with awe and reverence for the uniqueness and beauty of each. They should not view them simply with the detached, calculating eye of the technician. Yet tech-nology too is a creature of God, so that Christians should understand and evaluate rightly its place and products in the scheme of things. Especially must the Christian be aware and appreciative of man and the mysteries of his being: the human body, feeling and emotion, love and sex, work and play, community and celebration, art and science, the aspirations of the human spirit~and the long-ings of the human heart--all bathed in the light of God's gracious love. Thirdly, the members of Christ's Body need zeal cou-pled with skill for building a better world: By their competence in secular fields and by personal activity, elevated fr6m" within by the grace o[ Christ, let them labor vigorously so that by human labor, technical skill, and civic culture created goods may be perfected for the benefit of every last man. Let them work to see that created goods are more fittingly distributed among men and., in their own way lead to general progress in human and Christian liberty (ibid.). Baptized believers should also "by their combined efforts remedy any institutions and conditions of the world which are customarily inducements to sin, so that all such things may be conformed to the norms of justice and may favor the practice of virtue rather than hinder it" (ibid.). They need to "imbue culture and human activity with moral values" (ibid.). The question now arises: By what means are the mem-bers of Christ's Body going to develop articulate faith, appreciation of the meaning and value of creatures, arid zeal with skill for building a better world? Can weekly liturgies of the word (including homily) and the Eucha-rist accomplish this end? Even supposing the Scriptures are well read, the homilies well prepared and delivered, and the celebration well carried through, weekly liturgies alone hardly seem capable of generating the qualities which Christ's members ought to have to fulfill their apostolic vocation. CCD classes are not going to yield the needed qualities. They are limited in time. They p~vide little sustained interaction between mature Christians and growing ones over a wide spectrum of life. Their very organization fosters the idea of faith as a gegment of life, [,or Which one sets aside a piece of time each week. Finally, they are impeded in effectiveness by the forced and often chaotic conditions under wliich .they operate. Newman Centers too are very limited in what they can do to develop the necessary qualities in the members of Christ's Body beyond a small circle. Courses in "religiqus studies" are far from adequate means. They are by definition uncommitted, objective examination of religion and religions. They are highly intellectual, speculative, whatever existential and subjec-tive use an individual student may make of them. They are also limited in the amount of time given to them and, being a self-cOntained part of a curriculum, they convey the impression that religion also is a self-con-tained part of life, rather than~a dimension of all life. Adult education does not appear to be the solution. The competition for adults' time and attention is ex-tremely intense. Moreover, dae qualities required of a mature Christian should be well developed before he reaches the age at which l~e would enroll in adult educa-tion courses that are more than remedial. The answer is not Catholic newapapers, magazines, and books. People who love and profit from reading are relatively few in our activist culture, and are becoming even fewer in this post-linear age of happenings and tele-vision in the global village. The Church's recourse to happenings and television will not be much more fruitful than literature for achieving the necessary goal. Once people are gathered, happenifigs and television can be extremely effective instructors, but the problem is pre-cisely gathering the people. Unless people are already rather strongly motivated religiously, they are not going to prefer religious happenings and television programs to their secular coi~nterparts. As for parents as the source of the needed Christian maturity, parents are limited in what they Can do for their children. They cannot ,.lead their children to an articulate faith much beyond their own. They will find themselves limited especially when they come to helping their children develop that keen appreciation of the meaning and value of creation which Vatican iI urges for all members of Christ's .Body. Parents may be able to foster such apl~reciation for the simpler things of life, but they may be at a loss in matters of biology, the physical universe, history, poetry, drama, music. Parents' social consciousness and involvement may or may not be very highly developed, and will almost always be limited in 4- 4- 4- Schools VOLUME .'30, "1971 955 + 4. 4. C. Kiesling, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 956 scope because of family responsibilities and finite human energies. Social services of the Church are not ordered, by defini-tion, to the development of mature Christians, but to relieving the pressing needs which men and women have in their personal and social lives, in order that their lives may meet basic standards of health, decency, dignity, and happiness. It is difficult to imagine any project of the Church which offers the opportunities that schools do for p.ro-viding the members of Christ's Body with the develop-ment of faith, .appreciation of creation, and apostolic zeal and know-how which they need and to which they have a right. Several points are to be noted about this affirma-tion. First, it does not mean that schools alone do the whole job. There is still need for good liturgies, adult educa-tion, and all the rest. Secondly, the schools referred to are not only elementary schools. High schools and colleges are more important. Thirdly, the assertion speaks of schools for providing the needed qualities of articulate faith, appreciation of creation, and apostolic zeal with skill. It does not speak simply of religion courses in schools operated by the Church, though such courses have their rightful place. It is not a matter of the Church going into the education business, so that it can, with ease, slip religion courses into the curriculum. It is, rather, a matter of providing a Christian milieu in which learning to live a full life can Occtlr. Finally, the argument is not based on the actual con-duct or achievements of the Church's schools in the past. Whatever judgment is rendered on the past, the situation has changed so much since Vatican II that the schools of the Church today constitute an entirely new set of oppor-tunities. In recent years new methods of teaching have evolved which make learning boi:h more exciting for students and more in contact with life in society. Lay teachers have become a familiar part of the faculties of the Church's schools. Priests' and religious' styles of life have changed, bringing them into closer contact with ordinary life and with the laity, particularly their students. The ghetto mentality has largely disappeared, so that Church schools are less prone to be instruments of defense and more liable to be openings to the world. The ecumenical spirit enables Protestant, Anglican, and Orthodox Christians, as well as Jews and men of other beliefs, to have some place in the education that goes on in the schools of the Church. Administrators, faculties, and students are more aware of the school's obligations to the civic community in which it exists, All these new [actors mean :that the value of the Church's schools today cannot be judged on the basis of their past conduct and achievements. The opportunities which the schools of the: Church offer do not consist only or even mainly in the possibili-ties for religion courses or religious pract~ices. They con-sist in the possibilities for the young to develop articulate faith, a keen appreciation of creatures, and zeal with com-petence for building a better world by close association in learning and doing with mature Christians who them-selves have such faith, appreciation, and zeal. There is a difference, I would maintain, between what a youth derives from a course in English literature taught with competence and enthusiasm by a Christian whose faith permeates his life, and what he derives from such a course taught by someone else. A course in English litera-ture well taught by a Christian tells a young person that Christianity embraces all of life, that it is willing and able to learn from human experience as well as from revela-tion, that it recognizes the Spirit of God working in the world and speaking to men through human events, per-sonal and social. Besides this non-verbal communication, there can be explicit comparisons between the views of life in English literature and the view of the gospel. These comparisons are opportunities to develop articu-late faith without indoctrination. But even without any explicit mention of Christian faith, this course in English literature is a Christian ministry. As Vaticap II affirmed, Christians should have a deep sense of the meaning and value of all creation. The Church, therefore, has a duty to provide for its members to learn about creation through the arts and sciences illumined by the gospel. It is a precious gift which a Christian teacher gives to a student in patiently helping him to appreciate-a poem, even though faith is not explicitly referred to. If this Christian teacher of English literature is also aware of the world's and ldcal community's problems; if he is involved outside the school in trying to build a better world, if he lets this be known to his students and even involves his students in his social concern outside the classroom, his students will be made aware of another dimension of the Christian vocation and will even gain some knowledge of what they can do concretely to build a better world. If the administrators and teachers in a school of the Church are articulate in their faith, if they treasure God's creatures, if they are socially concerned and involved, if they constitute the nucleus of a genuine, open Christian community into which they assimilate their students, that school offers unparalleled opportu.nities for developing in the members of Chris,t's Body the qualities nece~ssary for + ÷ + Schools VOLUME 30, ].971 957 + 4. + C. Kiesling, O,P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 958 their sharing the mission of the Church to mankind and the world. But, it may be objected, should not such a Christian teacher of English literature or physics or sociology or mathematics be in apublic school? Could he not perform a most valuable Christian ministry there Yes, he could; and such Christian teachers--lay, religious, cleric-- should be in public schools. They would be fulfilling the Church's apostolic mission to the world in a most excel-lent way. But could his pupils derive as much benefit from him in the public school as they could in a school of the Church---or of the Churches, as some would propose in this ecumenical age? In a public school, his pupils could only rarely, and then with the greatest circumspection, explicitly view the subject with the teacher in the light of the gospel. Never could they celebrate their Christian awareness of the subject in worship, liturgical or other, unless they met outside the school and school time. This condition raises the complex problem of finding a con-venient opportunity for such celebration; and it intro-duces a division into the public school community, which could Iead to all sorts of unpleasant complications: More-over, students in a public school would not experience their learning within a known Christian milieu and hence would not see it as part of Christian life and Chris-tian life as embracing it. But is this not the age of anonymous Christianity? Is it necessary for students to examine explicitly a subject in the light of the gospel, to celebrate it in worship, and to see it as part of Christian life and Christian life as em-bracing it? Recourse to the concept of anonymous Christianity is a way Christians have adopted to take the sting out of the widespread de-christianization and secularization that has occurred in modern times. But anonymous Christianity, though a good thing in comparison to being altogether outside the influence of God's grace,'is a humanly imper-fect thing. To be human is to have self-awareness. Man is not only conscious as animals are, but reflectively con-scious; he is aware of himself as animals are not. If man's self is actually graced by God, then his self-awareness should include that fact, otherwise he is not fully self-aware, not fulIy human. Hence it is important, not only for Christian education but for the human education of the Christian, that he see what he learns as part of Chris-tian life and Christian life as embracing it. When one reads carefi~lly the documents of Vatican II in regard to its ideal of what Christian laymen should be in the life and mission of the Church, one cannot help asking how they are ever going to achieve that ideal, and how clergy and religious are going to help them in fulfill- ment of their priestly and religious responsibilities to serve their fellow members in the building up of Christ's Body. What i~ called for is not comprehended under the labels of religious instruction or religious practices. Nor is it adequately described as handing on, preserving, or nourishing Christian faith, What is required is education in the fullest sense of the word, education of the whole man for the whole of life, bnt education with a'Christian quality to it. Of all the Church's projects, its schools offer the most opportunities for such education. With such education, Catholic laymen would exercise their role in the mission of the Church, not by contributing money to a Human Development Fund, of which the hierarchy is the banker, but by becoming involved in human development in the neighborhood, city, state, nation, and the world. This latter is the more authentic fulfillment of the Christian apostolate by which the members of Christ's Body partici-pate in its mission to the world. The schools of the Church will very likely be fewer in number in the future. But they remain unique opportun-ities for building up the Body of Christ for its mission. Abandonment of the struggle to maintain them and, still more important, to exploit their new possibilities under the conditions, which have arisen since Vatican II will grievously set back the emergence of the layman and the mission of the Church to the world. It will promote the tendency of the Church to be identified with the clergy and religious rather than the whole People of God, and to become a club for fellowship in subjective re_ligious experience rather than the leaven in the dough ~of his-tory. Religious' involvement in the schools of the Church remains both~an important and challenging ministry. Schools VOLUME $0, '].97~ 959 SISTER MARY JEANNE SALOIS, R.S.M. Opinions of the Laity on Changes in Religious Life Sister Jeanne is director of research services at the Sis-ters of Mercy Gen-eralate at 10000 Kentsdale Drive, Box 34446; Be-thesda, Maryland 20034. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 960 Literature concerning recent developments in the re-ligious life provide little information on the effects of these developments on the laity. Since the prima.ry pur-pose of adaptation and renewal as stated in the docu-ments of Vatican II is to become more effective in promoting the kingdom of God on earth---"That this kind of life and its contemporary role may achieve greater good for the Church, this sacred Synod issues the following decrees" 1--it should be helpful to know how a section of this kingdom feels about the adaptation they are observing. Such knowledge should contribute sub-stantially to an honest evaluation of the changes being made. This article summarizes the thinking of lay people on adaptation in religious life in seven parishes distributed geographically from the New England coast to mid-western United States. A random sampling of 60 families from each of the parishes listed in Table 1 participated in this study. Treatment o[ the Data: The investigator sent an in-strument entitled "Opinionnaire to Obtain the Lay-man's Assessment of Religious Women in the Church Today" to 420 randomly selected persons. Of these, 220 responded, constituting 53.4 percent returns. Distribu-tion of respondents is shown in Table 2. Eighty-three men and 137 women responded to this opinionnaire. Of these only One was black, the others being white. Age of respondents varied as indicated be-low: 1Walter M. Abbott, S.J., ed., The Documents o[ Vatican II, "Decree on the Appropriate Renewal of the Religious Life," n. 1. Age of Re~#ondent Number in Category Percent 20-29 16 7 30-39 59 27 40-49 77 35 50-59 42 19 60-69 19 9 70- 7 3 Approximately half of the respondeqts attended a Catholic grade and high school and most of them at-tended college. Most of the respondents indicated they were professional or sell-employed with very few saying they were semi or unskilled workers. TABLE :1 Parishes Participating in Study to Obtain Opinions of Laity on Changes being' Made in Religious Congregations Parish* City and State Our Lady of the Assumption St. Joseph Immaculate Heart of Mary Sacred Heart Immaculate Conception St. James Gate of Heaven Atlanta, Georgia Denver, Colorado Detroit, Michigan Hattiesburg, Mississippi Memphis, Tennessee New Bedford, Massachusetts Dallas, Pennsylvania * Parishes were selected at random from the total list of parishes being served I~y a religious congregation of women. TABLE 2 Distribution of Laymen Who Responded to Opinionnaire New Denver, Bedford, Hatties- Dallas, Colorado burg, Atlanta, Detroit, Memphig, Penn~yl, chusettsMassa" Mississippi Georgia Michigan Tennessee vama No. % No. % No. % No. % No. % ~o. % No.! % 17 58.3 26 43.3 41 68.3 28 46.6 37 62.7 36 Findings from Opinionnaire: Items and comments of respondents will be summarized under the three headings on the instrumefit: (1) The individual's personal contacts with sisters, (2) the religious life, and (3) sisters' aposto-lates. Personal Contacts with Religious Sisters Almost three-fourths (72%) of the respondents at-tributed most of the credit for helping them become religious persons to their parents. Twenty-six percent credited the sisters for having provided them with in-spiration, and 9 per cent mentioned the clergy. When asked how much influence for good religious sisters had exerted on them, participants responded as 4. 4- 4. Laity Opinion VOLUME 30, 1971 961 Sister 1eanne REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 962 follows: A mount of Influence Number Percent Very great influence 58 '26 I~reat influenc'e 54 24 Some influence 63 29 A little influence 29 13 No influence 13 6 Thus, 50 percent of respondents indicated that re-ligious sisters had influenced them greatly for good and 29 percent said sisters had influenced them some. Most of the respondents consider sisters friendly and easy to meet (192 or 88%). Nineteen respondents (13%) consider the sisters unaware of people around them, and four persons said they were unfriendly. When asked if they would go to a sister for help if they had some personal religious problem, 106 (48%) said they would go rarely, 71 (32%) said they would never go, and 38 (17%) said they would usually go to a sister for help. Most respondents feel that sisters show respect for them as persons (all do--61%; some do--36%). Ninety percent of respondents indicated that the sisters they have known spend most of their time in the educa-tion of children. Ninety percent are pleased with this effort, 6 percent are indifferent, and 3 percent are un-happy. Most respondents believe that sisters manifest an in-terest in the welfare of people in general (78%), and 18 percent don't know. Two percent said that sisters do not manifest an interest in the welfare of others. When asked to express their thinking on the age distribution of the sisters serving them, 81 respondents (37%) said age is not important, 74 (34%) s.aid the age distribution was about right, 25 (11%) said they did not have enough younger sisters, and 5 (2%) said they did not have enough older sisters. The Religious Life Two-thirds of the respondents believe there is no difference between the religious life and mariage in so far as thei~ comparable merits are concerned. Seventeen percent believe the religious vocation more pleasing to God, and 25 respondents (11%) said they didn't know. One hundred and twenty-five respondents (57%) said they would respond favorably if they had a daughter who wanted to become a religious, 77 (35%) would be neutral, and 15 (7%)would respond unfavorably. Most of the respondents (93%) said the sisters they have known seem to be happy. Respondents were widely distributed in their thinking on the economic level of religious living. One hundred and nine (50%) of the respondents believe that the sisters are living on the same or better economic level than they are. Sixty-nine (31%) believe they are living more comfortably than~ the sisters, and 41 ~(19%) said they don't know. When asked whether the sisters seem more progressive since Vatican 11, 161 (73%) said they were either out-standing or quite progressive. About 10 percent found them too progressive and approximately the same per-centage considered them not progressive at all. Almost three-fourths (70%) of the respondents pre-ferred to see religious women living in a convent espe-cially designed for them. Fourteen percent prefer to see ~them in a middle-class residence near their employment. Only two persons said they prefer to see sisters in a home in a poor neighborhood, and three persons said in an apartment. Thirty-eight respondents (17%) said they didn't care. Fewer than half (44%) of the persons responding in-dicated that they like to see religious dressed in a habit which includes a veil. About one-third (32%) like to see religious in conservative attire which does not include a veil, and 7 percent like to see them in contemporary clothing with accessories identical to lay women. Four-teen percent don't care what religious wear. Two-thirds of the respondents like to see sisters par-ticipating in all parish activities. Twenty-four percent-wish religious to participate in all parish activities ex-cept those which are purely social, such ,as dances. Seventeen respondent,s (8%) prefer that sisters attend only those activities related to the school, such as home-school meetings. Apostolic Services When asked how they would react if the sisters would decide to withdraw entirely from the school in order to do other works in the parish, 72 percent said they would respond unfavorably. Eighteen percent said they would be neutral, and 9 percent said they would respond fa-vorably to such a decision. Respondents .were asked if they thought the sisters should be 'more active in working with the poor. Re-sponses were evenly distributed with 68 (31%)in the affirmative, 70 (32%) in the negative, and 72 (33%)with no opinion on thismatter. Responses to items which attempted to find out which apostolaies seemed most necessary to the laity left no room for doubt. They strongly endorse the Catholic school concept and wish sisters would continue in this endeavor. In response to an item concerning the services they 4- 4- 4" 4" 4. Sister Jeanne REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 964 would prefer sisters provided for them if they were .in need of such services, 68 percent said they wished them to teach children. Other services given some priority by respondents were to administer to the sick in institutions (12%), administer to the sick in homes (5%), and teach adults (4%). Only one percent wish sisters to teach poor children only. Respondents were asked which apostolic works, if any, sisters should discontinue in which they are presently engaged. Each respondent could list three works. Results follow. Campus Ministry on Secular Campus 32 Diocesan services 92 Social work 19 College 16 High School I 1 Elementary school 10 Hospital 9 Religious Education 5 Respondents were asked to list in order of priority the works which they believed sisters should be engaged in at the present time and in the future. The following priorities were established by.averaging the ranks of the 220 respondents. 1. Teaching religion in Catholic school 2. Administrator in Catholic school 3. Teaching secular subjects in Catholic school 4. Teaching in Religious Education Program 5. Administrator of Religious Education Program in parish 6. Serving in Parish Ministry working with families 7. Staff position in health institution 8. Administrator in health institution 9. Social worker in inner city 10. Rehabilitation of drug addicts 11. Serving in Campus Minstry on secular campus 12. Administrator or staff position in public institution Comments of Laity on Adaptation and Rerlewal of Sisters In their comments on the adaptation they are observ-ing in religious communities, participants expressed di-verse opinions, presenting a kaleidoscopic view of re-ligious congregations. Many respondents praised the sisters for some of the changes they are making and for their continued dedication. Some, accustomed as they are to uniformity within religious communities, are using similarity of dress and dutifulness to t~aditional occupations as the criteria for evaluating renewal in religious life. Some are using normal standards of ac-ceptable behavior and are surprised and scandalized at the extremes to which some sisters are going in their new freedom. To the laity, these sisters seem immature and insincere, wanting the best of two worlds. Thus, much of the renewal effort is suspect to some of the laity, both that being made by large groups of sisters attempting to renew sincerely in keeping with the changing needs of the world and by the small group of extremist whose actions the layman is questioning. The comments below are typical of those made by many respondents. I don't think the'sisters are'adapting to the needs of the Church. Some sisters are radical; some are conservative: Some are in habits; some are not. Some are worldly; some are not. They seem to be divided among themselves. Some seem to act as immature young women wanting the best of both worlds. They ~vant the respect due to religious and the fun and entertainment of single women. They are mainly interested in satisfying their own desires. Opinions concerning the habit differed with many respondents reluctantly accepting the demise of" the traditional habit in favor of some lesser form of identifica-tion. Many emphasized the, importance of a religious identity and regret the loss of respect which the habit has always commanded. On careful analysis, responses seem to set forth the .primacy of "habit" over "person" in the thinking of some lay persons. I feel the sisters should have uniform attire~ even if it is a simple colored dresg with a large cross. They are married to God and should be proud of their vocation. They would also command more respect and be more useful, as people would be aware of their vocations and ask for help seeing the gar-ment, not the per.son. It was surprising to see how the laity identify religious with the traditioffal professions to the extent of con-sidering new occupations completely incompatible with the vocation itself. Sisters should either be in the religio~as vocation, or if they want to do soc.ial work they should not do it under the guise of a religious. Religious have pushed into social care areas where .they are not qualified. They have given scandal, betrayed their com-munity life and their origina! vocation. Sisters should work where they can influence and strengthen the faith and morals of young Catholics. Let others care for their social and physical needs. The laity continues to look for the dedicated, hard-working sister wh6 spends her time going from her work to her prayers in the convent where her physical, and social needs are met. They are surprised when they see sisters becoming more like other women in their use of leisure and in the external manifestation of their fem-ininity. They feel that the purpose o[ religious women was + + + Laity Opinion VOLUME 30, 1971 965 ÷ ÷ Sister Jeanne REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 966 and is to stay in the classroom and teach their children, and that to betray this purpose is to betray their calling as religious. Sisters should do what they have done for many years--see to the education of our future citizens. Most of God's work is just that--hard work--and this is probably the main thing I have always admired about the nuns I have known. They were committed and worked hard with little thanks or praise, and I'm sure they were often discour-aged and unsure of their accomplishments. Some of the laity are interpreting the trend to leave the traditional apostolates as a sign of individualism which prompts one to wish to "do her own thing." I find it disturbing that some sisters, when given the op-portunity to work in the world today, become concerned with their own needs or interests under the guise of making money for their order. Since Vatican II, I feel that many nuns are confused and at odds with their own previous commitment. Teaching sisters now seem to feel social work is their bag, nursing nuns feel that teaching would be more appropriate, etc. Confusion stems, I believe, from a lack of the whole spirit we used to know as dedication to God's work. It is being replaced today in all of society by a personal need to do your own thing. A change very pleasing to the laity where it has taken place is the updating observed in methods of teaching and curriculum. They praise the sisters who are more understanding of child nature than they used to be and who are ready to meet the explosion of knowledge which today's children are experiencing. They complain if these changes are not taking place. Unfortunately, older nuns are not adjusting methods, cur-riculum, and themselves personally to many facts, namely,. that today's children know much more in space and science study than is in textbooks and they often know more than the the teacher herself. The teacher's attitude often becomes bel-ligerent rather than pleased that children are this way. Some personal evaluation seems necessary. The older nuns seem to adapt to the needs of the Church. Younger nuns could learn from them. It is no longer a voca-tion to them, it is ajob. Some middle class lay people feel that religious are now prejudiced against them. They argue .that their needs for the services of religious are as great as those of any other segment of society. We who are just ordinary people--working, living, and .dying--also need the help and example of the religious sister in today's world. We feel that what's the use when our lives and struggles are treated with disdain. We don't want to be applauded, but we feel that by living an honest and decent life and ever-striving to do the works of Christ, that we ought to be considered at least as human as the girls who have il-legitimate babies who you would think had won the grand prize for all the attention they are given. In short, love us too, even though we have never broken a law. I believe ~many sisters aye giving up "their 6wn" to work in the inner cities and for social causes. A poor soul is not .Primarily found in a poor person--the person may be rich, middle 'class or ~poor. We should try to help all equally so all can be saved. Another change taking ~place among religious women which is greatly appreciated by the laity is the attitude of considering all persons as equals. They are happy that sisters have come down from their pedestal and no longer seem to expect deference from the laity. The sisters, I believe, are progressing to include all persons with whom they come in contact as equals. I used to. feel the sisters considered themselves.very special and should be looked up to by all. I think they are more aware of people's needs than previ-ously. They are more sensitive and less untouchable. Some have lost self-respect by playing down to the laity too much. Much of the advice given to religious by respondents argued for the maintenance, of balance in the matter of adaptation and warned against extremes. Don't go overboard! Keep attire and sense of misSio~a in line with Catholic beliefs. If the sisters participate in secular affairs, I feel they should remember they are sisters and uphold the traditions and reputation Catholic sisters have always had. General impressions reported by respondents include the following: I get the feeling they are not of the Church but of the world. Instead of giving up things of the world they are acquiring things of the world. Nuns, in general, appear ito be departing from a way of life which identified them as religious, and as a result of ,this proc-ess, society appears tO have less respect for religious orders. I think sisters are doing a fine job. This is a time for all people to join t.ogether and to remember that God is the father of all, not just the white man, Many so-called Christians have forgotten this. General Statements on Opinions of Laity From the many ideas expressed by the laity responding to this opinionnaire, a few generalizations can be stated: There is little evidence at this time that the changing needs of society, for example, the rapid increase of Catholic students on the secular university campus, have penetrated the thinking of: lay people to any great extent. Criteria used by most of the laity for judging sisters remain the. same today as before Vatican II in spite of the shift toward greater personal freedom and more leisure in society as a whole~ However, a few of .the respondents 4- 4- + Laity Opinion VOLUME 30~ 1971 967 Sister Jeanne REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 968 do seem to comprehend rather accurately the reasons for change in religious congregations. A few religious who, in the eyes of the laity, have seemingly lost sight of the meaning of religious vocation are impeding acceptance of the necessary changes large numbers Of religious women are making. There are certain paradoxes in the thinking of the laity concerning religious sisters at present. The laity are happy that sisters consider them as equals, no longer expecting deference; yet they lament the elimination of' external signs, such as the habit, which commands special respect. The laity give major credit to their parents for being the grea.test influence for holiness in their lives; yet they insist that the sisters are essential to growth of holiness in their children. The laity are happy that sisters have stepped down from their pedestal to walk among them; yet they wish to continue admiring them at a distance when they need help in the solution of their personal religious problems. In summary, respect for religious among the laity in this sample has decreased as a result of the changes made by religious congregations since Vatican II. This loss of respect can be attributed to a failure on the part of laymen to understand the reasons basic to change and their failure to recognize new needs in society for the services of religious women. It is also the result of unwise individual choices which some religious are making in their personal lives. The laity need the assistance of sisters if they are to understand the motives for their new behaviors. Perhaps the greatest need of the laity, as well as of religious, is familiarity with social doctrines of the Church and the emphasis given to these doctrines in the documents of Vatican II. Reflections of the Writer Religious congregations are attempting to implement the new emphases of Vatican II. The laity, familiar with the old structure, fail to understand the inevitable re-suits "of implementing such documents as "Declaration on Religious Freedom" from Vatican II, and Mater et Magistra, the encyclical letter of Pope John XXIII. An example of this implementation is the attention religious congregations are now giving to the dignity of the human person. In Mater et Magistra (215) we read, Whatever the progress in technology and economic life, there can be neither justice nor peace in .the world, so long as men fail to realize how great is their dignity; for they have been created by God and are His children. According to the social teachings of the Church, society is at~the, service of the human person to respect his dignity and allow him to attain his end and his full human development: "Society is made for man and not man for society.''2 Plus XII s~aid: "Man is a personal being, endowed.with intelligent& and free will;" ~a~ being who has the final choice of what he will or will not do," s Enhnciating this principle of the dignity of the human person, the ""Document on Religious Freedom" from Vatican II states: God calls men to serve Him in spirit and in truth. Hence they are bound ih consdence but they standunder n0: Com-pulsion. God has rbgard for :the dignity of the human person who.m He himseff created; man is to be guided by his own judgment and he is to enjoy freedom. . In contemplating these teachings concerning the basic freedoms o[ man and applying them to herself, a religious may conclude that she does not relinguish her innate freedom to govern herself when she enters a religious congregation. She believes that she is responsible to God alone for her actions and that she is responsible for keeping these actions in line with the life she has com-mitted herself to live. If this reasoning is correct, obe-dience in religious life needs to find its meaning apart from the responsibility of one person to govern the life of another. If religious growth takes place through responsible choices made freely, each person must be free to choose in matters pertaining to her personal life. In their efforts to implement tile new emphasis on the dignity of the person and_ her freedom of choice, religious congregations are eliminating rules which formerly gov-erned the personal life o[ each member. Remove pro-hibitive rules designed to channel actions according to a certain pattern which all members are exp6cted to observe and they are going to act as do all other members of the human race uniquely and differently. Some per-sons are going to make unwise choices as is true of persons in other walks of life. Freed from rules which prevent extremes, religious women are going to demon-strate their good taste or lack of it in their external appearance, their behavior, their use of leisure, and in their professional activities. But the end of this process is good the coming to being of a religious who is interiorly motivated to govern herself in a manner suited to her commitment as a woman who has dedicated her life to Christ and the service of His kingdom on earth. The new religious will come to r~alize as never before th~it she has been made = Plus XI,'Divini Redemptoris. a Pius xIi, "Allocution to the Sixth International Congress on Criminal Law," October 15, 1954, + Laity Opinion VOLUME 30, 1971 969 Sister Jeanne REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 970 in God's likeness to imitate His perfection, His goodness, and His love and mercy for men. She will realize that sh~ must 'lift herself up to God freely if she wishes to l~articipate with Christ in life eternal, in the divine life of God and of the Blessed Trinity. This is the destiny of all men, the religious included, and all must freely choose to follow this path, for with Christ there is no coercion, no forcing, no want of freedom. Surely every adult' outside of a religious community reaches the period in her life when she is no longer told what to wear and where to go. The fully committed re-ligious woman who has dedicated her life to Christ and to the service of his kingdom on earth should "be equally capable of" exercising her God-given freedom and of assuming the responsibility for her actions and her destiny. Lay people need to understand that they will be observing some evidence of poor taste as religious use the freedom they now have. Poor judgment is not a monopoly of the laity; it can also be expected of religious. Unless the formation period in the life of young re-ligious provides an understanding of how the gospel message is translated into daily living as a religious, sisters cannot be expected to make decisions in keeping with their form of life. In their uncertainty regarding the preparation which best prepares individual religious to exercise greater freedom, some congregations are ab-dicating their responsibility fbr the formation of young religious. To supose that new members who have not developed an understanding of the religious life will make personal decisions in keeping with it is a rash assumption. If religious congregations are to make wise choices. during this period of renewal and adaptation, they must take time to study the past and realize Gully the import of char~ge on the present and future. Unless changes are in line with the purposes for which the congregation was formed in the first place, the congregation will give way to a new entity or disintegrate completely. In-dividual members of apostolic religious congregations in the past realized their service of Christ in His Church through service of the congregation whose corporate end was this divine service. Today, many religious see them-selves as groups of dedicated individual members with a diversity of tasks. If religious retain the apostolic dimension of their original commitment, the transfer from corporate to individual commitment may be a change of means rather than ends. However, if the apostolic dimension of one's service is lost, the primary purpose of apostolic religious congregations in the Church no longer exists. When no unifying purpose is present, organizational structure becomes meaningless. It has been the purpose of this study to provide some insight on the reaction of the laity to observed change in religious congregations in the year 1971, Hopefully, the opinions expressed in this report will be.helpful to religious congregations as they chart their c0urse'for the future. + 4- 4- Laity Opinion VOLUME ~0, 1971 97! SISTER MARY JOHN MANANZAN, O.S.B. Must I Love You for God's Sake? ÷ ÷ .I. Sister John is a graduate student of the Gregorian Uni-versity and resides at Via dei Bevilac-qua, 60; Rome, Italy (00165). REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 972 Read the title without a pause and with the correct intonation lest you miss the point of this article, it is not an exasperated exclamation like "Must I put up with you, for heaven's sake?" The article concerns itself rather with the question whether we should love others "for the sake of God." This phrase has been so misinterpreted in the past and still also in the present that the word "char-ity" has fallen into disrepute or at least it has acqui~?ed a cold, antiseptic atmosphere. People say "I don't want your charity"--"I will not be an object of charity." In the stu-dent house where I lived while I was studying in Ger-many, the girls were very wary of "nuns" doing things for charity. Once an Idonesian girl living in another house got sick. A German friend of mine announced her inten-tion of driving over. I spontanously exclaimed: "I'11 go with you." She looked at me and cautiously asked: "Are you doing it for charity?" The reason for such wariness is that doing things for charity or for God's sake is taken to mean something like: "Actually you are a nasty fellow and for yourself I wouldn't lift a finger. But I am doing this because I see Christ in you." I don't tbink for a moment that Christ is at all pleased with such pious prattle. And the person concerned rightly feels himself an "object" of charity--a means to some altruistic, humanitarian or still worse to a spiritual ideal. C. S. Lewis in his delightful book Four Loves gives a punchy example of an "unselfish . self-sac-rificing" mother who "just lived for her family." In a remarkable self-deception she literally worked herself to the bone for them but actually what she managed to do was to suffocate each member of her family, because she did not actually see them as persons and did not really consider their real needs; She looked through them to work for her image of being an ideal mother. She used them as means to fulfill her need to be needed. In a similar manner "loving others for God's sake" has some-how taken on the meaning of disregarding the individual person. On this point one can learn a great deal from Kant who has been accused of having never written a word on love. But he actually offers a very solid foundation for what we call "love of neighbor" in his famous (infa-mous?) categorical imperative. This principle has also suffered a very one-sided treatment. The frequently cited formulation is the one that approximates the Golden Rule wearing a grim duty-conscious facial expression. A less quoted formulation however reads: "Act in such a way as to treat humanity whether in yourself or in others never only as a means but always also as an end/' Kant's moral theory is based on the absolute valuation of the person. A person is for him an autonomous subject. He alone possesses the dignity to be happy (Wtirdigkeit, glficklich zu sein). For this reason, a person may never be regarded only as a means but should be willed as a good-in- himself. This absolute valuation of a person manifests itself first and foremost in doing one's duty towards him. Again on this point Kant is frequently misinterpreted. No less than the great German poet Schiller is guilty of this shallow interpretation of Kant when he writes: Gladly I serve my friends but alas I do it with pleasure Hence I am plagued with doubt that I am not a virtuous person. This is answered by a similarly poor interpretation of Kant and a worse poetry: Sure your only recourse is to despise them entirely And then with aversion do what your duty enjoins you. Kant did not mean at all that interest and affection would detract from the moral worth of an action. His term "duty" is a limiting term. It simply isolates the factor which accounts in the last analysis for the moral worth of an action. But once this is ascertained, one can embellish one's action with all the affection one is capa-ble of. I think it is important that Kant makes this em-phasis. There are really people who lavish their affection here and there and everywhere but neglect their elemen-tary duty towards these same persons. It is this forgetfhl-ness of Kant which is responsible for the benevolent tyr-anny in many lands suffering from social injustice, where the rich landlords or employers give to their exploited laborers "in charity" what they owe them in justice. The elementary duty of "love of neighbor" is thus to take the person as an'end in himself and never a means for anyone or anything. Truly? Not even for God? No, not even. God needs no means. He is His own End. He ÷ ÷ Love VOLUME 30, 1971 973 doesn't rely on any means to reach it. What then does loving others "for God's sake" mean? If it means anything at all, it means: one must take the other in his totality. Man is essentially a relation. A per-son is most a person in his relation to God. One can give him absolute value because he has already been radically affirmed by an absolute Person, He is worthy to be loved because he has already been radically loved. One can therefore love him for his own sake if one regards him in the totality of his being rooted in God. But the totality of man also means his being an individual distinct person. Therefore "love of neighbor" means taking this concrete person beside me for what he is and loving him with all his quirks. I think it is one of the characters of Peanuts who said: "I love humanity; It is people that I cannot stand." To love another is to see him. It is to love him "interestedly." "Disinterested love" is no love. It is too pretentious. It is being in love with one's perfectly selfless way of loving. This is the reason why I think foreign aid to developing countries miserably fails in arousing the gratitude of the people it helps. It is literally disinter-ested. There is no interest in the people as persons. No wonder they feel insulted and are resentful. They do not feel loved--they feel that they are objects of love. The same is true in individual relationships. One wants to be loved,' becau'se one is lovable. A boy who tells a girl "I love you, because of your pug nose" is not necessarily being superficial. Maybe he grasps the point of love better than if he were to enumerate the noblest .motives in the world. I think the art of loving is to find something very concrete .in someone (be it a pug nose, a crooked smile, a naughty left eyebrow--whatever it is. There is one in every person aching to be discovered!), to discover this recapitulation of his personality and in this burning focal point of his being, to love him intensely. 4- + Sister John REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 974 TENNANT C. WRIGHT, s.J. A Note on Poverty This is simply a report on a mode of poverty lived at one Jesuit house in Mexico City. The report is drawn from a conversation with several members of the commu-nity there, including the Father Minister who was influ-ential in setting up the program and helps with its ad-ministration. The program seems particularly enlightening at this moment when there is such discussion of poverty and how it fits with a religious' psychological need to feel economically productive and responsible. The Mexican community is made up of Jesuits who receive a salary at one of the Universities (non-Jesuit) in Mexico City. The salary i.s paid by the University directly to the individual Jesuit~ It is turned over by the Jesuit to the community. The community treasury, derived from the salaries, is then divided into three parts: First, there is a common fund for the community, out of which comes such general expenseg as house upkeep, and the room and board of the Jesuits living there. Second, there is a monthly personal amount returned to each Jesuit, an equal amount to each, no matter what his salary from the University. Out of the monthly "allowance" the Jesuit is expected to take care of his or-dinary personal items, such as clothes, recreation, the or-dinary personal necessities of his study and work, his ordinary travel. Third, there is a fund retained by the community for emergencies. As I understand it, the emergencies are gen-erally of two types, each handled differently. There is that personal emergency which arises from the unexpected, for example, an accident, a particularly large medical bill. Such personal emergency expenses are met by the community in a direct payment (not a loan) out of this emergency fund. But this third fund also covers those personal but more expensive items needed by some but not all. For instance, if one of the Jesuits in the course of his work needs some particularly expensive equipment or books or a car, then the community lends to this Jesuit the money to buy the T. C. Wright is a faculty member of the University of Santa Clara; Santa Clara, California 95053. VOLUME .30, 1971 975 special item. The loan is made without interest, but it is gradually paid back to the community out of the individo ual's monthly allowance. This question of loans to the individual for special expenses is crucial. The Mexican community is clear that this is not a case of dominion, of true ownership. Rather it is a more sophisticated way of responsible use. The special item is only purchased after consultation with the superior. The ultimate decision remains with the supe-rior. Although the item is used with the responsible dis-cretion of the individual, when and if his need for it is no longer present it is sold and the money returned to the community fund. Although this three-fold scheme of community use of [unds seems simple and clear in presentation, Father Minister and other members of the Mexican Jesuit com-munity emphasized that the implementation of this mode of poverty has more difficulties and is more complex than its simple outline indicates. 4- 4- 4- T. C. Wright REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 976 W. L. L~CROIX,.S.J. The New Property" and the of PovertY In the past ten years there has taken place a consider-able change in the attitudes of many vowed to the reli-gious life with respect to their "having" material goods. At times, this change in attitude has been reflected by attempts to patch the tearsin earlier lived interpretations of the vow of poverty by talk of a "vow of common life," or something of the sort. By these patchwork efforts, peo-ple have tried to bring within a reflective understanding of the vow such new lived interpretations of poverty that permit individuals to have exclusive control over many more material items (from transistor radios to individual vacations) than were ever previously found acceptable. In this brief essay, I would like to suggest that these efforts are of secondary consequence. I submit that there is a much more pressing problem for the practice of vowed poverty in contemporary America. This more pressing problem emerges from the recent, qualitative leap taken in the lived interpreta)ion of property. If the vow of poverty at all concerns some deliberate taking up of a life style that is designated by its extraordi-nary attitude toward property (this does seem to be the "matter" of the vow), then it is of major importance to talk about that which a political economist might call today the "new property." This concept is both simple and subtle, so let me briefly try to present what lines of thought are involved, and then appraige the implications of "new property" for what I will call the positive "thrust" of the vow of poverty. The "'New Property" Property may be described as a socially acknowledged relation that a person has to what is considered, in the broadest sense, an item of value. Now what is considered of value (except for subsistence in food, clothing, shelter) is to a great extent determined by the concrete attitudes W. L. LaCroix, S.J., is a faculty member of Rock-burst College; 5225 Troost Avenue; Kansas City, Mis-souri 64110. VOLUME 3~0, 1971 ÷ ÷ ÷ W. L. LaCroix REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 978 within a cultural milieu. And what are the manifold ways in which, ordinarily understood, one may acquire rela-tion to items of value are familiar to us all. And so we have our ordinary image of what we talk about when we use the term "property." But this imagining is so easy only because so few have done serious reflection on some significant socio-economic developments of the last fifty years. Many people today. continue to be undisturbedly at ease with talk about property exclusively under the rubric of the individual's possession, use, and control of "permanent" and fixed (real property) or of manipulable or consumable items of value (personal property). In fact, however, with the growth of a corporate society in America, some are able to argue convincingly that this familiar rubric of prop-erty has become at least partially obsolete, and that the part where it is obsolete is the more important part. One major indication of the need for a new rubric is that, in, our society heavily toned by business relation-ships, political economists and businessmen now are will-ing to say that, for most of the large business corporations, there are capital investors, there are top and middle man-agers, there are employees, customers, unions, the govern-ment, and the society at large that are related to the corporate organization, but there are no owners. That is, there are none except the impersonal (albeit legal) entity of the corporation itself. Certainly one reason here is that the business corporation is no longer an item compassa-ble by any individual who might attempt personally to organize and control it, that is, to "possess" it, to have it as private property. This growth to bigr~ess is one that has moved not only vertically in the size of an individual corporation, but hlso horizontally to interlace organizations of diverse kinds into one corporate society. Qualitative alterations have taken place in how and by whom social relation-ships are determined within the individual private orga-nization, in the relations between the individual private organizat~ions, and between these organizations, govern-mental bodies, and the social community itself. Corpora-tional businesses today act less with attention to the com-petitive market and more with attention to a mutual self-interest of the leading businesses, or even at times with a mixture of this and "public interest." Government does not hesitate to curtail initiative from a "private" firm for the sake of "public interest," or, conversely, to subsi-dize private sector business for the "public interest," or to contract out to business and to educational institutions some "public interest" undertaking. Educational institu-tions concern themselves with good relations with the business community and government for financial assist- ance; and with accreditation agencies for professional prestige. In a society composed of such interlaced organ~izations, the sharp distinctions between the public and the private sectors of activities have faded (I will suggest a test for this further on), and all members of society have been drawn into new and manifold relations to all the organi-zations. This means that those items of value, or wealth, which the individual can have as "private property" have become secondary in social significance. From Locke to World War I in Anglo-American thought these items have been the key to civic freedom, self-identity, and individual capacity to initiate effects in society. Now the socio-economic fi'eedom, identity, and initiative--in one word, the social power---of the private property holder are minimal. As a society we have entered an era where the initiative comes from organizations which act for or-ganizational or for "public" interest. And the "public" interest today means .less and less each individual's inter-ests and more and more only organized interests~ As part of a growing consensus on the relations of persons to new items of value today, A. A. Berle, Jr., has spoken of the divorce from older property of the socio-ec-onomic power to make determinations in society. He terms this the distinction between "individual possessory holdings" and "power systems." What is at stake here :is not merely the separation of ownership from socio-eco-nomic control, but the "increasing elimination of pro-prietary ownership itself and its replacement by, substan-tially, a power system." Charles A. Reich has spoken of the new form of wealth which one obtains in a corporational social structure through the relationships one has to various organiza-tions. These relationships gain for one a place in the interlaced socio-economic system of organizations. The new marriage of wealth and power is a union within the blood line of the power structure itself, for the wealth is itself new power. One has this new wealth of socio-eco-nomic place, or power status, in so far as one has actively functional relations to the power systems. As active within the power systems, one individually has the socio-economic power without the need of property in the tra-ditional sense of individual possessory holdings, One only needs to obtain a place, a status in the power systems. To clarify how this change brings in new dimensions in the question of poverty, let me develop briefly how one acquires this power, what the power is, why it is special today, and whether it is legitimate. ~ (How acquired) One enters a place of power not by ownership, but by the possession of whatever credentials the people presently with an active function in an organi- 4- "New Property" VOLUME 30, 1971 979 ÷ ÷ ÷ W. L. LaCroix REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 980 zation designate as required. They in turn designate what matters are required in response to the organization's demand in view of~ its present strength and future fate in the interlaced system. These admission credentials are supposed to, and often do, signify the possession of some expertise, some "know how" in terms of the functions and goals of the organization. One's relations to active power status in an organiza-tion is always conditional. It is forever a trial marriage and lasts only as long as the person's power decisions make things function well for the organizational system. In turn, one is subject to those interchanges of power which constitute the organization to which he belongs directly, and to those interchanges of power by which his organization is interlaced within the American corporate system. One is tied to his organization's fate, which itself is precarious, by one's personal credentials, which are constantly under test. For brevity~s sake, let us call one's conditional relations to this new wealth of power status the "new property" (even though I have modified Reich's use of the phrase). Some kind of status in a community or in a private orga-nization, of course, is nothing new. But the status now at point is no longer simply a social by-product of possessory holdings, ancestry; or profession. The new status is a place of socio-economic power within active organiza-tional power. (What is power) As Berle has noted, we are still philo-sophically immature in reflections on power. For our pur-poses here, let us be satisfied with a simple concept: power allows the wielder to initiate decisions on the transmission, use, and determinations of socio-economic assets for the lives of persons. One who holds power has a "scope of significant choice" (Carl Kaysen) open to his decisions within a corporational social structure that widely and significantly affect the determinations of how one himself and others experience and express human values. Today we have large social and economic organi-zations which depend upon and which generate power to their members. These organizations are managed by non-owners whose decisions and instructions, by the mecha-nism of the organization, are made causative at distant points of application, both inside and outside the indi-vidual organization. Normally one distinguishes "power to do things" and "power over persons," but this distinction often is only in the relative immediacy of the results of power's exercise. And the exercise of "power over" brings a reduction for those affected in the range of personal alternatives in socio-economic activities, and an increase in dependence on the power's exercise. (Why special) As society's organizations become more complex, they become more interlaced and thereby more counterbalanced in their scope of initiative action. This primordial counterbalance, however, is less in terms o~ conflict and more in terms of agreement. As a result, as organizations grow to need each other, they become less counterbalanced in the consequent effects o~ their actions in the public arena. This is an important point. It any-one subject to a function of organizational power is still ultimately free to disassociate himself from .the power, with some but with no drastic repercussions in his total li~e style, then the "power over" that person may be said to be private. Sucb a freedom of the one subjected to private "power over" presupposes other, significantly dis-tinct sources of "power to do" things which produce real options for the one subject to the power system at hand. But if the disassociation, if possible at all, from one power would at best only bring about the substitution o[ tbe one by another qualitatively the same source of 'power over," then the "power over" may be said to be public. From this test of the distinction of the public and tbe private sector o[ society, one sees that the real c~runch of the "new property" power is that, more and more, its consequent effects can no longer be balanced out by deci-sions made by others with power. It is so far forth public. Power status is thus one's place in the organizationally active determination of the quality of people's lives. As holders of "new property," individuals exercise the resultant social power to determine some relations that others will have to the organization or to its products, and thereby to the corporateI society. With an ethical vocabulary based on the old p, roperty rubrics, many sta-tus power people still speak ofI these determinations they bring about in tbe lives of ot[~ers only in terms of privi-leges or options, and not in terms of rights and basic human values. They thereby presume that to deny a rela-tion to the orgamzat~on or to deny a cr~uc~sm of its products is merely to deny a lprivilege or to deny tbe immediate value of certain options. There is no wonder that umvers~t~es, for example, st~ll ~ns~st that students are there not by right but by privilege. When orgamzauons were private, such talk was movie acceptable ethically. But today, when org~inizations both decide upon and, in their interlaced stance, supply thos~ credentials which deter-mine a person in the roles he b~ts in tbe corporate society, the subject's relation to them i~ now public and nearly or completely in the area~of rigltts. We are less and less a society o~ persons who receive entrance into "private" organizations by privilege or lwho use the products of organizations by option. Simp,ly stated, the "new prop-÷ ÷ ÷ "New Property" VOLUME 30, 1973. 981 ÷ ÷ ÷ W. L. LaCroix REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 982 erty" gives not only "power to do," but, more signifi-cantly for human and Christian values, direct "power over" persons. " (How legitimate) Such "power over" persons requires justification. One must question such power that can "make things happen" in respect to basic values in a society and ask if it is legitimate. The question is raised today for non-owned economic organizations and is espe-cially vital for all organizations which by the interlacing of society have had their power effects take on the "pub-lic" quality noted above. Power is a fact, but the persons concerned can ask for the rights to its possession and to its use. By "legitimate" I signify that there are good answers in terms of human values to the questions "How come such and such has power" and "For what purpose does such and such have power." Such questions ask for standards by which to judge the possession and use of power which are extra-neous to the power itself. In a society of fre6 persons, power can legitimately be obtained and legitimately be used only under the aegis of some expression of "public consensus." Berle has sug-gested two phases in any legitimization. (1) People get control, within an organization's power mechanism by some inner organizational ritual established by the orga-nization and accepted at least passively by the public consensus. (2) Such people use socio-economic power le-gitimately if the organizati6n has a [unction to perform within the values of the full society which is acknowl-edged by consensus, and if their use of the power is appropriate to that function. (Of course, few such func-tions are well-defined, but public consensus has positive though vague ideals here of what is acceptable.) Let us stipulate that, ambiguous as it is, power over persons can be legitimate. And let us for convenience designate anybne with legitimate power over persons in our corporate society as one who has "authority," but let us call such authority in the socio-economic structure "authority (P)." By this authority (P) ~ person rightfully can affect others in societal relationships by making things happen [or them, and thus can determine them in respect to some of the values in their lives. Given that individuals are persons, non-counterbal-anced power to affect their lives will be legitimate ulti-mately only if it positively contributes to their develop-ment as individual and as social persons. In our corporately interlaced society, this legitimacy will imply that those who have power will be accountable to all per-sons whose lives the exercise of the power affects. In summary, then, the argument is that today "new property" is identified with the exercise of "power over" in the socio-economic field, d one's "power over" activ-ities, one's authority (P),g ~"ves one's social identity and one's social initiative.°Keep in]mind that, in a true sense, one need not "own" anything [in order to have this "new property." " [ I do not wish to argue here that the concept of "new property" is accurate. This h~s been done forcefully by the political economists. All I need is this brief and un-doubtedly inadequate overview in order to ask for Some reflection on the relation of ~his advent of "new prop-erty" to the vow of poverty in ~eligious life. / The Vow ol Poverty In every activity within the[ corporate society, ,persons make and express their selves as they transact with other persons. Thus each one in deeds gives answers to those questions which are either exp!icitly or at least implicitly in every personal encounter: "~Who are you?" and "What do you mean for me?" ,, The social power that is theI new property' makes one respond in terms of status and function: "I am one who has tlus place m the social sttqucture and "I determine these values for you." Let me at once contrast withlthese responses what I call the positive thrust of the vow of poverty and suggest that tt ~s that wluch would permit one to respond: I am the human being Ch~'ist has made !me, are you such a human being, too?" On~ thereby expresses the message and the challenge of the Good News by one's very life style itself. Usually in activities we express a functional connection between some parts of ourselves and some parts of the supporting socio-economic system. We are teachers, pro-fessors, administrators at such and such an educational institution; we are experts and on such and such commit-tees; we have such ahd such training, such and such de-grees, such and such publications to our credit; thereby we are in such and such relationships to this organization within the complex of interlaced organizations. That is "who we are." By this part-function'ality we conceptually merge a re-sponse to "Who are you" with the response to "What do you do?" or even more broadly "How do you fit into the socio-economic system?" Thus when .asked "Who are you?" or when we ask of others "Who is that?" we really change the meaning of the question in,our minds and then employ functional categories "to handle" other per-sons in our thoughts and to have identification as we are "handled" in the thoughts of others. (We must be taught to do this: a little girl at the border, when asked if.she was an American, replied, "No, my daddy is an Ameri-can. I'm a girl.") 4- 4- + "New Property" VOLUME 30, 1971 983 ÷ ÷ ÷ W. L. LaCroix REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 984 Generally then, and perhaps more especially in a "new property" milieu, one's functional roles in the corporate society determine one's self identity. And this identity is more and more dependent upon the fate of one's immedi-ate organization within the corporate society, and upon. one's acceptance by functional peers and one's perform-ance among functional inferiors. Thus the primary con-cern of the person with "new property" must be organiza-tional. This is antithetical to the thrust of vowed poverty. A second, equally significant factor from "new prop-erty," the socio-economic power endemic to organiza-tional place also jabs at the thrust of vowed poverty. One with "new property" determines the lives of others Jor them because, as functional within and dependent upon socio-economic power, one exercises "power over" per-sons. Those who consider the vow of poverty as significant for Christian religious life can no longer ignore the con-tradiction that occurs when one points only to one's "min-imal individual possessory holdings" and Overlooks one's "new property" holdings. Since many religious in the United States are in education, let us use an example from this organizational area to put the problem strik-ingly. Let us ask: Can one who has a vow of poverty act consistently if he becomes the president of a uniyersity? Even if he lives a most frugal and Spartan private life, one stripped of all but the immediately necessary mate-rial items, can he in deeds live the thrust of the vow of poverty, since 'he has willy-nilly status wealth in the pub-lic socio-economic system and acts constantly with "power over" persons? Can he express the message and challenge ¯ of the Good News in any continuous form coming from his life style itself if he so connects himself with the interlaced set of organizations whose basis is a power to determine for other persons items basic to their values in life? The same questions can be put to the tenured profes, sor, the high .school principal, and so on. Perhaps a test for an opposition to vowed poverty would be: Do the respect and consideration one has from peers and inferi-ors in societal transactions come primarily from one's "new property" functions or not? Some have argued that poverty does not mean the neg-ative "not using material items of value," but rather the positive "sharing of the effects and experiences resultant from any possession and use with the concrete religious community." These values are one's talents, the experi-ences of one's apostolate, as well as the gifts one receives, one's former individual possessory holdings, and so forth. Thus they might argue that one can also use the "new property" consistently without effect on poverty in reli-gious life. I suspect that such an argument misses the qualitative newness of the "new property.~" It also un~terplays the positive thrust in the rentmciation of the old property, suggested in this section's opening. I will stipulate that some of the inward thrust of pov-erty may be in terms of mutual sharing with the commu-nity. But the vow must be ultimately for the life of the Good News in the mission of the whole Christian com-munity. It cannot have for its final term the limited reli-gious community: And ~he outward thrust (and part of the inward thrust itself) of poverty is precisely so that one can respond to contact with others as a (Christian) human person and challenge the others also to be (Chris-tian) human persons. Poverty has been an attempt to remove those identification handles which passively ob-struct the transmission of the Good News which chal-lenges others to be in, deeds what Christ has made them. Perhaps more importantly in our time and place, poverty seeks to remove that public power which actively ob-structs others from determining for themselves their free response to the challenge of the Good News. This mission of the Good News one legitimately .ob-tains and legitimately exercises by the action of the Trin-ity in human history. Let us for convenience designate anyone with the legitimate mission to challenge others with the Good News as one who has Christian authority, but let us call this challenging authority "authority (C)." By this authority (C), a person in encounter~ can legiti-mately challenge others to be consistent with themselves as individual and social persons, but the challenger has no power to determine the others in respect to their values as human persons, because the thrust of one's Christian mission is to leave the others confronted with the Gospel challenge but free to determine themselves, As there is authority (P) which is legitimate power to challenge others by determining to some extent human values for them, so here there is authority (C) ~hich is the mission to transmit a legitimate challenge but with-out any power to determine for the one c.hallenged. Those who live a vow of poverty would seem to want to specialize in ~some continuity of deeds and life style in this Christian authority (C). Of course, it is not impossible for one tO have status property and to exercise the consequent determining power and still,, in addition, to transmit by authority (C) the challenge of the Good News. Christians who do not vow poverty do it every day. But they do not attempt to specialize in a continuity of deeds .which emphasize au-thority (C). 4- "New Property" VOLUME 30, 1971 985 ÷ ÷ W, L, LaCroix REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 986 Some would argue that those with the vow of. poverty also can utilize the "new property" and its logically con-seqt~ ent authority (P) as a means in their life style. They argue that religious do not rest in this "new property" but can have it and remain true to the thrust of the vow because, for example, they use the "new property" to make professional contacts vital to the universalization of the Good News. Let us reflect here not on the strengths of such a defense, and there are some, bnt on its weaknesses. A. Some would say that religious need the status, which is the wealth of the "new property," in order to contact the important people in a society organized around power status on their own level. From the "new prop-erty" gained by administrative, academic, or other cre-dentials, religious can contact the organizational profes-sions of the clay and influence them. But do religious as status members speak to others as trans-status human beings or as co,possessors of power status? Do religious who contact as holders of "new property" contact the whole person and challenge the other with authority (C)? Must religious not necessarily, if they are fellow "new property" holders, speak to others pronouncedly as fun-damental co-members who are equally bound to the power and th'e fate of the structure in dominance in today's corporate society? Remember, unlike the old property, one never "owns" the "new property;" One is always conditionally and precariously subject to the orga-nizations which generate the active power place. One keeps the p.lace only by somehow contibnting actively to a successful exercise of socio-economic "power to do" and "power over." B. Why was not a parallel argument valid for religious to have the "old" property? If it was not valid, what value did Christians place on the vow of poverty in the past that made it so? Was it simply the release from worry over those things which other people must daily worry about? Certainly not. Christians held [or some rea-son that religious vowed to poverty could give a special continuity to the use of authority (C) lrom the very form their life style gave to all their activities. Religious could give this special continuity to the use of authority (C) if they were not the equals of others as holders of individ-ual possessory property, if they encountered the others not in a role of co-wielders of social power from that property, but radically as persons unconnected with a social function category. Can this thrust be realized if religious with a vow of poverty are equal co-holders of social economic public power from the "new property" of today? It is not easy to answer this with a simple "no." Many seem successful in their mission with the Good News to challenge others t(; be "the persons Christ has made them even though these present challengers, vowed religious, or lay Christians, are co-holders with the chall~n~ged of the "new property." X~'hether such success is limited to this period of transi-tion, wherein few are fully .aware of the i.mplicationS of "new property," is a good question. But whether even such success continues to make a religious vow of poverty meaningful is a better one~ ÷ ÷ ÷ "New Property" VOLUME 30, 1971 987 ROBERT OCHS, S.J. Experiments for Closing the Experience Gap in Prayer ÷ ÷ ÷ Robert Ochs is a faculty member of Bellarmine School of Theology; 5't30 South University Avenue; Chicago, Il-linois fi5615. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 988 "Speaking exactly as one friend speaks to another"- these are the words with which Ignatius Loyola character-izes what he calls "colloquies," conversations with the Father, Christ, or Mary which conclude so many of the exercises which make up his Spiritual Exercises. This prayer of conversation, explicitly evoking a personal part-ner, is not the whole of prayer. To try to make it such, to focus on the divine Thou in all our prayer, is a strain which can cut us off from other avenues of divine contact. Trying to force all prayer irito a conversational mold can even short-circuit what it intends to further, by making us hurry past the "impersonal" world of divine power and energy, fire and spirit, not to mention Silence and nothingness. Yet to turn our back on it would be to lose a vital dimension of religious experience. Prayer as conversation, dialogue, or encounter with God has recently become much harder for increasing numbers of Christians, as they have rediscovered God both as transcendent mystery and as immanent Spirit. But, I submit, neither our new awareness of God's tran-scendence or of his immanence is the real cause of our inability to meet God in a face to face encounter. For some reason we are not bold enough, or realistic and imaginative enough, in our use of dialogal prayer. Prayer of colloquy is not nearly "colloquial" enough. Speaking with God "exactly as one friend to another," as Ignatius flatly states it, has yet to be really explored, partly out of a misplaced fear of anthropomorphism, partly because our personal relationships themselves have become so bland that we have forgotten exactly how intimate friends do speak to one another. (I sometimes feel Dr, George Bach's paperback, The Intimate Enemy: How to Fight Fair in Love and Marriage, would be a better aid to prayer nowadays than many books directly on prayer,) Underlying our lack of imagination is a peculiar mind set of ours which renders any boldness in encountering God all but impossible. Until we alter this mind set about where and how God is encountered, about the mediurn of any encounter with God, any modeling of our encounter with God on the model of human encounters will look merely like improved make-believe. The Spiritual Exercises speak a great deal about this medium, what Ignatius calls creatures or .simply "all things." Early in the text~ the so-called "Principle and Foundation" insists on "indifference" to things, using them "in as far as" they help find God. And toward the end, the "Contemplation to Attain Love" reminds us that love manifests itself in deeds and consists in a mutual sharing of goods. Between these two exercises, which span the whole Ignatian retreat, the effort is to make things a vehicle of mutual communication instead .of an obstacle, to make them a locus of encounter and matter for shar-ing. As an introductory school of prayer the Exercises teach us to find God in all things, so that things become the means of exchange for dialogue. The whole effort to encounter God involves us therefore in a vast transforma-tion of our view of things. All this sounds terribly obvious. And yet the shift in point of view we are called on to effect in ourselves is enormous, and if we could do it we could pray. The effort involves, for a Christian who supposedly "already believes in God" but does not yet really live in faith, the overcoming of an attitude about God and things which is perhaps the great obsta_cle to encounter with God in our lives, an attitude I Choose to call Deism. Deism sounds at first a harmless enough term, and that is partly why I have chosen it. Giving a harmless name to what one feels is The Great Obstacle has the advantage that it opens us to look for the obstacle to prayer within ourselves and our own pale Christianity. For much that goes by the name of Christianity is no more than Deism, and Deism is as far removed from Christian faith as ag-nosticism or atheism. At any rate, Deism stands along with agnosticism and atheism on the opposite side of the line dividing belief from unbelief. And it is perhaps more dangerous than those two, because it apes Christianity and obscures it own lack of faith. After all, is it not at least theistic, admitting the existence of God? But it ad-mits a God with whom one does not deal, an inaccessibld God with whom one does not argue or wrestle. From the viewpoint of faith the Deist is worse off than the atheist who seeks an accessible God but cannot find him. It is not true that believing in a Deistic God is better than + ÷ ÷o VOLUME 30, 1971 989 ÷ ÷ ÷ Robert Ochs REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 990 believing in none at all, because to believe in a God who does not enter into intimate relationships with men im-plies giving him certain personal attributes opposed to such relationships, making him aloof, arbitrary, uncon-cerned. While faith says He is our Father. Deism is far from harmless. It is religion without reli-gious experience, religion without encounter and without prayer. It declares God inaccessible. It views the world of things precisely as providing no access to God. It would be profitable to read Ignatius' "Contemplation to Attain Love" as an overcoming of Deism, seeing God dwelling in creatures, "conducting Himself as one who labors" for us in all creatures on the face of the earth. The "Contempla-tion" is the effort to see deeds as potential manifestations of 10ve and all goods as material for mutual sharing. I somewhat regret having to use the term Deism, be-cause it sounds too exclusively associated with the ages of' enlightenment and rationalism. What I mean by it is less a theological position than a state of mind, one which is still very much with us. Deism is a whole sensibility impeding our prayer. One could almost define it as the opposite of finding God in all things, as finding things and supposedly finding God, but not putting these two together except in an awkward juxtaposition. It is what modern thinkers are trying to overcome when they talk of transcendence in immanence and of encountering God in the world. We are Deists when we find God in religion and' not in secular things, and when we admit that reli-gion is more important but more boring than life. We are Deists in our inability to talk about God without using pale language divorced from life, language made more and not less abstract when it becomes pious. We are Deists when we live out our own human growth Odyssey without relation to our spiritual Odyssey. These are old accusations. We are no doubt overfami-liar with these aspects of our Deism. Accordingly, in the following pages I propose taking a look at certain things in which we are not used to finding God. We do not look for God in these things because we think He is already there. We are already aware of the problem of finding God in matter, in the secular, in the ugly. But the things I want to look into with the reader are, briefly, the will of God, our thoughts (especially our religious thoughts), and our images of God and ourselves as we engage God in dialogue. If we looked more for God in these things, .we would be much more able to pray. The best way to take this look is not by direct description, but by watch-ing our spontaneous reactions provoked by certain thought experiments. This way we can uncover the var-ious Deistic mind sets we are caught up in. We should not be surprised by this procedure. The Exercises them- selves proceed often in this same fashion, asking us, for example to imagine three classes of men or to imagine ourselves at tile hour of deatli, or to enter in fantasy into a gospel scene and then ',reflect On myself." The itinerary through the Exercises proceeds as much by uncovering and then healing attitudes of unbelief as by appropriat-ing attitudes of belief. God Present in the Things .That Are His will The second is that love consists in a mutual sharing of goods, for example the lover give and shares with the be-loved what he possesses, or something of that which he has or is able to give: and vice versa, the beloved shares With the lover. Hence, if one has knowledge, he shares it with the one who does not possess it; and' 'so also if one has honors, or riches. Thus, one always gives to the other.--Spiritual Ex-ercises, n. 231. Let us start hy a look at our will-of-God-talk. There is, in fact, a curious anomaly in much recent will-of, God-talk. This anomaly can be expressed in different ways. For example, we seem to be theists in our discei:ning process, and secularists in our carrying out process (and therefore Pelagian Deists all round: Discern as if every-thing depended upon God; act as if everything depended on you). Our talk of discerning God's will sounds more convincing than our talk of God's will once discerned. We do talk rather convincingly (that is, convincedly; with words that at least sound as if we were convinced of the reality we were talking about) about finding God'S will, but our handling of God's will once we have supposedly found it seems to give the lie to such talk. It is not iust that we fail in performance, that we are slow to fulfill what we think we must do, as Christians have always felt themselves to be. It is that the talk that accompanies our efforts to fulfill the wi.l,1 of God sounds as if we were~less than convinced that there was any such thing as a will of God manifested in discernment. In short, our talk gives the impression that we aim at doing more than merely discerning "What the situation calls for," because we in-sist on giving it a theological dimension. And yet once we have discerned "the will of God," we carry on as if this theological dimension were sheer ideology. Various Symptoms point to this, especially Our vacilla-tion and our regrets (and recriminations). Our vacillation during the process of discernment, weighing and search-ing our motives, 'indicates that we take seriously what we are doing. But vacillation after the moment of deciSion indicates rather the opposite. Again, it is not so much vacillation in performance I am talking about, but a kind of vacillation in the belief which governs the perform-ance. (If you are going to believe in a will-of-God uni-verse, an agnostic observer might say, at least take the ÷ ÷ ÷ Prayer VOLUME 30, 1971 991 ÷ ÷ ÷ Robert Ochs REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 992 advantages as well as the onus of your world view, and taste a bit of the joy and enthusiasm that ought to accom-pany such a belief.) For example, a line of action em-barked upon as a result of discernment will be aban-doned with a lightness incompatible with the discern-ment talk which launched it. The project is not adjusted in the light of new circumstances, discerned anew, as we say, but is changed without recourse to any discernment process at all. A project may be entered upon with some sense of vocation, and then abandoned with neither a sense of infidelity to any call, nor a sense of a new version of the call. If it does not work out, it is simply dropped as a misguided enterprise shot through with human fallibil-ity. After this, curiously enough, the whole discernment process may be started again, with'hopes inexplicably undimmed of finding this time the will-of-God project that will not turn sour. This phenomenon makes one wonder if any genuine discernment was ever done at all, especially when one considers that true discernment does not just provide the knowledge of what to do, but the grace to carry it out, the grace not to forget for long that one is about the Lord's business. Nadal remarks that what struck the early companions about Ignatius was his single-mindedness once he had adopted a course of action through discernment. Ignatius especially deplored the failure of spiritual nerve or what he called courage in difficult enterprises. Another index is regret. We have pursued a course under the aegis of God's will, expended our energies on it, and it does not work out, or works only tolerably well. Hindsight reveals all the deficiencies of our original choice--it looks dated, it is not what we would have chosen if we knew then what we know now. We regret, we recriminate, we think rather quickly .that we have been duped, wasted our efforts, labored under a very human delusion. Even though when we made the deci-sion we claimed to be aware that we had no choice but to choose, further postponement of decision being a worse choice than the one we made, yet we have no sense of accomplishment, no sense of having done God's will or even qf having done our best trying. For another index, let us observe our reactions to the account, in Chapter I of Acts, of the drawing of lots to fill up the vacancy left in the Twelve by Judas' betrayal. Matthias and Barsabba

Issue 30.5 of the Review for Religious, 1971. ; EDITOR R. F. Smith, S.J. ASSOCIATE EDITOR Everett A. Dledertch, S.J. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS EDITOR Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Correspondence with the editor, the associate editors, and the assistant editor, as well as books for review, should be sent to Rxvmw FOR I~LIOXOUS; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 631o3. Questions for answering should be sent to .Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; St.- Joseph's Church; 3~21 Willings Alley; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 191o6. + + + REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Edited with ecclesiastical approval by faculty members of the School of Divinity of Saint Louis University, the editorial offices being located at 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 63103. Owned by the Missouri Province Edu-cational Institute. Published bimonthly and copyright ~) 1971 by REVIEW VOR RELIC;IOUS. Published for Review for Religious at .Mr. Royal & Guilford Ave., Baltimore, Md. Printed in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at Baltimore, .Maryland and at additional mailing offices. Single copies: $1.25. Subscription U.S.A, and Canada: $6.00 a year, $11.00 for two years: other countries: $7.00 a year, $)3.00 ~or )wo years. Orders should indicate whether they are for new or renewal subscriptions and should be accompanied by check or money order paya-ble to REvIEw FOR RELIGIOUS in U.S,A. currency only. Pay no money to persons claiming to represent REVIEW Fog RELIGIOUS. Change of address requests should include former address. Renewals and new subscriptions should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; P. O. Box 1110; Duluth, Minnesota 55802. Manuscripts, editorial correspondence, and books for re-view should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to the address of the Questions and Answers editor. SEPTEMBER 1971 VOLUME 30 NUMBER 5 EDWARD J. FARRELL The Journal--A Way into Prayer If the lost word is lost, if the spent word is spent If the unheard, unspoken Word is unspoken, unheard; Still is the unspoken woriJ, the Word unheard, The Word without a word, the Word within the world and for the world; and the light shone in darkness and against the Word the unstilled world still whirled about the centre of the silent Word --Ash Wednesday, T. S. Eliot. Prayer is a hunger, a hunger that is not easily quieted. Today the cry, "Teach us to pray," echoes and reverber-ates from many directions. One of the ways I have learned to pray is by writing. I began by copying favorite passages from reading, then thoughts and ideas of others and fi-nally came to jotting down my own insights and reflec-tions from the prayer and experiences of each day. This prayer journal at times seems like my own biography of Christ, a kind of Fifth Gospel. Writing makes me think of the Evangelists' experience. Why and how did Mat-thew, Mark, Luke, and John begin their writing? What happened in them? What kind of grace was affecting them? Certainly their experience in writing was a prayer, an entering into the mind and heart of Christ. I wonder if the evangelists' experience is not to be a more common experience for many Christians. We know that God has expressed Himself in a unique and privileged way in Scripture, and yet He continues to reveal Himself and ourselves to us in the events of our ~everyday life. His written word is fresh born each morn-ing and He appeals to us: "Harden not your hearts this day as your fathers did in the desert" (Ps 95). We dare to ask Him each day: "Give us this day our daily bread," knowing that it is not by bread alone that man lives but by every word that comes from the mouth of God. The Father continues to communicate to each of us through E. J. Farrell is a faculty member of Sacred Heart Semi-nary; 2701 Chicago Boulevard; Detroit, Michigan 48206, VOLUME 30, 751 ÷ ÷ E. ]. Farrell REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS the Spirit of His Son, "for the Spirit reaches the depths of everything, even the depths of God. After all, the depths of a man can only be known by his own spirit, not by any other man; and in the same way the depths of God can only be known by the Spirit of God. Now instead of the spirit of the world, we have received the Spirit that comes from God, to teach us to understand the gifts that he has given us" (1 Cot 2:10-2). Rahner somewhere writes: "There are things which theologians try to explain. The Lord has other means of making them understood." Christ speaks to us each in a unique way. I think and pray and speak to Him in a way no one else has ever spoken to Him. He speaks to me in a way that He has spoken to no one else. Moments of depth and rare in-sight, of meeting with God, the sacred, are to be treasured and pondered within the heart. What photography is to the visual, writing is to the intuitive and moment of light. Paul wrote: "If you read my words, you will have some idea of the depths that I see in the mystery of Christ (Eph 3:4). Writing enables us to see into the depths. It is not a simple recording of thoughts already finished; it is crea-tive in its very activity and process. Writing is a journey, exploring the countries of the mind and heart, the never ending revelatory Word spoken once for all time. Little attention has been given to the value of writing as a way into prayer, an openness to contemplation, as a celebra-tion and remembering, as discovery, as centering. Deep calls to deep and the deep conscious level responding to the deep, not yet conscious reality of our being. In the beginning was the Word and He had to become incar- Ilate. There is I hope something of the Evangelists' grace for each of us, the grace of writing, of incarnating, infleshing the word in our self and imprinting it and making it our word. None of the Evangelists were "writers" in the pro-fessional sense; yet their writings were a deep communi-cation with God, with themselves, with others. Our Lord frequently asked His listeners: "What do you think?" He constantly compels us to think, to contemplate! How sad it is that so often we lose our capacity for truth, for depth; numbness, overload fuses out and shortcircuits our perceptive facuhies. Writing creates an opening in the stream of uncon-" sciousness and breaks up the automatic pattern of our life. One awakes to the newness that comes so unexpected each day. Our eyes see differently as through the wonder of a new camera. One becomes aware that ihis is the only moment like this that I shall ever have. The first con-scious thought of the day becomes an exciting experi- ence. As a person writes he begins to recognize an extraor-dinary relation between the hand as it writes and the mind and heart, like an ignition. What is written is not as significant as what happens to us in the process. Some-thing is growing within; hidden capacity gently reveals itself. New sensitivities unfold. The horizon sweeps back, the veil lifts, and we experience Emmaus: "Did not our hearts burn within us as he talked to us and explained the scripture to us" (Lk 24:32). Rollo May describes creativity as "the encounter of the intensely conscious human being with his world." Writing is an experience of creativity immediately availa-ble to everyone: "To write one has but to begin, to take the risk, to take it seriously enough to play with it, for it is by walking that one creates the path." It is so easy to live outside of ourselves, to be unaware of the inner center, the inner dialogue, the inner journey. But once a man begins, he experiences the' thrill of his own unique thoughts and insights. He begins to descern his own words from the borrowed words of others. What an ac-celeration to discover the "hidden manna" and He who gives him "a white stone, with a new name written on the stone which no one knows except him who receives it" (Rev 2:17). T. S. Eliot expresses it so simply: With the drawing of this Love and the Voice of this Calling We shall not cease from exploration And the end of all our exploring Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time. Writing is a way into what is going on and developing within ourselves. It can become a powerful way of prayer, a key to self-understanding and inner dialogue. The power in writing stimulates the very inner process that it is engaged in describing, drawing the process further inward. It is not a passive retelling of events, or a de-scribing of an experience. It becomes one's own experi-ence. Nor is it a self-conscious analytical introspection. Expressing oneself in words is rather an active and con-tinuing involvement in a personal inner process through which one is drawn into an expanded understanding of the reality in his own existence. For example, most peo-ple pray the Our Father every day. One can hear Christ's words and then suddenly hear what his own heart is saying: "Hallowed by my name, my kingdom come, my will be done." This inbreaking of understanding can be-come just another forgotten inspiration and lost grace or by getting it down it becomes specific, focused, and deci-sive. If one writes regularly, no matter how briefly, a con-scious thought, insighL prayer, reflection,he will find that 4- + + The Journal VOLUME ~0, 1971 753 ÷ ÷ ÷ E. J. Farrell REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS "/54 it becomes a cumulative enrichment. It is tuning into what is going on, seeing the connection and relationship, capturing that which is behind the consciousness. Writing and contemplation tend to merge. We know the saints best who found themselves compelled to write---Augus-tine, Bernard, Catherine, Teresa, and our own contem-poraries John XXIII's Journal of a Soul, Dag Hammar-skjold's Markings. In this day of so much glib talk, when we are daily inundated and assaulted with unending words and speech, when everyone is correspondingly articulate on every-thing, the written personal word is increasingly impor-tant. Such words come out of silence and expand silence. They reestablish privacy so rare today, and a comfortable sense of solitude. They beget the dialogue between one's known self and one's deeper, unknown self that is coming into being. One begins to hear the wordless dialogue be-tween one's deepest sel{ and God. Christ taught His Dis-ciples through the deep questions--"Who do you say I am? . Do you love me? . What do you think?" We can-not but respond to His questions and imperatives with our own questions and responses: "Is it I, Lord? W.here do you live?" As never before, each of us has to personalize our faith; we must initial it with our own name and make it ours. We must be able to give reason for the faith that is within us. People do not ask about the formal teachings of the Church. They want to know your experience, what you think, what difference does Jesus make. Here are some of the questions that I. have been asked and that I write about in order that I may be ready to speak His word in me for others: "How do you pray? . Who is Jesus for me?.When do you believe? .W. hen do you love?" "How? .When have you experienced penance? .W. hat difference does the Eucharist make in you? . What do you expect of you? .How does your vineyard grow?" "What is your charism? .W. hat is your sin? .W. hat would it take for you to be a saint now? . What is Jesus asking of you today? . What effect are you making on your world?" These questions demand thinking; they demand contemplation. Answering the questions in spoken words may avoid the implications of their personal meaning. Thinking is so diffused, unformulated, scattered, easily distracted. To write an answer for one's self is to drive deep; it disciplines, focuses, and brings one to face Christ with his conviction. A journal is a journey--the journey of today--both words are from the French word "le jour"--today. The journal is the coming into possession of life this day in the written word, capturing its secret, its mystery. The written word is perhaps more like a kiss than a possessing as in the words of Blake: He who bends to himself a joy Doth the winged life destroy But he who kisses the joy as it flies Loves in Eternity's sunrise. The journal calls for honesty, for a search into meet-ing. It is a discipline in a day when discipline is rare: "But it is a narrow gate and a hard road that leads to life, and only a few find it" (Mt 7:14). Time set aside to move from the outer to the inner, to discover new depths, to see new connections, to perceive fresh insight--surely this work is prayer. It is at times unselfconscious poetry and contemporary psalmody. The journal is a putting into words the praise of God that leaps from the transparencies of life which the light of faith illumines for us. Each of us has our own nnique psalms; the journal helps us to find the words which in turn we share with those He sends to us. Each must honor the desire to express one-self or not. Every person has his own inner rhythm, and each must have his own way of getting to it. Writing Together When people come together and are silent, something in addition becomes present: "Where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them" (Mt 18:20). As a group turns their focus from outside to inside, to a level of depth, something else be-comes present and makes other kinds of experiences pos-sible. This contact with ourselves would not happen by oneself. A cumulative atmosphere of depth allows us to come to new depth within ourselves. One of the more fruitful group prayer experience that I have worked with is using a three-hour block of time. A gronp of six to ten sit in a small circle in the presence of the Eucharist or with the open Scripture and lighted candle, in the center. The first hour is a prayer of adoration, of silent witness to the Presence in the presence of each other. This hour is an experience of silence and hiddenness with the Father: "You are dead and your life is hidden with Christ in God." The second hour is the hour of writingmthe quantum leaps from nothingness into creation--the power of a word pulling many things into understand-ing. Out of the silence the word comes forth. A field of energy is generated by the concentration of the others around oneself, and one is supported by the current of their efforts. The hour of writing is more than a remem-bering the hour in silence. It is an unfolding experience in itself that carries new dimensions of perception with it. The third hour is one of sharing, of speaking the word 4- + + The .lournal 755 to one another. The sharing is at a depth level because of the common experience of the previous two hours--it is no longer an exchange of words and ideas, it is a meeting of persons. In some dim way these three hours are a Trinity experience--the Father in the hour of silence, the Son in the hour of writing, and the Holy Spirit in the hour of sharing. God speaks! We are compelled to etch Him upon our hearts in writing; and then we are ready to bear witness unafraid and we dare to say with Paul: "If you read my words, you will have some idea of the depths that I see in the mystery of Christ" (Eph 3:4). EDWARD HAYES, O.C.S.O. Probings into Prayer One of the purposes of transactional analysis is to liber-ate people from unheahhy negative feelings about them-selves and others. To do this, one endeavors to evoke the same original sitnation wherein the "child" made a feel-ing decision from the experience. Once the original expe-rience is evoked, one has to re-decide, perhaps years later, at a feeling level, to liberate oneself from sulzh unhealthy negative feelings. In short, one has to return to the origi-nal injunction and re-decid~ on a feeling level. It is al-most a cliche in some circles: go back to childhood, to one's origin in order to understand one's present situa-tion better. ,'1 Wider Concept o[ Prayer To better nnderstand prayer it is also beneficial to return to its origins.1 St. John tells us: "In the beginning was the Word and the Word was toward God and the Word was God" (Jn 1;I). The Word was "toward God" sounds strange. We usually translate it by "with God," "near God," changing the meaning of the Greek, "pros theon." " The evangelist wants to express a mystery that our translation ought to respect. "Toward God" implies relationship, motion. From eternity the Word was turned toward the Father, the Word's Personality, His divine gaze, was totally addressing the Father--a Thou. An un-ceasing movement drew the Word toward the Father. Prayer is a movement toward Another, a responding rela-tionship. St. John, in describing the origin of prayer, is telling us something of great import: to become fully conscious you need only to look with love on another-- on a "Thou." And this is what the Word does from all eternity--turning totally toward His Father. Prayer de-scribed as this means it is relational, a moving toward Another. Responding to my life situation is a "moving 1Jean Galot, s.J., La pri~re (Bruges: Desclfie de Brouwer, 1965); throughout this article I am indebted to this hook. '~ I. de La Potterie, "De interpunctione et interpretatione versuum Job. 1:3, 4, I1," Verbum Domini, v. 33 (1955), pp. 193-208. 4- Edward Hayes is a staff member of the House of Prayer at Durward's Glen; RR 2, Box 220; Baraboo, Wisconsin 53913. VOLUME 30, 1971 757 4. 4. °4. Edward Hayes REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS toward the Father," is prayer, is an earthly embodiment of the Eternal Word's incessant prayer. In this sense of prayer as a "pros theon" movement, prayer is as wide as life. Saying yes to the summons in one's daily circum-stances is a "pros theon" movement, is saying yes to ulti-mate Responsibility, God Himself. In this way man is again and again opening himsel[ to the summons availa-ble in his life, seeking to respond to it with courage and generosity. Although not in a specifically religious exer-cise, not even with a supernatural intention, man, in answering the appeals in his daily secular experiences, is moving toward the Fathei', is at prayer. Formal prayer, then, simply clarifies and intensifies the moving toward the Father wherever people try to become more truly themselves. Another example o[ this wider concept o[ prayer as a movement toward, as a dynamic thrust toward Another, is at the end o[ the prologue. "No one has ever seen God, it is the only Son who is into the bosom o[ the Father, he it is who has made him known" (Jn 1:18). Verse 1 and verse 18 together make an inclusion to the prologue. The prologue begins and ends with the Word's (Son's) dy-namic movement into the Godhead. Here in verse 18, "eis ton kolpon," literally, "into the Father's bosom," is trans-lated like its counterpart in verse 1. Translations hesitate to express the original and prefer, "He who is in the bosom of the Father." Ke.eping the awkward translation makes evident the expression of movement, "into the bosom of the Father." Here is a dynamic thrust, a vital relationship of the Son toward the Father. From eternity, the authentic core of His Person is addressed and called forth in filial love. True prayer is being summoned and responding, a reality as wide as life itself. Beyond Professionalism It has been pointed out to us that many in pastoral care take special training because of their need to be more skillful in their pastoral relationships,z The increas-ing number of pastoral training centers witnesses to the great desire to find an answer to the "how-to-do-it" ques-tion. How to relate to hippies, to young radicals, to stu-dents, to those in crises. Those in pastoral care do look to the masters of behavioral sciences to give them answers [or their urgent questions. Certainly, the assistance o[ these social sciences is o[ tremendous importance. Yet there is a unique dimension which goes beyond the ex-pertise o[ the behavioral sciences, that goes beyond pro- [essionalism to the internal dynamism of one's faith. We n Henri Nouwen, "Pastoral Care," National Catholic Reporter, v. 7, n. 20 (March 19, 1971), p. 8. are referring here not to techniques but to one's spiritual quality, to one's inner thrust, to one's conviction and authenticity to be communicated in encountering others. Jesus Himself cared for souls and their individual needs, for Magdalene, for the woman at the .well, for Nicode-mus. Jesus was skillful in His relationships with them and was not afraid to use His insights into the stirrings of the human heart. But when asked about the source of His knowledge He said: "My teaching is not from myself; it comes from the one who sent me" (Jn 7:16), This exemplifies going beyond techniques and skills and plunging into the heart of relationship to Another. Another text indicating the relationship between inner depth and one's mission, skillfully relating to others, is: "No one has seen God except the only Son who is into the bosom of the Father. He it is who has made him known" (Jn 1:18). "Into the bosom of the Father" means that the Son penetrates into the deepest secrets of the Father. Prayer, as was mentioned, inv~)lves a filial dyna-mism wherein the Holy Spirit, like di~cine energy, seizes the Son, carrying Him into the bosom of the Father. But then John adds: "He [the Son] it is who has made him known," marking the relationship between prayer and one's mission. To make known the Father, to be witness, one must give witness not only for Someone but to what one has seen. The only Son has made known what His divine gaze, in moving deeper into the secret recesses of the Father, has grasped and contemplated. All one's wit-nessing value issues out of a dynamism which has carried him, first of all, into the bosom of the Father. Again we are going beyond professionalism. Making known the Fa-ther, accomplishing one's apostolate, is to issue out of or be blended with searching into the inner recesses of the Father, that is, prayer. If one ceases to "wonder" in the silent reflection of his inner loneliness, if one has not yet begun to imbibe the Spirit by letting Scriptures speak to him, if one rationalizes his way out of praying together with a handful of friends who mediate the Spirit to him --this apostle has not gone beyond professionalism and can scarcely bring hope and ultimate meaning to the lives o£ others.4 Again we can approach the same matter by looking further into the meaning of "into the bosom of the Fa-ther." It means attaining the secret depths of God, plung-ing deeply into reality where God is hidden. Human experiences have privileged moments of disclosure where the infinite Thou is unveiled from within the finite 4 Gerard Broccolo, "The Priest Praying in the Midst of the Fam-ily of Men," Concilium, n. 52 (New York: Paulist, 1970). 4- 4- ÷ Prayer VOLUME 30, ).971 ÷ + + Edward Hayes REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 760 thou.~ Searching into the bosom of the Father can mean a sensitivity for the deeper and transcending element that is experienced as co-present. We call this ultimate and hidden depth of human experience "Person" or "Father." The divine presence is hidden in the deepest dimension of human experience and so moving "into the bosom of the Father" can also mean contemplating God's work with man, distinguishing with a growing sensitivity the light and darkness in the human heart. Prayer, in this sense, is the ongoing disclosure of the deepest dimension of reality to us, revealing both God's light and man's darkness. In this perspective, our apostolate is never lim-ited to the application of any technique but ultimately goes beyond professionalism. It is the continuing search for God hidden in the life of the people we serve. Prayer, moving into the bosom of the Father, means searching and finding the God we want to make known in the lives of the people to whom we want to reveal Him. Prayer and Sell-identity ~Arho am 1? Do 1 think of myself as isolated, as exposed to the coincidences of every day, as placed in a universe withont meaning and without a fi~tnre? There are indeed moments in my life when I experience myself in this way. In faith I acknowledge nay new self-identity: I am a son and therefore given a destiny. I nnderstand myself as placed in a context where meaning and purpose are avail-able to me. This destiny makes me someone. In faith, therefore, I acknowledge nay own worth, not because of the efforts I make but because, as a son, I am accepted. In faith, there is no reason for me to be ashamed of myself. As son I rejoice in myselfY This filial identity is expressed and intensified by prayer. When the Son leaves the bosom of the Father and enters human life, his eternal "pros theon" movement is embodied at moments of prayer so that there is, in the evangelist's mind, a certain bond between Christ's prayer and manifesting His filial identity. For instance, at His Baptism there is a solemn declaration of His divine filia-tion by the Father as a result of Jesus' own prayer: "Now when all the people had been baptized and while Jesus after his own baptism was in prayer, heaven opened and the Holy Spirit descended on him in bodily shape, like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, 'You are my Son, the Beloved; my favor rests on you' " (Lk 3:21-2). It was in the midst of His prayer that the Spirit's descent and ~ Fons d'Hoogh, "Prayer in a Secularized Society," Concilium, n. 49 (New York: Paulist, 1969), pp. 42 ft. ~ Gregory Baum, Faith and Doctrine (New York: Newman, 1969), p. 18. the Father's proclamation took place as if the Father was awaiting the filial dlan of His son, which prayer embod-ies, before declaring Jesus' divine filiation. Recognizing in Christ's words and gestures the authentic expression of sonship, the Father proclaimed with power that this man is His beloved Son. Notice the bond between Christ's prayer and revealing the true identity of Christ as Son. Again, at the Transfiguration, prayer plays the same role: "He took with him Peter and John and James and went up the mountain to pray" (Lk 9:28). The purpose was to pray and only during the course of their prayer did the incident of the Transfiguration take place. Jesus inwardly gazing upon the Father suddenly makes Him appear visibly what He is in reality: the resplendent glory of the Father (Heb 1:3): "As he prayed the aspect of his countenance was changed and his clothing became bril-liant as lightning" (Lk 9:29). As at the Baptism, by pray-ing Jesus adopts a filial attitude and in this "pros theon" movement the proclamation of divine Sonship is heard. Again, the bond between prayer and His self-identity as Son is seen. Finally, at His death, Jesus prays: "Father, into your hands I commend my spirit" (Lk 23:46). By beginning with "Father," Jesus changes the Psalmist's prayer of the Old Testament (Ps 21:6) into a filial prayer. The Psalmist was crying out to Yahweh but Christ trans-figures the Psalmist's prayer by saying "Father," making it a filial prayer. That cry was His last testimony as Son. At the supreme moment Jesus pulls Himself together so that fi'om the very ground of His being there arises the strength to proclaim what is closest to Him, His Sonship. This is the most moving revelation of His Sonship, so moving that it convinces the pagan centurion: "In truth this man was the son of God" (Mk 15:39). In the three most privileged moments wherein Christ is revealed as Son of God we are aware of the role of prayer. At the Baptism, at the Transfiguration, and at His death it was prayer that evoked the manifestation of Jesus' filial identity. In turning toward the Father in prayer Jesus is acting as Son and this gesture provokes on the part of the Father the proclamation of Christ's Sonship. This sponta-neous gesture belongs to the revelation of the mystery of His person. Whenever in prayer, Jesus is unveiling His divinity under a filial form. In Him there exists a bond between prayer and revealing the quality of sonship which allows us to say that prayer manifests and intensi-fies our self-identity as sons. If you are traveling on a train it occasionally happens that the steady clicking of the rails and the movement of the train begin to put you to sleep. When the train slows down and comes to a halt the little jolt involved in stop- Prayer VOLUME 30, 1971 ping awakens you. As-we move from one day into the next, often the sameness in daily situations can put one into a spiritual somnolence. It is when we stop that rhythm by breaking off for the sake of reflection that an awakening of inner life happens. Prayer, reflection, is an awakening to your deeper self, recalling you to what is the most basic dimension within you, to the reality as son. Prayer is discovering what you already are. You do not have to rush after it. It is there all the time. All that is needed is time for it to unfold. If you give it time it will make itself known to you. Christ established a new principle of human life: man becomes his true self espe-cially in prayer. Grace hides a filial identity and it is prayer which reveals to a human person that which is the deepest and truest nobility within onself: the quality as son of the Father. This turning toward the Father affirms and (leepens one's self-identity as son. Like Jesus Himself, man in prayer, continuing the mystery of the Incarna-tion, can become fully aware of what he really is, son. + + + Edward Hayes REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS PETER BYRNE, C.Ss.R. Teilhard de Chardin and Commitment There is now incontrovertible evidence that mankind has just entered upon the greatest period of change the world has ever krlown.~ These stirring words were first uttered in 1936 by Tell-hard de Chardin, and they bear scrutiny today more than 30 years later when change seems to be not only taking place but seems to be the most constant feature of life. In fact change occurs so rapidly in these times that soci-ologists tell us that a new generation rises every 5 years. Practically, this means that the mores and values of any age group five years ago seem to the equivalent age group today to be dated. It may seem strange, but while all agree that rapid and radical change is taking place there is very little agreement as to the fundamental nature of the change itself. The symptoms of radical discontent with the past are apparent; but historians, philosoph.ers, theo-logians and scientists hardly dare to guess what will be the shape or appearance of the future, This paper is an attempt to find something constant at the heart and center of the changing world. It will at-tempt to answer the question of man's responsibility to direct and control change, and finally it will say some-thing about the part that religious rnust take in this dy-namic and changing world. We can list the symptoms of change under two head-ings, namely, destructive and constructive. On the de-structive side we witness the breakdown of authority and consequent concern about law and order as traditionally understood. Protest marches and demonstrations are the order of the day and often lead to violence and death. The establishment everywhere is under fire from young people demanding change, relevance, and recognition. I Teilhard de Chardin, Building the Earth (Wilkes Barre, Pa., 1965), p. 22. ÷ ÷ Peter Byrne gives missions and re-treats and can be reached at P.O. Box 95; Bacolod City, Philippines. VOLUME 30, 1971 763 Peter Byrne REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 764 Every year brings a new record of abortions, murders, suicides, and violent deaths. Add to this the ever increas-ing number of drug addicts and drop-outs from society, the wars that rage in three continents and that are a constant threat to peace and order and established gov-ernment. This very age which we call the age of progress seems to be also the age of progressive estrangement from God. "Eclipse of the light of heaven, eclipse of God, such indeed is the character of the historic hour through which the world is passing." _o So wrote Martin Buber and man's loneliness and isolation from his fellowmen predictably led to isolation from God who was variously described as absent, silent, or dead. On the constructive side man has also something to show. In the short span of a few decades modern man has learned to fly, invented radio, telephone, and television; he has set up worldwide communications network, trans-planted hearts, harnessed electric and atomic power, pro-longed life expectancy, probed the secrets of the heavens, and landed on the moon. The new style of Christian life already in vigor in the world may be described as "more commitment and less devotion, more spirit and less super-stition, more autonomy and less authority, more society and less herd, more concern and less worry, more sponta-neity and less guilt, more creativity and less rote, more joy and less fear, more humanity and less pomposity, more thought and less testament." :~ Are we picturing only the sunny side of life and shut-ting our eyes to the horrors of life? "Men still merely understand strength, the key and symbol of violence in its primitive and savage form of war.''4 Have we forgotten Nagasaki, Biafra, Dachau--symbol of a Christian nation methodically with the aid of modern science exterminat-ing five million Jews and (often forgotten) six million Christians? This.age .of "civilisation" shows a record of at least one major war every decade leading to direct or in-direct killing of millions. A discussion of the comparative strength of nations means not their power to construct a better society and raise the standard of living, but rather their military resources in terms of minutemen, warheads, rockets, bombs and all kinds of fighting equipment. A well-known writer has said that he always reads the sports page of the newspaper first and the front page last be-cause the former contains the record of man's triumphs and the latter his defeats. We do not ignore the grim ~ Martin Bubcr, The Eclipse oJ God (New York, 1957), p. 23. ¯ ~ Leslie Dcwart, The Foundations oJ BelieJ (New York, 1969), p. 486. ~ Building the Earth, p. 73. reality of the turmoil in the world; it must enter into any view of the total human situation. Before going on to give interpretations of the trend of the human race and to theorize about its final end, we can make one observation here which I think will be accepted by all as true. At any stage of the history of the human race we can put down side by side the best and the worst features of the age, the constructive and the destructive elements that made up the human situation of the time. Numerically they may often seem to cancel each other out, leaving us to ponder the question of Sartre whether progress and life are not finally absurd. However, the good and bad elements of human history differ markedly in one important respect; namely, the bad pass and the good remain. To clarify--the natural disasters like plagues, famine, earthquakes, fires, floods; the man-made calamities of war, murder, and scientific destrnction, which directly and indirectly have claimed millions of lives, we have survived all these (though by no means paid the debt of expiation). Not only has the human race survived all disasters but established a world opinion that seems to make a recurrence of the worst of these virtually impossible. Not only has the human race survived and grown more and more enlightened but the products of man's skill and inventiveness spread further every day and be-come more and more available to people everywhere-- medicine, transportation, communication, education, all adding up to man's conquest of matter and coming to enjoy greater personal fi'eedom. It does seem that general history shows that the good things of life survive while the less worthy perish and pass into comparative oblivion. This is not to say that there were no exceptions to this general rule. Many of the ancients showed skills in archi-tecture, sculpture, acoustics, writing, whose secrets have been lost. This paper is concerned with the future and the pres-ent rather than with the past. What we say of the past has value mainly for our extrapolated assessment of the trend of progress in the future. The attitude that we adopt to-wards the world and towards life is determined by our philosophy, our theology, or simply by our experience. People who have had firsthand experience of war often lose faith in human nature and faith in God Himself. If God exists and is good, how can He permit the sense-less killing of innocent human b(ings? Sartre reached the conclusion that man is utterly alone: "With no ex-cuses behind us or justification before us, every human being is born without reason, prolongs life out of weak- + ÷ + Teiihartl and Commitment VOLUME 30, 1971 765 ÷ ÷ ÷ Peter Byrne REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 766 ness and dies by chance." "~ For Sartre God did not exist and life was absurd. This does not do justice to Sartre nor do we intend here to dwell on him because it does not seem possible to build a philosophy of hope for the fu-ture on the premise that life is absurd. I should like to contrast here two attitudes towards the future of the earth---one is found in what may be loosely called traditional Catholic spirituality and the other in the works of Teilhard de Chardin. The traditional Catholic expression of the purpose of our life is contained in the oft quoted words of St. Ig-natius Loyola: "Man was created to praise God his Lord, to give Him honor and so to save his soul." 6 The helleni-sation of Christianity brought into clear relief the dis-tinction between body arid soul and practically the mes-sage of salvation as preached was preoccupied with saving the soul which was imprisoned in the body. The great enemies of salvation were the world, the flesh, and the devil. The question was asked: What does. Jesus say to teach us that saving our soul is more important than anything else? And the answer: Jesus says: "What doth it profit a man if he gains the whole world but suffers the loss of his own soul?" 7 If the world posed a threat to the salvation of the soul, the proper attitude towards it was one of detachment if not positive conflict. It should be used to sustain life but never developed for its own sake. It could be used also to store up merit through labor: "Labor as the fulfillment of God's will is a source of merit, atoning for sin and lay-ing up glory in heaven. Through it I work out my own salvation and contribute to the good of my neighbor, both spiritual and material good." s Distrust of the flesh easily led to distrust of human emotions and heavy emphasis on the necessity of asceti-cism. Penance was exalted and a luxurious life frowned upon. Scientific advances were often judged not by bene-fits they conferred but rather by the threat that they posed to a way of life that should be sealed with the cross of Christ. Taken all in all, this world and even the human body was man's temporary prison from which the true Christian looked forward to release for his entry into his true home in heaven. Of course, it was a matter of emphasis acquired little by little as the Church tried to meet the challenges that she had to face. And how does traditional Christianity appear ~ H. J. Blackman (cd.), Reality, Man and Existence (New York, 1965), p. 325. ~A Catholic Catechism (New York, 1963), p. 2. z Ibid., p. 299. s Leo Trese, Guide to Christian Living (Notre Dame, 1963), p. 345. to modern man? He sees it as indifferent if not actually hostile to science, no leader in the world but a deserter, scared of personalism and love; a religion of death, pov-erty, suffering, sorrow, that knows how to weep at the crucifixion but incapable of joy at the resurrection; with no adequate theology of work, success, joy, marriage, youth, hope, life, or love. Young people today are looking for a presentation of Christianity that will endorse their admiration for sci-ence, their love of the workl, and their hopes for the fu-ture. It is Teilhard de Chardin who seems to give Chris-tianity the particular emphasis necessary to meet these aspirations of our time. In contrast, the traditional preaching of Christianity seemed to be more interested in the past than the future; it seemed cold towards science and detached from the earth. This of course was reflected in the practical lives of Christians, causing Christianity to be dubbed as irrelevant. Let us see how Teilhard un-derstood the trend of evolution and the implication of his views in terms of commitment: The situation which Teilhard entered was one in which materialists asserted that everything in this world is governed by blind purposeless determinism; while christians too often were simply fighting a rear-guard action against them, trying to resist as long as possible any scientific theory which seemed to conflict with traditional ideas.° Teilhard was at the same time .a devoted priest and a devoted scientist. His closest friends included unbelievers, agnostics, skeptics--many of them outstanding scientists for whom Christianity was an outdated monolith indiffer-ent to progress. Teilhard wanted to find a way of giving expression to the faith that was in him in a way that the scientists would listen to. And so he began by speaking the language of the scientist in terms that held their attention and commanded their respect because of his diligence in research. However his life work was not intended merely as an apologetic for others but because he felt also within himself the anguish of trying to reconcile progress on earth with the christian ideal of detachment: This has always been the problem of my life; what I mean is the reconciliation of progress and detachment---of a passionate and legitimate love for this great earth and unique pursuit of the kingdom of heaven?° ÷ And so he set out to try to reconcile in a single synthesis + these two. He believed that they could not be opposed + but must in some way complement one another. To effect Teilhard and the synthesis he did not begin with revelation but with Commitment ° Fr. John Russell, A Vision o/Teilhard de Chardin, p. 9. ~°Christopher F. Mooney, Teilhard de Chardin and the Mystery Christ (New York, 1966), p. 28. VOLUME 30, 1971 767 + ÷ ÷ Peter Byrne REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 768 what can be observed by human perception. He was not afraid of what science might discover. "We christians," he said, "have no need to be afraid of, or to be unreason-ably shocked by, the resuhs of scientific research . they detract nothing from the almighty power of God nor from the spirituality of the soul, nor from the supernatu-ral character of christianity, nor from a man's superiority to the animals." al For Teilhard the whole world was in a state of becom-ing. It has very obviously developed from a state of chaos to a state of order. It may have taken five billion years to reach its present state. In the course of those years the earth cooled and became gradually disposed to produce and sustain life. Even prior to the emergence of life on earth a very important aspect of evolution is observable, namely, complexity. Electron, atom, molecule--these show not only. succession in time but gradual growth in complexity organized about a center. Teilhard calls this centro-complexity. This process is carried further in vi-ruses and further still in cells which are the first bodies that beyond doubt possess life. Still further tip the scale of development are plants and animals which have their own order of complexity. But Teilhard observed also that growth in complexity is accompanied by a gradual intensification of conscious-ness. By means of the mechanisms of reproduction and association, life on earth moved forward in time and upward on the scale of coxnplexity. Man made his appear-ance one million years ago which in terms of the age of life on earth is quite recent. The thin line of life that has survived and developed on earth ~loes not amount to one millionth of the leaves that have sprouted on the tree of life. Complexity is a measure of time and this complexity in the various forms of life helps us to differentiate the time of their emergence in the course of evolution. But complexity alone does not mark one stage of evo-lution from another. A new element enters in, conscious-ness. The more complex a being becomes, the more centered it is on itself and the more aware it is. This aware-ness gives the being spontaneity of action and the ability to adapt and to dominate. This consciousness is further accompanied with the growth and refinement of the nerv-ous system. Matter achieves the break-through into con-sciousness through the complexification of the cells which produced the nervous system. The "within" of a thing grows more intense as the external o~'ganisation of the nervous system grows more complex. This "within" of things is a spiritual energy that was latent in matter im-n Teiihard de Chardin, Science and Christ (New York, 1968), p. 35. pelling evolution upwards in a glorious ascent. It is called by Teilhard "radial energy" and is that ever vibrating and vital force that has maintained the evolutionary process despite the unimaginable hazards that the process has encountered in the course of its millions of years of duration. A new threshold in the evolutionary process is crossed after due process of divergence, convergence, and emerg-ence. The final emergence is a new development in con-sciousness, something old because it came from the po-tential in the antecedents and emerged through creative union. Nevertheless, the new .emergence can be called new because it cannot be reduced to anything that was there before. Thought was the sign of a new emergence. In primates nature concentrated on the development of the brain. This is the process of cerebralisation. An increase of con-sciousness is in direct proportion to the degree of cere-bralisation, that is, increase in the complexity of brain structure. Among the primates when a certain advanced stage of brain development had been achieved, thought was born and with thought man was born. So that is the position of man in the evolutionary proc-ess. He is not the offshoot of a runaway evolution but the supreme culmination and product of the process itself-- the result of development and effort that covered aeons of time. Man is a person and he personalizes the world. He penetrates the world by his creative thinking and organizes the world-around himself. Man is not only conscious but also self-conscious; he can think and reflect on himself. He can survey the whole length of his own past history; he can see the process of successive emer-gences by which he himself has come to be. He sees the ever enduring quality of "radial energy" that still drives the process onward and upward. Comparing his present state with the state of evolution prior to man he asks the question: Where do we go from here? And then realizes that he does not only have the question but that the answer also is up to man himself. The new quality of the present stage of evolution is that it is under man's control. All stages prior to the emer-gence were at a subhuman level and therefore outside man's own control. In a certain sense man is the creator and not merely the passive recipient of the next stage of evolution. Before determining what are our obligations to the future we must continue the scientific process of observa-tion and try by extrapolation if we can know the trend of evolution for the future. The process leading to emer-gence must continue and this is leading mankind ~o ever greater and greater unity. This socialization of commun-÷ ÷ ÷ Teilhard and Commitment VOLUME 30, 1971 769 4. 4. Peter Byrne REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ity is truly the crucial phase of the whole evolutionary process, and the deepest longing of the human heart is that it will never end but that it will reach fulfillment. This fulfillment cannot destroy thought or consciousness or personality. On the contrary it must eternalize them. Teilhard's idea of final synthesis becomes clearer when we contragt it with Bergson's idea that the elan vital (his name for what Teilhard calls radial energy) would finally issue in plurality and divergence: Bergson chose the plurMity and divergence. According to the Jewish philosopher, the world is evolving towards dispersal. As it advances its elements acquire greater autonomy. Each being is to achieve its own utmost originality and its maximum freedom in opposition to others. Perfection, bliss and supreme grandeur belong to the part not to the whole. From this dis-persive point of view socialisation of tb~ ".-.roman masses seems to be absurd regression or servitude. ~Lssentially the universe spreads like a fan; it is divergent in s :~cture."-' Teilbard's conclusion from science was that the universe has a goal and that this goal will be achieved because if the universe bas hitherto been successful in the unlikely task of bringing human thought to birth in what seems to us an unimaginable tangle of chances and mishaps it means that it is fundamentally directed by a power tbat is eminently in control of the elements that make up the universe.'" This power is the omega that must be personal, im-manent, and eternal. The answer to this need felt by the scientist is in the Christ of revelation. "By itself science cannot discover Christ--but Christ satisfies the yearnings that are born in our hearts in the school of science." 14 This is the achievement of Teilhard--to show how sci-ence and Christianity can join bands in accomplishing the final destiny of mankind. "Humanity," he says, "evolves in such a way ;is to form a natural unity whose extension is as vast as the earth." a~ Greater planetization, greater socialization, greater unity in love, this is the stage of development that we have reached. This conclu-sion is compatible with science and doubly borne out by our faith. "A passionate love of growth, of being, that is what we need." ~ (These sentiments were echoed by Pope Panl Vl in Populorum progressio when he said of the underprivileged: "They want to know more, and have more, because what they really want is to be more.") Love is the most universal, formidable, and mysterious of the cosmic energies; and Teilbard defines love as "the '~ Francisco Bravo, Christ in the Thought o] Teilhard tie Chardin, p. 15. ~.s Science and Ctirisg, p. 41. ~ Ibid., p. 36. ~s Ibid., p. 93. ~" Building the Earth, p. 108. attraction which is exercised upon each conscious element by the center of the universe." ~7 "The age of nations is past. The task before us now, if we would not perish, is to shake off our ancient !)rejudices and to build the earth." ~s Therefore Teilhard's contribution in respect to the fu-ture is to show us where the radial energy at the heart of evolution is driving us. We are tending towards not a meaningless annihilation, but, through interaction and love, towards the blending into one commnnity and even into one consciousness of all humanity. In fact, Teil-hard says that the crisis of the present time is a spiritual crisis in the sense that men "do not know towards what universe and final end they shonld direct the driving force of their sonls." ~'~ But we Christians know that prog-ress is leading to the restoration of all things in Christ. History, science, anthropology can systematically ennmer-ate the timeless longings of the human heart and can list the various endeavors to accomplish tlteir fnlfiIlment. The endeavors failed for it is only Christ who meets the demand of the alpha and the omega. Teilhard was able to show that science does not have to eclipse religion or vice versa. In fact both of these need each other if total harmony in the world is to be ac, hieved. Of science Tell-hard said: "The time has come to realise that research is the highest hnman ftmction, embracing the spirit of war and bright with the splendor of religion." '-'~' And of religion he writes: "Out of universal evolution God emerges ill onr consciousness as greater and more neces-sary than ever." ~1 Teilhard summed up his convictions succinctly when he wrote in The Divine Milieu: . three convictions which are the very marrow of christian-ity, the unique significance of Man as the spear-head of life; the position of Catholicism as the central :~xis in the convergent bnndle of human activities; and finally the essential ftmction as consummator assumed by the risen Christ at the cemer and peak of creation: these three elements have driven and con-tinue to drive roots so deep and so entangled in the whole fabric of my intellectual and religious perception that I could now tear them out only at the cost of destroying everything.~ He says that a challenge is put to a C/n'istian to be ac-tive and busily active "working as earnestly as the most convinced of those who work to build up the earth, that Christ may continually be born more fnlly in the world ~ Ibid., F- 45. ~8 Ibid., p. 54. "~' 'S Bciueinldcien agn tdh eC Eharirstth, ,p p. .1 5061. -"r Ibid., p. 59. '-'-'Teilbard de Chardin, The Divine Milieu (London, 1968), p. 38. + + 4- Teilhard and Commitment VOLUME ~0, 1971 + ÷ ÷ Pete~ Byrne REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 772 around him. More than any unbeliever never outstripped in hope and boldness." Teilhard spoke also of the task that confronts theolo-gians to think through the implications of evolution so that a new proclamation of thegospel may herald the new era in which we live. For the Christian this world is not only an antechamber to heaven but a task and a vo-cation. He wants Catholic doctrine to be given a dynamic aspect and a universal, cosmic, and futurist dimension34 The turmoil that we witness in the Church today may well be the birth pangs antecedent to a new emergence of Christianity not merely in the shadow of the cross but, more relevant to the hope that is in us, in its shining light. Leslie Dewart expresses the same hope when he writes: "Christian belief may yet become the leading cultural force contributing to the conscious self-creation of the hnman world." For Teilhard religion fixes its gaze not on the past but on the future which offers us the snre promise to make all things new: His concern was to blaze a trail for the new type of christian of his dreams---one in whom love for the task of living here on earth in an evolving world would coincide with a love for Christ, goal and crowning glory of that world; a christian whose vision would be focused upon the future and whose faith would take full account of the world's new dimensions; a christian in whom openness toward all mundane values would be matched with an unconditional commitment to God."~ It is important to note that involvement with the world and commitment to God if properly understood do not produce any dichotomy in man. It rather answers to the dual natnre of man "slime o~ the earth made into the image and likeness of God." ~ Modern psychology and related sciences now show that for mental health it is absolntely necessary to preserve these two in a fine bal-ance. "Moral norms," writes Erich Fromm, "are based upon man's inherent qualities, and their violation results in mental and emotional disintegration." zs If we do succeed in achieving the balance required it will be due not only to knowledge but also to faith and hope and the Holy Spirit. We are in the world not merely to foster evolution at a natural level: "In the life of the individual Christian as well as in the life of the Church as a whole there is an immediate and transcendent relationship to the Person of Christ which is independ~ent of all human ~ Science and Christ, p. 68. " N. M. Wildiers, An Introduction to Teilhard de Chardin (Lon-don, 1968), p. 123. '-'~ Leslie Dewart, op. cit., p. 689. '¯-'~ Wildiers, op. cit., p. 161. .,r Genesis 1:27. = Erich Fromm, Man ]or Hirnsel! (Greenwich, Corm, 1968), p. 17. progress and which cannot be reduced to any mere hu-man energy." .~9 Teilhard's pre6ccupation with his particular point of view and the particular purpose of his synthesis may have led him to understate the radical nature of the Incarna-tion and Redemption as a free gift of God apart from creation. Yet again it may be merely a question of empha-sis. He expressly left it to theologians to think through the implications of his theories for Christian doctrine as a whole. In this connection it would be interesting to ask what Teilhard thought of the religious life, aml how it fits into his world vision. He did not treat of the subject explicitly at any great length but we can gather some of his ideas on the subject, We can state at once that, in spite of many trials from superiors, Teilhard remained faithful to the Society of Jesus and even said: "The faintest idea of a move to leave the Order has never crossed my mind." ~0 He saw fidelity to the Order as the only reasonable course for him. We can go at once to the heart of the matter by stating that the bond of union among men in the final stage of evolution is love, and love is also the pnrpose and the essence of the religious life. According to Teilhard it is only with man that love appears on earth. Sexuality ap-peared first in the evolntionary history of the world as an exclusively physical phenomenon h~ving as its primary function the conservation of the biological species. But with the coming of man sex begins to manifest a spiritual dimension which is ever expanding. The personalizing function of sexual love is becoming more and more prominent. Teilhard uses sexual love in a much wider sense than the merely genital: "Sexual love is rather the personal union in oneness of being achieved by a man and a woman, an interpenetration and constant exchange of thoughts, dreams, affections, and prayers." al He says that there is a general drift of matter towards spirit in sexual love the ideal of which is found in Christ who authenticated celibacy, "a human aspiration that had been maturing in the human soul." :v, Celibacy is the evidence of humanity's ability to affect the transcendence to which it aspires. Speaking of his own witness to this he says: To the full extent of my power, because I am a priest I wish from now on to be the first to become conscious of all that the world loves, pursues and suffers; I want to be the first to seek, ~ Christopher F. Mooney, op. cit,, p. 209. ~Teilhard de Chardin, Letters to Leontine Zanta (London, 1969), p. 33. ~t Charles W. Freible, S.J., "Teilhard, Sexual Love, and Celibacy," R~w~w ro~ R~L~C,~OUS, v. 26 (1967), p. 289. ~'~ Ibid., p. 290. 4- 4- 4- Teiihard and Commitment VOLUME 30, 1971 773 to sympathise and to suffer; the first to open myself out and sacrifice myself--to become more widely human and more nobly of the earth than any of the world's servants.= By his vows he wished to recapture all that was good in love, gold, and independence. The religious therefore, far from being a deserter is the witness to the final end of man's striving, to his aspira-tion for spiritualization and complete Christification of his life. Christ preaches purity, charity, and self-denial-- but what is the specific effect of purity if it is not the concen-tration and sublimation of the manifold powers of the soul, the unification of man in himself? What again does charity effect if not the fusion of multiple individuals in a single body and a single soul, the unification of men among themselves? And what finally does christian self-denial represent, if not the deconcentration of every man in favor of a more perfect and more loved Being, the unification of all in one.~ The religious is precisely the especially chosen to show forth in'his life the joy of the new resurrection to which the whole of humanity tends. Finally, the consummation in glory that mankind awaits is not merely the dream of a distant future. The transformation and divinization of the universe occurs sacramentally in the Mass when the bread and wine rep-resenting mankind and mankind's universe become Christ. The Euchararistic consecration renders present the final victory for mankind which will bring a new heaven and a new earth and Christ will be all in all. The Divine Mih'eu, p. 105. Science and Christ, p. ~4. + + + Peter Byrne REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 774 SISTER MARY HUGH CAMPBELL The. Particular Examen-- Touchstone of a Genuinely Apostolic Spirituality There is perhaps today no prayer-category considered so lifeless, so vulnerable to attacks of "formalism," so rejected as a lure of regression into an exclusive and introverted Jesus-and-I existence as is the particular ex-amination of conscience. Yet it held pride of place in a spirituality characterized as one of dynamism, initiative, and filan--that of Ignatius Loyola, a spirituality pecul-iarly suited, it would seem, to attract adherents in our last third of the twentieth century, when man has finally admitted his basic call to be a movement out of himself to serve that brother who has now displaced the sun as the center of his universe. The ideal of Ignatius was first and last apostolic: "To serve Christ through the aid of souls in companionship." 1 And to attain it, "he seemed to count primarily on the examens of conscience, exercises from which he never dispensed." "' One of his early followers, Louis Lallemant, the master of novices who formed Isaac Jogues, echoed Ignatius in his insistence upon the apostolate as the sum-mit of the spiritual life: "The last reach of the highest perfection in this world is zeal for souls." s And to attain this ideal, he prescribed the same "slow work of purifica- 1 Cited by John C. Futrell, S.J., Making an Apostolic Community o] Love (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1970), p. 14. -"Alexandre Brou, S.J., La spiritualitd de saint lgnace (Paris: Beauchesne, 1928), p. 23. aCited by Francois Courel, S.J., ed., La vie et La doctrine spiri-tuelle du P~re Louis Lallemant (Paris: Descl~e de Brouwer, 1959), p. 25. Subsequent references to Courel are references to his intro-duction; when the work itself is in question, Lallemant will be cited. Sister Hugh is a member o~ the Di-vinity School of St. Louis University; 3825 West Pine; St. Louis, Missouri 63~08. VOLUME 30, 1971 ÷ ÷ ÷ Sister Hugh REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 776 tion and discernment." 4 Francis de Sales, accorded new relevance todi~y as having been among the first to sense the need of a spirituality adjusted to life in the secular sphere, himself a product o{ Jesuit training, taught Phil-othea in his Devout I~i[e that the examen, which he called the "spiritual retreat," was "the great heart of de-votion," which on occasion "can supply the lack of all other prayers." '~ Each of these was a man of ~nvolvement; and for each of them Lallemant's dictum held true: the attention he paid to external things, instead of weaken-ing his union witlt God, served rather to strengthen it, because in the last analysis, the equilibrium of the apos-tolic life was a matter of the love which was to be exer-cised in everything. And for each of the three, the partic-ular examen--by whatever name--held primacy of place among spiritual exercises. The word "discernment" is enjoying a new vogue at the moment; it is vaguely sensed that the notion is cen-tral to the spiritual life in a century of acceleration, and that in some nebttlous way it means a form of prayer-in-activity for which many are searching. This is very true. Yet the term has a disciplined precision of meaning: it is the name for the entire, dynamic process of discovering and responding to the actual word of God here and now.~ It is the core of Ignatian spirituality. Within it--and one might add, only within it--"the practice of daily examens of conscience is completely intelligible." ~ A life of discernment is one in which one's core experi-ence of self-identity as openness to Christ personally known is the ground of all his conscious choices. Each significant decision is made after prayer and a careful weighing of all available evidence (a vahtable element of tire latter being often the counsel of another), and con-firmed--~ tlways, of course, in faith--by the peace which testifies to its affinity with one's primordial experience of being possessed by Christ. Gradually even lesser decisions are sttccessively, almost instinctively, submitted to the same process of alignment until one ends by finding Christ everywhere, as willing and accepting this concrete service of love. Discernment is not ttnderstood, however, as the sum toted of prayer: moments of distancing from the human situation are essential if one is to give expres-sion to his faith-experience of union with Christ, an ex-pression without which it cannot know new illumination or deepening. Only in this way can he be assured of ~ Courel, Vie, p. 24. '~ Cited by Aloys Pottier, S.J., Le P. Louis Lallemant et les grands spirituels de son temps (Paris: Tequi, 1928), pp. 342 f. passim. 6John C. Futrcll, S.J., lgnatian Discernment (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1970), pp. 47-52. r Ibid., p. 81. finding Christ in more ambiguous choices, and in those even more painful decisions in which he discerns the paradox of absurdity to be the condition for his finding him. The increasing incalculability, if one may so term it, of man's evolving universe might alone render discernment a delicate, even a hazardous, process. Personal notes of Ignatius reveal the prolonged tension which important decisions produced in him, and the slow, painful groping for certitude which followed them. Yet difficult as these were, he very realistically saw that man had within him sources of darkness which could render any discernment at all impossible. Another element was necessary before one could hope to make decisions in the clarity of truth: personal freedom from anything that could close him to the light. As Lallemant, who followed him, was later to call it, the other pole of discernment was "the study of purity of heart." 8 An illuminating study might result from a search into the imagery by which saints and theologians throughout the ages have inscaped man's frightening potency for evil. Olier's "stagnant pool," Marmion's "depth of our way-wardness," Rahner's "deadly abyss of [utility"--all alike point to a reality which it is impossible to dismiss. Lalla-anant wrote very candidly of the "muddy well" in which "a multitude of desires are unceasingly fermenting," a well "full of false ideas and erroneous judgments." ~ To assign to each of these its local habitation and its name-- to say them as they are in us--is the cotmterpoise of discernment, and an exercise at least as painful as the former. Examination of conscience, then, is a proviso, a sine qua non. And Lallemant recognized that "the heart re-coils from nothing so much as this search and scrutiny. all the powers of our soul are disordered beyond measure, and we do not wish to know it, because the knowledge is humiliating to us." 10 To dispense with it is, as P. de Ponlevoy incisively saw, to rester darts le vague.11 On the contrary, one who "submits to the real" has given up the dreams which kept him marking time, because he finally found the real to be truer and less deceiving than dreams,v' Seen in this light the examen becomes a disci-pline of authenticity, a sharpening of the pole of purity of heart which ensures gentfineness of docility to the Spirit. Lallemant saw a direct correlation between super- Courel, Vie, p. 81. Lallemant, Doctrine, p. 140. Ibid., pp. 141-2. Cited by Pottier, Le P. Louis Lallemant, p. 344. a~Antoine Delchard, S.J., "L'filection darts la vie quotidienne," Christus, v. 14 (1958), pp. 206-19 passim. ÷ ÷ ÷ Particular Examen VOLUME ,~0, 1971 4" 4" 4" REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 778 ficial examens and lack of sensitiveness tt~ the guidance of the Spirit; on the other hand, he was convinced that "they who have applied themselves for three or four years to watch over their interior, a.ud have made some prog-ress in this holy exercise, know already how to treat a multitude of cases with address and absence of all rash judgment." 1.s It would be difficult to label as "formalism" the exigen-cies of Lallemant's asceticism: "guard of one's heart; deep and prolonged examens; progressive purifications contin-ued for years." 14 He defined purity of heart to mean "having nothing therein which is in however small a degree opposed to God and the operation of His grace." 1.5 And he went so far as to say that this was the exercise of the spiritual life against which the spirit of evil directed most opposition. He urged those under his charge to guard themselves carefully from any deliberate resistance to the Spirit by venial sin, to learn to recognize the first disorderly movements of their hearts, to watch over and regulate their thoughts, so as to recognize the inspirations of God--so as to be able, in other words, clearly to discern the word of God in the concrete situa-tions which presented themselves. He declared that "we never have vices or imperfections without at the same time having false judgments and false ideas." a0 And yet he insisted that this work of moving toward ever greater openness and freedom be done calmly, and especially that it be joined to a deep devotion to the person of Christ: examination was never to become the cult of itself. Such constant, increasingly more honest surveillance is taxing; he admitted this. Actually, in the words of those he directed, "he required nothing else ]rom us but this constant attention." His ultimate counsel was that of Christ: Vigilate--watch; until n~thing should escape one's attention, until the inner roots from which egotism took its rise were destroyed. He expected, in the end, spontaneity without strain, sureness of discernment, readiness, in the service of souls, for the cross. And among those who listened, noted, and demanded of himself this most to be dreaded of all disciplines, of all confronta-tions, was Isaac Jogues. Many have been alienated from the exercise because they conceived the medium as the message; the little check-list of "G's," familiar from the Exercises, was iso-lated from the spirit--so absolutely aware of the needs of his own temperament, yet so absolutely respectful of the freedom of others--of the Basque soldier who drew it up Lallemant, Doctrine, p. 262. Pottier, Le P. Louis Lallemant, p. 168. Lallemant, Doctrine, p. 80. Ibid., p. 101. for his own searing symbols of an utterly blunt honesty with himself. His strategy had the labored realism of one for whom the calculated small gains of military planning had been a fact of daily experience; and if his proposed concentration upon one fault at a time has impressed many as me.chanistic and rigid, it has been suggested that their preference for prolonging sterile efforts endlessly is hardly less painful.17 And Ravignan notes, in this connec-tion, "How strong one is, when he concentrates all his energy in unity. To think of only one thing, wish only one thing, do, finally, only one thing is the secret of all power." 18 And in the mind of Ignatius, this "one thing" was response in freedom to the word one had clearly discerned. In the end, it had become quite simply his life. No less than the check-list, the well-known "five points" of the two daily examens have been misunder-stood and exteriorized. Ignatius saw three different times of day and two examinations to be involved when he advocated the practice; but the laconic outline in which he explains them must be seen in the light of his final "Contemplation to Attain the Love of God," especially in its close where he sees God as a fountain from which all goodness pours out on him, a light in which everything bathes. Gerard Manley Hopkins has, in an unfinished lyric, given rich expression to Ignatius' simple prose: Thee, God, I come from, to thee go, All day long I like fountain flow From thy hand out, swayed about Mote-like in thy mighty glow. What I know of thee I bless, As acknowledging thy stress On my being and as seeing Something of thy holiness . '~ This is why the first point is a prayer of gratitude for the goodness and forgiveness which are man's twofold debt. Louis du Pont has probed the familiar method in order to discover its marrow: the optimism which pre-scribed gratitude first, thus guarding against sadness; the realism of seeing that the memory is so unfaithful, the mind so darkened, and the will so loveless that there is deep need of prayer for light. The examination itself, the third point, is a sincere acknowledgment of good, where this is recognized; and in the admission of sin or failure there is a counsel to do this in a spirit of the untranslata-ble douceur--that gentleness which refrains from turning bitter reproaches against itself, but rather grieves over the H. Pinard de la Boullaye, S.J., La spiritualitd ignatienne (Paris: Plon, 1949). Cited by Brou, Spiritualitd, p. 93. W. H. Gardner and N. H. MacKenzie, ed., The Poems of Gerard Manley Hopkins (Oxford: Oxford University, 1970), n. 155, p. 194. + + Particular E~amen VOLUME 30, 1971 779 + ÷ ÷ Sister Hugh REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 780 injury to One who has poured himself out, as fountain and light, in such generous giving. After the expression of perfect sorrow, one is urged in a fifth point to an efficacious resolution--so, practical as to foresee and so circumvent future failure. Previsioned when rising, this exercise is to be made at two different times of the day--at noon, and again after the evening meal,.and this in addition to a final, general examination made before retiring. Such a discipline can only confirm the fact that, throughout the Exercises, Ig-natius "supposes that one knows where he is going and wants to get there, and is ready to take the best means, then to examine those which present themselves, to weigh them, to choose them with knowledge of the cause." 20 In a word, lie s~pposed that one was ready to discern, among many means, that one whose cause was the inspi-ration of the Spirit; through long experience with his own peculiar cast of egotism, he would swiftly dismiss false weights. And those who followed this profound psy-chologist- saint did know where they were going, and did want to get there: the summit of apostolic zeal. Such a man as Claude de la Colombi~re, to take a single exam-ple, vowed never to pass from one occasion to another without a backward-forward look: from self-scrutiny to discernment. Again, from these particular exercises, described as j;ournalier, Ignatius never dispensed: "The importance accorded these examens is the touchstone of truly igna-tian spirituality." '-'x And the ~ournalier--"daily"--has been interpreted by some as actually occupying the whole day. For such a man as Lallemant, it actually did. He described as one of the greatest of all graces that of being "SO watchful that the least irregular movement rising in the heart is perceived and immediately corrected, so that in the space of a week, for example, we should perform very few external or internal acts of which grace is not the principle."'-'" Particular examen and discernment thus become arsis and thesis of a single life, until finally "some have no need of making a particular examen, be-cause they no sooner commit the least fault than they are immediately reproved for it and made aware of it; for they walk always in the light o~ the Holy Spirit, who is their guide. Such persons are rare, and they make a par-ticular examen, so to say, out of everything." 2~ All the energies of the person are concentrated in a single care not to sully the light which ponrs into and then from him, an instrument entirely at the service of Christ. Such ~ Brou, Spiritualitd, p. 83. .-t Pottier, Le P. Louis Lallemant, p. 335. = Lallemant, Doctrine, p. 228. '-"~ Ibid., p. 229. men have reached that fullness of the apostolate which is the summit of the spiritual life, discerning as they do in entire freedom that which is most conducive to the reign of God. So conceived, the examen is possible under an infinite number of forms; endlessly supple, it can be adapted to a variety of conceptual, cultural, and temperamental differ-ences. But always it is a sincere and considered pursuit of an ideal which is one's own most personal name given him by God: "The particular examen, practiced by a soul which has begun to climb, is sacrifice which has reached the stage of being one's rule of life." ,.,4 Far from having become "irrelevant" in spiritualities vowed to the genu-ine only, it is rather the infallible touchstone of their authenticity. -"~ Brou, Spiritualitd, p. 96. ÷ ÷ ÷ Particular Examen VOLUME 30, 1971 78] JAMES C. FLECK, S.J. The Israeli Kibbutz and the Catholic Religious. Community: A Study of Parallel Communal Life Styles j. c. Fleck, S.J., lives at Apartment 208; 150 Driveway; Ottawa, Canada. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS The kibbutz movement in Israel consits of about 250 agricultural-industrial collectives. They have a popula-tion of 90,000, slightly tinder 4% of the Jewish popula-tion in the State of Israel. This population includes full members (Jewish men and women, nearly all married, who have completed their military service and have been accepted by the kibbutz after a trial period of a year or two), the children of the kibbutz members, selected lead-ers of the Jewish youth movement abroad who plan even-tually to join a kibbutz, U1pan students (predominantly Jewish) who combine study and work on the kibbutz for periods ranging from six months to a year, and volun-teers (predominantly non-Jewish) who volunteer to work on the kibbutz for at least a month in return for room, board, and a very small amount of spending money. The first kibbutz was founded in Israel in 1909. The largest period of growth was prior to and immediately after the Second World War. In this period the kibbutz population represented nearly 10% of the nation. In the past fifteen years there has been no significant growth in the number of kibbutzim. The slightly increasing num-bers of kibbutzniks is accounted for primarily by internal growth, due to an increasing average family size. There are four federations to which nearly all kib-butzim belong. Each one is delineated by the political party to which it is or was affiliated. One, the smallest federation comprising 4,000 members (3% of the total kibbutz population), is religious, consisting of practicing Orthodox Jews. The other kibbutz federations shade fi'om non-religious to anti-religious. The land tilled by the kibbutzim is owned by the Is-raeli government throngh the Jewish National Fund. The original physical plant is financed by the govern-ment on low-interest long-term loans. When a kibbutz becomes operationally profitable it pays regular corpora-tion taxes. In addition, the kibbutz must pay a national consumption tax on the living expenditures of its mem-bers comparable to the personal income tax paid by the general public. The purpose of this study is to examine parallels in the life style between the kibbutz movement and Catholic religious orders. Wbile the common life in the two insti-tutions are often merely analogous, they are in many instances equivalent. Thus, a knowledge of the kibbutz movement can provide valuable insights in examining religious orders. The Kibbutz as a Religious Sect The basic motivating factors that built the kibbutz movement are: (l) Zionism, (2) Marxism, (3) the German Youth (Wandervogel) Movement. The founders of the kibbutz movement rejected the religion, the life style, the family structure, and the business interests of the Euro-pean Jewish community of the late 19th and early 20th centuries. The Wandervogel Movement fostered a spirit of youth peer group identity, a desire to return to nature, and a spirit of travel and adventure. Marx offered a model of productive and consumptive collectivism in a secular society. Zionism offered an escape from European anti-semitism and a positive aspiration of nation-building.~ The Pristine "'Religious" Values Based on the Boy Scouts, the Wandervogel Movement had basic principles which were incorporated into the kibbutz ideology. They include: truth, loyalty, brother-hood, dependability, a love of nature, obedience to the group, joy in living, generosity in work, courage, and purity in tbougbt, word, and deed. This latter was inter-preted to mean opposition to drinking, smoking, and sex-ual relationships. The Youth Movement believed all the pettiness and sordidness of human behavior was a func- ~ Melford E. Spiro. Kibbutz, Venture in Utopia, New York, pp. 44, 48, 175 ft. 4- 4- 4- Kibbutzim VOLUME 30, 1971 783 ÷ ÷ J. C. Fleck, S.J. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 784 tion of city living with its concomitant luxuries and false conventions." Consequently the early kibbutz movement was marked by asceticism. There was a rejection of material comfort, abstinence from alcohol and tobacco, no "ball room" (lancing, no motion pictures, simple housing and cloth-ing, no children (since they would pnt a financial burden on the community), communal property, common toilets and showers, dormitories, common dining hall, simple and inexpensive food, an emphasis on hard physical work and menial tasks. The Faith of the Kibbutz Marxism is the religion of the kibbutz. The basic maxim is: "From each according to his ability; to each according to his need." Initially the kibbntzniks hoped to find a form of collective salvation in withdrawal from the world and the re-establishing of a microcosm o{ the per-fect society based on fellowship. It next blossomed into a militant sect devoted to converting the world.:~ Today the kibbutz movement has returned to its pristine withdrawal state of conversion by witness. Karl Marx has been the prophet for this faith. His writings served as intellectnal fare, inspiration, sacred and therefore infallible norms.4 The attitude of the So-viet Union vis-a-vis Israel has had the effect of diluting kibbutz Marxism. Bnt in the early years Marx was dog-matic truth. Human failings could be tolerated, but not political differences. Even today, deviations from either basic Marxist concepts or pristine kibbutz ideals offer occasions for schisms and deep polarizations within a par-ticular kibbntz. Faihlre of a given kibbutz to vote "cor-rectly" in a national election is cause for its ejection from the basic kibbutz federation and political party to which it is allied. The Vows Chastity--While there is no binding force of conscience eqnivalent to the traditional religious vows, membership in a kibbutz implies a permanent but not binding commit-ment. Members are free to leave if they lose their "voca-tion," and their departure is mourned in the same way a religious regrets the departnre of a close friend from the Order. The "apostate," however, is welcomed back if he wishes to return. But with this exception of personal freedom for departure, permanent commitment to the group ideal is a sine qua non for a happy kibbutz life. The sexual idealism in the kibbntz movement has II)id., p. 43. Ibid., p. 180. Ibid., p. 184. never been consistent. The Boy Scout concept of purity derives from the Christian ideals of its European and American proponents. The Jewish founders of the kib-butz movement experienced tiffs value as a rejection of the romantic sexual conduct of the European society o~ their youth. They wanted to change the false sexual mo-rality of the city, the patriarchal authority of the male, the dependence of the child on his father, and the subjec-tion of women.~ The sense of "organic community" that the early kib-butzniks experienced as young men and women is related to their freedom from the restrictions imposed upon sex-uality by their contemporary society. They practiced a trial and error, sexual code that included polygyny and polyandry. Mating was entered into at will. But as the original founders aged, their sexual attitudes have be-come surprisingly conventional.6 Pre-marital sex among the school children is actively discouraged. Marriage is today a formal, and often religious, event. Patriarchal ties have returned. The relative affluence of the kibbutzim has ended the era of few or no offspring. This change has been augmented by the population growth stimulus instituted by the Israeli government in response to military manpower requirements connected with national security. Yet casual sex has no moral stigma within kibbutz life, and abortion requests are routinely handled by the kib-butz medical committee. These seeming contradictory ex-periences can be understood only in the context of the general Jewish belief that sexuality is a personal matter, not one of group concern, unless the sexual activity has consequences affecting the community. The Spartan attitude toward sexual abstinence ended when the young men and women who founded the kib-butzim experienced the eroticism engendered by "organic community." This youthful abandon has subsequently matured into a conventional sex-marriage code no differ-ent from that of the general Israeli populace. And with the lack of privacy in the kibbutz as well as the dispropor-tionate amount of social damage that infidelity wreaks in a small community, kibbutz sexnal morality approximates that of any small village. Poverty--Just as sexual morality has had an erratic path in the kibbutz history, so too their attitude toward the possession of material goods. The pristine attitude of the founders was .essentially a negative reaction to the bour-geois mentality of their forefathers in the Jewish communi-ties of Enrope. Ostracized in many instances by the Gentile majority, the Jew was unable to compete for social and n Ibid., p. 54. ~ Ibid., p. 110-117. 4- 4- 4- Kibbutzim VOLU~E 30, 1971 785 J. C. Fleck, S.J. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 786 economic prestige with his non-Jewish counterparts. As a result, the ghetto Jew attained personal ego satisfactions in business acumen, especially in areas connected with money where traditional Christian restrictions on usury opened up opportunities. Intellectual pursuits leading to l~rominent positions in the professions were a later development of the 19th and 20th centuries. But the possession of land and agricultural interests were not part of the self-image of the pre-Israel Jew. The rejection of materialism and capitalism are an integral part of the developing kibbutz ideal. The found-ers, were, almost without exception, intellectuals. The idealization of common labor was for them a cultural revolution. Raised in a tradition of prestige and aspira-tion for upward mobility in society, they deliberately chose the reverse. Instead of aspiring to "rise" in the social ladder, they chose to "descend." 7 Having to do without material possessions was both a concomitant of this conscious decision and a result of it. The early kibbutzniks had what Melford Spiro calls "two moral principles." These were (1) the sacral nature of work and (2) the communal possession of property. Labor was to be a uniquely creative act and an ultimate value. Through labor man would become one with himself, with society, with nature.8 The early kibbutzniks experienced this sacral nature of work in their conquest of the desert and the swamps which were the only lands made available to them by the Arab landowners prior to 1948. Those kibbutzim estab-lished after Israel became a State were often located in similar agriculturally disadvantaged areas for strategic reasons. Personal sacrifice and "doing without" were per-sonal virtues that made possible the economic success of the group effort. All personal aspirations and creature comforts had to be subordinated to the common good. With the exception of a few struggling new kibbutzim along the post-1967 borders, this period of sacrifice has passed. Although limits on the amount of water that can be used for cultivation and a crop surplus condition in Israeli agriculture have imposed ceilings on land use, many collectives are maintaining and increasing profita-bility by operating factories which in turn have increased the kibbutz standard of living. The communal facilities that were an economic necessity in the pioneer era have given away to luxury apartments, a private social life, advanced education, extended vacations, and other phe-nomena related to economic well-being. Ideological ascet-icism is not an operative principle in contemporary kib-butz life. Not surprisingly, a great number of the contem- 7 Ibid., p. 14. s Ibid., p. 12. porary problems in the kibbutz movement stem from the vast discrepancy between the physical privations of the early kibbntzim and the high standard of living and expec-tations of the present members. Obedience--In a first glimpse of the organizational strncture of a kibbutz, one would discern little there that reflects the monarchical authority structnre that pervades both Catholic ecclesiastical organizations and the religious orders. The ideal of the kibbutz is total democracy. Execu-tive authority is a delegated power, revocable, and subject to a constant change of personnel. The executive branch functions only to implement group decisions. Each indi-vidual kibbutz is essentially autonomous from the federa-tion to which it belongs. The officers of the federation have no direct antbority over the activities of any mem-ber kibbutz. All decisions are made at the local level by vote and the majority opinion is binding on tbe minor-ity. But no majority is irrevocable. The minority may campaign for a reversal. There is a minority compliance "by necessity" but nothing resembling the "submission of tile understanding." Tile will of the majority has to be obeyed for pragmatic reasons, to preserve the common good. But any decision can be, and often is, reversed. Even certain "essentials" of the founders can be changed if the kibbutz members no longer consider them a cur-rent value, or if the life of the kibbutz itself is at stake by continued adherence to an outdated fundamental princi-ple. The typical kibbutz is closer to the Benedictine model of religions life than to the Jesuit form. Membership in a particular kibbutz is akin to monastic stability. The his-toric connection between the monastery and its fields is similar to the main kibbntz economic enterprise. The kibbutz, like the monastery, has a self-contained cultural environment; library, music, beautification of the grounds, locally produced music and entertainment, and the chapter. Unlike the monastic uadition, no kibbutz has a perma-nent official like that of a life-tenured abbot. Nor do office holders have the long terms allowed by canon law. The kibbutz executive personnel pool is rotated from one ex-ecutive task to another with short interim periods as com-mon laborers. Executive efficiency is somewhat reduced by such rapid turnovers, but the movement prefers this to an entrenched hierarchy. Fnrther, it increases the partici-pation of the membership in decision-making operations of the kibbutz. The nsual term for a kibbutz office is one year.° For a few highly specialized tasks, for example, the treasurer, it runs two years, no more. ~ Ibid., p. 78; see Dan Leon, The Kibbutz, a New Way of Life, Oxford, 1969. 4- 4- Kibbutzim VOLUME 30, 787 ÷ ÷ ÷ J. C. Fleck, S.J. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS '788 In a remarkable number of ways the kibbutz resembles traditional Catholic religious life. A messianic ideological basis of membership is parallel to both.Being a kibbutz-nik is "a way of life" comparable to a religious vocation. The inOividual is expected at times to sacrifice his per-sonal ambitions and opportunities to the group needs. The members' meeting has many of the aspects of a com-munity liturgy, as do the secular celebrations in the kib-butz of the national and religious holidays. Each kibbutz follows a common style of life and the kibbutz is often referred to as an extended family. Aspirants must try out the life and be accepted. They usually must dispose of their material wealth upon admission. There is security for the ill and the infirm. Members are not rewarded economically for their productivity or profitability. The federation to which each kibbutz belongs resem-bles to some extent the province of the religious order. Recruiting of youth leaders, new members, Ulpan stu-dents and vohlnteers are bandied at tbe central level as are contacts with the government and the army. The federation has an internal tax system to equalize income discrepancies between richer and poorer kibbutzim. Most federations have produced a model constitution for their member kibbutzim. Each kibbutz is taxed a number of its members to staff federation offices and overseas re-cruiting posts (missions). The federation, in union with the national trade union, handles both buying and sell-ing cooperatives, runs research centers and regional high schools for kibbntz children.1° Today the federations have joined toget_her to found a centralized kibbutz uni-versity to provide for the increasing number of kibbutz youth who want both a university education and an envi-ronment in which their kibbutz values will be preserved. The arguments used for establishing this new educational effort are ahnost identical to those used in the 19th and 20tb centuries for Catholic high schools and universities. Charity Fraternal love, over and above its function as a crite-rion for true Christianity, has been considered a hallmark of religious life, and a sine qua non of common life. In the "organic community" which the founders of the kib-butzim experienced in their pioneer days in Israel, this same basic group fellowship and fraternal love was pres-ent. The movement was small and each person knew every other member well. They were economically and socially interdependent. Their lives depended on mutual security. They were, as a group, alone in a foreign and (langerous land, cnt off from outside aid. Their bond of friendship was solidified in a common ideology, in oppo-a" Op. cir., Leon, p. 158. sition to the false value system of the world, and in a common enemy, the Arab. These same three basic princi-ples have beeu present in every religious order; some concrete vision of Christianity conceived by their found-ers, the false value system of a pagan or barely Christian world, and the enemy, successively the devil, the pagan Romans, and finally heretics. The passage of time and aging has effected major changes in the first ardor of the kibbutzniks, as it has on the members of many long established religious orders. One kibbutznik reported to Spiro: "The evening meetings, (lances and song, group conversation, and the sharing of experiences--these are the phenomena of youth. The retirement to their own rooms and the substi-tution of private for group experiences is not the result of the influx of stangers . It represents . an inevitable retreat on the part of middle-aged people from the group-centered activities of an adolescent youth move-ment, to interests which are more congenial to their own age--children, friends, and personal concerns." ~x The kibbutz movement has faced up to a reality which hitherto has destroyed practically every ntopian society ever attempted by man, except possibly the Catholic reli-gious orders, the inability to re-create a new man in the institutiug of a new way of life?e Some of the larger kibbutzim have nearly 2000 residents. Only a handful are less than 100. Universal friendship is obviously impossi-ble. Deep interpersonal relationships are cuhivated be-tween husband, wife, and their immediate family. Other close friendships are built around those in neighboring apartments or those whom they meet in work fnnctions. Relationships to other kibbutzniks is functional not per-sonal. Nor does the kibbutz attempt to abolish natural indi-vidual aggressive tendencies. It merely channels them into socially acceptable substitntes. Gossip and petty criti-cism abound. Quarreling, but no physical violence, is common. Skits at community entertainments satirize non-conformists. Aggression is channeled into pride in one's own family, work ability, success of one's economic branch in the kibbutz, and participation in national politics?:~ If universal charity were an essential prerequi-site for the successful functioning of kibbutz society, the movement would have failed long ago. The system has been devised to operate without it, subordinating indi-vidualism to the common good, and substituting for char-ity the personal involvement of each kibbutznik in group decision making. Op. cit., Spiro, p. 216. Ibid., p. 236, 103. Ibid., p. 103-107. + Kibbutzim VOLUME 30, 1971 789 ÷ ÷ ÷ ~. C. Fleck, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 790 Generation Gap One of the "essentials" of the early kibbutz movement was the communal raising of children. Immediately after birth, the child was placed with his peers and raised by a community appointed nurse. This same system was fol-lowed throughout childhood. Boys and girls of the various kibbutz parents were raised as brothers and sisters. This accounts for the lack of a normal amount of pre-marital sexual activity among young people who live in close proximity even after puberty. Sex activity between boys and girls of the same age groui~ would be incest, an almost unheard of problem in a kibbutz. However, as the young people raised in this communal manner have returned to their kibbutz as full adult members, they have generally asked for a major change in the system. They want to raise their own children at home. Throughout the entire kibbutz movement this issue has been raised. In every federation except the one which is most Marxist-oriented the young people have endetl the absohlte commtmal rearing of the children, Since the young couples were ntu.nerically outnumbered, the process by which they won over the majority opposed to their demands for a revolutionary change proves en-lightening. The kibbutz at Kefar Blum recently under-went such an experience.~4 When the young people pro-posed this radical change they were voted down by an 80-20% vote. When the results were tabulated the young people decided they would leave this kibbutz and found one of their own with their rules. This would eventually lead to the death by attrition of the older kibbutz. Recog-nizing this, the older members formed reconciliation committees designed to keep up the hopes of the young and change the minds of the old. A new vote was taken several weeks after the intial setback. This time the youngster's proposal won by an 80-20 vote. As the government is anxious to form new kibbutzim in border areas, young Israelis can easily become founders of a new kibbutz, sharing the same challenges and oppor-tunities their elders had in the pioneer years. To over-come this possible source of defection of younger mem-bers, most kibbutzim practice rapid advancement of tal-ented young people into positions of responsibility. There is no waiting for years while the entrenched old guard dies off before the young people can achieve posi-tions of authority and adopt new policies in keeping with the needs of the clay. James c. Fleck, s.J., private notes taken during a study of the kibbntz movement, Israel, October-November, 1970. Employment outside the Kibbutz This is a growing phenomenon in the kibbutz move-ment paralleled by an increasing number of religious men and women employed in apostolic work and employ-ment not part of a corporate apostolate. For a kibbutz member to undertake such work he must have commu-nity approval. While many working outside the kibbutz are employed in various federation projects, an increasing number are engaged in "secular" activity, outside indus-try, government, and teaching. Their salary is either paid directly to the kibbotz or turned in to the kibbntz treas-nrer by the individual. One factor not present in snch kibbutz outside employ-ment is the gradual diminishing interest of the individual in his collective during the months and years the man may be working outside the kibbutz. Since Israel is very small, the outside employee almost always lives on the kibbutz with his family and returns there after work. In the case of those stationed in more remote sections of the country, or working in the government or in the army, they return to the kibbutz each Friday night on the Sab-bath eve. This same holds true of kibbutz students study-ing at the university or the technical institute. The mem-bers do not endanger their commitment to the collective way of life by prolonged absence from their kibbutz. Use o~ Money The strictness of control over independent use of money varies according to which federation the kibbutz is affiliated with. Ha Artzi, the most Marxist, is also the strictest. No one may possess any outside money nor is there an internal money system. The other federations are more flexible. In some each member is paid "script" or "kibbutz money" each month to use in lieu of Israeli currency at the kibbutz store for personal items. In others the members have a charge accotmt credited against a monthly allowance. The Ha .drtzi kibbutzim also require all new members to dispose of all property and money they possess after the intitial trial period. Other kibbutzim permit mem-bers to retain previously acquired wealth and even use the money independently of the kibbutz so long as the member does not use any of the money for improving his own life style in the kibbutz. Some demand that members deposit such funds with the kibbutz on a non-interest bearing basis. The money is returned if the new member ever leaves the kibbutz. In most kibbutzim today individual members are given a monthly credit covering items over which he may exer- 4- 4- 4- Kibbutzim VOLUME 30~ 1971 791 4. 4. 4. J. C. Fleck, S.J. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 792 cise individual discretion, such as clothes, a household allowance, food for one's apartment, and the annual va-cation. In most instances the individual can make substi-tutions that better reflect his own tastes, more money for vacation and less clothes for examples. Housing In the early kibbutz days housing was primitive and inadequate. Many members lived in tents even during the winter months. Toilet and shower facilities were to-tally communal and produced a camaradarie not unlike that of army barracks life or that in athletic teams. Today the norm in most kibbutzim is a 2½ room apart-ment for all married members which usually includes a modern bathroom and also a kitchenette. As individual families are allowed to raise their own children this hous-ing allocation will have to be increased depending on the size of each f;imily, end~mgering the traditional equality of housing facilities. The newest apartments are allocated on a seniority basis which takes into account both the age of the member and the number of years he has belonged to the kibbutz. Expulsion Like any other communal society, on occasions mem-bers whose activities or ideas are not compatible with the group ideal are expelled from membership hy the kib-butz voting at a weekly meeting. Since most dissidents leave freely, expulsions are rare and several kibbutzim report that they are willing to allow expelled members to 'eturn after a probationary period. This tolerance is probably necessary in a communal society where the hus-band and a wife are both members of the kibbutz and when only one of them is expelled from membership. While normally the couple would leave together after expulsion proceedings, it is not unknown for one member to stay on alone since the remaining member's rights are not affected by the expulsion of the spouse. Vohtntary Departures The abandonment of a kibbutz "vocation" almost al-ways involves dissatisfaction on the part of the wife. As women usually work in the institutional housekeeping tasks, they enjoy the least modal satisfaction in their daily work. In many instances, too, the wife has come from outside the kibbutz movement, having married a kibbutz boy she met in the army. Spiro found that nearly every man leaving a kibbutz is prompted by his wife who ulti-mately prewfils in convincing her husband to leave.1'~ '~ Op. cit., Spiro, p. 223. Automobiles There are relatively few automobiles in a kibbutz car pool, since most of the motor vehicles are used for farm work. While most of the equipment consists of trucks and tractors, there are usually several private cars for officials whose work takes them into the city and for those mem-bers working outside the kibbutz. When not being used for official business, these cars are available, theoretically, for common use. Some abuses have been reported in the area of private possessiveness by those assigned private cars, but there seems to be no. widespread dissatisfaction. This is attributable in part to the convenience of public transportation throughout the country as well as the kib-bntz tradition of attending outside social functions as groups, transported by trucks fitted out with temporary seats, When an individual does have the use of a commu-nity car he is charged a mileage fee. Each member is allocated an annual kilometer allowance. He may pool this with other couples for extended trips and usually may transfer other credits from his monthly allowance toward a larger mileage usage of the private car. Mileage is charged only against personal use of the car, not for travel on kibbutz business. Clothing The federation Ha drtzi follows a policy of specifying in detail the clothes members may receive each year. A man gets a coat once every five years; a pair of pants, sweater, or jacket every year; a shirt every year. These rations are for Sabbath or dress clothes. Work clothes and shoes are issued as needed. The kibbutzim of the other federations normally assign a cash allowance for clothing, permitting the members to decide for themselves the kind of clothing they prefer. In the early days of the kibbutz movement each kib-butz had a common stock of clothing. The clothing was distributed without regard to sizes and washed without laundry marks. Each person wore what chance provided. But variations in size presented insuperable problems. The system was changed to grant each member personal possession of his own clothing. Radio and TV At first every kibbutz had a communal radio room. But as radios became cheaper, more and more members re-ceived them as gifts and kept the radios for their own private apartments. Today, a radio is considered a per-sonal item. Now there is in each kibbutz a TV room. As TV has become a part of the Israeli cnlture attendance in the TV + + + Kibbutzim VOLUME 30, 1971 793 4" 4" ~. C. Fleck, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 794 lounge is large. Bnt the limited broadcasting schedule and restriction of available channels has not yet made ¯ selection of the program to be watched a major commu-nity concern. There is, nonetheless, growing pressure for permitting members to have their own TV sets in their private apartments. Illness, Old Age, Death All kibbutzniks are covered tinder the national health service. In case of extraordinary expenses, such as special-ized foreign medical treatment, the kibbutz pays all costs for its members. In one sitnation recently at kibbutz Kefar Blum where open heart surgery bad to be per-formed in the United States on the daughter of one mem-ber and the kibbutz income was below normal, the ment-bets voted to meet the high surgical costs by voting out the annual household improvements and vacations and to substantially rednce the cigarette expenditures. Women are given rednced working hours during preg-nancy, and the required daily hours of work are progres-sively reduced as members age. But no one, except the infirm, is every really retired. Every member, as long as he lives, is expected to remain economically productive to the extent that his health allows. This minimum may be simply the caring for the roses in front of his apartment, but it is expected. Recently many kibbutzim have established actuarial funds to provide cash income for members during their old age. There are two reasons: (1) they believe there is a psychological need for infirm and retired people to feel that they are not a financial drain on the younger mem-bers; (2) there is concern over a possible future age imbal-ance. Since every member is always free to leave, some internal crisis in the kibbutz conld result some day in all the younger and productive members leaving the kibbutz, thus depriving the aged of the "living social security" provided by the younger members. At death members are buried simply in the kibbutz cemetery. Luxuries The tents and the tar-paper shacks that once housed the kibbutzniks have given way to modern concrete apart-ments, some with air-conditioning. The housing and fur-nishings for the average kibbutznik compare favorably with those of comparably skilled workmen in Israel's cit-ies. Depending on tastes and family skills, some kibbutz apartments approach lfigb fashion in their appearance. The women have modern stoves and refrigerators to feed their families at home when they wish. There are, as yet, no private telephones, TV, or automobiles. Work Tasks Ill general, inembers are allowed and encouraged to work in the particular department that they like best. The actual assignment is made by the work manager, but great care goes into making sure each member is happy. ~,'Vork assignments, like everything else in the kib-butz, is subject to the scrutiny of the weekly meeting. Assignment to disliked tasks sometimes has to be made by collective action. The individual assigned to such is expected to subordinate his own wishes to those of the community. In most cases the onerous jobs are assigned for short periods of time and given to a wide segment of the membership. Some tasks, such as kitchen clean-up and waiting table, are so universally disliked they have to be allotted in strict rotation. Candidates [or membership, tile U/pan students, and the temporary volunteers are almost always assigned to those tasks the regular members most dislike. Committees The Executive is a committee consisting of those mem-bers holding key administrative jobs and some "ministers without portfolio." The term of office on the Executive coincides with the term of their administrative job, one or two years at most. Tile Executive consists of six or seven members. These members are drawn from a pool of the acknowledged leaders in the kibbutz who rotate in and Out Of the more important leadership posts. Besides this top executive committee, there are myriad others covering every aspect of kibbutz life. Approxi- ~nately 50% of the members of a kibbutz are serving on some committee at any given time. Over a three year span, practically 100% of the membership participates in some committee work. There are a few who have opted out of this participatory democracy and refuse to serve on any committee. These few have narrowed their kibbutz lives to their work and their immediate family.~ The Apostolate The kibbutz serves two specific economic functions. It is both a commtmal productive society and a communal consumptive society. These two functions are coalesced into one organic community. There is in Israel another type of collective called the Moshave, where there is a communal productive system but private ownership in the consumption area. But for the kibbutznik the Marx-ist axiom "from each according to his ability and to each according to his need" dictates that their communal so- ~" Up. cit., Leon, p. 67. ÷ ÷ Kibbutzim VOLUME 30, 1971 795 + + + J. C. Fleck, S.J. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 796 ciety must combine the collective control of both produc-tion and consumption. Kibbutzim have been tried in the past in the cities where the members worked totally in outside industry and the kibbutz was formed primarily as a consumption society. Every attempt along this line has failed. There is in Jerusalem at this time a group who are hoping to organize a commune of professional people as a consump-tive kibbutz. But kibbutzniks do not expect this move-ment to succeed. They view the total integration of the community into both production and consumption as necessary for the survival of community life. The kibbutz in Israel is primarily an agricultural eco-nomic movement. The success of this movement in at-tracting and holding members can be attributed to the historical conditions which led the original founders to abandon the metropolises of Europe. They became en-chanted with nature, an enchantment which anyone who has ever had a hackyard vegetable garden or even a flower pbt in a window will understand. The grower as well as what is grown becomes in some psychological way a part of the basic life cycle of nature. Akin to this is the psychic reward a teacher sometimes feels as he watches his students grow and mature. The farmer, and to some ex-tent the teacher, become united to the invisible power of life itself. In recent years the kibbutz movement has added facto-ries to increase the standard of living, otherwise limited by crop quotas and water restrictions. These factories also provide a more satisfactory employment for those mem-bers technically inclined who would otherwise abandon the farm life of the kibbutz for industrial employment in the city. There are, however, fewer modal satisfactions in this type of work. Marx and a host of other analysts have noted the inherent alienation process at work in the fac-tory system. To some extent the kibbutz factories have disproved Marx's theory that this ~ense of alienation ex-perienced by factory workers can be overcome by com-munal ownership. Like the disliked jobs in the kitchen, most dull assembly line duties must be filled with hired casual labor or low cost volunteers. The External Enemy In traditional Catholic terminology the enemy of Christianity and therefore of Catholic religious orders was the world, the flesh, and the devil. In each era these primordial forces are concretized into existential realities. As such they are a motive for both joining and remaining a member of a religious order. It should be noted that this is a negative motive, and almost always found in conjunction with a positive aspect, namely the apostolate. The kibbutz movement has had equiwdent motivation: anti-semitism, the European bourgeois society, capitalism, the false wdue system of the city, Hitler, Nasser, and the Arab world. These are the kibbutz's world, flesh, and devil. There seems to have been a direct relationship between the presence, or perhaps more accurately an awareness of this presence, and the motivation for mem-bership in the kibbutz. Membership figures in kibbutz history show a positive correlation between increased membership and the danger from some facet of the exter-nal enemy. Since 1967 the kibbutz membership has shown its first marked increase in nearly two decades as the government, in the wake of the Six Day war, has begun to establish new kibbutzim in Syria, along the Jordan river in former Arab territory, and in the Sinai. Conclusions The ideological fervor of the early kibbutz movement that Spiro connected so intrinsically with classical Marx-ism has withered considerably in the Israeli kibbutzim. The kibbutz has become a desirable form of agricnltural life, not gracious but certainly pleasant. This is especially true for the Sabra, the young children of the kibbutz who accept kibbutz life as a natural and wholesome place to live, work, and raise their families. They are not espe-cially ideologically motivated despite great efforts by the kibbutz educational programs to continue the motivating principles of the kibbutz founders. Kibbutz membership still adds lustre and prestige to politicians and military leaders, something like the "log cabin" birth-place of 19th century American presidents. But the increasing "westernization" of Israel is rapidly diminishing the ego satisfaction of kibbutzniks, whose vocation was once considered the national ideal. The increasing standard of living is also having its effect. Except for work and meals in the common dining hall, there is little "common" living on an Israeli kib-butz. The family has replaced the commune as the center of interest of the members. The replacement of com-munal showers and toilets by private ones is a sign of increased privatization. The trend away from communal ownership in the consumptive sector is clear and likely irreversible. To some extend the Marxist Ha Artiz federation has most successfi~lly resisted these individualistic tendencies. But Marxist ideology has been so closely associated with the now discredited Soviet system (discredited not for intrinsic principles but because of Soviet foreign policy in the Middle East), that there is little evident grass-roots Marxist ideological fervor among the Artzi members. Thus the basic Messianic ideology is no longer an opera- 4, 4, 4- Kibbutzim VOLUME 30, 1971 797 + + + ]. C. Fleck, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 798 tive principle in the kibbutz movement, although some lip service is still paid to it in the literature of the move-ment. The religious fervor is gone; and, as has been shown in tiffs study, the ascetic principles of the Wandervogel Movement have also slowly eroded. Only the presence of a dangerous external enemy remains as a major factor in maintaining the kibbutz as kibbntz. For the kibbutzniks, there is a growing interest in the Israeli culture outside the barbed wire barriers of the kibbutz boundaries. Tel Aviv, Jernsalem, the beaches at Asbkalon, the symphony, the movie theatres, and jobs in outside industries are no longer an evil "world," an eneiny to be avoided. With both Hitler and Nasser dead, the Arab masses remain a clearly perceived danger, and a sufficient cause justifying the sacrifices intrinsically connected with living a com-munal life. The increasing toleration of personal prop-erty by kibbutz melnbers shows that the original kibbutz asceticism was a necessity of the moment, a means not an end. Taken altogether these factors indicate a shaky fu-tnre for the kibbutz movement in the long rtm. Only the miniscnle religious federation seems to have the tran-scendent valnes that will hold this gronp of kibbutzim together. This segment of the kibbutz movement has a proven long-run ideology, their Jewish Orthodox Faith and perduring external enemies, the secular Israeli state. For Roman Catholic religious gronps these principles of the kibbutz movement can indicate the hazards of certain contemporary trends in Catholic religious com-munities. There seems to be a serious drawback to any community in ending the integral connection between the conamunity apostolate and the common life, between the production and consumption activities. X,Vbatever the legal advantages of separate incorporation of the apos-tolic endeavor, it appears such a change may prove dys-functional to the best interests of the community unless some psychological identification can replace the legal one tying the commonity members to a common aposto-late. Otherwise the religious will become mere employees of their former vocational apostolate. Like kibbutz asceticism, the vows, traditional forms of Cbristifin asceticism, are also increasingly seen as merely ~neans which can and in some instances should be aban-doned as a condition for membership in the group, or for individnal apostolic effectiveness. The trend in substitut-ing community for poverty as the true significance of this evangelical counsel, presages many of the problems the kibbutzim have experienced in their trend toward more and more priw~tization and increasing personal property. At the moment Roman Catholics have no apparent "external enemies" of snfficient threat to bind members and aspirants to religious communities to the requisite personal sacrifices basic to any communal effort. Ecumen-ism has replaced enmity in relating to Protestantism. In-carnational theology no longer sees the world as a "valley of tears." Unity of doctrine is no longer a characteristic of the orders, or even theChurch. Increasing numbers of religious seek employment in secular jobs or outside the order's organized apostolates. The religious life no longer commands the prestige it once bad among the faithful. Tbe kibbutz movement has also shown several possibil-ities that have been traditionally lacking in Catholic reli-gious orders. A communal society of married conples is clearly possible and in some cqntemporary aspects possi-bly superior (in personal fulfilhnent and interpersonal love) to the celibate life. While the structures of existing religious communities do not seem likely to encompass this facet of communal life, it would not be surprising to see new communities of married religious come into exist-ence in the not too distant future. Another wdue of the kibbutz movement is the seeming success of communal groups based on a total democratic process. There are already some indications that the traditionally monarchi-cal religious orders are already moving swiftly to a capi-tular form of government. In most cases the founders of the majority of the Israeli kibbutzim are still alive and to some extent still reflecting the charism that marked the foundation of their commu-nity. Yet it appears that the "routinization of their cha-risma" is not likely to be overly successful. The ideological and "religious" sonrce of the kibbutz movement has al-ready given way to a rapid "secularization" of values by the second generation whose devotion to the kibbutz is either pragmatic or cultural. The positive inspiration of Zionism that has so effec-tively supported the establishment of a Jewish State will certainly diminish in time. Antisemitism is not a motive in a Jewish state, and thus not operative on the Sabra. If and when the Arab situation is normalized, the Kibbutz "external enemy" will also have disappeared. The pris-tine Marxist ideology has been snbject to constant revi-sion, and a wide range of personal and public views are now tolerated among kibbutzniks. The long range prognosis for the kibbutz movement is one of no sizeable growth and more than likely a rapid diminishing of the movement once peace comes to Israel. The small number o[ religious kibbutzim should remain active, as well as a limited number run by convinced Marxists. But the kibbutz movement as a whole will likely prove to have been a temporarily significant social structure in Israeli history due to the particular condi-tions that Jews faced in the 19th and 20th centuries. ÷ ÷ Kibbutzim VOLUME ~0, 1971 799 If this analogy between the kibbutz movement and Catholic religious community life is correct, and if the same present trends continne in both institutions, there is a reasonable predictability that many if not most of the present religion,s commonities may be viewed from some future historical perspective as having served the Church's vital needs effectively up to the end of the 20th century. "!" 4" 4- J. C. Fleck, S.J. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOI, JS 8O0 SISTER CHARLOTTE HANNON, S.N.D. DE N. The Graying of America The far left, the far right, the in-betweeners, the libs and the cons, the silent majority and the articttlate mi-nority have reached a consensus on one point at least-- they all agree that "Darling, you are grown older." Laughingly we sing the line at birthday parties and re-unions, but behind the laughter there is the realization that okt age and retirement are major concerns that warrant major consideration. If Toeffler in Future Shock has clone nothing else, he has alerted ns to the need for planning ahead. Last August and November the Finance Retirement Committee of the Sisters of Notre Dame de Namur of the Maryland Province sent out 415 questionnaires to religious communities across the country. The returns are interesting and informative as the following table indi-cates: Questionnaires sent out . 415 Questionnaires returned . 271 Retirement Plans in operation . 100 No Retirement Plan in operation . 171 Most of the communities in the last category are anxious to know what others are doing about retirement planning, and they indicate a need to begin making plans as soon as possible. Retirement Age and Status The majority of congregations state that they have no "fixed" age for retirement. They agree that the person himself, his state of health, his vitality, mental and physi-cal stamina--all these factors mnst be considered on an individual basis. Although 65 years is mentioned as a possible age/'or part-time retirement, 70 is the time when most religious begin to think seriously abont retiring. Studies show that the life-span of religious exceeds that of the ordinary layman by five to nine years. If there is difference of opinion about a specific age, there is deft-nitely consensns on retirement status. All agree with the statement from the "Older Americans Act," Article 10: 4- 4- Sister Charlotte is Director of Re-search and Funding for the Sisters of Notre Dame de Na-mur; Ilchester, Maryland 21083. VOLUME ~0, 1971 801 + ÷ ÷ St. Charlotte REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 802 "Older Americans or Senior Citizens should be permitted the free exercise of individual initiative in planning and managing one's own life for independence and freedom." Such thinking, of course, originates in the basic Christian

Issue 25.1 of the Review for Religious, 1966. ; Religious Women and Pastoral Nork by J. M. R. Tillard. O.P. 1 Metanoia or Conversion by J6seph Fichtner, O.S.C. 18 The Church's Holine~g and Reh~ous Life by Gustave Ma'~t~lei, S.J. 32 Religious Significance of the T.rinity by Bernard Fraigneau-Julien, ~.S.S. 53 Contemplatives and Change ~by Mother M. Angelica! P.C. 68 The Crisis of Creatur~liness by Alfred de Souza, S.J; 73 Sdence and Renewal by Thomas Dubay,] S.M. 80 Freudian Gloom and Christiah Joy by William J. Ello~, S.J. 95 Freedom to IObey by Mother M. Viola, O.S.F~ 104 The Great Waste by Sister Mary Carl Ward, I~.S.M. 114 A Fresh Look at God by Patrick J. 0 Halloran,, S.J. 125 Poems 130 Survey of RomanDocumi ents 132 Views, News, Prdviews 135 Questions and Ariswers 138 Book Rdviews 142 VOLUME 25 NUMBER I January 1966 Volume 25 1966 EDITORIAL OFFICE St. Mary's College St. Marys, Kansas 66536 BUSINESS OFFICE 428 East Preston Street Baltimbre, Maryland 21202 EDITOR R. F. Smith, ASSOCIATE EDITORS Everett A. Diederich, S.J. Augustine G. Ella~d, S.J. ASSISTANT EDITORS Ralph F. Taylor, S.J. William J. Weiler, S.J. DEPARTMENTAL EDITORS Questions and Answers Joseph F. Gallen, S.J2 Woodstock College Woodstock, Maryland 22163 Book Reviews. Norman Weyand, S.J. Bellarmine School of Theology of Loyola University 230 South Lincoln Way North Aurora, Illinois 60542 Published in January, March, May, July, September, Novem-ber on the fifteenth of the month. REVIEW FOR RELI-GIOUS is indexed in the CATHOLIC PERIODICAL IN-DEX. and in BOOK REVIEW INDEX J. Mo R. TILLARD, O.P. Religious Women and Pastoral Work It is interesting to study fxom a theological viewpoint the history of the appearance in the Church of religious communities of women devoted to the active life. One basic trait clearly distinguishes them: in spite of the immense diversity of their immediate ends, all these con-gregations find their finality in the exercise of evan-gelical charity in the form of what is ordinarily referred, to as "the works of mercy." Whether it is a question of caring for the sick, of helping the poor, of educating youth, of assisting the~ aged, or of accepting and rehabili-tating certain categories of men: and women, rejected bye our society, the central activity of these communities always issues in a direct love of human beings., If one compares, for example, a missionary congregation of men such as the Holy Ghost Fathers and a missionary con-gregation of women such as the Sisters of St. Joseph of Cluny, it will be seen how, in the same human context and with the same apostolic aim, ~the activity of such religious women brings to e~clesial activity a specific note of realistic charity. The priest preaches the gospel and administers the sacraments; the 'lay brother is occupied with the material needs o[ the mission; but the mission-ary sister attempts to incarnate concretely in the here and now the message of fraternal charity which is at the heart of the good news: she nurses, she feeds, she edu-cates. It is.this area that is her ministry, and in it.she finds the certainty of serving her Lord in all fullness. While in non-clerical religious communities of men (such as teaching or hospital brothers) there often ap-pears a kind of tension arising from the fact that these religious experience a sense of frustration at not being able. to exercise a priestly ministerial function, com-munities of women ordinarily find peace in the humble, day-by-day gift of their charity. This point seems to us to be ecclesiologically and pastorally important; and we would like to study it here ÷ J. M. R. Tillard, O.P., is professor of dogmatic theology at the Dominican House, of Studies; 96 Empress Ave-nue; Ottawa 4, Can-ada. VOLUME 251 1966 ! ÷ ÷ ÷ ]. M. R. Tillard, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS from three distinct points of view: first, we shall attempt to point out the theological characteristics of the specific activity of the religious women at the heart of all ecclesial activity; then we shall try to situate that activity of religious women in its direct relationship with the ac-tivity of the hierarchy; and finally we shall discuss the concrete possibilities of enlarging their activities in ac-cord with the needs of the Church today. The Work o[ Charity o[ Religious Women Is at the Heart of the Apostolic Charity of the Church In what does the charity of God's Church for men consist? To this question an answer can be given in the simple statement: the Church seeks to be a genuine in-strumentof grace by which the love of God Himself for men can be effective in the here and now of the human situation. In other words, in her charity the Church does not seek to love merely in her own name; rather she is desirous" that through her and through the mediation of her transparency and of her profound mystery of com-munion with God there may pass the power of the agape of the Father. This is the reason why her love for men is always humble and poor and never triumphant: she of-fers her heart, her hands, her toils, and her goods to the charity of God. It is in this way--and perhaps above all in this way--that she is sacrament in the precise sense that through her and the ministry of her action the One who is defined as Love reveals Himself and acts. He is that Love which does not remain enclosed within itself but which on the contrary radiates out to touch and affect all beings and all the reality of every being. To say that the Church is servant--and this perhaps is her most fitting characteristic in the present time of the history of salvation--is to say that she has no meaning except inso-far as she serves as an intermediary between the mysteri-ous love of the Father and men as they actually exist. More profoundly, it is to say that she is a mystery o[ charity; that is, through the total availability created in her by her love [or God passes the love o[ God Himself. It does not seem to us to be an exaggeration to say that today God wishes to love the world through the heart o[ the Church. In this Iove of God for men transmediated by the Church there is without doubt an internal and essential order. The dominant wish of the Father--and the entire gospel message affirms this--is to lead men to His king-dom, to introduce them already in this life to the inti-macy of His friendship in order that eventually they may share for all eternity in the glory of His Son. Christianity is not to be confused with humanism, however great the latter may be; its aim is always that self-surpassing which we call the "life of grace," and the Church can be faithful to her mission only insofar as she leads men into the fullness of the Pasch of Jesus. This is why at the heart of her action her fundamental preoccupation is always with the Pasch and its two moments of death to sin and of resurrection to newness of life. She exists [or the Pasch; she exists to proclaim the staggering reality of this Day that inaugurates the new times, to make present and active its power in the Eucharist and the other sacra-ments, to keep men in contact with this source of the love of the Father. A Church that would cease to center its life on the Pasch would no longer be the Church of God (Ekklesia tou Theou), the sacrament and the place of agape. Nevertheless, this paschal love is a total love of man in the concrete, and it has nothing of the abstract about it. It does not merely aim at.some small, secret zone of the human person (what is equivocally called "his interior life"). Without effecting an artificial cleavage between the natural and the supernatural, the temporal and the eternal, it encounters the person as he really is in the unity of his person. On the one hand, it penetrates to the very depths of the human being whom it renews and re-creates by grace; on the other hand, its pervasive in-fluence reaches the entire extent of the human mystery. Between the mystery of the redemption and the mys-tery of creation there exists a profound unity, the link-ing bond of which is precisely the paschal event. The Father of Jesus is God the Creator; and the Son who is incarnated in Jesus is just as truly the One "through whom God created the world" (Heb 1:2). Moreover, if God sends His Son, He does so--it is the living tradition of the Church as expressed by Irenaeus--in order to save and to regain the fix'st creation that has been wounded by sin. The Resurrection is not simply a starting point, the ¯ dawning of eschatological times; it is above all the glorification of creation by the entry of a man (its King) into full participation in the Spirit of God. It is the ele-vation and exaltation of nature by the power of agape. For the Father does not give the resurrected Christ a new Body; He restores that Body of His that was born of Mary but now is flooded with divine gifts. He thereby lets us know--a point that we often forget--that His plan is a single one, that in Him there is not one plan as Creator and another plan as Redeemer with a clearcut distinction between them; there is only one plan of love that envelops all of human destiny. This, moreover, is the reason why baptism which opens the door to the world of grace is also the leavening pledge of the resur-rection of nature (Rom 6:5; 8:11; Eph 2:6). Paschal love--of which the Church is the instrument + + ÷' ÷ ÷ ~÷ J. M. R. Till~rd~ REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS --is, then, a love that is directed to the entire reality of the human condition and that refuses every form of selec- . tivity with regard to the makeup of the human existen-tial. In its ultimate finality it is eschatological in the sense that its overall concern is with leading man to the glory of the Parousia. Nevertheless, it is concerned with the human situation as this is realized here and now. For here and now God loves man; here and now His Father's heart wishes to give His creature the benefits of His in-finite love; here and now He wishes men to know that in spite of their misery they are loved by Him; and here and now He desires :that the world be infused with the re-creation and healing of nature provided by the Pasch of J~sus. More than this, God the Father desires that this love, immediately directed to the nature of man and seeking to heal sicknesses, to console the troubled, and to succor the poor, should be the atmosphere in which there shines forth the revelation of that other dimension of agape which opens on the joy of eternity. In other words, the eschatological aim of paschal love--the prom-ise and the hope of eternal liIe where .there will be "'no more wailing, no more crying,, no more pain" (Ap 21:4) --can be proclaimed and revealed only by the action of ecclesial charity on the miseries and .sufferings of this earthly life. Charitable action in the today and the tem-poral of the history of men is nothing less than the sacra-ment and the seal o[ paschal love. The Church can pro-claim and prepare the happiness of eternity only if she devotes herself to the .relief of the suffering of mankind. It is thereby--and theologians do not seem to have real-ized this in 'a realistic way--that'she sows in this world the first fruits of the world to come. But it should not be thought that what has just been stated is only the reasoning of a theologian. To be con-vinced of this, it is sufficient to reflect with attention on the way in which Jesus realized His messianic vocation. If He fulfilled the figure of the Suffering Servant (glimpsed in the Servant of Yahweh Songs inserted in the Book of Isaiah), he did so not only by His death of ignominy but also by His pedagogy of mercy and.of tenderness (Is 42:!-7). He preached the gospel of salva-tion by "going about doing good" as Peter said to .Cor-nelius and his friends (Acts 10:38). And this good that He did consisted of simple acts of temporal mercy: healing the sick, consoling widows, giving food to the hungry, treating the poor with kindness, welcoming strangers without any attitude of segregation. The proclamation of the gospel was done in this way, and the death on the cross receives its significance only when situated in this climate which reveals th'at its finality is one o[ love and not of.power. And there are other manifestations of this. As a sign permitting John to judge of His messianic mission, Jesus in Matthew 11:2-6 offers His acts of love for the lowly and the poor, following in this the line traced by the prophecies of Isaiah: it is these acts that are the seal authenticating His vocation. In the merciful act of themultiplication of loaves performed out of pity for the needs of the persons who followed Him, Jesus according to John (6:1-66) reveals the profound mean-ing of the sacrament bf His .lbve, the Eucharist. In that case, once again, the act of temporal mercy, far from being merely an occasion allowing Jesus to speak about His doctrine, provides the climate and the atmosphere in which the proclamation of the Bread of life can burst forth. The gift of material bread and the Eucharist are not two acts artificially bracketed together; they are rather two expressions of the same thrust of agape as Paul well understood when he reproached the Corin-thians (1 Cor 11:17-33). Similarly, the washing of the feet (Jn 13:1-20) is not just a simple illustration of the commandment of charity and of the mutual service de-manded of the disciples; it is its seed. One last indica-tion can be given, one which it seems to us has not been sufficiently recognized: the holy women were the first proclaimers of the Resurrection simply because they were concerned to go early in the morning to give the Body of Jesus the care and the veneration that Jewish custom demanded--an act of humble mercy, but by doing it they became the first witnesses of the act par excellence of the mercy of the Father. We hope, then, that the importance of the above reflec-tions is understood. We do not intend to show here what John has so strongly emphasized; namely, that the frater-nal love of Christians among themselves is the sign of their belonging to Christ and thereby a witness to the power of agape. Our intention is to enable one t.o grasp that mercy shown towards all men, whether Christians or not, is the atmosphere which envelops and normally authenticates the gospel proclamation. In other words, we wish to throw light on the fact that we can bring men the good news only if at the same time and in the name of this good news we concretely show men that we love them "not in words, but in deeds--genuinely." For in the humility of their object these acts are the sacrament in which should gradually appear their infinite originat-ing source with its promise of eternal happiness. But this is an eternal happiness that does not permit flight from the suffering of the present but that, on the contrary, involves itself with that suffering in order to sow there already the seeds of eschatological joy. Once again, it is through the experience of the visible and the tangible that God slowly leads mankind to faith in the invisible; ÷ ÷ ÷ Religious Women VOLUME 25, 1966 ÷ 4. ÷ ]. M. R. Tillard, O.P. REVIEW'FOR RELIGIOUS 6 by the visible dimension of His chitrity H~ leads them to faith in the folly of His, agape." it is when seen in this light that the apostolic actii, ity of religious women of the active life receives its evangeli-cal meaning. Properly speaking, theirs is not the task of preaching the gospel wffh authority: this. fl6ws from the hierarchical function to which they do not have access. Neither are they like militant lay people wiih a inandate to take charge of a milieu and graduMly conduct it to Christ; although these religiohs women are essentially members of the laity, they pertain to a special form 'of lay life officially recognized by the Church and deter-mined by t.h'e directi;c~s of their constitutions which fix the quality of their mandate. Here we should note the confusion that so.me pastors and even some theologians cause by more or le~s fissimilating the life of religious women to that of secular institutes, basing themselves in this. only on canonical texts. Briefly, religious women of the active life do not ordinarily form a part of.what is called the direct apostolate. Nevertheless, they play an essential role in the work of evangelization. For by their day-to-day charitable activity officially done in the name of the Church it is they who assure the gospel of the atmosphere of mercy,, the importance of which we have shown. For. this activity to bear all its fruit, it is evidently necessary that it be disinte~:ested, that motives of the financial interest and of the material prosperity of the community should not take precedence over the apostolic anguish arising from love for men. Let us admit that in this matter there is often room for considerable con-version, especially in countries where religious commu-nities conduct their institutions without any outside con-trol. But under the p.retext of real abuses, one should not make a wholesale condemnation without any distinc-tions. By her religious women the Church creates the visible dimensidn of charity ~which according to the law of the divine pedagogy is an integral part of the work of evangelization. And let us add that their vows add to the activity of sisters an element which married or non-reli-gious militants do not have. For sisters are those who have freely given up human values as fundamental as those of nuptial and motherly love, of the possession of a certain level of comfort; and they have done this in order to give themselves more completely to the universal love of men. Thanks to them if they are faithful to their vocation, poor themselves and hence totally transparent garriers of the love of the Father--the Church is able to reply .to those who question her mission: "Look around and see: the blind see, the lame Walk, lepers are healed, the deaf hear., and the good news is proclaimed to the poor" (Mt 11:4-6). Far from being an obstacle to the evangeli-zation of the world, are not these religious, on the con-trary, its advance troops? Day after day they plough the fields in which the hierarchy sows the word and where other lay people lend support to the testimony of the love of the Father. In a word, these religious ~ire the sign of the love of the Father for poor mankind slashed by suffering. The Action o[ Religious Women and Its Relation to the Action o[ the Hierarchy O~icially--and it is told him from the day of his con-secration-- the bishop is charged in a special way with the love of the poor, the suffering, and the lowly of his churches. He is not simply the functionary which man), imagined him to be before Vatican Council II; he has the vocation of a father. And this implies that his heart is anguished by the suffering of his people. But to discharge this duty (and he will have to r(nder account of it on the day of judgment), he cannot rely only on his own powers and his own initiative. Here, as everywhere in his pastoral action, he must act in com-munion with lay people. This does not mean that he seeks to utilize the energies of the latter for the profit o~ his own projects and plans (this would be clericalism). On the contrary, he labors to arouse and nourish in them a conscientious and realistic grasp of the heavy responsibility that, not as pastors but as baptized brothers of Christ, they also have with regard to the concrete exercise of the charity of God in the midst of the needs of their fellow men, especially of those who suffer. For it is the Church as such, in the living union of its leaders and its faithful, which must radiate the paschal love of the Father. No one. can dispense himself from this law of his baptismal grace. Nevertheless, all are not called to live it out in the same fashion: there are special places in the Body of Christ, and even within the laity chari-table action can diversify itsell: in a number of ways. One of these ways will retain our attention here. It will be recalled that at the beginning of this article, it was said that all active communities of women find their definitive finality in the exercise of the works of mercy. But why is this? The answer to this question will intro-duce us into the very heart of ecclesiology. Let us recall that the mystery of the Pasch takes place not over and beyond creation but in it. The former is not the destroyer of the latter; on the contrary, it saves and elevates it. This is why all created values should hormally become paschal values. Accordingly, the gifts of nature considered in the light of the Resurrection appear as graces, primary and structural graces which 4- + + Religious Wdmen VOLUME 25~ 1966 7 ÷ ÷ ]. M. R. Tillard, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 8 find their true meaning only in the Church. Everything human, then, is grace; and hence everything human as such should allow itself to be swept along by the power of paschal love. But in the human as it is concretely and existentially realized the differentiation of the sexes, plays a central role, and to ignore it would be a grave matter. Sexuality is not simply an exterior ~nd accidental wrapping cover-ing a common reality: it penetrates to the deepest mys-tery of man and woman and gives a positive determina-tion to that mystery. Each sex has a positive value that it alone is able to accomplish because sex modalizes the human along a given line. Sex, it is true, carries with it the entire essence of the human being so that nothing which defines and situates the latter will be absent from the one sex when it is in the other. Nevertheless, each human sex is under its own proper, unique, and ir-replaceable mode. In the man the human being is mas-culinity, in the woman it is femininity. And it cannot be in the man without being masculinity nor in the w~man without being femininity. Hence, the act of knowIedge, the act of joy, the act 0f love, the act of giving self are all in the man and in the woman but under a mode proper to each. The same is true of the act of pertaining to the Church of God and the act of serving the gospel. Hence the gift of self for the radiating of paschal love passes through masculinity and femininity. These represent the two positive and complementary values of the human through which the love of the Father sacramentalizes it-self. Man (the male) is above all power. He is power in the gift of physical life, he is also power in the domination of the world. In him cold reason dominates intuition. He structures, he legislates, he constructs, and he judges everything with a certain rigor. He likes to dominate, and his physical strength allows him to do.so. Accord-ingly, his proper collaboration with the agape of the Father is better exercised in an institutional ministry as leader of the community, as pastor, as legislator. But the woman is above all offering, appeal to communion, open transparency to the other. She is characterized by meraory and constantly sharpened intuition more than by logical rigor and deductive reason. She is made to receive love (as a bride) and to permit it to be fecund (by motherhood). She is heart rather than dry intelligence, tenderness and compassion rather than justice and sever-ity. She completely tends to the gift of herself in a con-stant care of little things, in the exercise of a delicacy and a kindness that sow joy. She puts flowers in the house and she sings songs. For her this is no waste, and she should not feel frustrated at not possessing what the opposite sex possesses. On the contrary, all this is her wealth; and this wealth is worth as much as that of the male. Accordingly, her proper contribution to the dif-fusion of paschal love should also quite simply assume this morphological, physical, and psychological constitu-tion which makes her what she is. She consecrates her-self especially to the dimension of temporal and spiritual mercy, of tenderness for the poor and the little--to the dimension which we mentioned above as the sign of the gospel Let us add that she alone can do this with per-fection: it is her charism. To say this is not to imply a right to the hierarchical priesthood which would thus be violated. Ther6 is no question here of such a right but of the assumption of the true quality of her being for the service of the gospel. Diversity of functions in no way signifies diversity in dignity. The charity finality of active religious women, then, appears to us to respond to the realism of the incarna-tion of grace in human nature. In our opinion it is one of the signs of the fact that the supernatural respects and saves the natural. Femininity as such with its own proper chdracteristics and its own special tendencies is thus assumed for the sake of the gospel. The motherhood of the Churcl~ cannot be better expressed. But it is necessary to go even further in our reflection. For by a special title the bishop links to himself this special charitable activity of religious women. They re-ceive from him a quasi-mandate, similar to that of the members of catholic action although it is specifically different. This gives to their commitment an official note: they face the. world as the ones officially responsible for the fidelity of the local church to the paschal com-mand of love for the lowly and the poor. It is, of course, to be clearly understood that they are not the only ones with the duty to radiate this agape just as the members of catholic action are not the only ones to give testimony to Christ in their milieu of life. Nevertheless, for reli-gious women this mission is more pressing for they re-ceive it "quasi ex officio": their entire life should be consumed so that, thanks to them, the Church may exist in an act of love and of mercy in the face of the sufferings of the world. The judgment that the world will pass on the quality of the local church on this point depends preeminently upon them. The bishop links himself to them in a notably special way in order that there might be assured the love of the poor which he is charged to maintain in a living and genuine way in his diocese. This is their ministry. And thereby it is seen how they are inserted into the pastoral work of the Church: they represent a chosen group to whom the one responsible for the ecclesial life of the diocese entrusts the ministry of + + + Religious Women VOLUME 25, 1966 9 ÷ 1. M. R. T~ltard, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 10 charity. Hence they are not situated at the fringe of apostolic action; on the contrary, though not pertaining to the hierarchy, they fulfill one of the essential func-tions of the life of the People of God, for, as we have previously pointed out, charitable action forms the at-mosphere of the proclamation of the gospel. This perspective seems to us to be able to restore the breath of the gospel to the life of many communities that are too shriveled up within themselves and that do not perceive with enough clarity the implications of their mission. Overly orientated toward the perspective of the individual perfection of their members--and this individual perfection is clearly not contradicted by what we have said---, they forget that they are supposed to create in the world an evangelical sign within which the gospel can be proclaimed in all truth. It seems to us to be a serious matter when religi6us women vowed to charity feel that "they are outside of apostolic action," that "they are restricted to an activity of secondary im-portance when the world has such a great need of apos-tles," that "they are condemned to works of filling in for others." In such cases the question must be asked whether such religious institutions do not have need of a great movement of "conversion." The Charitable Action of Religious Women and the Needs of the Church Today There is one fact that has heavy consequences for the problem to be considered in this section: most of the religious congregations vowed to works of charity were founded at a period when the State accomplished nothing or almost nothing for the relief of human misery. In this matter the Church played an evangelical role of arousal and took the lead of the movement of mercy in the name of Christ. But today (at least, in the Western world and in the large socialist countries) the State--with the im-mense means that it often has--is occupied with tasks such as the care of the sick and of the old, the education of the young, the use of leisure, the rehabilitation of certain categories of men and women; for all of this per-tains to its area of competency. In this new situation, do religious still have a place? One thing is clear. Wherever religious parallel public institutions and retain their own ~schools, hospitals, or-phanages, it is necessary that these latter, if they are to remain a sign of the gospel, be distinguished less by the size of their activity than by their quality. Between a religious establishment and other institutions there should normally be perceived a difference with regard to respect for persons and to the attention given to them and also with regard to availability, tact, and commitment. A Catholic hospital, for example, should not be distin-guished from a non-religious hospital only by the fact that it affords a certain climate of prayer, easy access to the sacraments, and the assistance of a chaplain. It is further necessary ~that the very way of treating the physical sufferings be marked with the seal of the Spirit which, as St. Paul says, is "love, joy, peace, good temper, kindliness, generosity, fidelity, gentleness, selbcontrol" (Gal 5:22). This should be so much the case that a non- Christian who is being cared for there should feel him-self enwrapped with the love of God. When an officially Christian institution is no longer capablewthe reasons may be diverse---of giving this evangelical witness, then today it no longer has any reason for existing; and its continuance in existence is a counter-witness. It is clearly evident in our day that even in the institu-tions that belong to them religious women cannot carry out all the functions required of them for the welfare of those who come to them; they have need of auxiliaries and of employees. Moreover, it is frequently the State that confides to a given community the charge of an establish-ment of which the State remains the owner and for which at times it chooses the personnel who are to assist the sisters. This is a situation that at times creates suf-ficiently bizarre conditions. But in any case it increases the apostolic responsibility of the community: the com-munity in such a case has the duty of radiating the power of agape also into the active body of workers of the establishment. This stems from the fact of having taken charge of a milieu in order to flood it with the values of the gospel. This is a genuine apostolic activity bearing fruit on three levels: the personnel to whom the true demands of charity are gradually disclosed; the repercus-sion of this conscience attitude on the action of'these men and women; and those who are its beneficiaries. There is infinite need for tact and for suppleness, for complete openness, and for the absence of all proselytism. It is equally necessary that the community should never forget its primary purpose: the manifestation of the mercy of God for the poor, for the little, for those who suffer. In the case of a group of sisters working in com-mon in an institution (this is the only case we are consid-ering here), this situation restores to the community the meaning of its apostolic vocation, imposes on it a perpetual revision of life, strengthens the bonds of fra-ternal love, and compels it to achieve a state of radical transparency with regard to the gospel. For it feels itself being constantly judged in actual situations in the. close and common work of daily labor. And in the community it is the Church that is being judged. And I would say that the Church is being judged more in such a case ÷ ÷ ÷ Religious Women VOLUME 25, 1966 11 I. M. R. Tillard, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS than it would be in cases where militants of catholic ac-tion work in the same circumstances and in the same milieu. The vows--especially that of poverty the apos: tolic value of which must some day be restudied in depth. .--indicate that the community has chosen to act exclu-sively for the kingdom of God and not at all for any earthly ~;ellbeing however limited it may be. In. the com-munity, then, men expect to find a delineation of the Church. Hence let us emphasize that far from decreasing the charitable finality of religious institutes, the situation in which religious must work with non-religious actually extends it: the community must not only work itself for the service of love but it must also lead others to act in the same way and under the same explicit motivation. Nevertheless, "today's circumstances are constantly obliging us to think more and more of another way of exercising this mihistry of mercy. In this case the com-munity as such does not take charge of a given institu-tion. Each sister in accord with her professional com-petence is employed wherever she finds-a position corresponding to the specific end of her congregation. Dur-ing the day, then, the community is dispersed, each of the .religious going to her own place of work. There, in com-munion with the militants whom she may find there, each sister in her work tries to be both an instrument of the charity,of God and an active leaven within the laity arousing them to the call of the gospel. Unlike the preced-ing case, she does not pertain to a group performing as such a given function in the establishment. She is sim-ply an employee on the same footing as the rest, and her personal competence is the only reason for her holding the position that she occupies. In accomplishing her work she is not immediately attached to a group of religious working at her side. She is alone. Often she is in an indifferent "milieu, even in one agitated by forces hostile to the Church. It is there that the. Lord asks her to live her vocation as a religious vowed to the exercise of mercy and to do so through the quality of her work and in the network of social bonds that she creates with the men and women who are around her. _ This is a difficult and complex situation. The religious must not lose sight of the primary end of her institute which is charitable work itself. Hence, her central pre-occupation must not deviate from this central point of a direct and immediate relationship with a'man or a woman or a child to be cared for, educated, or aided in some fashion. She is not primarily sent to lead a militant life after the fashion in which Christians of catholic action act. Her mandate is another one, although---and we will return to this--like all the baptized she also has the duty of becoming leaven in her milieu. Let us not forget what we have developed above at length: in the name of Christ and of the Church the bishop has en-trusted to her in a special way the responsibility of radiating charity under the form of mercy, compassion, gentleness, and tenderness in the face of the sufferings and needs of human beings. She must above all seek this: that through her actions (materially resembling those performed by her non-believing neighbor) there may pass the entirely slaecial quality that the love of Christ Himself infuses into human activity. This is not easy, we admit. But if she does not do this, then she no longer responds to what the Church specifically expects from her for the sake of the gospel. And in this case through her defect something essential is lacking to the life of the local church; an entire dimension of the mystery of Christ is veiled; men and women will not experience the sweet-ness of the God and Father of Jesus. At first sight this function may appear to be less efficacious and less direct than the fact of militant action in a milieu for the sake of sowing the gospel message; than the fact of sharing in the struggles and the anguishes of the other employees and of thereby working for their liberation. Nevertheless, her function is just as necessary from an evangelical point of view. She responds to a ministry that is essential to the Church and that completes and consummates that of the other militants. For it is a question of a different form of action of the same love, of a mandate obliging her in communion with that of the militants to make the visage of Christ appear in the small part of mankind entrusted to the bishop for salvation. Hence, in the con-crete circumstances of her action the religious must always subordinate the other forms of her apostolic activity to her charitable function. It is easy to see in this kind of situation the new im-portance taken by what is called the common life. When she returns to her community, the sister should find the spiritual and loving atmosphere that permits her to reground her forces, to nourish herself with the gospel, and to judge her activity in open dialogue with her superiors and her fellow sisters. The hours that she passes each day in the milieu charged with providing her the means to grow in her union with the Lord must not become for her a heavy load encumbered with a multi-tude of oral prayers and with confusedly arranged exer-cises. Neither must it appear in her eyes merely as a slack period offering a little leisure. What it should exactly be is difficult to say. But it is clear that the essential should be an atmosphere of true prayer, of simple and loving joy. The witness of charity is so often dissipated by fatigue and by nervous tension that there should be a strong reaction against everything (even those things ÷ ÷ ÷ Religious Women VOLUME 25, 1966 ÷ ÷ ÷ J. M. R. Tiilard, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ]4 clone under the pretext of devotions or of ancient cus-tom) which irritates the sisters. And it would be good if superiors, would re'member that to work to create in their houses an unpressured spiritual atmosphere is the first service that they themselves can give to charity. Up to this point we 'have reflected only on the exercise by religious women of their ministry of charity in the usual situation of the Church today. NOW it is necessary to ask two questions which more and more appear to us to be urgent: Should not religious women be more in-timately and immediately associated with the matter of pastoral reflection, their charisms between taken into equal count in this area? And can not their participation in the ordinary pastoral ministry be enlarged? Before answering the first question, we must frankly remark that up to now the Church has been contented to ~ttilize the charitable action of religious women and has manifested a certain suspicion with what they might be able to contribute to pastoral reflection itself. Our present day pastoral has been elaborated by r.elying almost exclusively on the qualities proper to the mascu-line sex. This can be attributed to various causes: to the fact that according to tradition access to hierarchical orders is reserved to men; to the fact that in the West the Church's ministers are celibates and thereby inclined to mistrust women; and above all to the fact that our civilization has not yet considered with sufficient serious-ness what is represented at the heart of the human mys-tery by the genius proper to ~oman. We are just begin-ning to awaken on this point; and the awakening is often accompanied by certain feel.ings of revindication and of aggression so that it can become dangerous and entirely lose its meaning. Up to now pastoral thought has had the tendency to see everything frdm the masculine View-point as 'if the masculine sex alon~ represented the human or as i~and this is still more serious--it were the human ideal to which the feminine should conform it-self in order to attain any real value. Hence, the con-stant temptation of pastors has been (and often still remains) to consider religious women on.ly as so many servants to be smiled at from the vantage point of the superiority complex of the strong sex and to,be employed at.will in any kind of work; and they have not sufficient.ly considered them as women capable of perceiving with the penetration proper to their sex precise objectives that escape masculine psychology and as capable of grasping with an original insight of their own the con-sequences of certain decisions. This points seems to us to be a very serious one. It seems necessary to us that the Church be converted in this matter. This does not mean that the Church. should admit religious women to a priestly ordination as some persons are beginning to maintain basing themselves exclusively on arguments of rights to be redressed and of sexual egalitarianism. But it means that the Church should become conscious of the irreplaceable contribn-ti0n of feminine thought and that she should associate sisters more closely with the effort of investigation, judgment, and criticism that is needed for the ordering of the pastoral activity of a diocese, How is this to be done? It would take too long to treat this in a detailed and precise manner, Nevertheless, let us remark that it cannot be a question only of a consul-tation taking the natnre, as it were, of feeling the pulse of the situation but without passing beyond the stage of the preliminary. The charism of the hierarch~ demands thatiit al~vays act in communion with the laity, men and Women. The ultimate decision is without a doubt that of the leaders, a typical act of their own proper p.astoral judgment. Nevertheless, it should be born of a delibera-tion in which the laity are involved as much as the clergy in a frank confrontation of viewpoints and in a common sharing of apostolic perceptions and of dif-ferent psychologies. There is no qnestion here either of demagogy or of feminism; it is simply a utilization of different vocations and of different charisms in an at-mosphere of authentic communion. And this seems to us to be the meaning of authority in the Church of God,. It is rare that a pastoral decision is a purely hierarchical creatior~. It is most often nothing else than an assump-tion by the hierarchy--thereby bestowing the weight of its authority and the guarantee of its charism--of a perception arising among the laity who are plunged, into the experience of the real and then thought about, reflected upon, and discussed by their pastors. Moreover, from the viewpoint of kingly power the grace of orders ~is more a grace of prudential judgment than that of intuition. Invention comes above all from the periphery, from the precise point where the Church is in contact with the realism of the human situation. In this way, then, the grace of the laity penetrates even to.the inner nature of the pastoral function. Among the laity we place in a special rank not only the militants of catholic action but also the religious women who are 9fficially devoted to the ministry of charity. At one and the same time they are women--hence they can voice the neces-sary feminine viewpoint--and they are involved in the sufferings of human beings, knowing not only the latter's complexities and temptations but also their riches. If it is true--as we have shown above--that the ministry of charity is bound up essentially with the gospel and repre-sents a fi'ont line force of ecclesial action, then it seems in-÷ + ÷ Religious Women VOLUME 25, 1966 15 -b ÷ J. M. R. Tillard, O;P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 16 conceivable to us that religious women should not be fully associated with the work of apostolic reflection that is p]'erequired for all authentic pastoral action. Moreover, why (and this is our second question) could they not receive in certain circumstances (always in dependence on the bishop, rightly understood) the entire responsibility for the organization of the entire chari-table apostolate of a diocese? In the collection of various areas which we group indistinctly under the name "pas-toral activity," is this not one of the numerous domains where women are more naturally competent than men? Why must a member of the clergy always be the head of every diocesan activity? At a time when we com-plain about the lack of priests and exhaust ourselves in imagining the outcome of this situation, it would seem logical to begin by reflecting on our theology of pastoral action and by asking whether as victims of the sin of clericalism, we have not permitted the atrophying of apostolic energies, among them those of religious women. A number of initiatives, undertaken especially in mission countries, show that urgent necessities are obliging the Church to a profound evolution on this point. The right is conceded to religious women to perform certain acts which up to now custom has linked with the person of the priest: they can distribute Communion, take charge of the liturgical assembly on Sunday, and catechize. The somewhat "sensational" cases should not rivet attention on themselves and thus prevent the Church from per-ceiving the numerous, more ordinary forms of activity which she can officially leave to the genius and the con-science of religious women. We have mentioned here the pastoral work of charity, but the same reasons would be valid for the organization of catechetical activity (on the condition that the sisters in charge be truly com-petent and not content themselves, as too often happens, with a hastily acquired and thin layer of catechetics) and for certain aspects of pastoral activity with regard to the family. A few minutes ago we mentioned the example of the women who set out at dawn to embalm the Body of the Lord and become the first witnesses of His Resurrection. Entirely like Mary, the woman who was the first witness of His Incarnation, they are the witnesses of the silent and hidden activities of God which are, nevertheless, His most fundamental ones. Is not woman even on the physi-cal level the first witness and the first receiver of human life as it comes into existence in secret? There is in this a mysterious harmony, sign of a providential vocation. This vocation is accomplished in the Christian bride whose femininity becomes grace and salvation for her husband and their children. It is accomplished in the contempla- tive nun hidden in silence and burning out her life for the Church. It is also accomplished in the religious woman of the active life who bends over human misery to bring it the most perceptible sign of the tenderness of God. The Christian woman has the marvelous and irre-placeable task of becoming the living sign of the Church as Bride and Mother. It is necessary that our pastoral awaken to this vocation of theirs and respect it for the glory of the gospel and the salvation of the world. + VOLUME 25, 1966 17 JOSEPH FICHTNER, O.S.C. Metanoia or Conversion Joseph Fichthe.r, O.S.C., teaches at Crosier House of Studies; 2620 East Wallen Road; Fort Wayne, Indiana 46805. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 18 Since we religious are living .in an age of Chuich re-newal and reform, we can ask ourselves the question: What are we contributing to this movement? Is the movement likely to succeed if we merely let ourselves passively be swept up into it? Religious orders have a precedent of active participation in the many past Church reforms. They can take their cue from a fairly long list of orders who, somehow or other, were in-strumental in either initiating renewal and reform or carrying them through. Perhaps the most famous instance of a religious order undertaking reform of its monastic life and thereby lead-ing the way to full-scale Church reform is that of the Cistercians. As Father George H. Tavard, A.A., already pointed out in a lecture to major superiors at Den-ver, July 1, 1964, the Lorraine and Cluniac monastic re-forms spearheaded the whole Gregorian reform within the Church 0050-1200). St. Bernard wrote De consider-atione, a pattern of reform for Pope Eugenius III to use upon the administration of the Roman See. In the thir-teenth century, the mendicant movement of Franciscan and Dominican Friars coincided with the reforms of the Fourth Lateran Council and of Pope Innocent III. It is a fact of Counter-Reformation history that the Jesuits with their military structure and educational purpose and the Capuchins with their simplicity and austerity of life implemented the Trentine reform. This historical precedent comes closer to home when we recall that the canons regular followed in the wake of the Gregorian reform, when, for the first time in history, the idea of reform spread to the whole Church. Charles Dereine, S. J., noted how the canons regular helped to revive eremitical life in the thirteenth century,x The eremitical life did not last long among them because it was encroached upon by lay people, especially the conversi, who looked to the eremitical 1 Les chanoines reguliers au DiocOse de LiOge avant saint Norbert (Louvain~ University of Louvain, !952). groups for spiritual guidance and help (cura ani-marum). At their beginnings, after the example of their leaders was sufficient rule, the groups fell under the influence of the Rule of St. Augustine. But the choice of the Augustinian Kule, whenever it was made, engendered a delicate problem of conscience. Should the charter members adopt the canonical customs then in use or return to the primitive ideal of austerity and poverty? This was the step of capital importance in canonical reform. Carolingian law had granted the canons the right of abandoning private property in order to lead an apostolic life. A few groups opted for the new order (ordo horus in contrast to the ordo antiquus), a way of life which was more austere especially in the matter of poverty. Their option was vitally important, if not difficult, in an age of canonical reform. They had the alternative of affiliating themselves with Cistercian communities. I mention this bit of past history because obviously it stands parallel to our own day. Religious are now in a position to maintain the status quo (which eventually will die and decay); to merge with other religious groups who have similar constitutions, customs, and spirit, or at least associate with them in apostolic works (and this is a conciliar recommendation); or to forge ahead with the Church. It is essential for religious today to recognize and evaluate their role within the context of the Christian life. To fail to do so is to become purposeless and nondescript. They can only begin to reform if they knew beforehand why and how and what and whom they are to renew and reform. One of the aims listed for the present reform, in fact the first on the list, is "to impart an ever increasing vigor to the Christian life of the faithful." s Religious must count themselves among the faithful because of their consecration to God through baptism. Over and above baptism, the profession of the evangelical vows is a super-addition to that consecration . It is indeed a special consecration which per-fects the former one, inasmuch as by it, the follower of Christ totally commits and dedicates himself to God, thereby making his entire life a service to God alone.¯ The role of the religious, then, particularly iri a time of spiritual renewal and reform, is to bear witness for the Church socially and publicly by a way of life which "radiantly shines forth" and shows that "the kingdom ¯ Constitution on the Liturgy, n. 1. ¯ Pope Paul VI, dllocution on Religious Life, May 25, 1964. 4- 4- Cor~erslon VOLUME 25~ 1966 ÷ ÷ Joseph Fi~htner, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS of Christ is not of this world." 4 They bear witness by means of the vows, the three signs "which can and ought to attract all the members of the Church to ~an effective and prompt fulfillment of the duties of their Christian vocation.''~ The Decree on Ecumenism dispels any doubt that vows constitute a mere external show; Church renewal demands a change of heart, a renewal of the inner life of our minds, self-denial and an unstinted love.e If religious are to have a leading role in renewing the Church, they must be in the vanguard of :that ',spiritual ecumenism" which amounts to a change of heart, holiness of life, and prayer. One of the characteristics of the present reform move-ment within the Church is the return to original sources, especially biblical and patristic. At the same time that the Church wants to update herself, she is taking a hard look backward at her beginnings. The very idea of reform conjures up the biblical theme of metanoia, repentance or conversion. Throughout salva-tion history, both under the Old and. New Testaments, God repeatedly issues a call to repentance. What re-newal and reform we are experiencing today fits into the biblical background ofmetanoia. The prophets of old--Amos, Hosea, Jeremiah, Ezekiel --were reformers. They called upon the people of Israel. wandering away from Yahweh to "turn back" to him, to "repent." Here we have the original Hebrew notion of reform translated by the Septuagint but especially by the New Testament into the Greek metanoia. A few examples will have to suffice. The prophet Amos enumerates the natural calamities which befall Israel for its sins; and then he quickly adds almost like a refrain: "Yet you returned not to me, says the Lord" (4:6, 8, 9, 10, 11). "In their*affliction [Hosea is speaking for Yahweh], they shall look for me: 'Come, let us return to the Lord, for it is he who has rent, but he will heal' us; he has struck us, but he will bind our wounds' " (6:1). "Perhaps," writes Jeremiah, "when the house of Judah hears all the evil I have in mind to do to them, they will turn back each from his evil way, so that I may forgive their wickedness and their sin" (36:3). Ezekiel adds the note that the Israelites must make for themselves "a new heart and a new spirit" (18:31). The general prophetical teaching was that Israel, having personally sinned against the Lord, should per-sonally repent. Return to Yahweh meant that Israel should be orientated toward Yahweh and His will be-cause He is its God. Basic to repentance .was the de- ¯ Paul VI, ~lllocution on Religious LiIe. ~ Constitution on the Church, n. 44. e Decree on Ecumenism, n. 7. mand that Israel direct its whole existence to God and unconditionally accept Him in all events. To repent was to obey His will, to trust Him absolutely and be cautious about human help (alliances with other na-tions). Repentance had both a positive and negative aspect to it. By returning to Yahweh Israel would take up a new direction but likewise turn away from evil. Real repentance must be an inner renewal, a renewal of life, which is not possible without divine assistance. When we turn to the" New Testament, we find that it retains the past teaching on metanoia but lends empha-sis here and there. There seems to be more insistence upon the positive and interior aspect, that of changing one's mentality, attitude, feeling. Metanoia supposes error in conduct, repentance for past fault, and a con-version of one's whole person to a way willed by God in order to. ready oneself for entrance into His kingdom. Baptism, faith, repentance, love, poverty of spirit, all enter into the nature of metanoia. Metanoia requires personal responsibility coupled with the gift of God. John the Baptist was the first to take up the prophetic cry: "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand" (Mt 3:2; Mk 1:4). The cry, however, is more categorical because given in view of an eschatological revelation. Conversion is for everybody; it must be authentic, a change of nature from within. Jesus too preaches con-version: "Repent and believe in the gospel"; "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand" (Mk 1:15; Mt 4:17). But he goes beyond the Baptist in realizing the eschatological kingdom in His own Person. The purpose of His mission is to bring repentance: "I have not come to call the just, but sinners, to repentance" (Lk 5:32). The. metanoia which Jesus proclaims is really the will of God, a salvific way of life. One enters into such a way of life by converting or changing into a different man (see Mt 18:3). The close tie between monastic reform and the re-form of the entire Church was never better envisioned than by the early Church fathers. In fact, it is possible to trace historically a progression of the idea of reform from what concerns the individual Christian to monastic life and to the universal Church. The idea of reform became effective as a supra-individual force at a rather early date, particularly in monasticism. Within monasti-cism itself there has been a whole series o1: reforms. Today we tend to apply reform first of all to social entities and institutions rather than to individuals. How effective such a sweeping measure can be, remains to be seen. For a broad, ecclesiastical pattern of reform, follow-ing upon the principles already laid down in the Scrip-÷ ÷ ÷ owoersion VOLUME 25, 1966 21 + ÷ ÷ Joseph Fichtner, O.S.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS tures, we have to resort to patri~tic writings. It is impossible, o[ course, to go into anything like a complete survey of their writings, but one can at least gain a few insights from Gerhart B. Ladner's~ monumental work,' The Idea o[ Reform.~ I am indebted to him fo~ the following all-too:brief summary. Ladner draws this definition of reform from Scriptural and patristic sources: "the idea of [ree, intentional and ever perfectible, multiple, prolonged and evdr repeated efforts by man to reassert and augment values pre-existent in the spiritual-material compound of the world." The Greek fathers generally regarded reform as a return to paradise. Baptism begins this reform because it is a return to innocence. Because innocence is often lost and because baptism is unrep~atable, reform is mostly postbaptismal, a long process of many starts. If man is to reform himself, he has to make a conscious pursuit of ends. He starts with an intention rather than with spontaneity or urge or response. The key feature then of Greek patristic reform ideology was the return to a state of innocence through a. continual spiritual regeneration. Man has to be reconditioned into a state equivalent to his original state. Gregory of Nyssa in particular, with his mystical bent, accounted for this development of the Pauline.theme of the "new creature" and "new creation." Now the question, how is man to be renewed, brings us to a consideration of the' second salient feature of reform ideology, a feature found mostly among the writings of the Latin fathers. They proposed that man who originally was made in the image of God should be reformed according to and in the image of God (Christ). Although the early fathers felt that reform meant a withdrawal from the world rather than a penetration of it, or at least a juxtaposition of the sacred and the profane, and hence relied upon monasticism to bring about reform, the idea gradually dawned that the whole Church should undergo reform. St. John Chrysostom, St. Augustine, and St. Hilary of Poitiers were of the earlier mentality. Then under Gregory VII, the idea of reform began to envelop the Church as a whole, and finally Innocent III and Thomas Aquinas extended it to entire Christendom, to the political, socio-economic, and ~ultural milieu which the Church helped to form or in-fluence. Implicit in this idea was the re-imaging of man not only individually but socially. Reforming man to the image-likeness of God was the inspirational idea behind ~Gerhart B. Ladner, The Idea o[ Re[orm (Cambridge: Harvard, 1959). all the reform movements in early and medieval Christianity. A third renewal theme, for which St. Augustine was mainly responsible, was that of the kingdom of God. St. Augustine, ,however, had such a high opinion of the Church as the kingdom of God upon earth which was on its way to becoming the heavenly kingdom that he refused to see any need of its reform. That is why he formulated the idea of the City of God which permits into its environs both sinners .and saints until the sin-ners are weeded out at the-parousia. He and Tertullian (before his defection from the Church) struck a more positive and futuristic note by teaching a' renewal for the better. For Augqstine in particular, fourth century Pelagianism was an occasion to take stock of the ideology of reform. Pelagianism represented a reform movement based upon the belief that man can reform himself and the world on his own. Contrariwise, Augustine fought against the temptation of relaxing personal effort and simply trusting in God. His intention was to strike a balance between God's grace and man's will. Reliance upon God and personal responsibility must go together in order to attain the kingdom of God. In the Christian East and West while the Church was building up, the need was ever felt for individual and social reform. But who was to initiate it? ,Only special members and organisms within the Church's body, namely, monasticism. The East and West differed not merely in reform ideology; they differed too in their attitude toward monastic life. The Greeks leaned strongly toward contemplation, the Latins toward the active life of charity for God and man. The western-minded Augustine mapped out a program of reform for monastic and quasi-monastic life for clerics and lay-people. Such was the principal and practical way in which he wished reform to be carried into effect. The monk-priests and laymen were to join together in the City of God to bring about a renewal for the better. ¯ It is evident from thi~ patristic perspective that re-newal and reform must take into account the past and present and future. If we look back over the condition of religious life since World War II, the thought strikes us. that religious institutes have been passing through a phase of de-velopment. Consciously or unconsciously, they have been engaged in a reform movement for almost twenty years. The movement seerhs to have begun officially with the first ~eneral congress 6f religious held in Rome near the close .of the Holy Year, 1950. At this meeting, on December 8th, Pope Pius XII delivered an allocution in + + + VOLUME 25, 1966 23 ÷ ÷ ÷ Joseph Fichtner, O$.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS which he outlined three reasons why religious should update themselves: For the changed c~nditions of the world which the Church must~ encounter, certain points of doctrine touching upon the status and condition of moral perfection, not to mention the pressing needs of the apostolic work which you have so widely and so generously undertaken, all these have called you to devote your-selves to this systematic study and discussion. The same reasons prompted the Sacred Congregation of Religious to summon the First National Congress of Religious of the United States at the University of Notre Dame, August 9-12, 1952. Part and parcel of the whole reform movement within the religious orders were the researches into their past histories. The studies in some instances may not have been altogether conclusive, but at least they pointed out lines of development. They put religious into a position where they have to either retain or reject the essentials of their past, paralleling the present-day Church reform which will not abandon the basic struc-ture of the Church, Religious have to decide what sort of growth they want', homogeneous or heterogeneous. To be or remain a homogeneous body, the religious insti-tute, as the schema De religiosis recommends, must faithfully retain its nature, purpose, special spirit, and sound tradition--everything which constitutes the patrimony of the institute. The historian John Tracy Ellis called attention to this necessity in his address to the Paulists on the occasion of the diamond jubilee celebration of St. Paul's College, Washington, D.C., January 25, 1965. In this era of change he advised "the parallel need of holding fast to a sense of history if we are to escape the consequences, of mere change for change's sake, of what I would call--if the term be allowed---the curse of 'presentism.' " The historical researches accomplished at least one thing: they gave the orders more or less a sense of identity. Erik H. Erikson, the psychologist, defined per-sonal identity as follows: The term identity expresses such a mutual relation in that it connotes both a persistent sameness within oneself (self-same-ness) and a persistent sharing of some kind of essential charac-ter with others. Although his definition fits personal identity, it is analogically applicable to the "moral persons" which re-ligious orders are. A sense of identity is most important for normal psychological and spiritual renewal. The man who cannot identify himself is either an amnesia victim or is ignorant or leads a schizophrenic existence. If young candidates entering a religious order cannot identify themselves with it because there is nothing to identify with, the more is the pity. As Pope Paul VI stated in his address to religious referred to above, the work of general chapters is to accommodate constitutions to "the changed conditions of the times"; but it must be done in such a wa~ that "the proper nature and discipline of the institute is kept intact." No renovation of discipline is to be intro-duced excepting what accords with "its specific pur-pose." Therefore, until this accommodation of discipline is duly processed and brought into .juridic effect, let the religious mem-bers not introduce anything new 0n their own initiative, nor relax the restraints of discipline nor give way to censorious crit-icism. Let them act in such a way that they might rather help and more promptly effect this work of renewal by their fidelity and' obedience. If the desired renovation takes place in this way, then the letter will have changed, but the spirit will have remained the same, in all its integrity,s The Pope certainly did not have in mind the ,idea of implementing constitutions to the point where they are voluminous, minutely detailed, and unlivable; for such constitutions can easily cramp the style of religious liv-ing. "Multiplicity of laws is not always accompanied by progress in religious life," remarked Pope Paul "It often happens that the more rules there are, the less people pay attention to them." 0 It is particularly irksome to men, and I suppose to women too, to be ruled by many minute prescriptions. But in the meanwhile; while the constitutions are under study or revision, it will not do to adopt or maintain "the practices which are dangerous to religious life, unnecessary dispensations, and privileges not properly approved" 10 which sap the strength of religious discipline. Is there a behavioral pattern, psychological and socio-logical, which religious can follow in order to promote metanoia for the present and into the future? Govern-ment and business have had psychological and socio-logical studies made to 'guide societies and institutions toward self-renewal. They have begun to understand the processes, reasons, and conditions for the growth and decline in societies.11 Of course we cannot accept the complete structure and dynamics of reform which they use; but they have been able to outline a good, comprehensive pattern of reform. The following, then, will be some explanation of the principles of self-renewal pertinent to religious orders. Religious orders s Paul VI, Allocution on Religious Life. 9 Paul VI, Allocution on Religious Life. 10 Paul VI, Allocution on Religious Life. 11 See John W. Gardner, Self-Renewal, the Individual and Inno. vative Society (New York: Harper and Row, 1963). VOLUME 251 1966 ÷ 4- 4. ]oseph Fichtner, O.~.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS cannot grow as supernatural cells within the body of the Church unless they accept whole-heartedly the natural (that is, psychological and sociological) dy-namics of growth. 1. A society that wishes to renew and reform itself must first of all know itself. It has a sense of identity. As religious we have, more or less, a self-image. Con-fusedly at least all of us have a picture in our minds of the ideal religious, namely, one who lives a Christlike life as distinct and unique. Now self-knowledge is not a still-life picture but a moving picture of self-develop-ment, a continual search for identity. Ordinarily we find knowing ourselves difficult and inconvenient. Yet the more we have a sense of identity, which we can learn in part from our tradition, the more it helps us to plan our future--what or who we want to become. Young members may at times rebel against a tradi-tional heritage, even if it is only the starting point of their rebellion. 2. This brings us to a second principle very closely allied to the first. Self-i.dentity is largely a matter of knowing our past and having continuity with it. Our present beliefs, attitudes, feelings, values arose out of earlier personality formation, earlier learning and ex-perience, all of which is most difficult to shake off. We are more inclined to trust tradition because we experi-enced it. Historians did us the favor of recalling the past and showing how evolution already took place in it. Historians help religious groups to achieve self-knowl-edge, and in this way they serve the cause of renewal. If religious were able to sustain renewal in the past, per-haps they can feel at home with it in the future. With-out ignoring their past, they are oriented to the future and will have a hand in shaping it. The tendency of a society with a past is twofold: to persist or to change. The two tendencies are not diametrically, opposed. In fact, it is wrong to oppose change to continuity; both must be given due emphasis, Our aim should be to endlessly interweave continuity with change. "The only stability possible is stability in motion." ~ Religious do nonetheless face the danger to-day of living in an age when the rate of change has sped up almost to leaving them in the dust. They can expand or grow or change so rapidly and wildly that it will be cancerous and kill the values they want to keep. 3. True religious see and share a vision of something worth saving. This vision is made up of all the motiva-tion, conviction, commitment, and values that give meaning to their life. Only if they believe in something Gardner, SelpRenewal, p. 7. can they change something for the better. Otherwise they will experience a failure of heart and spirit. The self-renewing religious will have something about which they are thoroughly convinced and about which they care so deeply that they will do something about it. Yet each one must beware of being egocentric about it. One little thing that he really cares about deeply, one little thing that he can do with zealous con-viction, gives him extra drive and enthusiasm. That is why long-term purposes or values or goals are so important for us. They have to be relatively lasting in order to determine the direction of change. Should they be fly-by-night visions and goals, they will not enable us to absorb them or do justice to them or will endanger a distinctive character and style of living. The mature religious has a religious commitment larger than himself. He has been given a religious goal not as an accomplished fact; his has to be a seeking and striving for the goal in an ever-renewing way. He will be happy in the s.triving, not necessarily in the attaining of that goal. Small victories will instill in him some satisfaction but never the idea that he has arrived, that his life is fulfilled, or that he can sit back and no longer feel the tension of self-renewal. All of us have built into our nature the hunger for meaningful, goals. They are as vital to our being as breathing. But in a sense we must breathe together. We can live together in a .religious community o.nly if we have some measure of consensus in regard to our goals, beliefs, values. We can come to some rough agreement among the many who share the same ideals. Haggling over details there will always be. No matter how pluralistic our community may be, variety and di-versity and spontaneity should not be allowed to inter-fere with at least a middle ground of ideals, goals, and visions. We do ourselves an injustice if we allow all sorts of individual values to conflict in a careless atmos-phere of freedom and then expect something good to come from them. Such a procedure is equivalent in economics to the false theory of laissez-faire. On the other hand, change for the better is brought about when socially or communally acquired and ap-proved ideals, convictions, goals change. In this way change takes place according to psychological and socio-logical laws. It is possible to change laws, the external marks of a society, without affecting the beliefs, prac-tices, and values of the members of that society. Men commonly live as they think; hence to change their life demands a conversion of their minds and hearts. Their life is bound to change if the set of ideas, feelings, and ÷ ÷ ÷ VOLUME 25, 1966 27 ÷ ÷ O.~.C, R~:VIEW FOR RELiGiOUS attitudes which the individual shhres with the members of the society changes. 4. Any renewal or reform, therefore, ought to be aimed at the individual or person. He must find himself in a ~ort of do-it-yourself movement. He must be free and independent enough, flexible and versatile enough, to be open to change. If he isolates himself from others within his group, if he fails to cross-fertilize with them, he will not change or grow. Anthropologists point out that .much cultural change comes about through bor-rowing from others. Karl Rahner makes the pointed remark in his book, Theology for Renewal: If anyone wants to have the Church changed, he must make himself the starring-point of renewal. For the crldc himself is part .of what the Church is suffering from. For usually his own life is not much of a recommendation for Christianity.~ The same remark may be applied to the religious critic. We are more prone to criticize others than to be self-critical. Each religious has personality traits which favor either change or persistence (conservatism), and no doubt many have a mixture of the two. A characteristic of the self-renewing religious is that he 'has a mutually fruitful rapport with others. He is capable of accepting and giving love and friendship. Without such love and friendship, the person enters into rigid isolation. The loving and friendly person depends upon others and can be depended upon. He discovers common tastes, interests, is accessible, and is willing to lend assistance. He makes others feel important. In so doing he is one of the many within a vibrant society who inculcate mutual trust, affection, and identification (as opposed to carping criticism, character asshssination, and envy). They are the cross currents through which his change for better is possible~ 5. Is there enough freedom in the religious way of life to allow for change? This question has to be asked because psychologists and, sociologists maintain that only a free society is open to inquiry, experimentation, and action. A society where reasonable room is left for personal taste, self-expression, and self-criticism, will grow. Its framework or structure is not such that it throttles thought and discussion of new ideas. Authori-tarian or bureaucratic or legalist.ic societies may not throttle thought and discussion but they tend to chan-nel and control them. Freedom, however, has to be balanced with some ~Karl Rahner, Theology ]or Renewal (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1964), p. 87. determinism within a society. No individual religious should expect to be left to run rampant, to do as and what he pleases. Freedom may result in license. Or it may alienate him from the community. A religious who is left reasonably free may achieve responsibility; but if he seeks too much autonomy he may end up with self-pride, an inflated ego, and not really fulfill himself at all. Every person has limitations and has to come to terms with his membership in the community at large. The social side of his nature should make him realize values which are grea~er than his individual needs. 6. Change and improvement usually spring up in a community that has felt-needs for them. Felt-needs are the beginning of any renewal and reform. So religious must examine their felt-needs. There can be no metanoia unless the community feels needs, and the needs have to be felt widely enough for the majority to do some-thing about them. The first task of renewal and reform is the always difficult task of facing up to ourselves. What gap do we find between the ideals we profess and the realities we practice? How far apart do our constitutions lie from their fulfillment? We have to give due credit to the prophetic and visionary eyes and minds among us who see and speak out against the unreality or even hy-pocrisy of religious life, to whatever degree they may exist. Young members, especially, who still have the ideals and goals fresh before them, can help the rest to an honest self-examination. We do them a good turn too by telling them that their task is to re-create values in their own conduct and not simply look at them idealisti-cally. We should assure each generation of religious that they have to refight the battle and inject new life into lasting ideals and goals. 7. No amount of organization, law-making, socializing will help a religious society to renew and reform unless men in it have the determination to 'foster renewal and reform. It is men who make up a society, not laws or regulations or structures. It is the personal environ-ment that makes for growth, for between the individual and his environment there takes place something like osmosis. If we do not set a pace by our ideals and ex-ample for incoming members, then they will believe little is expected of them. Of whom much is expected, the chances are that he will expect much of himself. If he is educated and motivated in an atmosphere that en-courages effort, sacrifice, selflessness, it is very likely that he will be affected greatly and respond mightily. We take it for granted that the young religious is a free and responsible individual. He will become in-creasingly responsible if we set up for him a meaning- VOLUME 25, 1966 29 Joseph Fichtner, O~.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ful relationship with larger and higher goals. We help him to free himself fr6m the "prison of utter selb preoccupation" by instructing and leading him to place himself in the free and willing service of these goals and the people aiming at them. In !religious life as well as in any other, family li~e' included, deeds speak louder than words~ Authentic religious conduct preaches a better lesson than 'any homily, sermon, conference, or instruction. None o~ us learns much from principles, but we do emulate people who are high-principled and exemplary. Ordinarily we do not analyze or list the virtues we wish to develop, unless it be during meditation; but we identify our-selves with the people who have virtue. That is why all of us~ young and old, need models in our imaginative life and in our immediate environment, models of what we at our best can be. At the risk of too much repeti-tion, it should be said that what we do communicates moral and spiritual values much more than what we say~ Words are cheap. Action calls for assuming burden-some and sacrificing responsibility. It is a summons to spiritual greatness. . ¯ 8. The danger in religious life is tO think we can progress morally and spiritually without changing psychologically, socially, culturally. Change for the better---evolution and not revolution or historic acci-dent- usually is a slow, complex, unpredictable, some-what risky and painful process. It does not happen by leaps and bounds; it takes time and hard effort. When practices change, they will not be acceptable evenly .throughout a whole community. Some will wel-come them, others resist them. So many factors and their interplay go into change for the better that they make change complex. And the complexity of a changing situation .brings with it a risk. It takes prudent analysis and prognosis to decide whether the risk is reasonably calculable. Members of a society who are "on their toes" and not living "in a rutV will forestall wild and revolutionary change. Historians have shown that long-range changes came about through successive small innovations, most of them unobtrusive and anonymous. People who lived through the innovation would probably admit that they did not know it was happening; But innovators who herald a change with a flourish of trumpets should ex-pect to meet up with attack and opposition. That pain accompanies growth is inevitable; everybody wants to grow and progress but nobody wants the pain that goes with it. 9. The locus of metanoia is the minds and hearts of ~he individual members of the community, in those minds and hearts where there is the hidden potential of zeal, dedic~ition, a sense of. mission, leadership, and a willingness to sacrifice. Members who have closed minds and hearts have lost the capacity for metanoia. For the self-renewing man there is no end to the development o[ his abilities. He is not a gold mine left unti~pped or an oil well only partially drilled. Psychologists advise us of the fact that many go through life without nearly salvaging all their ta, lents.~ Nothing can be so decisive for refiewal as the use of G6~l-given talents. Conversion VOLUME 25, 1966 31 GUSTAVE MARTELET, S.J. The Church's Holiness ¯ and Religious Life + ÷ + Gustave Martelet, s.J., is professor of fundamental theol-ogy at 4, Mont~e de Fourvi~re; Lyon (V), France. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS V. RELIGIOUS L~FE AND PREFERENTIAL LOVE OF JEsus CHRIST The* eschatological character of virginity contributes spiritual depth to our understanding of religious life; we must now analyze the latter in still greater detail. Having begun by considering the holiness of the Church (I), which appeared inseparable from her mystery as Spouse (II), we saw that marriage represents sacramentally a mys-tery whose content is spiritually appropriated by virginity (III). This insight illuminated the eschatological meaning of virginity and exposed its motivating drive, a preferen-tial love of Christ (IV). This love throws the greatest light on religious life, and it is in function of that love that our first comprehensive glance at the state must be cast--the concern of the present section. We shall examine the na-ture of religious life'in iiself, its dependence on the mys-tery of the Church, and the significance which consecrated virginity retains today with regard to religious life. 1. Nature o[ Religious Life We do not pretend to supply an exhaustive treatment of this vast subject, for that would simultaneously entail a consideration of the history of the Church, of canon l~aw, * This is the second part of Raymond L. Sullivant's translation of Saintetd de l'Eglise et vie religieuse (Toulouse: Editions Pri~re et Vie, 1964). The first part of the translation appeared in the November, 1965, issue of the REvzE\v; and the rest of the translation will be printed in the March, 1966, issue. When completed, the entire trans-lation will be issued by the REvmw in a clothbound edition. Notifica-tion of the date o~ publication of the clothbound edition will be made to all those who send a request for this notification to R~vmw ro~ R~mmos; St. Mary's College, St. Marys, Kansas 66536. The request for this notification does not constitute an order for the book and in-volves no financial obligation. of liturgy, and of dogma; but we shall present its meaning from the viewpoint which we have set for ourselves.04 When considering the importance of virginity in the thought of the fathers, we must resist the temptation to construct a strict parallel between that state and the re-ligious life and to reduce the one state to the other. The adoption o.f this excessive view is done from a de-sire to augment the grandeur proper to virginity. While we have seen why there is little danger of overestimating its value, still a careful analysis establishes that virginity founds the order of virgins and not the religious life as such. To be sure, the history of consecrated virginity as that of widowhood with whicti it has much in common05 eventually meshed with the history of religious life itself. But regardless of the progressive absorption of the order of virgins into that of nuns, a fundamental difference pre-vents the loss of their separate identities: religious life re-quires and consecrates not so much virginity as chastity. We a,re grateful to Father Mogenet for an unpublished ex-planation of the point: Since St. Paul's day, the Church has had a too sensitive awareness of the virginal dignity of Jesus and our Lady not to recognize its exemplarity. She has exalted the charism of Virginity and has honored Christ's virgins who have been mem-bers of the Christian community since the first century. Never-theless, when religious life developed as the more or less con-scious response to the three evangelical counsels, no one thought of restricting it to virgins. The deserts, as later the monasteries and the convents, received converted sinners, married men, widowers, and the chaste single as well. And al-though virginity is a privileged state in following Christ, it is not an indispensable condition. It would seem that St. Peter had been married. We can almost say that Christ's call takes no account of the past. It draws the hearer from family life, from the project of founding a home, to the sacrifice of human love. The summons commits the aspirant to a continent exist-ence which requires perfect chastity as its normal state. This condition permits religious life to become, for those outside its ranks and most notably for the married, the support and model which it should always be.~0 Conse-quently, it is clear that religious life cannot be reduced to virginity alone. For even as the value of the latter arises ~ On this point a generally recognized role is played at the present time by Father Ren~ Carpentier's book, Li]e in the City oI God (New York: Benziger, 1959); the volume has the merit of never separating evangelical perfection and the mystery of the Church. m Andr~ Rosambert, La veuve dans le droit canonique jusqu'au xiv~ si~cle (Paris: Dalloz, 1923); on the status of consecrated virgins during the fourth and fifth centuries, see, for example, Jean Gaude-met, L'Eglise dans l'Empire romain (iv"-v~ siOcles) (Paris: Sirey, 1958), pp. 206-11. ~ Bishop Huyghe, whose writings on religious life are well known, put a great emphasis on this point in his speech to the Council on re-ligious life; see D.C., v. 60 (1963), col. 1590-1. ÷ ÷ ÷ Religious Li]¢ VOLUME 2S, 1966. ÷ Oustave Marteleg, S.I. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS from the preferential love of Christ which consecrates it, love can vow true chastity to Christ even when virginity has been humanly destroyed. Recognition of the prefer-ential love of Christ is equally important for a proper un-derstanding of poverty and obedience. Christ's call can be directly traced to His command to sell all one's goods (Mt 19:21); and the example of St. Francis as well as that of Father de Foucauld emphasizes the close relationship that unites poverty to love of the Poor One par excellence, Christ Himself. The same can be said of obedience. Whether obedience is linked with the demands of common life lived in conformity with the vita apostolica,6z or whether it is explained (as was done in the Rule of the Master adopted by St, Benedict) with reference to the role of the abbot as Christ's "vicar" in ac-cord with St. Luke 10:16: "Who hears you, hears me," or whether obedience is primarily envisioned as an "imita-tion" of Christ in His dependence on His Father as ex-pressed in St. John 6:38: "I have come down from heaven not to carry out my own will but the will of him who sent me," 68 makes no difference: in every one of these view-points, obedience is an integral part of religious life even though the present canonical form of the vow of obb-dience dates only from Carolingian times.69 Nevertheless, in its case also condition and essence must not be con-fused. Obedience, as poverty and chastity, is a sine qua non condition of the religious life. But can we say that it is its very content? The answer is yes, to the degree that by its suppression religious life would be emptied of one of its specific obligations. But the answer is no, if by mak-ing obedience the content of religious life one comes to forget that religious obedience attains its goal only by as-suring the reign of the will of Christ over our own will. Hence the organized exercise o£ the three counsels truly manifests the nature of religious life but only to the exact extent that this exercise reposes directly upon the love of the Lord, aims at imitating Him, and~emanates from His mystery through the power of the Spirit. The explana-tion, previously established when defining the eschatolo-gical meaning of virginity, should help us understand the ¯ z M.-H. Vicaire, L'imitation des Apdtres. Moines, chanoines, raen. diants (iv~-xiii~ si~cles) (Paris: Cerf, 1963). ~s De Vogii6, La communautd et l'abbd, pp. 128-9. n~ Catherine Capelle, Le voeu d'obdlssance des origines jusqu'au xii~ si~cle. Etude juridique (Paris: Librairie g~n6rale de droit et jurispru-dence, 1959), pp. 153-79, dates the juridical birth o£ the vow o[ obe-dience from a Chapter of 789; but as she remarks on pp. 208-13 it is necessary to wait for Yves of Chartres in the eleventh cer~tury for a theory of the vow over and beyond the practice of obedience. On the . relationship of the three vows to religious life see the discourse of Paul VI given on May 23, 1964 in the English translation, REVIEW KELtg~OUS, V. 23 (1964), pp: 700--1. point, since the spiritual basis of virginity is the desire to belong to Christ in an absolutely exclusive fashion. A point raised by the rule of St. Benedict in its fourth chap-ter, "The Instrument of Good Works," is of utmost per-tinence in this matter: "Nihil amori Christi praeponere," says the great legislator: "Put nothing before Christ's love." The axiom comes directly from the Vita Antonii. St. Anthanasius there depicts St. Anthony "repeating to all that they should desire none of the world's goods in preference to the love of Christ." 70 One wouId search in vain to find this central idea expressed with more lapidary compactness. And who would be better authorized than St. Benedict to condense western monasticism's raison d'etre into a concise formula? The same thought appears in the seventy-second chapter of the rule to explain the ardent zeal which monks should have: "They will prefer absolutely nothing to Christ who deigns to conduct us all to eternal life." 71 And it is the eschatological note that gives such complete fullness to the formula. It is because Christ "is the beginning, the first-born from the dead (that in everything he might be preeminent)" (Col 1:18) that nothing must be put before Christ and that one should die to everything rather than die to Him who is Life itself. Hence His priority as the Lord over all things and over ourselves--"Everything is yours but you are Christ's and Christ is God's" (1 Cor 3:2)--must be trans-lated on the level of love by an exclusive preference for His Person and by an unconditional desire to follow and imitate Him alone. Accordingly, all monastic life, as all religious institutes afterwards, crystallizes around the practice, of the three evangelical counsels with a view to assuring the rigorous ascendancy of Christ's ways over those of the world. Since Christ is completely despoiled of material goods (He "has not a stone on which to rest his head" [Mt 8:20]), since His own relationship with others does not take carnal generation into account ("Who is my mother and who are my brothers?. Whoever does the will of my Father who is in heaven, he is my brother, my sister, and my mother" [Mt 12:48]), and since He does not exercise His liberty except by delivering it up to the will of His Father (Jn 6:38), religious life will accordingly be defined as a ca-nonically determined break (even if it is not always spir-itually accomplished), with the possessions of the world by poverty, with carnal generation and conjugal love by ~o P.G., v. 26, col. 865 A, a citation derived from the previously men-tioned unpublished work of Father Mogenet. On the Athanasian au-thenticity of the Vita Antonii, see Louis Bouyer, La vie du saint ~lntoine (Saint Wandrille: Editions de Fontenelle, 1950), pp. 15'-22. ~ Citations of the Rule of St. Benedict are made according to the text of Dom Philibert Schmitt. + Religious Lile VOLUME 25, 1966 Ousta~e Mar~eleg, Sd. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS chastity, with personal hegemony over self by obedience. This triple rupture defines, by way of three complemen-tary means, a unique and single preference which should e~]ectively animate the religious' entire being, And if man is, in effect, a relation to nature through possession, a re-lation to the other thr~ough love, and a relation to sell through liberty, then poverty, chastity, and obedience are the triple condition of one and the same preference: the preference for Christ over all the goods of the world', sac-rificed to Him who appears as the One Necessity, the pref-erence for Christ over carnal generation, and even more so over conjugal love, sacrificed to Him who appears as Love itself, the preference for Christ over our own indi-vidual liberty, sacrificed to Him who appears as the only Lord. Understood in this manner, religious !ire is the applica-tion of the call: "Come follow me," in which tradition has always seen the principle of life according to the coun-sels. Directed to the rich young man in Galilee (Mt 19:21), Jesus' personal summons is ceaselessly repeated by the Spirit in the ever present reign of the resurrected Christ: On the basis of a love for the Lord of glory alone, the Spirit founds the movement of grace that is religious life. As a way of life in keeping with the evangelical counsels and canonically defined within the Church, religious life is first of all the choice of an end and only secondly a sys-tem of means. It is a response which presupposes a call, a canonical institution commanded by a spiritual love.It becomes an institution only because it was first an inspira-tion; it becomes the letter of a rule only because it was first the spirit of the Gospel. And if it is true that the counsels themselves are still a letter when isolated from the Spirit from which they live,r2 it is also true that the letter of religious life takes form from the letter of the Gospel only by the charismatic mediation of the Holy Spirit Himself. Religious life assumes a bodily form only when the Spirit breathes into souls the soul of the Gospel. This soul is none other than the spiritual preference of Christ over all things in keeping with the words of St. Benedict cited above: "Put nothing before the love of Jesus,Christ." r~ By constructing this formula for his sons and for all of those who would hear the faithful echo of the Gospel through i(, St. Benedict initiated his followers into the well,founded hope of "eternal life," that is to say, of "the life lived forever with the Lord," the anticipation" 7a Dom Lafont gives strong insistence to this point in the work cited in footnote 7, pp. 170-83. ra On the centrality of Christ in the gospel message see de Grand-maison, Jesus Christ, v. 2 and v. 3, pp. 3-346; and R. Guardini, Das Wesen des Christentums (Sth ed.; W0rzburg: ~Werksbund-Verlag, 1958). of which is the proper mission of religious life in the Church. By this preferential love of Jesus Christ, religious life, far from living in isolation from the Church, enters, as does virginity, into her most profound being and shows itseff subject to her. 2. Religious Life's Dependence on the Church We are speaking here of the whole Church for the serv-ice of which religious life exists, as we shall see in the last section. But for the present we wish to consider in a gen-eral way the essential dependence of religious life on the hierarchy and on the Christian community itself. By first drawing attention to marriage and its dependence on the Church, we shall better understand the position of reli-gious life. A. The Church and the Christian Couple Many of the faithful are indignant (and some of them ventilate their dissatisfaction in the daily press) over the fact that the Church through her magisterium wishes to impose a conjugal ethic on them. Although there are sometimes unjustified clerical probings into the private lives of couples, this indiscretion is not the object of the litigation. The latter arises from the Church's right to is-sue obligatory laws in the conjugal order. Contraception is not the only sensitive area; problems of a similar na-ture cluster around the subject. We do not propose here to solve any of these problems but only to indicate the spirit with which the intervention of the Church in such matters is to be accepted. In so doing, we shall contribute to the understanding of the relations that exist between the Church and religious life. Christian marriage is the sign of the 'union of Christ and the Church. The spousal charity of Christ and the Church must consequently be reflected in marriage if it is to obtain the transparency of a sign. To avoid saying that Christ has not assumed flesh in its entirety, we must recognize that all flesh must bear the mark of Christ and exercise that paradoxical docility which the Spirit de-mands of it. Christian conjugal ethic is dominated by this end. It has no other reason for being than to assure to the human love of the partners that spiritual clarity befitting the sacramentality of their love. Christianity assumes re-sponsibility for the most authentic prescriptions of human ethics; but in making them both more urgent and more imprescriptible, it demonstrates the need for transparency which the sign should have and the latter's ability in Christ to follow Him. That is why no home can be more human or purer, more united or freer, more self-sac-rificing or happier, humbler and more transfigured, than the home in which the light of Christ shines and where 4- 4- 4- "Religious Life VOLUME 25, 1966 . Gustave Martelet, ~,. $~1. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS His flame burns. It is thu"s apparent ~hat the Church can never sacrifice the conjugal ethic since the human love of the baptized must reflect, even in the flesh, the sanctity which she represents. The objection of those Christians who maintain that the Church cannot pronounce on :subjects which Chris~t did not discuss is indeed fragile. Christ's sile,nce, while ap-parently impressive, is quite relativ6 when one reflects on the manner in which He spoke'of tl~e indissblubility of the conjugal bond (Mt 19:9) a~nd of foregoing the works of the flesh "in view of the kingdom of heaven" (Mt 19:22).' Even if Christ had~ not.spoken, one could not declare the Bride in.competent tq d~e~fine :t,he standards "of the Gyoom to those who represent the mystery itself. Christ. would have shown little respect for His Bride, in fact, He wohld have shown outright distrust for her and lack of faith in the:intuitions of which His Spirit is the .guarantee, if He had not endowed His Church with the. right and the duty "to.speak" in an area where the bridal mysyery which she lives directly orientates the spi.ritua! underst.a.ndin~ of the couple's love. Yet the Church's authority does not sup-plant Christ in His mystery. The 'former relies on the lat-ter; she thus rejoins the profound life of her children--a life which is sometimes resisted but never denied: The latter know that they will never truly communicate with Christ through their love if ~they reject the manner in which the Church forms and guides their consciences. B: The Church and P~eligious Life If she takes so much care with regard to the sacrament of marriage, the sign of her bridal mystery, the hierarchi- Cal Church watches nb less jealously over religious life: If in the free holiness of the married she wishes to see 'the bldssoming of an image of what they become in and by th~ sacrament, she cannot be disinterested in ~hose Who pretend not only to represent but to spiritually actualize the v.ery love. of the Bride as it is directed in its entirety toward the Groom. The Church's ~igilance over the sac-ramental ~ign of her nupti_als in marriage can only be re-doubledin the case of the spiritual~ fulfillment 9f thesd huptials in religious life. The lat~er trul)i exist~ in the .Chu.rch~.only when i.t is discerned; judged, a~proved, con-trolled, 'su~pb.r~ed, afid'criticized.'lS)i hier~irchical action, 1.oc.al" orsupr~me;, of which it ~an neither atiempt nor de-s~ re to be free. ¯ This essential function as judge" and. guardian is never brought t~o fulfillment not only because human weakness is forever prone to compromise :what gener'osity 'in th~ SpirivoHginal]y envisage~l and ~romised but a'l~o b~cause ~ov~'g" ingpi~a~ion Wtiic-l~ giv'e~"-'birfl~ ~0 ~eligioh~ life" ig never dulled and because from the flight to the desert to the ransom of captives, from the highest conte.mplation to the most obscure nursing service, from ancient Carm.el to. modern Nazareth, from the monastic 9rders to the secu-lar institutes, the Bride must al.ways discern the various ways" in which the Groom inspires her through her chil-dren. Let it suffice to state that religious life, charismati-cally given to the Church by Chrigt Himself, exists in the Church only as canonically submissive to her law. More-over, if this strict submission does not des.troy religious life but~ rather makes it flourish, the reason is that throUgh this submission religious life finds its own truth. Publicly "recognized" by the Church as a privileged "way of holi-ness, religious life understands itself as the flowering within the Church of the Bride's mystery of loving re-sponse to the Groom's love. Religious life's dependence on the mystery of the Church is not only hierarchical but is also connected with the entire Christian community. The evangelical coun-sels which mold religious life do not make the pi:eferen-tial love of Christ become a monopoly of the monastery. Every Christian--and, strictly speaking, every man--is called to this love; and the precepts of the Sermon on the Mount are directed to every member of die Church "as the norm for the moral conduct of the baptized." 74 While' it is true that as far as the manner of loving Chri~ alcove all things and of thereby entering into the love of God is concerned religious life represents a privileged state, still it is of absolute necessity for no one. Although pos-sessing a universal value of exemplarity, it is imposed only on some, and then by a determined vocation. Holiness is never automatically assured those who commit themselves to this way of the vows; and there is no doubt that many Christians remain more faithful to Christ in the world than certain religious do in ,their monasteries or convents. Hence, religious have no grounds for' Complacendy or for a disparaging attitude toward those who are not mem-bers of religious life. The person who becOmes a religious enters a state of life which he may be unworthy hence humility is necessary for him--but which of itself initiates him into a perfect love of Christ--hence depre-ciation by Christians of such a life is impossible. Religious life, then, does not exist in order to divide the Church b~ absUrd rivalries over the better and the less good but on!y in order .that, the sovereign love of "Christ may increase and'that the life of the vows may assume at the depths of it-self the evangelical traits of the Lord. Never regarding it-self as opposed or superior to anyone, religious life must always be at the service of all men by means of those who ~* Lafont, "$aintet~ du peuple de Dieu," p. 1~5. + + + Religious Life~ VOLUME 25, 1966 39 ÷ ÷ ÷ Gustave Martelet, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS attempt to live it out and who take care not to betray .its ideals. Such is the dependence of religious life on the Church for the service of which it is born and must perdure. It is judged by the. hierarchy with a view to benefiting the common spiritual good of the entire Church. Like con-jugal life (and because it refers to One and the same mys-tery but in a different way), religious life cannot destroy its dependence on the Church as a whole, whether it be a question of the hierarchy who judges it and supports it in its fundamental inspiration or whether it be a mat-ter of the faithful whom it should stimulate to the love of tile Lord and by whom it is itself stimulated: "God or-ganizes his holy ones for the work of the ministry in view of the building up the body of Christ, until we all attain (o the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to mature manhood, to the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ" (Eph 4:12-~). Hence, despite (or, more accurately, because of) its integration into the life of the Body, religious life retains an irreducible original-ity which we shall have occasion to discuss later. This originality, which integrates religious life into the Body while simultaneously differentiating it, does not suggest separation or exclusiveness. This is why its full canonical development does not prevent the possible renewal of forms which historically preceded it. C. Religious Life and Virginity or Consecrated Widowhood It is easy to understand why the order of virgins and widows was practically absorbed into that of nuns during the course of history. When reading the recommendations to virgins and consecrated widows made by St. Jerome, St. Ambrose, or St. Augustine,75 to limit our consideration to the western fathers, one receives the impression, con-firmed by history, that these women be.longed to a state of life in which equilibrium was maintained with diffi-culty. A certain kind of exterior protection was lacking to many of them, and thht "sweet odor of Christ" which initially stimnlated their resolutions sometimes evapo-rated in lamentable circumstances. By endowing Christian generosity and the desire to consecrate oneself to Christ with a defined monastic framework, religious life quite ¯ naturally almost completely absorbed the order of virgins and that of consecrated widows which were formerly overexposed to many dangers. Spiritual situations, which 75 For example, Cyprian, Liber de habitu virginum (P.L., v. 4, col. 439-62; Ambrose, De virginibus (P.L., v. 16, col. 187-232), De virgini-tare (ibid., col. 265-302); Augustine, De sancta virginitate, (P.L. v. 40, col. 412-28). On widowhood, see Ambrose, De viduis (P.L., v. 16, col. 233-62); Augustine, De bono viduitatis (P.L., v. 40, col. 4~II-50). were still unstable, thereby received a precise form. This was a good thing from one aspect, but frdm one aspect only. For a valuable diversity thus tended to disappear even though there do exist within the Church Christian individuals or groups who without becoming conventual religious consecrate their virginity or widowhood to the Lord. This non-conventual exercise of religious consecra-tion of self has regained favor in our day to an unusual degree. Many Christian women,TM desirous of living their bap-tismal regeneration in the form of absolute consecration to Christ, receive no call to abandon the world where family, children, profession, business, .and situation ex-pect and demand of them a daily, total devotedness. In the minds of these Christians the consecration of their vir-ginity or widowhood to Christ does not necessarily iden-tify itself with the practice of leading a religious life apart from the world's structures. Without criticizing those who follow a more classical road to perfection, they demand little more than the three vows of religious life to express their gift of self to the Lord. Their borrowings may also include certain organizational aspects of life and the tone of a definite spirituality, but they do not usually exceed these features. They desire to take religious life from its conventual conditions in order to implant it in the world --which that state had justifiably abandoned in the be-ginning. The reasons justifying this abandonment of the world and assuring to convent and cloister their incon-testable values (though these have not always been uncon-tested) thus permit the conception of new forms of reli-gious life. The spiritual break with the world which should always characterize religious life can operate in an entirely interior fashion without imposing a rupture that may be described as a sociological or, better still, a conventual one. On the contrary, the structures which are most typical of the world can become the condition of a highly intense though less apparent form of religious life. In all this the ideal of the secular institutes is recog-nized. The latter represent one of the most original ex-pressions of religious life in the Church today.77 Duly 76 Cardinal L~ger reminded the Council of this fact. He also in-sisted on the fact that there should not be too rapid an identification of consecrated virginity with religious life: there are persons who de-sire the first but who perhaps are incapable of the second (D.C., v. 60 [1963], col. 1593). This was doubtless the meaning also of the re-marks of Bishop Huyghe (D.C., v. 60 [1963], col. 1594). r~ For an overall view of the matter see Jean Beyer, Les instituts s~culiers (Bruges: Descl~e de Brouwer, 1954). Consult also the same author's "La vocation s~culi~re," Nouvelle revue th~ologique, v. 86 (1964), pp. 135-57, where complementary data are given On the situ-ation of secular institutes at the present time. On Father Beyer's book see the remarks of Father Carpentier, "Les instituts s~culiers," Nou- 4. 4" Religious Li]e VOLUME 25, 1966 41 encouraged by Roman authority,rs this new state is em-barking, it is our belief, upon other realizations which it virtually contains and which go back to ancient formulas whose significance is by no means exhausted. The term "secular institutes" designates greatly differ-ent kinds of groups.79 Besides such institutes as Opus Dei which has the attractiveness of large-scale dimensions, there are other groupings whose aims and methods are more modest. The members ofthese latter groups think less in terms of vast, extensive actions than in those of an unreserved gift of self to the Lord; their way of life calls to mind more the reed than the oak. Since the end pur-sued in these groupings is less the secularization of reli-gious life than the consecration of profane existence, many specifications of religious life which are and no doubt should be characteristic of secular institutes appear less necessary to these groups. Thus, in the absence of common life, the observance of obedience and poverty is difficult of realization. Furthermore, obedience and pov-erty, even when maintained for good reasons, would imply in these groups a dependence and control which are not indispensable for the spiritual ends envisaged by the members of these groupings. Accordingly, the different positio.n taken up with regard to certain modalities of the religious life formally considered does not arise from a weaker desire for Christian perfection nor from an initial lukewarmness; it is rather the result of a different inspi-ration. It is not a question of criticizing the values of re-ligious life or of protesting the help to be found in reli-gious life, whether conventual or secularized; it is rather a matter of consecrating virginity or widowhood to the Lord while allowing freedom from many determinations which this consecration has assumed within the frame-work of religious life properly so-called ~and which con-tinue to characterize--legitimately so--secular institutes. The desire to return to formulas less rigid even than those of these institutes is the desire (and it is not necessarily chimerical) to return to the ancient formulas of conse-crated virginity and widowhood. Gustave Martelet, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS velle revue thdologique, v. 77 (1955), pp. 408-12. And see the more re-cent remarks of Karl Rahner who clearly shows that members of secular institutes are, in the Church, genuinely religious even though in and for the world they are lay persons (Theology Ior Renewal [New York: Sheed and Ward, 1964], pp. 147-83). ~s The two fundamental documents are those of Pius XII: Provida Mater of February 2, 1947, and Primo [eliciter of March 12, 1948; English translations in T. Lincoln Bouscaren, S.J., and James I. O'Connor, s.J., The Canon Law Digest Ior Religious, v. 1 (Milwaukee: Bruce, 1964), pp. 143-55 and 157-61. ~ At the end of Father Beyer's book on secular institutes will be found a list of fifty-eight existing groups with a brief description of each. We have already mentioned the weaknesses shown in the past by this way of life, weaknesses.that necessitate a real sense of prudence in this matter. But the present sit-uation is not entirely the same as that of past ages. Reli-gious life has benefited from centuries of experience; it exercises a decisive influence on the effort of every Chris-tian to reach perfection. Accordingly, what in past ages religious life would have reduced to itself, it can now re-frain from absorbing, allow to grow, and even protect in its own way. In this way virginity and consecrated widow-hood could regain their own particular status outside of conventual or secularized religious life and beyond that life Of the baptized that retains all legitimate Christian rights with regard to marriage. Being canonicaIly more supple than any known form of religious life and at the same time having the spiritual seriousness of a complete giving of self to the Lord in the Spirit of the gospel, con-secrated virginity and widowhood would then represent in our world a way of pertaining to the Lord to which Christians, not well adapted for religious life, could feel themselves called in order to live an intense life centered on Christ and the gospel and based on a total consecra-tion of self which spiritually transforms one's life without modifying it socially. A similar procedure which could revive in the twen-tieth century one of the most venerable but also most threatened institutions of Christian spirituality would suppose a profound renewal of schools of spirituality gathered around the great orders, both monastic and apos-tolic. By remaining or becoming centers of a profound religious spirit aiad by renouncing any control which would in any way limit the freedom of action of the men and women who seek a support that is purely spiritual, religious orders could provide an enormous service to Christian women, to speak only of them, by offering them a permanent and profound consecration of self to Christ in the world without entering the religious life in the proper sense of the word. For the sake of concretizing the matter, is it necessary to say that the matter discussed here is that of a profound renewal of third orders and of "third congregations"? Yes, if one wishes to put it that way; but the renewalmust be a radical one permitting the spiritual training that is given to take complete account of modern conditions of life; furthermore, the spiritual heritage drawn upon must provide souls with a truly profound in-troduction both to the Lord to whom they consecrate themselves and to the world for the benfit of which Christ frees them. Although these possibilties are offered only as sugges-tions, still the preceding considerations concerning simi-larities and differences between consecrated virginity and Religious Liye VOLUME 25, 1966 43 ~ustcwe Martele~ S.I. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS religious life supply a foundation for them. Forms of con-secration to Christ are of an infinite diversity within the Church. Some of them are completely new; others reclaim ancient practices and endow them with :a new spirit. It is to the latter type ~hat adaptation of secular institute formulas for the purpose of consecrated virginity and widowhood is related. In this the approbation of the Church will be necessary; but so also will be the inspira-tion of the Holy Spirit whose preeminent role at the very base of religious life must now be explicitly considered. VI. LOVE OF CHRIST AND THE MYSTERY OF THE SPIRIT The role of the Spirit is irreplaceable in acquiring the love and knowledge of Christ: "No one can say: 'Jesus is Lord' except by the action of the Holy Spirit" (1 Cot 12:3). In order to understand the true sources of religious life in the Church, it is therefore necessary to speak first of the Spirit as the revealer of Christ. The point is an es-sential one in Scripture. After Pentecost, when St. Peter announced the identity .of Jesus for the first time in Jeru-salem, he cried: "Let all the house of Israel, therefore, know assuredly that God has made him both Lord and Christ, this Jesus whom you crucified" (Acts 2:36). But before reaching this conclusion, St. Peter had already ex-plained: "This Jesus God raised up, and of that we all are witnesses. Being therefore exalted at the right hand of God, and having received from the Father the promise o[ the Holy Spirit, he has poured out this which you see and hear" (Acts 2:32-3). It is thus the effusion of'the Spirit by Christ which reveals His own glorification and which even constitutes it in a certain way. Jesus is riot the Lord with-out being, in keeping with this title, the One who gives us the Spirit. The Son's glorification by the Father in the Resurrection and His dispatch of the Spirit from the Father are two aspects of the mystery that are rigorously correlative as the Gospel explicitly proclaims: "Neverthe-less, I tell you the truth: it is to your advantage that I go away, for if I do not go away, the Counselor will not come to you; but if I go, I will send him to you" (Jn 16:7). And similarly: "But when the Counselor comes whom I shall send you from the Father, the Spirit of truth who pro-ceeds from the Father, he will bear witness to me" (Jn 15:26). o The dissensions raised by these texts--and others to ¯ which we shall refer later--is well known. The Orthodox interpret them as a guarantee of the complete dependence of the Son and the Spirit in regard to the Father, while we see in them the acknowledgement of the equality which the Son receives from the Father with regard to the eternal procession of the Spirit. It is the Filioque quarrel on which we shall not delay,s° We have mentioned the matter, however, since it is not without pertinence, usu-ally unperceived, to our subject. For while insisting more than our Orthodox brothers on the eternal role of the Son in the procession of the Spirit, we mugt not fail to remember the complementary role of the Spirit in refer-ence to the Son. The point is as vital to the theology of the processions as it is to the economy of the missions,sl And in fact, if it is true that the spiration of the Spirit cannot be understood without relating it to the Son in eternity since the ~piration is nothing else then the act by which the Spirit owes to the Father and to the Son His eternal existence as a divine Person, it is also true that we risk overlooking the light which the existence of the Spirit sheds in its turn on that of the two other Persons. For the Father would not be the Father of such a Son, who is con-substantial, that is, equal in nature to His Father, and the Son would not be the Son of such a Father, capable of communicating His own undivided divinity to His Son, if the One and the Other were not associated "spirators" of the Spirit. It is because the trinitarian life reaches completion in the procession of the Spirit that it can also begin in and by the generation of the Son. The entire mystery of the Father and the Son is found in that of the Spirit who results from their love and who is their very love, the eternal sign of what can be called His transcend-ent possibility. The trinitarian mystery is really conceiv-able only because it is the mystery of a God "who is Spirit" (Jn 4:24). For a better understanding of the trini-tarian mystery, it is not sufficient to say that the Son re-ceives from the Father the power to spir~ite the Spirit un-less one immediately adds that the Spirit, spirated by the Father and by the Son acting in common, is also the meas-ure and the sign of the unfathomable mystery which en-velops both and to which initiation would be impossible unless the Spirit Himseff were given us. It was to arrive at this truth that we took the preceding detour through trinitarian theology, for we could not truly know the Son and through Him the Father, in the revealing economy of the Incarnation and of the Church, unless the Spirit played His irreplaceable role of revealer and witness of Christ for us. It is this central point of view which we shall now attempt to illuminate. 1. The Mystery o[ the Spirit in His Relation to Christ + ÷ A. Necessity of the Spirit in Understanding Christ The temptation to believe that Christ could be reduced to purely human dimensions is not a chimerical one. "Is See Appendix A. See Appendix B. Religious Lile VOLUME 25, 1966 ÷ Gustave Martelet, . $.1o REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS he not Jesus, son of Joseph, whose father find mother we know?" the Jews asked (Jn 6:42). And it is true that Hi~ human accessibility enters into Hisl role of Mediator. "That which we have heard,, which we have seen wi~h "our eyes, which we have looked upon and to~tched with our hands, concerning the word of life, we announce to you" (1 Jn 1:1-2). It is in this way that Jesus reveals to man "what noeye has seen nor ear heard, nor the heart of man conceived--what God hhs prepared for those who,,love him" (1 Cot 2:9 citing Is 64:3). This human accessibility o'f Christ, and through Him of the Father, is the very con-dition of revelation and is in a way identified with it. Not only did Jesus say: "No one comes to the Father except by me" (Jn 14:6); but He made the even more radical statement: ".Philip, who has seen me has seen the Father" (Jn 14:9). Hence,.it is evident that God's revelation in Christ .supposes the humanity of the Son who through that humanity takes on our own. But His humanity is precisely the humanity of the Son; accordingly, one does not enter the trinitarian mystery through it without hav-ing been introduced into it by the Father. "No one comes to me," said Jesus to the Jews, "unless the Father draws him" (Jn 6:44). And to Peter who had just recggnized and confessed Him as "the Christ, the son of the living God," Jesus declared: "Blessed are you, Simon Bar-Jona! For flesh and blood have not revealed this to you but my Father who is in heaven" (Mt 16:17). It is "not of flesh and blood" but of the Father in the gift which He makes us of the Spirit. Jesus' words concerning the Paraclete in St. John have the same meaning. It is good that Jesus departs in order that the Spirit may come making it truly possible to know Jesus: "These things I have spoken to you, while I am still with you. But the Counselor, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, he will teach you all things, and bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you" (Jn 14:25-6). And Jesus also said: "I have yet many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth; for he will not speak on his own authority, but whatever he hears he will speak, and he will declare to you the things' that are to come. He will glorify me, for he will take what is mine and declhre it to you" (Jn 16: i2-4). Without the Spirit Christ will always remain for us in the order of "the flesh" which Jesus said "avails nothing" (Jn 6:63). In his turn, St. Paul affirms: "Even though we have known Christ according to the flesh, at present we no longer know him in this way" (2 Cor 5:16) but only ac-cording to the "new creation" (2 Cor 5:17) which is the work of the Spirit. And the Apostle tells ns in the Letter to Titus: "And when the goodness and loving kin~dness of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of deeds done by' us in icighteousness but in virtue of his own mercy, by the washing of regeneration and by the re-newal in the Holy Spirit which he poured out upon us through Jesus Christ our Savior so that we might be jus-tified by his grace and become heirs in hope of eternal li~e" (3:4-7). Similarly, in the Letter to the Galatian's: "BUt when the time had fully come, God sent forth his Son~. so that we might receive, adoption as sons. And because' you are sons, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into your hearts, crying 'Abbal Father!' So through God y0u"are no longer a slave but a son, and if a son then an heir" (Gal 4:4-6). It is, then, through the Spirit that the Father attracts us, beyond the ways of flesh and blood, to the very knowledge of the Son, just as one must be re-born by the power of the Spirit (Jn 3:5) if Christ is to in-troduce us into His otherwise impenetrable kingdom. Since such is the case, the truth of Christ, though at-tested by history, is not naturally accessible as a simple fact of our experience. It depends on testimony from above which does not destroy our intelligence but trans-forms it by giving it n